Smolder on a Slow Burn

by Lynda J. Cox

  “We’re well past the stage of me wanting to shoot you, darlin’. I don’t think Garrison is going to just let me walk away.” He checked the position of the three riders. “What I wouldn’t give for a carbine right now.”

  The stalemate held for almost an hour. Garrison shouted, “Adams, I’m coming closer. Don’t shoot.” He waved a white cloth.

  “This should be good. So much for waiting us out.” A.J. reached into the saddle bag still on Dan’s saddle and pulled out the small derringer. He handed it to Allison. “If I get them all close enough, can you shoot one of them?”

  “As in shoot-one-of-them-dead shoot one of them?” She blinked and shook her head, as if to clear her vision. A quick intake of breath gave him an idea of how much that hurt her.

  “That would be the general idea, yes.” The two outriders were drifting in closer now. “If you can kill one, I think I can take the other two. Don’t know how pretty it will be, but I think I can do it. You just shoot one of them and then duck back down behind Dan.”

  Allison turned the pistol over in her hand, slipping her finger into the trigger guard. She sucked in a deep breath. “Just get Garrison close enough. I can kill him.”

  “Ruthless little thing, aren’t you?” He gave her a smile. “I’ll do what I can. Stay down and wait for me to tell you to shoot.” He pushed himself to his feet, standing sideways to present less of a target and brought his revolver up. He rocked back onto his left leg and had an immediate jolt of white hot pain sear down it. He rolled his weight forward, even though it put him off balance and in a precarious stance if he had to fire. “That’s far enough, Garrison. Step down off that nag, keep your hands up where I can see them, and walk in the rest of the way. And, bring your men in closer. Then, we’ll talk.”

  “I assume you want them within shooting distance.”

  “You do catch on fast. No wonder Oakten kept you around at Infernum.” A.J. glanced at the two outriders who were now within range. “With your off-hand, gentlemen, take those irons out of your holsters and toss them over here.”

  Both men looked to Garrison. “Do as he says,” Garrison ordered.

  The one on the right reached across himself and pulled the revolver out and tossed it toward A.J. The revolver dropped onto Dan’s side and slid down to the ground at A.J.’s feet. In his peripheral vision, he saw Allison lean forward and pick the gun up. The other one didn’t move for his weapon. “I ain’t going to be a sitting duck,” he said.

  Without looking away from Garrison, A.J. snapped his gun over and shot the rider not wanting to be a sitting duck in the shoulder. Screaming, he fell from his horse and struggled with his uninjured hand to pull his weapon across his body from the holster. Garrison reached for his revolvers, but stayed the motion. Noting it, A.J. didn’t have time to wonder why.

  The last outrider cleared leather and A.J. fired again. The outrider fell silent and unmoving.

  Before the outrider had fully crumbled, A.J. caught movement near Dan’s saddle girth. He spared just a second to glance down. Allison lay on Dan’s unmoving side, holding the large Colt Dragoon the other rider had tossed over dead steady on Garrison. No wonder Garrison hadn’t pulled either revolver.

  For several long moments only the cold fall wind filled the silence. Then, the remaining outrider muttered, “This ain’t what I signed on for. You’re on your own, Garrison.”

  He pulled his horse’s head around and kicked the horse into a gallop. Garrison spun, dipping into his gun hand and fired two shots into the rider’s back. A.J. shot at the same time, hitting Garrison in the leg.

  Garrison managed to turn to A.J., bringing the gun up. “I just want the woman, Adams.”

  “Drop that gun.”

  “I don’t think so. I drop it and you’re going to shoot me. Or she will. If you shoot, I shoot. We both end up dead.” Garrison pushed himself up. “What happened to that ‘Southern honor’ and being a gentleman of your word to not shoot when I came over under a white flag?”

  “I never said I wouldn’t shoot. You drew. Now, drop the iron if you want to live.”

  With a sigh, Garrison let the revolver drop to the ground.

  “The other one, too.”

  Garrison pulled the second revolver from its holster and dropped it to the ground. Never taking his aim off the other man, A.J. circled around the gray’s body. “You can put the gun down now, Alli. Garrison, step away from them. Back up.”

