Chapter Sixteen
Bonnie squirmed, shifting her weight as nature’s urgent call came over her. Finn had walked down to the river to fill everyone’s canteens. Dallas and Clyde were nearby, watching the herd. Ace had ridden off to scout the trail for any places an ambush could be waiting for them.
“I got to go do my business,” she fussed.
“Clyde, go with her?—?”
“I beg your pardon?” Bonnie snapped at poor Dallas.
“He ain’t gonna watch or nothing, Bonnie. You know Clyde ain’t like that.”
“The trees are just right down there,” she urged. “Just let me hurry and do my business.” Bonnie tugged on her horse’s reins. “I won’t be but a minute.”
“Aw, let her go,” Clyde told Dallas. “Finn is down at the river. He’ll keep an eye on things.”
“Well… just hurry. Ace will be back in a minute,” Dallas told Bonnie.
“I’ll hurry. I promise.”
I reckon Dallas is just as worried as me because he knows what kind of monster Roscoe is. Jack almost ran me down—would have got me, too, if I hadn’t been so close to the herd. Dallas ain’t no fool. He knows, and I reckon he cares, too. I’m mighty grateful for that.
Bonnie rode away from the herd and headed toward the river.
She found a decent enough spot that would allow her some privacy.
Wearing men’s britches made the whole ordeal into a real chore, as she had to remove them completely in order not to soil them, leaving her far more vulnerable than she liked.
Bonnie found a good-sized tree to stand behind and quickly began to deal with her britches, her eyes darting toward the river. The current was slow and sleepy, but the water looked deep to her—too deep for comfort.
As she stared at the river, her mind was jerked back to a horrifying night without warning. She’d been hiding under Rosalind’s bed, sweating like a stuffed mule. Bonnie’s friend had been trying to hide her from Roscoe.
Only, Roscoe found me.
The sound of a door being kicked open rang in Bonnie’s ears. She’d watched two large, dirty boots stomp across squeaky floorboards like rabid coyotes going after a rabbit. A loud smack had cut through the air—flesh on flesh. Then, Rosalind had screamed in pain and fallen to the floor.
She turned her head and looked directly into my eyes. I’ll never forget the fear in them.
“Where is she?” Roscoe had demanded drunkenly, his voice filled with insane rage.
“Who?”
“You know who, you filthy lightskirt!”
Bonnie hadn’t been able to tear her eyes away from the poor woman laying at Roscoe’s feet. The monster’s sour stench had tainted the room faster than morning heat running off a cool breeze, accompanied by the scent of death.
I knew he was going to kill her right from the start. He had blood in his voice.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Rosalind had cried, wiping blood off her bottom lip. “You have no right?—?”
A hard boot had kicked Rosalind in the side. She cried out in pain again.
“You best tell me where my wife is!”
Rosalind was terrified, but Roscoe didn’t know she had a temper to her. She was never gonna tell him squat.
“I pray the hounds of hell come for you,” Rosalind spat when he’d kicked her again. “Go ahead, kill me! You know you’re gonna! I may be scared, but Jesus is with me?—?”
The sound that had followed would haunt Bonnie’s dreams for life: a single gunshot.
The bullet had gone through Rosalind’s temple, and when her head flopped over, limp, her lifeless eyes had stared into Bonnie’s as blood dripped down her bruised forehead.
Roscoe had nearly beat Bonnie to death that night. She’d tried to go to the sheriff, but Roscoe had tied her to the saddle. Wouldn’t have mattered, anyway; she’d heard Jack say that the sheriff was paid for. I left Rosalind behind.
No one had even looked Roscoe’s way.
Maybe they were afraid to.
Next, Bonnie found herself sitting in a lonely bedroom next to an open window, looking down at a dark yard. Roscoe’s men were prowling around. She spotted Jack walk up to one of them—Andy—and hand him a bottle of whiskey.
“Not much going on tonight. Drink up.”
“Woman opened her bedroom window.”
Bonnie had seen Jack look up in her direction. “She ain’t gonna run again. Not after the beating Roscoe gave her. If she ever runs again, she better keep running, because Roscoe will kill her for sure.”
Bonnie recalled staring around the stuffy, miserable room, wondering if she would ever escape Roscoe. Jack had been right—not that he’d cared a flip. He was the scoundrel that always tracked her down, after all.
If I was a man, I’d fight them all, Bonnie remembered whispering.
That’s when a curious idea had come to her. What if I dressed like a man? They knew her face, but what if she changed her appearance?
From that night forward, Bonnie had begun planning her final escape.
But it didn’t do any good. Roscoe found me again. At least this time, I ain’t alone. He ain’t beating a helpless woman.
Roscoe would catch up to her before long—and this time, he’d kill her. She would make sure of it.
