by West, Everly
“I remember what it was like when White Cloud and I were young,” John Grey Wolf said with a knowing, but also weary, expression.
“I bet the two of you were handsome young people,” Tildie said, trying to behave. She scooted a few inches away from Clint, but even that felt like she was losing a part of herself.
John Grey Wolf grunted and smiled, staring into the fire as though visiting the past. “Her father was the medicine man of our tribe. The white men had just begun to move onto the land back then. We used to ride away from our camp together at night and stare up at the stars. We would do more than stare up at the stars.” He chuckled and shook his head.
A moment later, he had grown sober again. “I let her father know I wished to make her mine. Everything was prepared for the ceremony. That was when the soldiers attacked.”
He was silent. A lump formed in Tildie’s throat as she watched his expression tell the rest of the story. She glanced to Clint, who wore a look of respect as he watched John Grey Wolf. He reached for Tildie, closing his hand around hers.
At last, John Grey Wolf went on. “That was when I was injured and nearly died, and when the missionaries found me. I believed White Cloud and the rest of my people to be dead. That is why I did not seek her out right away. But after I had been with Rev. Johns for three years, taken his name, even, I learned White Cloud and her sisters had survived.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “I went through many trials to find her again. She thought I had been killed in the attack. You should have seen her face when I walked into her camp.” He laughed again, full of memory and meaning. “We have been together since then.”
“I’m glad you found each other again,” Clint said. He squeezed Tildie’s hand as he did. “I knew Tildie was the girl for me the moment we met.”
“You did?” Tildie asked, grinning.
Clint nodded. “I was friends with her brother, Brandon first,” he explained to John Grey Wolf. “The first time I went out to the Masterson ranch for a visit, there was Tildie, wrestling with a sheep twice her size who had gotten itself stuck in a fence.”
“I remember,” Tildie laughed. “That’s what made you fall in love with me?”
Clint shrugged. “You got that sheep free. Most men I know couldn’t have done that. And when you stood up and walked over to say hello to me, you brushed your skirt off, wiped your face with your sleeve, and suddenly you were the prettiest, most feminine thing I’d ever seen.”
“I was a mess.” Tildie shook her head, grinning from ear to ear. “You have a strange idea of what feminine is.”
“I do,” Clint admitted, his cheeks going pink in the firelight. He shifted, then asked, “So what drew you to me?”
“The way your jaw dropped when I shook your hand and said hello after wrestling that sheep,” she said, giggling.
She was about to say more when a low, menacing growl cut her off. She gasped, turning as Clint and John Grey Wolf did, to find a pair of flashing, yellow-green eyes staring at them from the shadows beyond their campfire. Two more sets of eyes and dark shapes appeared behind that one.
“Watch out,” Clint said, standing and shielding Tildie. “They’re coyotes.”
Tildie shot to her feet, wishing she had something to defend herself with. John Grey Wolf shot to his feet and came around the campfire to join Clint. He spoke to the coyotes in his native language.
“They’re probably hungry,” Clint said in a hush, glancing around as if he were looking for a weapon as well.
“Would it help to tell them I’m not very tasty?” Tildie whispered.
Clint chuckled, but his amusement was cut short as one of the coyotes made a dash toward the remaining meat from dinner that was laid out on the oilskin White Cloud had wrapped it in. Tildie gasped at the sudden movement, but Clint leapt toward the coyote, shouting wordlessly.
As soon as that coyote backed away, one of the others attempted to zip around the other side of the fire to make a run for the meat. Tildie spotted a branch sticking out of the campfire and grabbed it. A shower of sparks leapt into the air as she waved the flaming stick at the coyote.
“Get away,” she shouted. “We need this food more than you do.”
The first coyote made one last attempt to grab the saddlebag that held the rest of their food supplies, but Clint lunged fast enough to snag the other side of the bag and pull. What resulted was a short tug-of-war between Clint and the coyote. John Grey Wolf continued to call to the coyotes in his native language and Tildie waved her stick.
