“I don’t.”
Callie sighed, turning to look back at the approaching men. They were getting a little closer and had circled around so that they moved more behind than beside them. “I wonder where those men were last night,” she commented.
“Probably camped ahead and to the south of us. Could have been in a hollow, down in someplace where we wouldn’t have heard them. Sounds are funny out here. The land acts as a barrier. There can be a whole band of Indians camped just on the other side of a rise, and you don’t even know it.”
Callie looked ahead again. “Well, that’s comforting to know.”
Chris laughed lightly. “I didn’t mean to make you worry even more.”
“You’re awful calm for knowing there’s a whole gang of men behind us.”
“It’s going to happen more than once as long as we’re on this trail.”
“Will we keep going north after Hole-in-the-Wall?”
“I don’t know. I am hoping we can go south. Otherwise once we reach the Canadian end of the trail, we’ll have to double back and cover the same territory on our way south. That’s going to take a lot of extra time. I’m hoping to learn something that will tell us which way to go. You just remember one thing, Callie Hobbs, and it’s very important.”
“What’s that?”
“If you spot one of those men, don’t say a damn word. Remember that they don’t know anything about you. If you go pointing one out to me the minute you see him, he’ll immediately be on the defensive and I’ve lost my edge. I need to keep him off guard. Understand?”
“Yes, sir. But then he might get away.”
Chris stopped to light a cigarette. “He won’t get away. I promise.”
There was a coldness to the words.
“Tell me something,” he said. “Do you think you’ll be at peace inside if and when we find all the men and see that they’re shot or hanged?”
Callie shrugged. “I won’t know that till it’s done.”
He took a deep drag on the cigarette. “You won’t. I’ve already been through all that. Seeing them dead doesn’t change the fact that they killed someone…important to you. Some things you just don’t ever get over.”
They rode on in silence for a few minutes, and now Callie could hear shouted voices and whistling in the distance behind them. “Why do you just keep hunting men for bounty, then?”
He took the cigarette from his lips. “Because it gives me a strange kind of pleasure. Each time I think maybe once I find this one or that one and take him out of society, maybe then I’ll be able to forgive and forget and get on with life. That hasn’t happened yet.” He took another draw on the cigarette. “Damn,” he muttered.
“What’s wrong?”
“I have no idea why I just told you all that. I’ve never told anybody except one person.”
Callie felt the unexpected jealousy return. “Lisa?”
He glanced sidelong at her, a smirk of resignation on his face. He said nothing.
“Does she make your toes curl?” Callie asked.
“My toes—” He suddenly burst into laughter. “I forgot I told you about that.”
Callie felt relieved. At first she thought he was going to take on one of those angry moods again. She smiled. “You said some man might make my toes curl someday. Can a woman make a man’s toes curl?”
He laughed more, shaking his head. “I suppose.”
“Well? Does Lisa do that to you?”
His smile faded. “Not really. Not in the way I mean.”
Callie could hardly believe he was sharing any of these things with her. “Does she love you?”
He kept the cigarette between his lips as he spoke. “In her own way.”
Callie felt more alarm when he pulled his rifle from its boot. He handed it to her. “Take this.” Then he pulled out his second Winchester, his whole countenance changing. The humorous side was gone. “Remember what I told you,” he added.
“I will.”
“Don’t look back. Just keep riding and keep calm. They’ll catch up to us soon.”
Callie obeyed, staring straight ahead at the eternally endless horizon as the sounds of horses and squeaking saddles, talk and laughter, whistles and shouts, grew closer.
Chapter Fifteen
Within another twenty minutes Callie and Chris were surrounded by eight men on horseback. Two of them rode on ahead, whistling and shouting at the horses as they spurred the herd on. The other six rode beside Chris and Callie.
“Afternoon,” one of them said to Chris. He rode in front of Chris and turned to face him.
