The Rocking R Ranch

by Tim Washburn

  Well, shoot, just when I was really learning to hate you. Emma nodded back and the old woman smiled, revealing a mouth with only a half a dozen teeth. She patted Emma on the shoulders and nodded again before reaching down to take both of Emma’s hands in hers. Hers were shriveled and callused and were much larger than Emma’s. She squeezed both of Emma’s hands and nodded for a third time, before gently releasing them. Do I have to fight at every turn? Is this what the Indians expect of me?

  Emma smiled and the woman returned the smile before she turned and walked away. Emma didn’t know if that marked the end of hostilities between them or if it signaled something else. Deciding the situation would bear watching, Emma was hesitant to read too much into it. If it meant the old squaw would quit attacking her, then she was all for it. She would not, however, turn a blind eye when the old woman was within striking distance.

  Angel, whom she renamed Devil after that one brief interlude of peace in the tent, walked over and pointed at an empty water bag and grunted. Groaning, Emma grabbed the bag and headed toward the river. The one saving grace was that they’d camped closer to the water and Emma didn’t have to lug the water bag as far. And she’d learned not to fill the bag all the way up. It was still enormously heavy, although, after scraping hides for days, she didn’t think going after water was such a bad thing. It also allowed her an opportunity to enjoy some time alone. Although she’d been with the Indians for weeks, she was still watched closely and having eyes on her all the time was emotionally draining. She didn’t know if the Indians thought she might try to escape or if there was another reason. Escape was the farthest thing from her mind after having traveled through that dry, inhospitable country.

  As she walked through the camp, she spotted the two white boy captives who were learning to shoot a bow and arrow with Indian boys their age. Communication between her and the two boys was still strictly forbidden, but Emma could tell by watching they were still having a difficult time adjusting. That Emma could understand because it was the same for her. Her crying spells were less frequent and, to avoid a beating, occurred only under the cover of darkness. Thoughts of her family and life at the ranch invaded her mind constantly and it was a struggle to keep them at bay. Only through sheer will had she been able to keep going day after day after day, not knowing if or when she might be rescued. She didn’t have any doubts that her father and grandfather were searching for her, but her long travels with the Indians made her better understand the enormity of their task. It was like being lost in the middle of the ocean and the only clue her father and grandfather had was that she was in there somewhere. The only difference was that trails were left on land, but they were far from permanent.

  At the river, Emma paused to take a long look around before she slipped out of her dress and waded out into the water. Although she could have filled the water bag from the bank, she was hot and dirty, and the cool water was too tempting. As she drifted out into the middle of the river, she took a moment for another look around. She had seen Scar several times over the weeks and nothing had come of it—so far. It could be that Emma was always in the company of other people and he was waiting to catch her alone somewhere, thus her caution during trips to the river. Unfortunately, his appearance meant he hadn’t succumbed to a nasty infection from her bite and, regrettably, all of his appendages remained intact.

  After rinsing her hair, Emma scrubbed under her arms and between her legs, thinking that she’d kill for a bar of soap. From what she’d seen, the Indian women were frequent bathers as were a good number of the men. Of the men who refused to bathe, some were so raunchy that Emma would gag if she stood downwind of them. Thankfully, the chief had better habits than most of the other men, but there were times that Emma had to breathe through her mouth when he was near.

  And as for the general state of Indian hygiene, Emma now knew that pulling up stakes to follow the buffalo was not the only reason the Indians moved camp so frequently. The last camp reeked so bad from feces, both animal and human, and harvested animal carcasses that Emma’s eyes often watered. And she knew it wouldn’t be long before the same happened at this camp. But she was hoping the Indians would stay long enough for her rescuers to catch up.

