Chapter 15 #2
He noticed now that they were sitting shoulder to shoulder. Not touching, but almost. Far too close to almost. The fire was dying down. The sun had set. An owl sang its question whoo into the night.
Tex wondered if she’d still be here in the morning.
She hadn’t run off when they’d crawled out of the river.
He’d woken up with his hands and feet bound, but she said she just wanted to force him to listen.
And he had listened, so he felt confident she’d stay with him.
If not, he didn’t think he’d chase after her.
Stella wasn’t a wanted woman after all. She’d been riding with outlaws.
Or maybe just Clive was an outlaw and not the rest of her family.
Of course, her family had helped Clive bust out of jail.
Which, to go round into a circle of his thoughts, made them all outlaws.
That was reason enough to take her prisoner.
There was no real crime to accuse her of, unless she’d helped with the jailbreak or helped with the shooting that killed Stan. Tex wouldn’t underestimate her.
But for now, he was exhausted and battered from his long fall, followed by the wild ride downriver.
He’d like to hope she was the same. Sleep would come easy for them both, and he’d be hard-pressed not to sleep the night through.
He could only hope she’d stay close. He wanted to protect her, and he admitted to himself, considering the bird she’d caught and the only food they’d eaten today, he liked having her along.
He looked around. “This has got to be the wildest, most remote place I’ve ever been in my life.” He wanted to add loneliest but decided it best not to.
He rose and moved to the far side of the campfire.
She’d be a little warmer between the fire and the stone.
“I don’t think we need to extinguish the fire.
It’s down to embers now. With the rocks to the west side and being tucked under the tree branches, there’s no chance it’ll be spotted. Another hour and it’ll die completely.”
Stella nodded and said, “The warmth is mighty welcome. Honestly, it wouldn’t break my heart if someone did notice the fire—unless it was my family, of course.”
“I wonder if Owen and Morgan caught up to your family and brought them back in. I wouldn’t bet against them.”
Stella stared across the fire for a long moment.
In the dim light he saw something in her gaze.
He couldn’t say what exactly. If he had to guess, he’d say she wanted to tell him something but didn’t think she should.
That’d be the way with a woman in an outlaw family. Always needing to keep secrets.
She then looked down and stretched out on her side, curling one arm under her head to use as a pillow.
Tex did the same and looked at her across the glowing red coals. Then she closed her eyes, and he followed suit. He could still feel her presence nearby, though, and thought about how much more comfortable the night would be if . . .
He jerked his thoughts away from that notion and said his prayers, mindful to spend time praying for Owen and Morgan and the whole band he’d left to fend for themselves.
A lawman lived a hard, dangerous life. He’d become a praying man years ago. When he prayed, it always steadied him and gave him a strong heart to face whatever lay ahead.
He remembered a Bible verse a parson had quoted one day when he’d wandered into a town in time to hear the church bells peal.
He couldn’t remember the chapter or verse, but it was something like “God writes His laws on every man’s heart.
” He’d always remembered those words and intended to borrow a Bible from somewhere to see if he could find the exact words.
The passage reminded him that even without Bible reading or preaching, a man knew what was right.
Deep inside, with no excuses, he knew what the right thing was to do.
Tex lay there, alone with a woman who probably wasn’t an outlaw after all, and he didn’t know if it was right to trust her completely.
Did his trust stem from some deep place within him where God had written the truth?
Or was his head turned because Stella was so pretty, and because she’d had a chance to hurt him and hadn’t taken it?
Was it because she was good company, or that she’d taken down a grouse with her slingshot and had left him impressed?
A woman alone in the wilderness might risk letting a man live if she didn’t know where she was and had limited means to take care of herself. She’d fetched that grouse, however, and she’d proven herself able to start a fire. She most likely could have survived on her own.
Probably.
And if she persuaded the law in Fort Russell that she was honest, then she might be allowed to go on her way.
Not all outlaws make themselves known enough to get their own poster.
He was reminded then that all outlaws tended to practice lying to get by.
She might well have a talent for it, but for good or ill, he found himself trusting her all the same.
Tex wasn’t sure if God had written that very law on his heart or not. But he was sure that having certain thoughts about a woman he was alone with in the wilderness was wrong.
The owl hooted again, and a different night bird called back. Warmer inside than out, he thought of the peaks and valleys they had yet to cross, prayed a little more, and fell fast asleep.
Grizzly pushed as hard as he could, and Hester had her hands full keeping up. She sure as certain didn’t tell him to slow down.
It was a miserable trail, but easy to follow. With four men walking after a herd of horses, it couldn’t have been more obvious if they’d left men out here pointing in the right direction.
They were three days on the trail and reached the Sawyer cabin midday on the third.
“I’ll make sure those men following Boone and Delaney aren’t lingering.” Grizzly set off while Hester poked around the cabin. Grizzly was back five minutes later.
He’d found trouble. Hester cocked her rifle from behind the tumbledown cabin.
“I found another fresh grave, Hester.” Grizzly’s voice was as solemn as the news he brought.