“Afternoon,” Chris answered, halting his horse. Callie also stopped, Chris’s Winchester resting across her lap. She suddenly wished she’d practiced a little with it. So far she hadn’t had the chance. The man in front of Chris looked just as she’d expected, unkempt, needing a shave. She guessed him to be not much older than Chris. His black hair hung long and stringy, and the discerning look in his dark eyes when he moved his gaze to her made her uncomfortable.
“You two headed for Hole-in-the-Wall?” the man asked.
“Might be,” Chris answered. “That where you’re going?”
“Sure enough. Takin’ a nice herd of horses on through there and over to Casper.”
Chris pushed back his hat, his right hand on his rifle, his finger on the trigger. “That’s a damn long way.”
The man shrugged. “I figure I’ll pick up more on the way.”
Chris looked around at the others, some of whom Callie could feel staring at her. “You in the horse-trading business, are you?” Chris asked the apparent leader, turning his attention back to the man.
Several of the men laughed.
“You might say that,” their leader answered. “Name’s Buck Brooster. How about you?”
“Christian Mercy.”
One of the others chuckled. “Christian Mercy! Now, ain’t that a hell of a name? You a preacher or somethin’?”
Chris looked his way. “Far from it.”
“Hey, I know that name,” one of the others said.
Callie looked his way. He was young and skinny. She studied him. No, he wasn’t one of them. She began taking a good look at each of the other men, not caring what they thought of it. The skinny one looked over at Buck.
“He’s a bounty hunter,” he told Buck.
Most of them lost their smiles, and a couple more of them rode closer to Buck to face Chris.
“That true?” Buck asked Chris.
“Might be.”
“Who you lookin’ for?”
Chris glanced around at all of them. “I’m not even sure. I don’t have names, just faces, and the little lady with me is the only one who knows those faces.”
Callie kept quiet, just as Chris had instructed.
“What did they do?” the skinny one asked.
“Killed her ma. Down Rawlins way. And they weren’t too kind to her before they killed her, if you know what I mean.”
There came a moment of silence. Callie glanced at Chris, who continued to carefully scrutinize each man. She suspected he had a talent for being aware of every man’s movements.
“Know what you mean,” one of the others answered.
Callie didn’t see a truly clean-shaven man among them, but that could be just because they had been on the trail a long time. Their attire was typical for riding the trail, but none wore badly soiled clothing. They were simply dusty from riding, as she and Chris were. Chris, however, had shaved at the stream that morning before they left.
“You mind describin’ them, little lady?” Buck asked.
The question surprised Callie. She looked at Chris, who nodded his approval. She looked at Buck then. “Well, sir—” She looked around at the others then. “It wasn’t none of these men, I can tell you that.”
They all looked at each other, some smiling. “Heck no,” one of them spoke up. “We’ll make off with anybody’s horses we can, but we ain’t ones to be killin’ no wom
an over it, or doin’ anything else to her.”
Callie felt a little easier, except for the comment about stealing horses. She and Chris were sitting on a couple of very fine steeds. “One was pretty ordinary-looking,” she told them. “But another was real young and skinny, with long blond hair he wore tied back. Another one of them was thin too but older. He had a mole on his right cheek. The fourth one looked Mexican, had big shoulders and arms and black, curly hair. And the one who seemed to be the leader, he’s the only one whose name I heard. They called him Terrence, and he was a real big man with an ugly scar across his right cheek.”
They all looked at each other again. “Terrence?” Buck asked.
“Yes, sir.”
Buck turned his attention to Chris.
“Could be Terrence Stowers. He sure fits the description.”
“Do you know where he is?” Callie asked excitedly.
Chris cast her a warning look, and she felt embarrassed. She was supposed to let him ask the questions. Chris turned to Buck. “Have you seen him?”
Buck scratched his chin. “Well, now, that depends. Is there a bounty on him? I could use a few extra bucks myself.”
Chris shook his head. “No bounty.”
