Love's Bounty

by Rosanne Bittner

  By dusk the canyon through which Callie and Chris rode opened into a wide, grassy valley unlike anything Callie had ever seen. In spite of growing up in a place where big country truly was big country, what she saw now was even bigger, a vast sea of yellow grass, spotted here and there with clumps of trees, framed on either side with forbidding cliffs and mesas that ran as far as the eye could see.

  “We’ll camp here in the valley,” Chris told her. “This place goes on for a lot of miles. It will take us a good five days to get to where we start climbing up to Hole-in-the-Wall. At least it’s good grazing land all the way. That’s why rustlers like it, plenty of grazing for stolen herds.”

  Callie followed him down a steep embankment, carefully guiding Betsy along a narrow winding pathway that took much longer than it looked like it would when first venturing onto it. She was beginning to realize that the closest tree she saw was probably two or three miles farther away than it seemed at first. That’s the way country like this was; everything stretched out for miles, even though to the naked eye it seemed close.

  “How far apart you figure those cliffs are, the ones on the left from the ones on the right?” she asked Chris.

  He shook his head. “My guess would be at least twenty miles, maybe more.”

  “That’s what I figure. My ma taught me about miles. Five thousand two hundred and eighty feet. See? I’m not so dumb.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “You said I needed more education.”

  “That’s right. There’s a big difference between being uneducated and being dumb. You’re a smart girl. Anyone can tell that.”

  For a moment, they literally passed each other on a switchback, Chris several feet below her.

  “Going out alone last night, sneaking around looking in windows of a tavern, now, that is dumb,” Chris added. “Dumb is more a word for when people do stupid things, not for someone who needs a little more education.”

  Callie felt embarrassed again over last night’s happenings. She guided Betsy around the sharp turn and followed behind Chris. “Have you ever done anything dumb?”

  “Sure. Everybody has.”

  “What was it?”

  “Lots of things, mostly when I was younger,” he called back to her.

  “Good. Then I’m not the only one.”

  “Heck no. Everybody does something dumb in their lives, usually lots of things. Most people have said ‘if only’ many times.”

  “If only?”

  “‘If only I had done this.’ ‘If only I had not done that.’ You know…if only.”

  “What’s your biggest if only?” she asked.

  They rode on in silence for several minutes, and it dawned on Callie that she had gone too far again with her questions. His if only must have something to do with his wife, the one subject he could not, or would not, talk about. She waited, deciding to let him start the talking again.

  It took a good half hour to reach the bottom of the cliff, and still Chris had said nothing more. Callie followed him into tall grass, realizing darkness was falling fast, now that the sun began to settle behind one of the cliff walls.

  “We’ll make a fire tonight,” he finally spoke up.

  Good, Callie thought. At least he’s talking, so he must not be angry with me for that last question.

  “We’ll use the pieces of dead wood we picked up along the way when we were coming out of the canyon,” he continued. “Dry pine burns fast though. We’ll have to have things ready to cook before we light the fire so we don’t waste the heat.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You up to making coffee and frying a couple of potatoes?” he asked.

  “Sure. You make the fire. I’ll slice the potatoes into a fry pan and add a little bacon fat. Flavors up the potatoes real good. I did most of the cooking for my folks when they—” The words caught in her throat. “Were alive,” she finished.

  They headed through high grass toward a spot where a narrow stream cut its way through the now-flat land.

  “See why this is such a good place to graze stolen herds?” Chris said. “This is still open, free country. No one has really claimed any of it, and it’s too remote to bother, let alone the remaining danger from Indians and now the danger from migrating outlaws.”

  He halted Night Wind, and the sleek black horse whinnied and tossed its head as though telling Chris it was about time he allowed the horses to rest again.

  “Where do the rustlers take their stolen goods?” Callie asked when she rode closer. She reined Betsy to a stop and dismounted.

  Chris removed his rifle from its boot, laying it aside, then began unstrapping the belt that held his saddle on Night Wind. “A lot of places—Canada, maybe friends who have a ranch somewhere, in towns farther east, other outlaws, even the army.”

