Outlaw Express

by Gillian F. Taylor

  Alec glanced down at the man beneath, not yet daring to loosen his grip. Surely he hadn’t been strangling Jacob long enough to kill him? He might only have fainted, and would recover quickly, or be shamming? Alec leaned carefully forward, twisting Jacob’s head until he saw the open, unmoving eye. He touched the surface of the eye with the tip of a finger: there was no reaction, no blink. There was no warm breath on a finger held under Jacob’s nose. Releasing the neckerchief, Alec stood up, checking on the camp once again. He hadn’t intended to kill Jacob, only to silence him so they could make their escape. Alec felt no real remorse, however. Jacob was almost certainly responsible for the deaths of two railwaymen during past robberies. If Alec had been caught trying to flee with Lacey, he would have paid with his life, and she would have no one to protect her. Not that they were clear yet. Alec bent, seized Jacob under his arms, and dragged him a little way into the trees.

  There was still no movement in the camp as he re-emerged into the open. Moving as quickly as he could while staying quiet, Alec fetched another saddle and bridle, and tacked up the horse he’d chosen for Lacey. After some thought during the day, he’d picked Manny Houston’s dun: it was a sound, well-made trail horse, and got on with his own horse, which was important when travelling in company. It had the good temperament that seemed typical of duns, and Alec thought Lacey would be capable of managing it.

  Horses ready, Alec circled back around the camp to where Lacey waited. She slid out of the unfastened tarp, having already donned her boots and jacket.

  ‘What happened?’ she whispered as she rose.

  ‘It was Jacob Alcott,’ Alec replied succinctly. ‘I took care of him.’ He gestured to the far end of the roll. ‘Help me carry this to the horses; I’ll roll it up when we’re further away.’

  Lacey nodded once. Together they lifted the tarpaulin wrapped bedroll, and carried it around the circle of sleepers to the horses. O’Leary snorted and turned over in his roll as they passed. Lacey stifled a short gasp and froze for a moment, but recovered swiftly, moving along with Alec. He gave her a brief smile of encouragement, concealing his own jumpiness at the movement. Once safely on the far side of the horses, Alec quickly rolled up his bedroll and lashed it into place behind his saddle. Now he paused, looking back towards the campsite.

  With Jacob Alcott dead, there was a free bedroll available. Getting it would be risky: it was close to Bill Alcott, and fetching it would take a few more precious minutes, when someone else might wake up. Alec’s instincts were urging him to flee, to get away now while he had the chance. But they would only have the one bedroll, plus the blankets and saddle blanket he’d used earlier. It was only April, the nights were still bitterly cold and camping without a proper bedroll, even for just a couple of nights, would be miserable at best and quite possibly fatal.

  ‘We have to get Jacob’s bedroll,’ Alec told Lacey. He looked straight at her. ‘If we get caught, an’ I’m killed, don’t try to escape on your own. It’ll no’ be pleasant with Alcott’s gang, but you can’t survive out here alone. You’ll die for certain.’

  Lacey shivered slightly, though Alec couldn’t tell if it was from fear or the cold. She moved up beside him, and they moved carefully back to the camp.

  With gestures, Alec indicated which end for her to take. Moving slowly, gauging each step carefully, he slipped between the bedrolls to reach the far end of Jacob’s empty one. Bill Alcott slept just three feet away; Hannigan was four feet away on the other side. Snores, half-muffled by their bedrolls, were clear enough in the cold air. Keeping his eyes on Lacey’s face, Alec crouched and took hold of his end. She copied his movements, rising as he did. The rustling of the tarp-covered roll seemed immensely loud in the night. Alec realized he was holding his breath, and let it out slowly. As he nodded to Lacey and began to step forward, Hannigan let out a grunting snort. Lacey froze, her face screwed up in fear.

  Alec halted dead. He could hear her ragged breathing; the bedroll rustled faintly as she shook. A cold sense of fear settled in his stomach: if she panicked now, their chances of escape were slim. Tightly controlling his own nerves, Alec acted calm. He tugged gently on the bedroll to gain her attention. Her eyes widened and she looked at him, her mouth slightly open as though on the point of screaming.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Alec said, his voice as low and as soft as if addressing a frightened horse. ‘Breathe, lassie, breathe slow and gentle.’

  She stared back at him, as though unsure what he’d said. Alec took a slow, deep breath himself and let it out gently. After a moment, Lacey did the same. Alec smiled as she continued, and the terror began to ease from her face.

  ‘Calm and quiet,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s move.’

  Lacey swallowed, then nodded.

  ‘Now,’ said Alec, and together they carried the bedroll away from the campfire and back to the horses.