“Aw, come on now,” the skinny one spoke up. “You’re a bounty hunter. I gotta admit, Christian Mercy is a hell of a name for a bounty hunter, but still and all, that’s what you are. Why would you look for this man if he don’t have a bounty on his head?”
Chris raised his rifle so that the butt rested on his thigh and the barrel pointed into the air. “Not everything a man does has to be for money.”
Some of them chuckled. “Mister, you and I don’t think much alike in that respect,” one of them said.
Chris took his cigarette from his mouth and smashed it out against his saddle. Callie noticed a black spot on the saddle where he’d put out other cigarettes. “Maybe so,” he answered. “All I’m telling you is that there is no legal bounty on him, mainly because they weren’t able to give him a full name. But Callie here is willing to give over her last savings for the man’s head. Considering what they did, and what she’s been through, I agreed to try to find them. She’s along because she’s the only one who knows what they look like.” He faced Buck again. “Now, how about answering my question? Have you seen this Terrence Stowers?”
Buck looked around at the others before answering. “Yup. Seen him down in Utah Territory, around Robber’s Roost. He was braggin’ about gettin’ a good price for some fine horses over to Salt Lake City. That was last fall.”
“My horses!” Callie seethed.
“Maybe so,” Buck answered. “He didn’t say nothin’ about hurtin’ no woman, but he knows most of us don’t agree with such things. He probably thought it was best he keep quiet about it.”
“Was there anyone with him who fit the other descriptions?” Chris asked the man.
Buck thought a moment. “Well, there was a Mexican with him. I didn’t see the two skinny ones, but there was one other man with him. Not much of a way to describe him. He was too average-lookin’.”
“That has to be two of the others,” Callie told Chris. “Let’s go down to that Robber’s Roost right now!”
The others laughed, and Chris shook his head. “It will take weeks to get there,” he told her. “Meantime the man will move on someplace else.”
“But Buck here saw him!”
“Months ago,” Chris reminded her. “I told you this wouldn’t be easy. Just relax and be quiet.”
The others chuckled, and Buck barked at all of them to go on ahead and help keep the herd in line. The men obeyed, some of them tipping their hats to Callie.
“Good luck, ma’am,” the skinny one told her.
They all rode off, and Buck turned to Chris. “You’re right. Terrence Stowers gets around. God only knows where he is right now. My advice is to go on to Hole-in-the-Wall, rest your horses, ask around some more. Maybe somebody there has seen Stowers or one of the others more recently. Then take your time headin’ south, askin’ questions all the way.”
Chris nodded. “Exactly my plan. Any chance you can convince your men to keep quiet about this? I don’t want Stowers finding out by the grapevine that I’m looking for him.”
Buck sniffed and wiped at his forehead with his shirtsleeve. “I’ll do my best.”
“Thanks.”
“You folks want to camp with us tonight? Got plenty of food, and you’re always safer traveling with extras.”
Breeze whinnied and tossed his mane again as though eager to get started. “Well, that depends on who the extras are. Callie and I are sitting on some mighty fine horses. We need them for the long trip ahead. I’d hate to wake up in the morning and find them gone.”
Buck laughed. “You son of a bitch!” He laughed more. “I’ll make you a deal. You let the little lady there cook for us tonight, and we’ll let you keep your horses.”
Chris looked at Callie, grinning slyly. “What do you say?”
“I’d say I don’t have much choice, considering there’s eight of them and two of us.”
Buck laughed heartily. “Smart gal! Hey, Mercy, you better keep a good eye on her once you get to Hole-in-the-Wall. She ain’t bad-lookin’ under that floppy ol’ hat and them men’s clothes.”
“Well, now I’ll make you a deal, Buck,” Chris told the man.
“What’s that?”
“You make sure none of your men tries to take liberties with her, and I won’t kill you.”
“Me, Hell, I don’t have no plans on doin’ anything disrespectful.”
“I didn’t say you did. I just said if any of your men gets ideas, I’ll kill you first. It doesn’t matter that there are eight of you.”