  Garrison limped back several steps. A.J. didn’t bother to pick the revolvers up. Instead, he kicked one backwards, farther away from Garrison and stood on the other. “I’m going to let you live, even though I should be shooting you right where you stand.”

  “Adams, I’ve got nothing personal against you. I just want the woman. I have to take her back to Colton County. If you don’t kill me, I’ll keep coming after the two of you. I’ve got my orders.”

  “Orders?” A.J. shook his head. “Just like you had orders to kill Jed?”

  “Jed? You mean that boy who crossed the dead line? My orders never included shooting that boy, only you if you got even close enough to the dead line. I thought that boy was you. He was wearing Reb cavalry colors.”

  “The top of Jed’s head barely came to my shoulder and we both know he never crossed the dead line. That coat was so big on him it dragged the ground.” A.J. gestured in the general direction of the town. “If you start walking now, you should make it by dark. You go back to town and get someone out here for those men. And then you send a telegram to whoever you work for…”

  “Gene Oakten.”

  A.J.’s head snapped around to Allison for a brief second. She had been correct in her assumption that Garrison was working on Oakten’s orders to bring her back to Georgia. He turned his attention back to Garrison. “You send a telegram to Oakten or write him a letter or however you communicate with him and tell him if he wants Allison, he comes through me.”

  Garrison limped a few steps away. “You know I’m going to tell them in town you shot all three of those men. One of them is dead from two shots to the back. They’ll be putting a bounty on your head, as much as there is for hers.”

  “I’d expect as much. You be sure to tell Oakten that he comes through me. This time, we’ll be on more even footing.”

  “You know, Adams, at Infernum we had money riding on how long it would be before you finally had enough. I lost a hell of a lot of money on that bet. I said after the third week, you’d be crawling through the mud just to lick Oakten’s boots.”

  The distinctive sound of metal clicking on metal cut the man off for a moment. A.J. didn’t take his gaze off Garrison, even though the man backed another step.

  “Maybe someone should make you start crawling through mud,” Allison snapped.

  Garrison backed another step away. “I underestimated you, Adams. I won’t make that mistake again, even if he’s fool enough to still miscalculate everyone around him.”

  Garrison might not be underestimating him, but the man was a fool if he was selling Allison short. “Get back to town, and you let Oakten know that I’m waiting for him. And if you come after me or Allison, I will kill you the next time.”

  A.J. didn’t wait for Garrison to limp out of sight before he began tugging the saddle from Dan’s form. “Hold that revolver on Garrison and if he even looks over his shoulder, you shoot,” he said. After a few moments, A.J. realized he wasn’t going to be able to pull the stirrup or girth out from under the gray. He hated to leave Dan’s saddle but he didn’t have a choice.

  Allison balanced the Dragoon on Dan’s shoulder. A.J. tugged the bridle off Dan’s head, murmuring, “You’re free to run now, Danny-boy.”

  Sugar wandered over and sniffed the gray’s lifeless body. A.J. caught one of the horses from Garrison’s outriders. Methodically, he pulled the all the tack from the other three horses and sent them on their way with a hard slap to their rumps. They bolted past Garrison’s limping form, heading back to town and a stall with grain. A.J.
gathered up the revolvers scattered on the ground and emptied the rounds, dropping the ammunition into the saddle bags and leaving the weapons in a pile.

  He turned to Allison, who still sat on the ground near Dan’s belly. He knelt and gently pried the Dragoon from her hand. She turned her face up to him and he drew back with the anger burning in her eyes. “How dare he bet how long it would have been before they could make you…”

  A.J. placed a finger over her lips. “They did break me, Alli. But, as far as he knows, they never did.” He carefully brushed several wisps of hair from her cheek. “We have to get moving. It’s going to take him a while to get to town, but as soon as he’s there, there will be a posse heading out after us.” Catching her hands into his, he helped her to stand.

  She swayed, and grabbed her head.

  “Look at me,” he urged. A.J. felt his stomach sinking. A huge knot had formed on her forehead and she was whiter than a first snow.