I won’t let myself be taken back no matter what. I’ll tell him I belong to Ace, make him so mad, he won’t have any choice but to kill me.
Bonnie finished her business and pulled her britches up, then eased down to the water and rinsed her hands. Her eyes darted up and down the river.
No sign of Finn… Guess he finished filling the canteens. Don’t take long.
Even so, a chill crept down her spine. She stopped washing her hands and listened, hearing only the rush of the current and a slight breeze rustling the trees. Not a soul was in sight.
She drew in a deep breath through her nose, scenting the air, but didn’t smell sweat or the stink of unwashed bodies. Still, she felt very alone and vulnerable.
Even if I can’t smell him, I know Roscoe is close by. I can sense him.
Bonnie cast her gaze downriver, hoping to catch sight of Finn, but it did seem like the man had completed his chore and returned to the herd.
Reckon I best be getting back, too?—
The sound of hooves approaching from behind caused Bonnie to stiffen and spin around.
To her relief, it was Ace who emerged from the trees. “Dallas and Clyde told me you were down here.”
“I had to?—?”
“A fella can stand behind a tree while you do your business,” Ace interrupted. He scanned the river. “Where’s Finn?”
“He ain’t back at the herd?” Bonnie asked, stepping back when Ace jumped down from his horse.
He drew out his gun. “You ain’t seen him?”
“No.”
Ace shook his head and stalked downriver. Bonnie followed. They made their way through some trees and then stopped.
The canteens Finn had been filling were strewn across the riverbank.
“Water’s much shallower here than where you were at…”
Before Bonnie could say a word, Ace splashed across the river with his gun raised. She watched him scout the opposite bank and then come back across.
“Roscoe got to him, didn’t he?” she dared to ask.
“Hoofprints across the river. Four pairs. Boot tracks, too… and some blood.” Ace kept his gun out while he talked, which Bonnie took as a sign that he was awful worried. Rage flickered in his eyes.
Bonnie’s mind began to race as fear and dread settled into her heart like a heatwave. If Roscoe took Finn, he could’ve got at me just as easily. Maybe he tried, and Finn did something to make him ride off?
“Ace, what are you gonna do?”
Ace grabbed the canteens and started back the way they’d come. “Let’s get back to the herd.”
“Okay.”
Bonnie rode back to the herd with Ace, feeling… what? Grateful that Roscoe hadn’t snagged her, yes, but also very afraid.
I ain’t going back. My days are numbered. I’m gonna make sure I end up dead, just like Rosalind. It’s the only way.
“Looks like Carver got to Finn,” Ace told Dallas and Clyde when they reached the herd.
Clyde nearly jumped off his horse. “Is he de?—??”
“I don’t think so, Clyde. We didn’t find anything but a few drops of blood. I’m thinking Carver might’ve taken Finn to make us give Bonnie up. That’s just a hunch, though. Could be wrong.”
“Could be right,” Dallas told Ace.
A swap? Yeah, that would be like Roscoe. He wouldn’t want to get the law after him. But I’m Roscoe’s legal wife. He has every right to be after me—at least in the eyes of the law. Maybe shooting it out with Ace ain’t a good idea.
“I got to go find Finn!” Clyde kicked his horse’s flanks.
Ace pushed his horse in front of Clyde’s horse. “Bad idea, Clyde. You’ll just get yourself shot down. We best get the herd moving. If Roscoe thinks to exchange Finn for Bonnie, he’ll follow after us.”
“What if you’re wrong?” For the first time, Bonnie saw Clyde get mad at Ace.
Ace didn’t get upset. “Clyde, we need to get the herd moving. We can’t give in to whatever hand Carver is trying to force us to play. Besides, if I’m wrong, then Finn is deader than grave dirt right now. If I’m not… Well, we’ll find out.”
“Listen to him, Clyde,” Dallas urged. “Ain’t no sense in you riding off and getting filled with bullets. We need you here with us.”
Bonnie saw a tear fall from Clyde’s eye. “But Finn is my brother. We take care of each other. He promised to help me get married off to that gal I like. Ain’t never had a better partner. Never will. I can’t just ride off and leave him.”
“I can turn myself over to Roscoe,” Bonnie told Clyde. “I’ll just let him kill me and get it over with. Maybe he’ll give Finn back if?—?”
“No, I can’t ask that of you.” Clyde shook his head, tears streaking through the dust on his face.
“Finn wouldn’t want that. We best do what Ace said and get the herd moving.
You’re gonna have to take Finn’s spot, Bonnie.
Gotta pull the packhorses with you. Just tie the ropes to your saddle the way Finn does. ”
Bonnie looked directly at Ace to find him staring at her hard, but not like a man getting ready to beat a woman; he was staring at her the way a man stares at an empty grave waiting to be filled.
“We best get the herd moving. Ain’t got no other choice right now.”