Chapter Eight
Ace approached Brandon the following morning just as the sun started to rise. “Going to go hunt some game. Good time to do it. Game takes to the river this early. Want you to come with me.”
Brandon had just put down an armload full of wood. Clyde was getting a cookfire going while Finn put his boots on. Dallas was on watch. Lyle was sitting on the ground near the cookfire, putting his boots on. Ace noticed how he looked at Brandon.
Lyle scoffed. “Ain’t no game around here.”
“Gotta hunt in the early hours, when the game looks for water,” Ace told Lyle. He didn’t like how the fella looked at Brandon. His eyes are mean. I should’ve run him off when I had the chance.
“Shoot, I know that. But they ain’t no game around here,” Lyle insisted. “I’ve been hunting since I could scratch my backside. I know when game is around.”
“We’ll see.” Ace kept his temper in check. He was tempted to tell Lyle to mount up and ride off, but he didn’t—and for a good reason. The night before, he’d spotted a lone rider. The rider wasn’t an Indian.
Looked to be a scout out checking on the herd.
Ace really did intend to try and hunt some game, but he also wanted to scout around some without alarming anyone. He wasn’t sure if Lyle was riding alone. What if Lyle was riding with a gang and pretending to be a drifter? Only time would tell. It was important to play dumb for the time being.
“Let’s go, Brandon.”
“Yeah, go on and… hunt,” Lyle rudely called out to Brandon.
“Watch your mouth,” Brandon snapped at him.
“Why don’t you uncover your mouth?” Lyle sneered.
“Knock it off,” Clyde warned Lyle. “Brandon done been in an accident. Leave him be.”
“Yeah, leave him be.” Finn stood up. “You just focus on your job, boy.”
Ace appreciated Finn and Clyde standing up to Lyle. He was glad to have them on the trail with him.
“Just joshing, is all. Don’t go kicking dirt at me, boys,” Lyle fussed.
“We’ll be back shortly,” Ace told everyone. “Let’s go… Brandon.”
Using that name now felt strange. Ace just felt like ‘Brandon’ was actually a woman. The way he walked, rode a horse, and acted sometimes just felt off. But letting on that he thought he was a woman wasn’t an option, not now.
Best to scout around. Maybe kill some game in the meantime. Need some meat. Don’t think there’s much game around. Might be a wild turkey or two. Might spot a deer. Mostly, I want to look for horse tracks.
Ace felt tired. He hadn’t slept much during the night. He kept thinking about Brandon, wondering who he was. His mind locked on Roscoe Carver. Dallas had claimed he picked Brandon up in Caldwell. It didn’t take much to put two and two together.
Was the lone rider he’d seen part of Roscoe’s gang?
Was Lyle riding with them? There were too many questions.
Ace had learned, especially during the war, that it was better to wait and let answers march out into the open rather than speculate.
A man knew his position. There was no sense in riding into thick brush where rattlers could be hiding.
The war…
Ace had dreamed of the war during the few short hours of sleep he’d managed to lasso.
I was on the battlefield… we were in a good position. We had the high ground. The Union army was in a bad way. A hard rain was falling. The hills were muddy and slippery. I was surprised to see the Union army take up their battle positions.
His mind went back to the war as he rode off with Brandon.
The first rifle shot… cannons firing… the smell of gunpowder and the sound of men being shot. Fella right next to me was shot through the neck. He went down hard and bloody. When I looked down at him, his dead eyes were full of rain.
The battle had been bloody and rough. The Confederate army had defeated the Union army that day, but both sides had suffered greatly.
Over one thousand men had been killed, and countless more had been wounded.
The Union army had suffered the greatest loss, but Ace had lost many good friends that day—fellas he’d thought of as brothers.
Bullet nicked me in the cheek real bad. My beard hides the scar. Got shot in the shoulder. Bullet went clean through. Can’t even tell. Shoulder and arm is fine. But…
Ace saw himself get shot twice at the same time.
The impact threw him backward and forced him down onto his left knee while other men fell dead at his side.
Instead of panicking or checking on his wounds, he struggled to stand back up, reload, and continue fighting as cold rainwater ran down his face like dying tears.
Brandon’s voice brought Ace’s mind back. “Ace?”
“Yeah?”
“Where are we heading?” Brandon asked.
“Northeast a little, toward that rise up a ways. Trees are thicker up that way.”
“River is up that way, too.”
“Yeah.” It took a minute for Ace to push the war out of his mind. He’d been a young man then—anxious to fight and ready to kill. And now, running trails, running solo, his guns were still capable of killing… but his soul was weary of the blood.
Ace rode up to a rise lined with trees. He cut into the trees, away from the herd, and rode in silence for a few minutes, searching for tracks, disturbed brush, horse manure—any trace of the lone rider he’d seen the night before.
The air was fresh and sweet. He could hear the river flowing close by. For a few seconds, it felt nice being out in the early morning air, being reminded that God had made the world beautiful and peaceful.
Then, Ace spotted horse tracks leading away from the rise, toward the river. He drew out his gun with a fast, steady hand.
“Horse tracks,” he told Brandon. “Best follow them. Keep an eye out.”
He led the way to the river without looking back at Brandon. He saw him pull out his saddle rifle. That was good enough.