  Callie followed him in unsaddling Betsy. “Seems like a waste of time to me. Why not just have your own ranch and do things the legal way?”

  Chris dropped his saddle in the grass and removed the saddle blanket from Night Wind. “Too much work for some men. They prefer to get by the easy way—take money and goods from honest folks.”

  They spent the next several minutes unloading the mules and spare horse. Callie unpacked the fry pan and some potatoes as well as the coffeepot.

  “Might as well take it easy on the horses and mules the first few days,” Chris told her. “Break them in a little, let them get used to our voices and the extra exercise.” He untied a bundle of hobbling stakes and picked up some rope, leading Night Wind and Breeze closer to the stream.

  Callie thought how odd this all was. This would be the first night they would spend alone together, him a near stranger, yet already she felt perfectly safe with him. She hoped that wasn’t one of the “dumb” things she’d do in life. She walked over to Betsy, smacking her bottom while she grabbed the bridle to one of the mules, and herded both animals to where Chris was hobbling the other two.

  Chris pounded stakes into the ground, then tied Breeze and Night Wind to them. He proceeded to do the same with Betsy and the mule Callie had brought over, while Callie went back for the second mule. She pulled on its bridle and urged it to come with her, but the animal wouldn’t budge.

  “This one is going to be a problem,” she yelled to Chris. She moved around and smacked the beast’s behind, but the mule only snorted and twitched its ears.

  Chris walked closer, scowling with irritation. He whacked the mule even harder on the rump. “Come on, you stubborn ass!” he scolded. “Get yourself moving!”

  Callie began tugging at the mule while Chris whistled and smacked its rump. Still the animal would not budge.

  “Come on, Rose, move!” she pleaded.

  “You named the mules?”

  “Sure. Luke said they didn’t have any names, and I felt sorry for them.”

  Chris shook his head. “Well, Rose sure doesn’t fit this one. She’s more like a damn thorn in the side.” He smacked the mule again, then held out his arms as though giving up. “I want some coffee and potatoes, and I don’t feel like giving them up for a stubborn mule.”

  Callie shrugged. “Hobble her right here, then. Maybe a night without water will teach her to mind.”

  Chris studied her a minute, then suddenly grinned. “Damn good idea. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that myself.”

  Callie put her hands on her hips. “See? I’m not always dumb about things.”

  “Yeah? Well, I already told you I never thought you were dumb. You just—” He stopped talking when Rose suddenly walked briskly toward the area where the other animals were hobbled. He and Callie both stared until she reached the water and began drinking.

  Chris turned to Callie then, shaking his head and chuckling. “Now, there is the ultimate in stubbornness and independence,” he commented. “Reminds me a little of you.”

  “Me!”

  “Sure. Won’t do what I say, then does it her own way.”

  Their gazes held in a way that mad
e Callie feel strangely close to him. She quickly looked away, smiling, realizing he was just teasing her. “You hobble that mule and get a fire going,” she ordered. “I’ll slice those potatoes and fix some coffee.”

  She went about doing just that, and it wasn’t long before Chris had dug a pit and got a crackling fire going. He laid an iron grate over the hole, and Callie set the coffeepot on it. They both spread out their bedrolls then, and Chris stretched out on his, lying back against his saddle.

  “If you need to tend to personal matters, go ahead,” he told Callie. “I’ll be lying here with my eyes closed.”

  Callie stirred the potatoes, then reached into her supplies for a roll of the paper folks had come to use for such things. She walked around to a spot where she’d be behind him, thinking how this wasn’t so difficult or embarrassing back at the canyon. She could just go around a corner and get behind a rock. But here, lordy, there was nothing but wide open spaces, not a rock or a tree to hide behind. She had to trust Christian Mercy completely not to take a peek when she dropped her britches.

  “You just remember what I told you about shooting you dead,” she reminded him.

  Chris only laughed and raised his hand to wave her off. “Watch out for snakes,” he told her.