  Emma swam over to the edge of a sandbar, scooped up a handful of sand, and used it to scrub her face and scalp. She had deduced that the bugs she’d seen in the buffalo hides were lice and, despite her best attempts, her hair was now infested. It was repugnant and she itched constantly, but there was little she could do about it. After dunking her head to rinse away the sand, Emma rubbed the water out of her eyes. When she opened them and looked across the water, her heart stuttered. Scar was standing on the bank, a sneer on his face. All thoughts of lice disappeared in an instant as she quickly scanned the river bottom, searching for an escape route or a place to hide. As she swam toward the opposite side, she realized her options were few. There was no place she could go where Scar couldn’t follow. And she knew she couldn’t outrun him even with a head start. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw Scar wading into the water.

  Think, Emma! If she couldn’t outrun him, maybe she could outswim him. Emma reversed course and swam back toward the middle of the river where the current was swifter. Turning with the flow, she began pinwheeling her arms, digging deep into the water as she raced downstream. She didn’t waste time looking to see if Scar was following, she just swam with all of her might. And it wasn’t long before she was gasping for breath. Already exhausted and worn down, her strength was fading quickly, and her pace slowed. And within seconds she felt his hand clamp down on her ankle. She had been stupid to think she could outswim him. She was too exhausted to mount a fight, and Scar pulled her easily toward the bank.

  A momentary thought of drowning herself or him entered her mind, but he pulled her head out of the water so quickly she couldn’t even formulate a plan. Grabbing her by the hair, Scar pulled her onto the grass and flipped her over. Just when she was about to scream, he punched her in the gut and the scream died in her throat. He slapped her across the face, stunning her, and then, using the forearm she had bitten, he pushed against her nose and mouth with all of his weight, instantly cutting off her air supply. Emma flailed, punching him in the face and torso, but he was too strong. When Emma was on the edge of blacking out, he pulled his arm away and she gasped for breath. Before she could recover, Scar punched her in the stomach again, lifted his breechcloth, and violently assaulted her, pinching and twisting her breasts until they bled.

  When he finished, he stood and kicked her in the ribs before stalking off. Emma rolled over onto her side as tears ran down her cheeks. That pain inside of her which had diminished over time, was back and it burned like a hot coal in her gut. She put a hand down between her legs and could feel the sticky wetness of fresh blood. She watched as Scar disappeared among the trees and vowed to herself that his next attempt would be his last. She would bury the knife so deep in his chest that it would take two men to pull it out. Consequences be damned.

  CHAPTER 52

  It was deep in the night when Rachel rolled over from beneath Leander Hays’s arm, fumbled for a match, struck it, and lit the lantern on the bedside table. She adjusted the wick until the tip was just visible above the brass lip and rolled back over to look at Leander, who was still asleep. She had mentally replayed the fight with her mother a dozen times, searching for a way out of the mess she’d created. She didn’t believe her mother would actually shoot Leander or order it done, but she wasn’t one hundred percent sure, either, especially as mad as she’d been. Her mother usually did not make idle threats and Rachel thought she might soften her stance now that the heat of battle was over, but she knew it wouldn’t happen by daybreak, for sure. Her mother’s only concession after the fight was that he could stay until daybreak, which was now quickly approaching.

  Rachel watched as Leander’s chest rose and fell, her mind jumbled with thoughts. Although Leander had fed her cravings, she was unsure what came next. She
wanted him in her life but was having difficulty working out the logistics to make it happen. Her top priority was the welfare of her three children. And leaving them behind wasn’t an option. She had no qualms about divorcing Amos, but it would be a drama-filled affair that would traumatize the children and send the entire family into chaotic disarray. That left option two, which was to pack up the kids and move to Leander’s place. If Rachel anticipated a divorce would be tumultuous, she couldn’t even fathom the pandemonium that would erupt if she tried to take the children away from the only home they had ever known. And it was the only home she’d known, too. She couldn’t bear the thought of moving away from her parents and siblings. And the more she thought about it, the firmer her resolve.

  Rachel’s brain was on the verge of overheating. What to do about Leander Hays? With a divorce unlikely and moving a definite no, what’s left? An occasional illicit rendezvous to fulfill our carnal pleasures? That wouldn’t really be fair to him, would it? But I really don’t know what he thinks, do I? What if he was up for something—Rachel reached over and nudged him awake.

