by Kristen Iten
A moment after the initial shock, Micah’s opponent raised his hands in surrender. “It’s only me, Sheriff.” Cole’s voice sent a wave of relief washing over Micah’s body as he lowered his weapon. “The back door was wide open. I don’t think anybody’s here.”
Moonlight streaming through the window glinted off of a metal object on the table. Micah looked past Cole when it caught his eye.
“What’s this?” He walked over to the kitchen table where a knife was embedded in the center, its handle sticking straight up into the air. The blade pinned a note to the table that read: Pay up if ya want her back.
The words scrawled on the paper hit Micah in the stomach like a kick from an angry bull. The sharp flavor of acid bit at the back of his throat as images from his past flashed through his mind. A fear, black and vivid, attempted to twist its icy fingers around his throat in a strangle hold, but he refused to entertain the thoughts.
Micah tore the paper away from the knife and crushed it in his hand. He slammed his fist into the table, rattling the dishes scattered on top. Where blood once pumped through his veins, only fury remained. “Where is Carson Wagoner?” His voice rang throughout the house.
“He left town early this afternoon. Something to do with the campaign,” said Cole.
The soft cry of a baby stirred Micah from his raging thoughts. “Joseph!” Boots thundered down the hall as he followed the sound of the tiny voice. His racing pulse calmed a bit when he saw that the baby had not been harmed. He quieted when Micah scooped him up in his arms.
“Follow me,” said Micah. He wrapped Joseph in a blanket. “We’ve got to get this little man somewhere safe.”
“Emma,” said Cole, “she’ll watch over him real good.” Cole followed the sheriff to the front door.
They were met on the porch by Ben. He held a rifle and a shotgun in his immense hands, and hugged several boxes of shells to his chest.
“They’re gone,” said Micah. “How long ago did they leave your place, Ben?”
“I don’t know, Sheriff. They busted in on me around four. I did what they said, and the next thing I knew, Cole was slappin’ my face yellin’ for me to get up.”
“That means they’ve probably got a good six hour head start on us,” Cole said.
Micah had an iron grip on his emotions. Rosie needed him at his best, and that’s exactly what he was going to give her. He looked stone-faced at Ben. “Get those guns over to the livery stable and have our horses saddled. Me and Cole are riding.”
Ben raced off in one direction while Micah and Cole hurried to the general store. It was long past closing time, but Emma and her aunt and uncle lived upstairs. Micah pounded on the door.
Cole stepped into the street. He cupped his hands to his mouth and called out, “Emma!”
An upstairs window slid open and Emma leaned out. “Quiet down, you’ll wake the whole town. What are you thinking?”
“It’s Miss Rosie. They’ve taken her,” said Cole.
Emma clapped a hand over her heart. “I’ll be right down.” In a matter of moments, a lantern’s light could be seen weaving through the general store. Emma unlocked the shop and let the men in. “What can I do to help?”
“Cole and I are riding out tonight,” Micah said.
Emma reached out and took the baby. “I’ll take good care of this little one. Here, take this.” She handed Cole a small burlap sack and proceeded to fill it with handfuls of dried meat, a few cans of beans, and several apples. “You never know how long you’ll be on the trail.” Her chin quivered. “Besides, Miss Rosie is bound to be hungry when you find her.”
She squeezed Cole’s arm and spoke with a trembling voice. “Be careful out there.” Micah saw something pass between them, but there was no time to linger.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said. Taking hold of Joseph’s thick little foot, he looked into his wide trusting eyes. “I’ll bring her home to us, son. You have my word.”
Chapter 17
Every bone in Rosie’s body screamed for relief from the relentless pace of the horse she’d been thrown onto. It had been more years than she cared to remember since she’d ridden astride a horse, and she remembered now why she’d never ridden often as a younger woman. Every step the animal took punished her exhausted body a little more.