  “I think I am going to throw up,” she whispered, before she spun away from him, collapsing to her knees.

  Even though he wasn’t a doctor, he knew this wasn’t good. When she stopped retching, he handed her the canteen. After she washed her mouth out, he helped her to stand, again. “Can you ride?”

  “I don’t know.” She was swaying from side to side.

  A.J. heaved a deep breath. The longer they delayed, the sooner a posse was going to be heading out after them. A long rope was still on the saddle he had pulled off one of Garrison’s outrider’s horses. He grabbed it and fastened a halter from one end, slipped it over the horse’s head, then dallied the rope around the horn on Sugar’s saddle.

  He swung up onto Sugar and held a hand down to Allison. She grabbed his hand and he pulled her up onto the horse, across his legs. This was not going to be the most comfortable ride, but he didn’t see much of an alternative. He wrapped an arm around Allison’s waist and she instantly dropped her head onto his chest. He remembered hearing that someone with a head injury shouldn’t sleep because they might not wake up. “Don’t go to sleep, Alli. Promise me you won’t sleep.”

  “I’ll try.”

  A fear as he never felt in his life settled into his gut. He gigged Sugar into an easy lope. He had to find a doctor for her. He couldn’t lose her. He was not going to lose her. And, now, because of Garrison, their only hope was to find that federal marshal over in the Wyoming Territory before the wanted posters for him started popping up like dandelions on a warm spring day.

  “I’m sorry,” Allison whispered, again.

  “What for, darlin’?” If she was talking, she wasn’t sleeping. He was going to keep her talking.

  “For Dan.”

  “So am I. He was a good horse. But it wasn’t your fault.”

  “You’re not going to shoot me?”

  “Not yet. I haven’t found a reason to shoot you lately.”

  “That’s good to know.” She turned her face into his chest. “My head really hurts, A.J.”

  He tightened his hold on her. Keep her talking, don’t let her sleep. “How do you think Oakten could afford to buy up most of a county, even if he was buying it for taxes levied by Reconstruction?” He had a very good idea, but there was no way he could prove that the information he gave to Oakten all those years ago was used to line the man’s pockets rather than return the gold to Federal forces.

  “No one knows for sure how he did it. His family is in the next county over and they’re just poor dirt farmers. Several people said he never even got past the fourth or fifth grade and most people were shocked and surprised when he went North during the War. He moved up very quickly in rank…”

  “Georgia’s own Nathan Bedford Forrest.”

  “From what I know of Forrest, he had a conscience,” Allison murmured.

  “During the War, that was debatable. I wonder if Oakten modeled his own life on Forrest.” He tightened his arm around Allison’s shoulders. “Why are you so certain it was Oakten involved with burning your school and killing those children and your family?”

  “I can’t prove it was him. I just know it is something he would order done. He doesn’t like to get his hands dirty.”

  A.J. looked down at her. If anything, she was whiter than before and sweat was dotting her forehead. This was really not good. He forced himself to concentrate on Oakten. “If he doesn’t like to get his hands dirty, that’s changed. He had no problem during the War with having his hands dirty, and even when he went to my home, it didn’t seem to bother him to be involved with murder.”

  A shudder rippled over her and she lifted her face to him. “Perhaps, because he doesn’t have a uniform to hide behind now, he’s trying to appear to have a conscience. Right after the War, he still had that uniform to hide behind. Why did you let Garrison walk away?”

  “Because, plain and simple, I want Oakten more than I want to kill Garrison. Garrison’s death will wait. I need him to get to Oakten.” If she had been more coherent, A.J. knew she would have read between the lines that she had been the lure for both men.

  Then, again, maybe she did realize it because a second or so later, she pulled on the front of his coat. “Stop Sugar. I have to get down.”

  He helped her slide to the ground where she promptly dropped to her knees and was wracked with dry heaves. All he could do was hold her shoulders and keep her hair pulled back.

  When he lifted her onto Sugar again, she once more dropped her head into his chest. This time she murmured, “I’m so tired.”

  “You have to stay awake. Talk to me, Alli.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Treat your friend as if he might become an enemy.