  Using his elbows, he pushed himself up against the headboard. “Why are you up?” he asked in a sleepy voice.

  “Couldn’t sleep. It’ll be daylight soon.”

  “You think your ma meant what she said?”

  “About shootin’ you?”

  “Well, yeah. Stayin’ alive is kinda one of my priorities.”

  Rachel shrugged. “I don’t know, but it’s probably best not to test her right now.”

  Leander nodded and wiped the sleep out of his eyes. “About what I figured.”

  Rachel picked at one of his chest hairs. “How did you see this playin’ out?”

  “Didn’t think that far ahead. You?”

  “I asked first.”

  “That you did.” Leander paused for a long moment and then said, “Seems like you’re kinda attached to this place.”

  “Maybe,” Rachel said.

  Leander pushed a strand of hair off her face. “I don’t know, Rachel. I can’t wrap my head around much more than the next few days. I guess I’m not a long-term-thinkin’ man.”

  “So, what? You just bed a woman and then move on to the next one?”

  “No. To tell the truth, you’re the first woman I’ve been with since my wife died.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Hadn’t come across any women like you.”

  Rachel sighed, her mind more confused than ever. “What did you see happenin’?”

  “In my line of work, I’ve learned to take it a day at a time. Like I said, I don’t look very far into the future.”

  “So, you were planning on what? Just saying good-bye and riding off?”

  “What do you want me to say? That I’d love to take you back to my place on the Brazos? I’m just a poor lawman, Rachel. I ain’t got much to offer.” He waved a hand at the cabin and all of the furniture inside. “My place is about half this size with about a tenth of the furniture. Think you would be happy with that?”

  Rachel rolled over on her back and stared at the ceiling. “Worldly possessions aren’t the foundation of happiness.”

  “No, they ain’t. But it’s a much easier thing to say if you can afford to buy ’em and make the choice not to. It’s much different when a man doesn’t have a prayer of being able to buy a nice feather bed or a new piece of furniture. We live in two different worlds, Rachel.”

  Rachel reached out and stroked his hip while they lay in silence. Rachel eventually broke the silence and said, “I might not have a choice if my husband finds out about this. He might run me off.”

  “Then he’d be a fool.”

  Rachel rolled back over and fit her naked body against his. “You’re a good man, Leander Hays,” she said as she began stroking his chest hair again.

  “I just don’t see any way to make it work, Rachel. And it’s not for a lack of wantin’, neither.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “I’m on the move most of the time, too. You’d be all by yourself down there. And that ain’t fair to you when you have all of this family around here.”

  “So, we just go back to the way things were?”

  “I don’t think I can. I won’t be the same man as I was before.” He dropped his hand down and used his thumb to stroke her cheek. “I’ll be a much different man than the one who rode in. And I have you to thank for it.”

  Rachel rolled over, turned out the lantern, and then said, “Show me how thankful you are.”

  CHAPTER 53

  Late on the fourth day of searching the canyon, Percy and Win finally found the initials that Emma had laid out with stones. They now knew that Emma had been there at one point, and now the big question was—where did she go? Moses Wilcox had spent the better part of four days scouting out well beyond the campsite, or as far as he was willing to ride, being in the heart of Indian country. On his travels, he had found a slew of Indian trails and many false trails. He found a few that exhibited the telltale signs of travois use that indicated camp movement. The persistent winds and blowing sand made judging the age of the trail much more difficult. But through hours of study, Wilcox had narrowed it down to two trails, each going in different directions. If they guessed wrong, it would mean weeks of delay in rescuing Emma.