The strong arm around her waist clamped down tighter when she tried to shift herself in the saddle in front of her captor. She may as well have been in iron shackles for all the chance she had of slipping out of the vice-like grip he had on her wrist.
The burlap bag placed over her head before she was dragged from her home was now pressed into her face by the driving wind, blocking out all possibility of sight. The rough fibers scratching against her skin smelled of stale tobacco and horse sweat.
She sat, swaying with the motion of the horse as questions swirled in her mind. Everything had happened so quickly. One minute she was hanging the baby’s wash on the line out back and the next, strong hands had immobilized her arms, the foul bag shutting out the light of day.
Her cries had been silenced by a large hand enveloping the better part of her face, forcing a portion of the polluted fabric into her mouth. The rancid flavor still lingered on her tongue. She’d fought with every ounce of her strength, but was no match for the two men who lifted her off the ground and carried her away.
There was no doubt in her mind that these were the same men who had attacked her home. What do they want with me? She worked to quiet her nerves, confident that Micah would never give up until he found her. Does he even know I’m gone yet? Her heart sank at the thought.
The man loosened his grip on her wrist as he turned to rummage around in a satchel hanging from the back of the saddle. Rosie rubbed her wrist when the outlaw released it in favor of opening the bottle he had found.
“Don’t you think it’s still a might early to be hitting the wobble water, Lyle?” a voice to the left called. The man behind her gulped greedily.
“All you need to worry about is keeping that nag of a mule from throwing another shoe and we’ll be fine,” Lyle said. Even through the burlap, the stench of alcohol soaked breath reached her nostrils.
The sickening concoction of aromas combined with the constant motion of the journey threatened to overcome her. She felt the blood drain from her face as she broke out into a cold sweat. “Will you please take this bag off my head? I feel like I’m going to be sick,” she said.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, pretty lady? Tryin’ to spy out where we’re goin’, so you can sneak away in the night?” said the man riding the mule.
“Shut up, Dub. You ain’t runnin’ the show.” Rosie’s saddle-mate leaned back to extract every last drip from his bottle, lifting his arm in the process. The sharp scent of an unwashed body sent another wave of nausea washing over her. “It don’t matter none. We’re here,” said Lyle, tossing his empty bottle to the ground.
Chilled night air blew into her face as soon as Lyle jerked the bag off of her head. Taking a deep cleansing breath helped her to improve straight away.
She had no idea how long they had been traveling or in what direction. All she knew was the golden afternoon sun had long since been replaced by a bright silver moon.
Her mind went immediately to the baby that she’d been forced to leave behind. He’d been sleeping when she was taken from her home but so much time had passed. A shock of panic shot through her chest at the thought of her baby at home without a soul to care for him. With eyes closed tight, she said a silent prayer for the safety of her son before opening them again.
She looked around for clues as to where they might be. To her left, she saw a towering rock wall. Its jagged ridge line looked like the teeth of a snarling animal raging against the expansive sky above. Off to the right was a second rock wall, no less intimidating than the first. Wind blew past the maze of rocks and boulders, whistling its eerie tune. The sound of horseshoes clopping on the stony ground echoed in Rosie’s ears.
She gazed into the heavens. The same driving wind on the ground had stretched the clouds into long, moonlit streaks racing across the sky. Everything familiar to her felt so far away. Her stomach clenched as she tried to steady her erratic pulse. Oh Micah, how are you ever going to find me here?
“This is as good a place as any.” The words ran together as Lyle spoke them. He dismounted and staggered backward, unsteady on his feet. He reached out and took hold of the saddle to right himself, spooking his horse in the process. It side stepped, ears flicking wildly in all directions. The horse’s startled cries reverberated throughout the canyon as it curled its lips and showed a full set of teeth. “Hold still, you worthless excuse for horse flesh.”
Rosie’s eyes narrowed at his slurred speech.
“Come on down, lady. I’ll catch you,” he said.