  “Oh, I’ll be doing that all right,” she answered, “the kind with two legs.”

  She heard him chuckle as she moved even farther away, quickly taking care of matters, eager to pull her britches back up. Greatly relieved, she marched back to the fire. “Your turn,” she announced, handing over the paper.

  He opened one eye to look at her. “Number one, I don’t feel the need right now,” he said. “And number two, men don’t need paper, not if all they’re doing is watering the grass.”

  “Watering the—” Callie rolled her eyes and shoved the paper back into the leather saddlebag she’d taken it from. “You can have a crude mouth sometimes, Christian Mercy.”

  He only grinned, his eyes closed again. “Tell me when the food is ready.”

  She turned the potatoes again. “Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I have to serve you like a slave. You can do your share of this anytime you’ve got a mind to.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’ll remember that.” He breathed deeply. “Smells good.”

  “Thank you.” Callie thought this was at least one way she could show him how grown-up and womanly she could be. “My pa used to say I was the best damn cook there ever was. I’ve been cooking whole meals since I was ten years old.” She was pleased to see his eyebrows arch in surprise. She could tell she’d made an impression.

  “That’s pretty good,” he told her. “I’ll let you know if he was right.”

  She smiled. “Well, it’s kind of hard to prove it under these conditions. I can’t bake bread or biscuits or a pie. I can’t cook fresh vegetables or make a good roast. You’ll just have to believe me how good I can cook.”

  “Oh, I believe you.”

  She smiled proudly at the words.

  “May I say you have a very pretty smile, Callie Hobbs? You should smile more often.”

  She hadn’t expected the compliment. Why did it make her heart kind of flutter? Was he just spoofing her? Maybe laughing at her on the inside? “Do you believe we are safe here, Mr. Mercy?” she asked, suddenly wanting to change the subject.

  “No. But from here on we won’t be completely safe anywhere, so you might as well get used to it. Just eat and get some rest. I’ll keep watch for a while. I’ll wake you up later and you can take over. I hope you weren’t lying when you said you could use your pa’s shotgun.”

  “I never lie about anything, Mr. Mercy.”

  “No, I expect not. I don’t either. That’s probably why we’ll argue more than get along. We’re both too damn honest.”

  Callie could not help a light laugh. “Maybe you’re right.” She let him rest while the potatoes cooked and the coffee finally began to boil. She took a couple of biscuits from her food stash, biscuits she’d baked six days earlier. “We can eat,” she told Chris. “The biscuits are getting hard, but they’re still good. They were so fresh and soft when I took them out of the oven, but then the Wyoming air gets to them and in no time they turn into rocks. Sorry.”

  She spooned some potatoes onto a tin plate and plunked a biscuit onto it, then handed it to him with a fork. To her pleasure, Christian Mercy ate heartily. She could tell he liked the food. She ate a little herself but was unable to eat much. Her stomach was too knotted up from her own nervousness over this first day’s journey and wondering what lay ahead for them. She poured both of them some coffee into tin cups and sat down on her bedroll. “It sure feels good just to sit on something that doesn’t move,” she told Chris, picking up her plate and eating a few potatoes.

  Chris set his plate aside and yawned, then took a swallow of coffee. “You might as well go ahead and get some rest soon as you clean up. Leave the coffee on. I’ll keep drinking it till the fire dies down…helps keep me awake.”

  “Okay.” Callie ate her biscuit, then carried the fry pan and a rag to the stream, where she scrubbed the pan with sand. She returned to set the pan near the fire, figuring she might have to use it in the morning again. She positioned her father’s shotgun beside her bedroll, then crawled under the blankets fully clothed. “Probably best I leave my boots on, isn’t it?” she asked Chris.

  “Well, sleeping is a lot more comfortable without them, but in situations like this, you never know when you might have to jump and run, so, yes, leave them on.”

  Callie pulled her blankets up under her chin, resting her head against her saddle. “Gosh, this feels good.” She closed her eyes, getting a whiff of cigarette smoke when Chris lit another smoke for himself.