Buck lost his smile. “Well, now, you drive a hard bargain.”
“It’s the only way to be sure Callie truly is safe if we camp with you.”
The two men glared at each other a moment, but it was Buck who showed resignation in his eyes. “All right. But I assure you, Mercy, there’s no worry there. You heard what one of my men said earlier. We don’t do things like that.”
“Well, now, I understand that. But some men might think there’s no harm in getting in a kiss or a feel. Know what I mean?”
Callie looked away in embarrassment.
“I reckon’ I do know what you mean,” Buck told Chris. “Ain’t nobody gonna bring her no harm.” He turned his horse. “Come on. Ride with us awhile.”
He kicked his horse into a gentle trot.
“Let’s go,” Chris told Callie.
They rode a little slower, letting Buck ride ahead to talk to his men.
“Would you really shoot him if somebody messed with me?” Callie asked.
“I always keep my promises.” He looked over at her, his eyes dropping to her bosom. “Keep that vest buttoned all the way. No sense aggravating the situation.”
Callie looked down, forgetting she’d unbuttoned her vest because of the heat. She let go of the reins and began buttoning the vest. She wasn’t quite sure why, in spite of her embarrassment, she took pleasure in realizing the man noticed her breasts, and just yesterday he’d told her she had a pretty smile. Buck Brooster had said she wasn’t bad-looking, and though Chris was silent, he must agree, or he wouldn’t have warned Buck that his men had better not get ideas.
Chapter Sixteen
Callie found Buck’s gang of rustlers to be surprisingly courteous and very well supplied. They dug through their stash to come up with fry pans, a deeper cooking pot, potatoes, salt pork, onions, turnips, a couple of cans of beans, salt, coffee, molasses, flour, baking soda, and a large can of corn. They got a fire started for her and went about unloading their horses and opening bedrolls.
Chris did Callie’s unpacking for her and laid out her bedroll near his. She began preparing a stew from the potatoes, corn, onions, turnips, and salt pork, and in one of the fry pans she cooked some beans with molasses. She mixed flour, water, and a little baking soda
into a dough, which she broke off in pieces, rolled into drop dumplings, and added to the stew.
While she cooked, the men relaxed and began telling stories, each man trying to outdo the next in his tales of daredevil, thievery, bravery, whatever they could think of. Callie suspected they were trying to impress her more than one another, and they most likely stretched the truth considerably.
She heated some coffee, feeling uneasy when Buck broke out some whiskey and began passing a bottle around. She had not led such a sheltered life that she didn’t know what whiskey could do to a man. She’d seen drunks in Rawlins, watched her father get drunk once. That was the only time he’d turned mean and hit her mother, who then flat-out told him that if he did so again, she would leave him. Clayton Hobbs never got drunk again and never raised his hand to his wife again.
The men who had attacked her mother had passed around a flask of whiskey, seeming to take more courage, if it could be called that, with each sip they took. Now listening to these men’s voices grow louder as they drank brought unwanted memories to mind, and she was eager for the food to be finished. Maybe full bellies would counteract the effects of the whiskey. When Chris refused a drink, she breathed a little easier, knowing he was too smart to sit there and get drunk with a bunch of horse thieves.
“Smells good,” Buck told Callie. “Joe over there, he’s usually the cook, but what he knows about cooking you could stick in a thimble.”
They all laughed, including Joe, and again the whiskey bottle was passed around.
“These aren’t the best conditions,” Callie apologized. “I’m doing the best I can do, but don’t be expecting the greatest meal you ever ate.”
“Just watchin’ a pretty little gal cook it is feast enough,” one of the others said.
“Yeah, and a woman has that special touch,” Joe added. “Why is it a man and a woman can cook somethin’ exactly the same way and the woman’s will taste better?”
They all laughed again. Callie glanced at Chris again. He sat smoking quietly, watching her, saying little. What was that look in his eyes? She saw an odd appreciation there, almost like he…admired her.
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