She followed him until soon they were standing shoulder to shoulder beside the lonely grave.
It hurt Hester’s heart to think of anyone buried out here in such a wild place.
And yet plenty of men had been. Plenty of folks on the wagon train had been.
It was the way of the Western Frontier. But what if it were one of her children?
“I think these are a woman’s boot prints.” Hester crouched beside one of the prints. It was one of many, but too small to be a man’s.
Clive Duncan was being transported. It stood to reason that the attack on the Marshals had been an attempt to break Clive free. Others had helped him escape the stockade at Fort Russell over a year ago. That was before Hester had moved there with Grizzly. He’d been recaptured only recently.
Grizzly knelt and brushed some dirt aside to reveal a small piece of something. Rising, Hester recognized it. “A Marshal’s star. This was one of their men.” She let out of whoosh of air.
“Delaney told me names of several of the Marshals along,” said Grizzly, “but Morgan Sawyer’s was the only one I recognized.”
“It looks like that spot where they attacked was the only place the Marshals’ group shed any blood.” Hester peered down the trail to the west.
“Let’s go on before night falls.” Grizzly was reading her mind.
“We can’t make out their tracks in the dark, but we’ll push on for as long as we can.
We’ve got jerky and our canteens—let’s eat while we ride.
If we don’t catch up to the sidewinders tonight, we can hope to find ’em tomorrow.
They’ve tried to kill ’em once already and only got one of five Marshals.
That leaves four tough Marshals and Boone to protect our girl. ”
Hester whacked him gently in the belly. “Delaney will be protecting those Marshals, if I know our girl.”
Grizzly smiled, but she didn’t see much happiness in it. “Well, if I were those Marshals, I’d be burning mad about losing one of my men.” He heaved a sigh and added, “I don’t know much about this land, but it seems to me what lies to the west is as wild as land can get.”
They chewed jerky as they rode toward the lowering sun. Hester found Grizzly’s dire warning about the way west to be true. Were they closing the gap? The horses had no chance of picking up speed to a pace that was faster than a man could walk.
“There’s no end to these mountains.” Tex was whining, he supposed, but it was the bitter truth nonetheless.
He was footsore, and his belly ached from hunger, even though they’d found enough food to stave off starvation. But they were burning energy like they were stoking a steam engine. They couldn’t live on half a grouse a day for long.
Stella was following along not far behind him when she stopped. He noticed the lack of footsteps rather than any noise she made.
Turning back, he saw a stone go flying from her sling, then another and a third before he could turn his head to see what she was shooting at.
She’d bagged three rabbits. He kept his eyes on the critters to make sure they were dead, then turned to her and smiled. “You’re a mighty skilled hunter, Miss Duncan.”
She gave her head a little tilt that almost seemed like modesty. Then she gave him a look of regret. “We can carry them along until suppertime, or we can stop here and—”
A sharp shriek cut off her words as a stone rolled under her foot, and she plunged over the steep slope and slid out of sight.
The ride was no fun for her, but Tex didn’t see any cliffs. He followed her down at a more reasonable speed.
Throwing her arms back so she was lying flat, she finally stopped. By the time she gathered herself, he was there. He extended his hand, and she reached up for him and stood, looking dirty and disgruntled.
“Are you all right?”
She shrugged. “It was an improvement over the ride I took down that river.”
“You sit a spell and rest. Sit on something level.”
She nodded and managed to stay upright as she walked a few paces to a waist-high boulder.
He looked closer and saw a rivulet of blood trickling down the side of her head. Pulling his shirt out of his waistband, he used his knife to cut the bottom two inches of it into a long strip. He folded it into a ragged excuse for a bandage. “Stella, you’re hurt. Behind your ear.”
She took the bandage and pressed it to the back of her head. “Thank you. Sorry about your shirt.”
He waved her off. “I’ll get a new one.”
“I wonder if we’ll be hiking these mountains for the rest of our lives,” she said glumly.
Tex chuckled as he put away the knife. It was a wonder he hadn’t lost it in the river. “I reckon we’ll find the eastern edge of the Rockies someday. And until we do, if you can keep bringing down the game, I’ll keep on cooking it.”
Stella lifted her eyes to take in the vast wilderness, and Tex couldn’t help but look around, too. The desolation was staggering.
“I suppose my pa can’t find me if I can’t find myself.”
“Too bad that amounts to a bright side.” Tex turned back to her, as looking around only seemed to make things worse.
“Call me Stella from now on. I don’t ever again want to hitch the name Duncan to myself.”
“I’m sorry you’re hurt. Get some rest while I skin the rabbits. Rabbit fur is soft—maybe I can make you a pillow with it.”
Nodding, she went back to tending her cuts and scrapes.
Tex turned his attention to preparing their first meal of the day. Before he was done working, Stella had finished up her resting, found a stream down the slope a bit, and washed her head wound, drank some water, then came back to get a fire started.
“Let me take over with getting supper on, Tex. You go get yourself a drink of water.”
He handed his knife to her and turned to walk toward the water as if he trusted her completely, which he probably did, wise or not.