  “It’s going to be a nice night,” he told her. “Clear. It gets cold here at night, even in the hot summer.”

  It was close to completely dark, and the dwindling fire made a crackling sound. Callie thought how peaceful it was here, thinking how ironic that was, considering the kind of men who rode through these parts. Her eyes popped open again when wolves began howling far off, among the surrounding cliffs and mesas that now were just black lines by the moonlight. She heard Chris sip more coffee, then stand up and walk out into the darkness. Soon she could see only the dim red end of his lit cigarette, and she knew he held his Winchester in one hand.

  She felt safe, and she didn’t hate him so much just then.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The day stretched into long hours of riding under the hot sun, too hot even for her to talk. Callie rode Night Wind, and Chris rode Breeze. He didn’t seem to have too much trouble handling the horse, but every once in a while Breeze would snort and shake his mane, suddenly shuffling sideways. When Chris gave him a little kick and a stern command to straighten up, the horse would object with a toss of the head but finally obey.

  “I can see what Luke meant about this one being ornery sometimes,” Chris complained after the latest bout between them. “I don’t think you should ride him. I’ll ride Betsy tomorrow and you can ride Night Wind again. You’re so light that it’s not going to hurt any of these horses to carry you two days in a row.”

  “Maybe the Appaloosa will straighten out when he gets more tired.”

  “He might. He also might just get ornerier.”

  Breeze whinnied as though he sensed they were talking about him.

  “How much do you weigh anyway?” Chris asked Callie.

  They rode beside each other now, the horses ambling through the endless valley at a comfortable walk.

  “I have no idea. I’ve never weighed myself. Pa didn’t have a scale.”

  He looked at her discerningly then, pursing his lips as he calculated her dimensions. “I’d guess you’re not much over a hundred pounds.” He frowned as he paid attention to the path ahead again. “You really eighteen years old?”

  “Of course I am. Why would I lie about something like that?”

  “I don’t know. Just wondering.”
>
  “Why does it matter how old I am?”

  “It doesn’t…not really. I just—” He drew Breeze to a halt before finishing, motioning for her to also stop. Callie obeyed, not sure at first why he’d suddenly stopped, until she followed his gaze to their right. Several men on horses were approaching, a small herd of horses ahead of them. They were still quite far in the distance but close enough that they had most likely seen her and Chris.

  “Do you think they’re outlaws?” she asked.

  “It’s a pretty sure bet.”

  “Should we ride hard? Get farther ahead of them?”

  “No. That will just attract their attention and make them think we’ve got reason to hide from them, or that we’re up to something. They might think we’re the law. We’ll just keep going. If they catch up, they catch up. Maybe we can get some information from them.”

  Callie felt her heart pound harder. “If we keep going, they’ll be behind us.”

  “I know.”

  “They could shoot us in the back.”

  “They could. I’m betting they won’t. I told you before, most of these men do live by a certain code of their own. They won’t do any shooting unless and until they reach us and find out why we’re here.”

  Callie breathed deeply to calm her nerves and steered Night Wind a little closer to Chris. “Speaking of lawmen, how come you don’t just do that for a living? If you’re wanting to deal with outlaws and such, why do it as a bounty hunter instead of just wearing a badge?”

  “Because when you’re a lawman, you answer to someone, which I don’t choose to do. You also don’t have any choice as to who you chase down. You arrest drunks, card cheaters, men who get in fistfights, things like that. It’s not the petty criminal I care about. All I’m after is the worst of them—murderers, especially if they’ve killed a woman or a child. The higher the bounty, the worse the criminal. They’re the ones I’d like to wipe off the face of the earth.”

  Callie frowned in thought. “Sounds like you carry a real big hate inside.”

  “I do. Just like you.”

  “Yeah. I guess I can understand that. Thing is, all I’m after is the men who killed my ma. You’re after all men who do things like that. I don’t suppose you care to explain why yet.”