Within minutes, the coyotes gave up and ran off into the night. As soon as the danger had passed, Tildie tossed her stick back onto the fire, sat heavily on the ground beside her pack, and burst into laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Clint asked, slightly breathless but also laughing, as he sat next to her. John Grey Wolf resumed his seat across the fire from them.
“This trip,” Tildie said, shaking her head. “I said I wanted one more adventure before settling into a married life.”
“You got what you asked for.” Clint let out an exhausted breath.
“I got more than I asked for,” Tildie told him. “Storms, a bridge out, treachery, Simon getting shot, wild Indians—pardon me for saying so, Mr. Grey Wolf.” She held up her hands in an apologetic gesture to John Grey Wolf, who merely nodded. “And now wild animals attacking. This has been more of an adventure than anyone could have bargained for.”
“And it’s not over yet,” Clint said with a grin.
He was righter than any of them could have imagined. After the coyote attack, they decided to sleep in shifts. But at least that meant Tildie was able to get a few good, solid hours in before it was her turn to stay up. By morning, she was itching to go even more than before. The weather continued to be clear and balmy, and once again, they made good time.
So good, in fact, that by early afternoon of the second day, Tildie began to recognize the scenery.
“We’re close to Laramie,” she told Clint, sitting up in her saddle. “I think we just passed King Mountain back there. Which means Laramie is only a few hours’ ride that way.” She pointed right in front of them.
“Then let’s get going,” Clint said, nudging his horse to go faster.
John Grey Wolf let the two of them take the lead as the territory became more familiar. That proved to be a good idea as they reached the very first ranches at the far outskirts of town. Tildie worried what would happen to him if they came across the wrong people at the wrong time.
She had good reason to worry, but not for the reasons she thought. They were only a mile or so away from the McKinnon ranch, the most distant ranch from the center of Laramie that she could think of, when they stumbled across a rough camp wedged between some bushes near a stream.
At first, she didn’t think much of the three horses grazing by the stream. It wasn’t until she heard voices then spotted one man walking out from behind one of the bushes with an arm full of sticks, as though he were about to start a fire, that the pieces all connected in her mind. The man was Joe Morgan. A few seconds later, Jay walked up from the stream with a pan of water. They were still about a hundred yards away, but there was no mistaking who the two were.
“Clint, it’s them,” Tildie hissed, trying to stay quiet, but letting her anger get the better of her.
Clint turned and saw what she saw in an instant. “I’ll wring those two snakes’ necks,” Clint growled, then nudged his horse into a run.
Tildie wasn’t about to let him do all the neck wringing on his own. She tapped her horse into a run, chasing after him.
Jay and Joe saw them coming from far enough off to drop what they were doing. They charged toward the three horses. Two of them wore saddles, and the third was tied to the saddle of the horse Jay dashed toward.
“Stay right where you are,” Clint called to them, slowing his horse a cautious distance away. “Your game is up.”
“What are you going to do?” Jay called back, still running for his h
orse. “You’re unarmed.”
Tildie swallowed hard. It was true. Clint had left the guns he’d taken from Jay with Simon in case he needed to protect White Cloud and the others. They all had knives for hunting and defending themselves if they needed to, but knives weren’t going to stop Jay from whatever evil he had in mind.
What he had in mind appeared to be mounting his horse. Joe did the same.
“These horses belong to Mason Mayfield,” Clint shouted, riding close enough to take a swipe at Jay in an attempt to pull him off the horse.
“They sure do,” Jay shouted. “And he’s gonna be mighty put out when he hears you tried to run off with them.”
Tildie’s mouth dropped open in shock and an odd sort of triumph. They were right. Jay was intending to accuse Clint of stealing the horses instead of the other way around. “You can’t get away with this,” she shouted. “Mason will never believe we took them, but he will believe you did.”