Dub slapped his thigh and burst into laughter. “Lyle, you ain’t fit to catch a cold—much less a fine lady like this.” He shoved his brother out of the way and pulled Rosie off the horse.
The drunk man roared with anger. “I said you ain’t running the show!” Rosie ducked, heart hammering in her chest as Lyle swung a doubled up fist, going wide of his intended target. Dub easily stepped out of the way and gave his brother the extra nudge he needed to fall face first to the ground, where he lay motionless.
Rosie threw a hand to her mouth. “Is he…”
“Dead?” Dub kicked his brother. The toe of his boot penetrated deep into Lyle’s flesh, causing a muffled groan to escape his lips. “Nope, he ain’t dead.” He grabbed Rosie’s arm and dragged her to the base of the canyon wall where bedrock lay exposed from the earth.
“Are you just going to leave him there?” She looked over her shoulder at the filthy man laying on the ground behind them. Her words were breathless as she trotted along to keep up with his long strides.
“Lyle? Why not? He’s got to sleep somewhere, don’t he?”
“I suppose.”
Dub released Rosie’s arm and shoved her in the direction of a small stand of boulders. “You get on over there and set yourself down.”
She sat on a cool stone ledge jutting out from the wall, watching him collect dead wood for the fire. He walked with a slight hitch in his step, favoring his left foot.
Dried grasses and wind torn sage brush rattled as the brisk night air rushed past. Escape. That was the foremost thought in her mind. But which way? She bit her bottom lip, heart racing ever faster in her chest.
Dub never strayed far. It was as if he could read her mind. “Don’t even think of wanderin’ off. You’d never make it out of this canyon alive.”
As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. No food. No water. No clear sense of direction. An escape was doomed to failure. Her shoulders sagged much like the bare branches of the stunted tree in front of her, its limbs reaching out, desperate to be rescued from this desolate place.
Firewood clattered on the bedrock as Dub emptied his arms of the heavy load a few feet away. “I build the fire. You cook the food.”
Rosie lifted her chin and pressed her lips into a hard, thin line. “I’m not cooking for the likes of you.” Heat rose in her cheeks at the thought of preparing a meal for this undesirable.
A sudden change came over the lanky man. He closed the distance between them in a flash and leaned in too close for comfort. His filth covered body emanated a stench that assaulted Rosie’s senses.
She sat, heart pounding wildly in her chest as the cold barrel of a six-shooter rested against her cheek. His steamy breath was hot on her face as he spoke past the bulging wad of chewing tobacco packed into his lower lip.
“You don’t have much of a say in the matter, pretty lady.” A stream of brown spittle shot from the corner of his mouth and landed on the rock beside her. The smell of his sour breath curdled her stomach. She couldn’t bring herself to look at his angular face as tobacco-ridden saliva dangled from his stubbly chin.
“All right,” she whispered and squeezed her eyes shut, willing him away.
“Well, all right then.” The demented cheerfulness that colored his voice as he straightened his back sent cold chills down her spine. His mood had changed for the better just as quickly as it had gone south only moments before. This man is not right in the head.
Dub had a fire crackling shortly and dropped a burlap sack next to Rosie. “You’ll find the grub in there. Lyle will want coffee when he wakes.” She opened the bag and peered inside. “Get to it, pretty lady.”
He smiled out of the side of his mouth, and eyed her as she set about her work. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Flickering firelight illuminated his features, revealing a look of deranged amusement and sending a fresh wave of apprehension coursing through her veins.
“I just can’t get enough of it.” He let out a wild cry into the night, freezing her in place. “Carson Wagoner stiffs us a whole month’s pay, has us hunted down like animals, and now I got his future wife makin’ my beans and coffee.”
The tin pan Rosie held in her hands clattered to the ground. “Is that what this is all about? You think I’m marrying Carson?”
“Don’t think so—know so.”
Rosie was glad to be upwind of him when he reclined on the boulder at his back and rested his head in the palms of his hands. “And we’re going to get every last penny he owes us and then some.” A satisfied smile creased his face. “I’d be willing to bet he’ll pay anything to get you back.”