  ~Publilius Syrus

  The gibbous moon bathed the rolling Wyoming landscape in a soft, silver light. The sign post pointed to the west, claiming Federal was only another ten miles. A federal marshal in a town named Federal…what were the odds, A.J. wondered.

  “We’re almost there, Alli. I’ll find us a room and then get a doctor. It’s going to be okay.” He had been talking to himself for better than five hours. Despite his best efforts to keep her awake and talking, she had slipped into a deep sleep.

  He pressed his spurs into Sugar and the mare snorted but changed gait from a walk into a slow lope. He’d kept both horses moving, though never in a trot to avoid jarring Allison any further. The nag dragging behind was already bordering on exhaustion, his coat streaked with sweat and dust. Sugar was breathing heavily and he was traversing a tightrope to keep both animals moving without totally playing them out.

  Dawn was turning the eastern horizon pink when he rode into Federal. On the corner of the Laramie/Cheyenne Road and Federal Avenue a three story hotel rose on his left. He guided Sugar to the hitching rail and dropped a rein. He slid off, cradling Allison to his chest. His legs almost buckled as they’d long ago lost all feeling and he leaned back against Sugar’s warm shoulder for a moment, determining if his left leg was going to give out under him.

  The mare shoved her nose into his back, as if urging him to hurry. He mounted the steps onto the porch and pushed the door open with his shoulder. The front desk was empty but the sounds of pots banging in the kitchen led him forward.

  He shoved his way through the double swinging doors. A woman he assumed to be the cook smothered a scream and pulled a young boy behind her.

  “I don’t mean no harm to anyone, but I need a doctor. Please.”

  It only took the woman a moment to decide. “Donnie, run down the hallway and wake that doc who just got into town yesterday. He’s in room ten. Tell him to come to room twenty-two.” She shoved the boy toward the swinging doors and A.J. stepped aside to let him pass. “Let’s get her into a bed,” she said.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” A.J. followed the portly woman through the silent dining room, up a half-flight of steps and halfway down the hallway. She opened a door and stood aside. A.J. gently lowered Allison onto the bed. He smoothed the hair from her brow, and whispered, “It’s going to be okay now. They’r
e getting a doctor.”

  He straightened as Donnie led the doctor into the room. “Is she dead, Ma?” the boy asked.

  A.J.’s heart sank. The doctor was little more than a boy, no more than twenty if he was a day. In spite of the thick moustache, he didn’t look old enough to be shaving. He’d pulled a long frock coat over what appeared to be striped night clothes.

  “Donald Robert Morris! You don’t go asking things like that. Of course she’s not dead.” Mrs. Morris glanced at A.J. “She’s not, is she?”

  “No.”

  The doctor walked around to the other side of the bed, bent over Allison and pulled one eye lid back. He brushed his fingertips over the massive bruise on her forehead, questing along the edges of the swelling. “I’m Cole Archer. What happened?”

  “She was thrown off a horse and hit her head.”

  Archer looked up at A.J. “When?”

  “Late yesterday morning.” A.J. sank to the bed next to Allison and took her hand into his. “I tried to keep her awake and talking.”

  “Good.” Archer looked over to the doorway. “Mrs. Morris, if I might infringe on your hospitality, would you mind sending young Mr. Morris over to Doctor Hagar’s house. I don’t have any of my medical equipment with me and if you have smelling salts, I could use them.”

  Mrs. Morris gestured out the door. “Scoot, Donald. Hurry up.” Donnie scampered from the room while his mother left at a more dignified pace.

  “Are you really a doctor?” A.J. felt himself bristling, ready to push this possible quack away from Allison.

  “Graduate of Bennett Medical College in Chicago.” Archer’s hands slipped under Allison’s neck and his fingers moved methodically along the back of her skull, before he gently manipulated her head from side to side. He didn’t seem to take any offense at A.J.’s question. “The train I came in on took my trunk off somewhere in Nebraska. Even my medical bag was in it. They’re looking, but I’m not holding out hope of seeing it any time soon.” Archer’s gaze swept over A.J. “Kentucky, correct?”

  A.J. nodded. “How’d you know?”