  Now up at daybreak on the fifth day with a fresh pot of coffee on, the men were debating the merits of each trail. One trail ran farther west and the other veered off to the northwest. Cyrus, Percy, and Wilcox were pushing for the northwest trail while the others thought the trail west was the answer. Technically, either Percy or Cyrus could pull rank and insist on their preferred choice, but both were hesitant to do so. They both thought it had to be a mutual decision or the entire outing would be threatened by dissension.

  “I’m just goin’ by what that Kiowa Injun told me,” Cyrus said. “He made a point that the Injuns we’re lookin’ for might be camped up on the Canadian or further north on the Arkansas.”

  “How do we know the trail to the west don’t end up at the Arkansas, too?” Isaac asked.

  “We don’t,” Wilcox said. “But I followed it out about eight to ten miles and didn’t see no bend in it.”

  “Why are you so hell-bent on goin’ west, Isaac?” Cyrus asked.

  “It’d put more distance betwixt us and them. Wouldn’t that be what them rascals would want?”

  “I don’t know,” Percy said. “Seems to me they’d stick to the places they know. And goin’ west will be some hard travelin’. Water’s as scarce as virgins in a whorehouse.”

  “All the more reason,” Isaac said. “I bet them Injuns know where the water is.”

  “Let me ask a question,” Cyrus said. He turned to Wilcox and said, “Moses, did you ride down for a gander at what Win and Percy found?”

  “I did,” Wilcox said.

  “Are them Injuns that have Emma Comanche?” Cyrus asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Wilcox said.

  “And you reckon you found the right trail?”

  “I do.” Wilcox pointed at the canyon. “Found a few horse tracks yonder that I found on the trail that wanders northward.”

  “Well, hellfire, why didn’t you say somethin’?” Cyrus asked.

  “I figured y’all’d get around to it somewheres in this here discussion. I reckon it’s a might better for you fellers to come to yer own conclusions without me a-tellin’ ya.”

  “And if it didn’t come up?” Cyrus asked.

  “I’da said somethin’ fore we got too far off track,” Wilcox said, sheepishly.

  Cyrus shook his head as he looked at Wilcox for a moment. Then he turned back to the others and said, “We got us a plan. Load up.”

  Percy was ready to ride. The stench from the dead horses was already bad and another day roasting in the intense heat would have made the situation unbearable. They were loaded up and ready to ride within an hour. Percy spurred Mouse into a walk and a couple of hours later they left canyon country behind when they crossed the Canadia
n River. This was new country for Percy, who had never ridden this far north. A wide-open prairie, the sea of blue grama grass and buffalo grass extended beyond the horizon in all directions with nary a tree in sight. Percy thought it was some of the finest ranch land he’d ever seen. And then he finally understood why millions of buffalo had once called this area home. Although it was an astonishing sight to see, they would all be tired of looking at it by the time they reached their destination.

  CHAPTER 54

  Rachel had snuck back to her house under the cover of darkness about an hour before daybreak. Her mind was tangled with thoughts and the last round with Leander hadn’t helped to make the picture any clearer. She lit a couple of lanterns and took a seat on the sofa.

  The last few weeks had been the happiest she’d been in a long time. But she couldn’t decide if that happiness resided with Leander or if he’d simply been the one who had scratched a long-lingering itch. And that thought led to another question—Could Amos fill that role again as he once had? Or was that something she even wanted? As she thought about that more, she decided the firm answer to both questions was no. Leander was kind, caring, thoughtful, funny, and an attentive lover, and Rachel knew that he alone was the reason for her recent happiness.

  And now he was leaving.

  Fresh tears sprang to her eyes as she stood and wandered around the house in a watery haze, her emotions swirling from anger to sadness to confusion, with no grasp of what the future might hold. She paused by the kitchen table, pulled out a chair, and sat. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she forced her mind to go to a place she didn’t want to go—Amos. She had no idea—not that she cared much—what his response would be to her betrayal. Knowing there were no secrets in such a close-knit family, she imagined his reaction would fall somewhere between extreme anger and utter despair. And knowing Amos, she thought the latter would be the most likely response and that would make the situation intolerable.