One rider… see some horse manure. Manure doesn’t look fresh. Rider has been gone a while. Might be at the river.
Ace eased his horse through the trees toward the river with caution and skill. His eyes searched for danger in every possible area while his gun hand remained ready to kill. Having his gun drawn reminded him of the war again. For one awful second, his hand began to shake… then, he gained control.
“Easy now,” he whispered back to Brandon. “River is through these trees here.”
Ace pushed his horse through the trees and came up on a wide, shallow part of the Washita River. The horse tracks he was following darted into the river.
“Rider crossed the river right here,” he murmured, scanning the opposite bank.
More trees. Not many. Just enough to hide a rider. No sense in going over that way. Don’t want to ride right into an ambush. No telling who the rider was.
Ace rode back from the river some and then stopped in a small clearing. He got off his horse and had a good look around. “Good place to make camp at, but there’s no sign anybody was here.”
“Don’t seem that way,” Brandon agreed.
Ace mounted up, but didn’t ride off. “Need to ask you some questions.”
“Thought so.”
Ace heard dread in Brandon’s voice. “I want you to be honest with me. Roscoe Carver—do you know him?”
Brandon tucked his head down.
A groan went through Ace’s soul. Yeah, he knows him, all right. Sure enough.
“Take your hat off.”
“What?” Brandon’s head shot back up.
“Take your hat off, and pull that bandanna off your face. Now,” Ace ordered.
“No!”
Ace leaned forward on his saddle and looked at Brandon meaningfully. “Enough with the act. You’re a woman. I know you are. I reckon Dallas does, too. That’s why he’s been protecting you. I think that new fella knows, too. That’s why he’s been after you.”
Brandon tensed up. “I ain’t no woman!”
“Then take off your hat and get rid of that bandanna. Let me see you clear out. Right now!” Ace’s tone offered no room for argument. “Do it, or I’m gonna do it for you.”
“But?—?”
“Now!”
Bonnie winced. “Okay… I reckon…”
Ace watched Brandon raise two nervous and trembling hands up to his hat, looking at Ace through scared eyes that could only belong to a woman… then slowly removed the hat.
Short, pretty hair appeared, wrapped up in a tight string.
“Your bandanna.”
‘Brandon’ bowed his—no, her—head and then, as if preparing to be shot, pulled the bandanna down. Full, red lips appeared, matching a breathtakingly lovely face.
Ace felt his breath catch. She’s beautiful.
“My name is Bonnie. I’m running from Roscoe Carver.
He’s… my husband… he forced me to marry him after he stole me away from my pa when I was younger.
He threatened to kill my pa if I didn’t marry him.
” Tears began falling down Bonnie’s face.
“I done run off from him a bunch of times. Last time I run off, he killed my best friend for hiding me, then threatened to kill me if I ever ran off again.”
Ace struggled to pay attention to her story. He’d never seen a woman so beautiful before—not even Belle. Now that he could see her hair, her eyes, her entire face… he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Thought something along that line,” he said quickly, trying to sound tough and in control, even though his heart was beating fast.
How could such a beautiful woman hide herself under a hat, a bandanna, and a bunch of baggy clothes? I reckon it’s possible, because none of the soldiers back at Fort Arrow said a word… Wait—didn’t one say something about her eyes? Of course, no one would pay any mind to a drunken soldier.
“Now you know the truth… so what are you gonna do?” Bonnie asked, her tears still falling.
“I’m gonna take care of you,” Ace promised. He kept his voice tough and stern. “You best put your hat and bandanna back on. I’ll make like we didn’t have this meeting.”
Bonnie stared at Ace through shocked eyes. “But?—?”
“I reckon Dallas knows. Maybe Finn and Clyde suspect, too. Could be the new guy knows. Just don’t let on, okay? From a distance, no one can tell you’re a woman.”
Ace still couldn’t take his eyes off Bonnie. Her lips were so pretty and red—and her eyes, once scared and stiff, now glowed with the beauty only a woman possessed. Whatever Roscoe Carver had done, he’d failed to destroy Bonnie’s beauty.
“Don’t look at me that way,” Bonnie begged.
“What way?” Ace asked.
“Like I’m beautiful… I ain’t. Roscoe took my innocence.
He got on top of me a handful of times. Never enjoyed it…
but I couldn’t let him kill my pa. Thought about Heaven the entire time.
” More tears left Bonnie’s eyes. “He always made me feel dirty… I thank God I never got pregnant. But I ain’t innocent no more. ”
Ace wasn’t sure what to say. Some filthy bastard had stolen her away, and she’d endured years of abuse because she’d feared for her pa’s life.
He fought the urge to reach out and put his arm around Bonnie’s shoulders. It wasn’t the right time. “What’s your last name?”
“Thatcher,” Bonnie replied after taking a gulp of air. “Ma died giving me life, so Pa raised me up… but he always wanted a son. Raised me up to be real tough—and now look at me… crying like I ain’t got a lick of sense!”
“Bonnie, put your hat and bandanna back on, and… just know that everything is going to be okay.”
Bonnie shook her head. “You don’t know how bloody Roscoe is, Ace… but I fear you’re gonna find out.”
Her eyes are terrified. It’s time someone stood between her and Roscoe Carver, and that man is gonna be me.