“Oh yeah?” Jay snapped at her, hatred in his eyes. “Something tells me he’ll believe a spiteful shrew like you and a con man like Clint here would do anything.”
“Clint isn’t a con man, you are. Mason will see the truth and so will everyone else.”
Tildie’s words were strong, but Jay ignored them. He was already atop his horse, as was Joe, and nothing Tildie or Clint could do to get in their way stopped them. Jay maneuvered his horse into the clear, then kicked it into a gallop. The horse tied to his horse’s saddle seemed only too ready to run along with his friend. Joe shot off right behind them.
“We have to go after them,” Tildie growled, wheeling around and nudging her horse to follow.
Clint didn’t answer. At least not with words. He shouted encouragement to his horse as they launched after Jay and Joe. John Grey Wolf joined them, galloping with all his might. The Mayfield ranch wasn’t that far away. It was clear as day that that was where Jay was headed. The chase was on.
Chapter 10
Clint leaned into his horse’s neck, grateful that Mason had such good taste when it came to breeders and the fast horses they produced, and chased after Jay and Joe. He just had sight of Tildie riding hard to his side, and he had the sense that John Grey Wolf wasn’t far behind them. The only problem was that Jay and Joe also rode horses with the same excellent pedigree as Clint’s mount.
None of it would matter. They didn’t have to reach Mason’s ranch before Jay and Joe. Arriving at the same time would be good enough. The miles flew by like the wind, and they all managed to stay close. In the back of Clint’s mind, he worried about Tildie’s horse hitting a rut and throwing her or some other deadly danger befalling her. Tildie didn’t seem to be worried, though. She stared straight forward as they galloped, her hat long gone somewhere behind them, her hair blowing out behind her. He’d never seen any woman so beautiful or so fierce.
As much as he wanted to indulge in the way his heart thrilled at the very thought of Tildie and her bravery, Clint was forced to focus on the race, especially when he spotted the first signs of Mason’s ranch in the distance. He shouted encouragement to his horse, hoping he could give her the strength to take the last mile or so in record time.
They approached the ranch and shot through the front gate, charging toward the house and outbuildings at the center, so fast that it was jarring to bring his mare to a sudden stop. A flash of worry over whether he’d ridden the brave horse too hard hit him, but there wasn’t time to contemplate it. No sooner did the five of them arrive in a cloud of dust and noise than Mason and every one of the men he’d hired to work for him came rushing out to see what was going on.
“Thief!” Jay managed to cry before Clint could begin to explain. “Horse thief!”
Clint gave his mare a quick pat then dismounted. His legs were wobbly from the effort of the race, but he marched directly toward Mason all the same. Tildie scrambled from her horse and caught up to him before they reached a befuddled Mason.
“What in the Sam Hill is going on here?” Mason asked, gaping at the scene unfolding in front of him.
“We had trouble on the trail,” Clint panted. “Fetch the sheriff.”
One of the men helping Mason out for the day nodded and turned to dash off toward the stable.
“Yes, fetch the sheriff,” Jay shouted, his face twisted in fury. “This man tried to make off with your horses.” He flung a hand out to Clint.
“You know that’s not true,” Clint said, staring hard at Mason, as if he could convince the man by the sincerity in his expression alone.
“He’s a liar and a cheat,” Jay rushed on, puffing out his chest and tilting his chin up. “He wasn’t content with the deal you two made. He wanted to take all the horses and sell them for his own profit, him and his little hussy.”
“Excuse me?” Tildie planted her hands on her hips and glared at the man. “Do you want to turn this way and call me that to my face?”
Jay’s bravado faltered a little, but that didn’t stop him from saying, “You would have been disgusted by what these two got up to on the trail. No decent folks would stand for it.”
“I would never insult Tildie by behaving inappropriately with her,” Clint insisted. “You know I’m an honest man, Mason.”
“He’s had you fooled this whole time,” Jay went on.
