Chapter Four
The next day, Ace surprised Bonnie by asking her to ride into Fort Arrow with him. A hard storm had arrived during the night. The river was starting to flood. After moving the cattle to safer ground, Ace ordered Finn, Clyde, and Dallas to stay behind.
“We ain’t gonna get far in this storm. Fort Arrow is a half day’s ride. I was going to stop there tomorrow, but I reckon I’ll go talk to Colonel Edwards today.”
“About what?” Bonnie wasn’t happy to be leaving Dallas.
Given all the unwanted attention it had invited, she regretted her decision to fix that torn strap on his saddle last night.
She’d wanted to do something nice for Dallas, since he’d helped her when the heat was on, but all the questions had put her on edge.
He has to know I’m a woman. I see it in his eyes. I think he’s trying to protect me.
“We’re riding into Indian territory,” Ace explained. “Fort Arrow is just a watering hole, really. We’ll stop at Fort Reno for supplies when we get close enough. Colonel Edwards likes to know who’s running herds on the trail. He passes the word on.”
“In other words, if we end up dead, the army will make a fuss,” Dallas said with a wry smirk.
“The army ain’t so bad,” Finn said. “They just want to make sure no injuns get at us, is all.”
“The Choctaw are friendly enough, Finn,” Ace pointed out as he mounted up. “I know some of them.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t trust no injuns, Ace. Sorry,” Finn replied. “No sir, not me. Seen too much. My uncle was killed by the Apache. Had a cousin who went up into Sioux territory. They found him naked with his throat slit open. Nearly got scalped by a Comanche warrior, myself.”
Bonnie understood Finn’s fear, but she didn’t think white men were any better. In her experience, in fact, most were just as bad—if not worse. Roscoe Carver, for instance, was a bloody savage with no soul. He’d stolen Bonnie away from her pa and forced her to marry him.
“You’d best do what I say, girl, or I’ll go back and kill your pa in a real bad way.”
She’d known the monster was telling the truth, so she’d married him—but never once had she opened her heart or enjoyed having her husband crawl on top of her. Each time he’d used her, it felt dirty, like a dead skunk taking advantage of a sleeping deer.
And so, her mind would go far away, so far that she’d never felt a thing. She’d focused her thoughts on Heaven, praying that the Lord would protect her. She’d been able to endure it because her heart was so far away.
But he ain’t gonna be in the mood to bring me back this time. He’ll kill me for sure. Maybe letting the army know we’re running cattle ain’t such a bad idea.
“Let’s ride, Brandon,” Ace said, yanking Bonnie back into the present. “We’ll be back by noon tomorrow. Just rest the cattle. We’re making good time. It won’t hurt to let a day pass.”
“I ain’t complaining,” Finn drawled. He slapped rainwater off his hat. “Might be wet, but I’m already saddle sore. My back could use a good rest.”
“Mine, too,” Clyde added. “You go on to Fort Arrow, Ace. We’ll tend to the cattle. They done got them a dry spot. Ain’t gonna be no fuss.”
Dallas looked directly at Bonnie. “No fuss at all, right?”
He knows… but he ain’t gonna spill the beans.
She nodded, mounting up. “No fuss.”
“Good,” Dallas nodded back.
Bonnie looked at Ace, who was staring at her curiously.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing. Let’s ride.”
Bonnie made sure her collar was pulled up as high as it could go and then checked her hat and bandanna. “See you tomorrow,” she told Dallas and then rode off with Ace.
“Fort Arrow sits right over the border of the Oklahoma Territory. Some folks call it ‘unorganized territory.’”
“Guess so.”
Bonnie prayed that Ace would stop talking—and he did. In fact, they rode the rest of the way to Fort Arrow in complete silence.
Ace stayed a little ahead of her. He never looked back once. Even when the storm eventually let up and the time came to stop and rest the horses, Ace remained silent as he ate some jerky, looking around.
Ace’s silence was slightly unsettling, but Bonnie welcomed it.
She wasn’t much of a talker herself. She’d been trapped in a house with no other women and a husband who ignored her whenever he wasn’t using her.
Thankfully, Roscoe had only used her four times.
After that, he started going back to the saloon girls in town.
A great blessing. I always tried to make sure I wasn’t pleasing to him. I guess it worked.
In her heart, Bonnie wondered what it would feel like to be loved by a real man—a kind man, one who touched her with a soft hand and gentle lips instead of a drunken slap across the face and whiskey-fueled curses.
She’d been eighteen years old when Roscoe stole her away. Now she was twenty-six. Eight hard years had passed. She’d escaped seven times. On her seventh attempt, Roscoe had waited nearly a full year before he came looking for her.