“This is all a big mistake. I’m not marrying Carson. The engagement has been called off.”
Dub sat bolt upright, eyes narrowed. “Keep your lies to yourself, pretty lady.” Rosie swallowed hard at the savage edge in his voice. “I ain’t no fool. Lyle read it in the paper. Anyhow, you better hope he comes through with the cash—for your sake.”
Sensing that Dub was about to snap again, Rosie busied herself with her work. “I wonder how those horses are getting along?” She spoke the words as if to herself, hoping to distract the unstable man.
“Horse, you mean. There’s only one horse over there.” His chest puffed with pride. “I ride a mule. That mule will still be going long after every other horse is done in. Real men ride mules.” He straightened his long body and headed over to tend to the animals. He glanced over his shoulder at Rosie. “Have them vittles ready by the time I’m done.”
She uttered an audible sigh of relief when she was left alone with her thoughts. The canyon continued to funnel the relentless wind through the labyrinth of massive stone boulders and outcroppings. The dust and grit it carried pelted Rosie in the face and stung her eyes.
This time last night, Rosie’s heart had overflowed with love as she’d cradled a sleeping babe in her arms. The warmth of his tiny body had radiated throughout her, warming her to the core. She’d sat mere inches from the man she loved as he shared his heart with her. Though she knew they could never be together, she had never felt so close to him before.
Tonight, she sat alone on a cold stone slab, staring at a simmering pot of beans considering how quickly life could change. A crushing loneliness the likes of which she had never known hit her with more force than the driving wind. A deep well of sadness bubbled up from within as she stirred the churning pot of beans on the fire.
Her throat longed for relief from the ache that could only be remedied by releasing her bottled up emotions. She hugged her knees to her chest and wept silently with eyes too dry to spill a single tear.
Chapter 18
Micah’s boots dug into the hard earth when he dismounted his Appaloosa stallion. Steam rose from its sweaty flanks as it tossed its head and shook out its mane. The impatient animal pawed the ground with its hoof and released a hot breath from its flared nostrils, ready to get on the move again.
Micah and Cole had been riding hard for the better part of four hours, and the terrain was changing. He’d been able to pick up the outlaw’s trail easily enough from the back of Rosie’s house, and follow it due south toward the badlands where t
he wide prairie gave way to barren, rocky land.
He walked a few paces ahead of his mount and squatted low to the ground, searching for any trace of his quarry. He’d picked up a thing or two about tracking during the years he’d spent riding the trail with Sky, but the trail had gone cold. If Micah had ever needed Marshal Big Sky Chambers, it was now. His tracking skills were a thing of legend. As good as it was to know that Sky was out there somewhere right now, it wasn’t going to help him find Rosie any faster.
A tangible fury seethed in the pit of his stomach, but it wasn’t directed at the outlaws. I’ve been a fool! He slammed his fist into his thigh as his mind filled with regret. He’d lived a life of grief and had allowed it to cloak a torment he’d never fully acknowledged.
He’d spent the last twenty years of his life pushing everyone away—afraid that those closest to him would be hurt. Afraid to lose the people he loved again. He called it protecting them, but he now saw it for what it was—fear.
He had allowed the specter of his past to warp his perspective, and now Rosie was paying the price. His fear had pushed her into the arms of another man, and as a result, into harm’s way. She was in danger, and he was responsible, even if only indirectly. Never again.
Cole rode up beside him. “Any luck finding the trail again?”
“No.” Micah stood and led his horse forward by the reins, eyes scanning the ground for any sign the outlaws had passed through. He walked on this way for several minutes before removing his hat to scratch his head.
“There’s nothing on this barren rock to give me a sign. Not a blade of grass to bend—not a single twig to be broken. This blasted wind hasn’t let up for hours. Sure as I’m standing here, it’s blown away any sign they might have left behind in the dust.”