“Yep, he sure has,” Joe added from outside of the circle of confrontation.
Clint sent him a nasty look over his shoulder. Joe might have been the silent one in the whole plan, but he was as much to blame as Jay. In fact, looking at the way things had turned out, Jay had probably suggested Joe come along because they were planning something from the start.
“You know me.” Clint doubled down, holding Mason’s gaze. “You know I would never pull anything so underhanded. Can you say the same about Jay?”
“Well, I,” Mason began, glancing from Clint to Jay with a look of utter shock.
“These two are dangerous,” Jay cut him off. “And deviant. You need to get Sheriff Wiley to lock them up at once.”
“I’m not sure we need to go locking people up,” Mason said, raising his hands and looking as though he was trying to be sensible.
“Someone here does need locking up,” Clint insisted. “But we’ll wait for the Wiley to get here and hear both sides of the story. He can make the call.”
Jay opened his mouth, but no sound came out. At last, Clint had shut him up.
They all stood there, panting and agitated for a few seconds before Clint said, “We need to see to the horses. They’ve run hard and need attention.”
“Yeah,” Jay said a moment too late, jumping ahead of Clint as he shifted to walk toward where the five horses stood, reunited and being tended by Mason’s two remaining ranch hands. “The, uh, the horses are what’s important here.”
Clint scowled at Jay and at the way he was working so hard to come off as the good guy in the situation. He just hoped Mason was smart enough to see the truth of things.
But the moment they all turned around to head back to the horses, everyone stopped in their tracks. In the distance, the ranch hand who had rode off to fetch Sheriff Wiley was already returning with the sheriff himself. Wiley must have already been on his way to Mason’s ranch for one reason or another. But that wasn’t what startled Mason or had Jay suddenly looking anxious.
John Grey Wolf hadn’t dismounted when the others did. He continued to sit high atop his horse with a stern expression. Clint had gotten so used to his new friend that he didn’t think how the brave’s appearance would affect the others. Even though John Grey Wolf wasn’t dressed for battle, or even for ceremony, he looked intimidating.
“Why do you believe this man?” he asked Mason, nodding to Jay.
Mason stared up at him, walking forward cautiously. “I never said I believed him,” Mason said, darting an anxious look between Clint and Jay. “I don’t know who to believe right now.”
“Why would I lie to you?” Jay asked with an anxious laugh. “And what reason would I have to st
eal your horses?”
“All sorts of reasons,” Tildie said. “Starting with the fact that you’re jealous of Clint because I love him and wouldn’t even look at a snake like you.”
Jay turned to her with a look of such spite that Clint’s hand itched to form a fist and break his nose all over again.
He was spared the trouble as Sheriff Wiley and the ranch hand reached their group and came to a stop, their horses kicking up dust and snorting.
“Ben tells me there’s some sort of trouble here?” Wiley asked, dismounting in one swift, graceful movement. He marched over to join the group.
“Yes, there’s trouble,” Clint started to say.
Jay rode over him with, “Arrest this horse thief at once.” He pointed to Clint.
A tense silence followed as Clint glared at Jay and Jay glared right back. Tildie looked ready to take things into her own hands. Mason shrugged at Wiley, though he looked anything but casual as he did. The only one who remained perfectly calm and projected any sort of power in the situation was John Grey Wolf.
“You want to know what happened?” Clint asked, seeing a way out of the situation. He gestured to John Grey Wolf. “Ask him. His name is John Grey Wolf, and you’ll want to hear what he has to say.”
Everyone turned to John Grey Wolf.
“Do you know what happened, sir?” Wiley asked with a frown.
“I do,” John Grey Wolf said.
“I’d be obliged if you could clear up the situation,” Wiley went on.
John Grey Wolf nodded once, then said. “My son, Fast Wolf, was hunting. He was close enough to see this man shoot a man and ride off with three horses.” He pointed to Jay.