When he’d finally come, though, he’d found her hiding in her best friends’ bedroom—and brought death into the house.
Roscoe saw Bonnie as his property. He was obviously tired of her, but he was also prideful. It’s his pride that makes him come look for me. He’s a monster, and monsters don’t love.
When Ace mounted up and got moving again, Bonnie followed. The trees thinned out as they rode on, and small hills started to form on the landscape. Everything looked wet and hopeless, though, so she barely paid attention.
Finally, a fort appeared in the distance. It was just as small as Ace had described it.
“Like I said, place ain’t much. Has resting quarters for visitors and a saloon for the soldiers. Drinking and card games is about all that goes on here.”
Bonnie didn’t like the sound of that. She’d been in her share of saloons and seen what happened when trail skunks got whiskeyed up and played cards. Many a man ended up either shot dead or stabbed to death—and many hangings followed.
Not too long back, Bonnie had seen a gunslinger hang in such a way that it seemed like his eyeballs would pop out of his head. The most awful sound had come from his throat as his legs kicked back and forth… back and forth… before going still.
Ace rode up to the two soldiers guarding the front gate. “I’m here to see Colonel Edwards. Name is Ace Carter. I’m running a herd up to Wichita.”
“Colonel Edwards was called back to Fort Reno. Captain O’Neil is in charge,” replied one of the soldiers, a kid who Bonnie doubted was older than sixteen.
“Fine. I’ll talk to him.”
“All weapons have to be checked and left out here.” The soldier pointed to a large wooden box beside the gate.
Ace dismounted and took off his gun belt. He handed it to the soldier and then turned over his saddle rifle. “He’s not wearing a gun belt,” he told the soldier, nodding at Bonnie. “Just has the saddle rifle.”
Bonnie got off her horse. She handed over her saddle rifle without saying a word, keeping her eyes low. If they found out she was a woman, she’d be in trouble.
These two don’t look old enough to have any sense in their heads yet—but others might.
Even though Roscoe was an outlaw, as sure she was breathing, he wasn’t actually a wanted man. If her situation became known, she’d either be told to go back, or worse, forcefully hauled to his doorstep.
Ace will run me off. I’ll be on my own.
Bonnie’s trust in people was very low. She’d seen people mistreat each other time and time again.
Soldiers weren’t exactly saints, either.
Just because a fella wore a uniform didn’t make him good.
In fact, she’d seen firsthand what happened when soldiers abused the trust their uniforms were supposed to inspire.
“Go on in. Captain O’Neil is in his office.”
Ace walked his horse through the gate. Feeling uneasy, Bonnie followed, keeping her head and eyes low.
Bonnie and Ace tied their horses up near the gate next to several watering troughs and piles of hay.
Small wooden buildings ran around the inside perimeter of the fort, and four ladders hitched up to shaky walkways along the top of the wall.
Nothing more except the smell of horse manure, hay, and old whiskey.
“Wait here,” Ace told her as they reached one of the buildings. “I won’t be long.”
“Uh… sure.” Bonnie stayed put while Ace knocked on the door.
“Enter!”
Then, Ace walked inside, leaving Bonnie with nothing to do but look around.
The fort didn’t seem to have many soldiers to begin with, and the ones Bonnie saw didn’t look promising: young kids in dirty boots who looked either bored, drunk, or both, their uniforms looking worse for wear.
I wish Ace would hurry.
Ace came back out a half hour later. “We’ll bunk here tonight. Might as well go have a drink. There’s a saloon over there.” He pointed to a wooden building hooked to the west wall.
“I don’t drink.”
“No?”
Bonnie shook her head.
A soldier walked—well, staggered—up. He reached out and slapped Bonnie on the shoulder. “Hey fella, seen my gal?”
The stench of whiskey rolling off him was so bad, Bonnie nearly vomited. “No, sorry.”
“Sleep it off, Tuck,” one of the soldiers guarding the gate hollered.
The soldier stared at Bonnie for a minute. “You… got purdy eyes, fella,” he mumbled, then stumbled away to collapse into a pile of hay. A minute later, he was out cold.
Bonnie turned to see Ace staring at her. She forced out a nervous chuckle. “That soldier is drunker than a wild donkey.”
“Yeah, reckon so,” Ace replied.
The sooner she got out of here, Bonnie decided, the better. She’d thought riding in here was a good idea at first, but if even a drunk could see her eyes well enough to remark on them…
Oh boy. I better kept my head so low to the ground the worms can talk to me.
“Mind if we eat, Ace?”
Ace nodded toward another building. “We can get some grub there. Let’s go.”