  Jacob Alcott’s overcoat had been tucked inside the bedroll as a pillow; Alec pulled it out and passed it to Lacey. She arranged her shawl over her head and shoulders before pulling the coat on over her jacket. His woollen gloves were in the pockets, so she put them on over her own thin, leather ones. The bedroll was swiftly rolled and lashed behind Lacey’s saddle. Alec boosted her up, then quickly and quietly moved amongst the horses, soothing them with a pat and quiet sounds as he unfastened the picket ropes from their halters. He didn’t expect them to wander far, but they might drift away from the camp, or at least play hard to catch in the morning when the outlaws wanted them. He didn’t try to scare them or lead them away in a group, for fear of the noise they might make. With that last job done, Alec swung neatly into his own saddle, settling happily into the comfortable seat, and smiled at Lacey. She smiled back, though with anxious eyes. Nudging his horse into a walk, Alec led them away from the outlaws’ camp.

  Alec didn’t bother seeking cover as they rode in the dark. He stayed out on the open grassland where the light was better. Lacey was looking around, letting her horse choose his own path. She didn’t dare speak until they were half a mile from the camp, and even then she spoke softly.

  ‘It’s so beautiful. And so clear!’

  Snow on the upper slopes and the peaks glittered silver in the moonlight. Above was a wide sweep of sparkling stars scattered across the sky, so many more than were visible in a city. The whole world around them was outlined in frost. As they topped a low rise, they startled some elk, which bounded away in great leaps. Both horses and riders had warmed up some, and Alec felt it was time to increase the pace. He urged them into a steady jog. Lacey made some small complaining noises at first, still stiff after the previous day’s riding. She bore the discomfort bravely though and gradually seemed to settle.

  She rode more or less alongside Alec, who kept an eye on her. After nearly half an hour, he could see that she was getting looser in the saddle, clinging to the pommel more and hauling herself straight in the seat more frequently. She still didn’t complain, but he could hear soft hisses of discomfort. He slowed to a walk again, praising her for her endurance.

  ‘It’s helping me keep warm,’ Lacey answered, somewhat breathlessly.

  ‘Take your feet out of your stirrups an’ stretch your legs,’ he advised.

  She did so, half-smiling. ‘That’s not something you can do when riding aside.’

  ‘I guess not,’ Alec replied.

  They continued to walk and jog at intervals, pacing themselves as they rode through the night.

  It was while they were walking that Alec’s horse slowed, lowering its head to inspect the ground more closely.

  ‘Slow,’ he ordered quickly, holding out his arm.

  Lacey hardly needed to slow her mount, which was also walking more cautiously.

  ‘What is it?’ she queried. The ground ahead looked much the same as that they’d just passed through.

  ‘Moray knows something,’ Alec replied, nudging his horse to walk on a little. ‘These are good trail horses; it’s wise to listen to what your horse tells you.’
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  As he spoke, he could hear his horses hoofs squelching in soft ground. Moray took another step, and lurched slightly as his front hoof sank to the fetlock. The horse jerked himself back with a snort, Alec sitting easily in the saddle.

  ‘The ground’s boggy here. We hafta go round this low patch.’

  Lacey followed as Alec turned his horse, letting it pick its way around the edge of the soft ground. He patted his horse’s neck, grateful to it for not blundering into the bog. They were headed away from the river, towards the peaks that bordered the grassy park. He was both mentally and physically tired, and it had to be worse for Lacey. Travelling at night was dangerous at the best of times; as much as he wanted to get as far away from the outlaws as possible, they needed to find somewhere to hide and rest. As they headed further away from the river, Alec picked out a side valley leading up into the peaks, and headed for it.

  ‘We’ll make camp in that valley,’ he told Lacey, reassuring her that the cold, tiring ride had an end.

  It took the best part of an hour, but at last they were settled in a wooded clearing. Sitting on his bedroll, Alec eased off his boots with a quiet sigh, wriggling his toes. He relished the chilly air on his feet for a few moments, before sliding his legs inside the quilts, keeping his socks on. The boots were placed handily close by, with his hat atop them to keep them dry, then Alec finally snuggled down inside his bedroll, fastening the tarp. He glanced once at Lacey, a few feet away inside her own bedroll, and then at the tethered horses, grazing the frosty grass nearby. Alec stretched out, then relaxed, and finally fell deeply and properly asleep.

  It was a couple of hours past dawn when he woke again. After the first drowsy moments, Alec came fully awake fast, lifting his head out of the bedroll to look around. The camp was quiet, but his movement prompted a soft whinney from his horse, which watched him with ears pricked, hoping for food. Alec smiled and relaxed. The sound woke Lacey too. She moved, and groaned in pain, mumbling something before erupting into a sitting position, her wavy hair hanging in untidy loops. She gazed around with a look of dismay on her face, finally settling on Alec.

  ‘Oh, gosh. Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh, oh Hell!’ She covered her face with her hands. ‘I was hoping it was a dream,’ she moaned, and began sobbing.

  Alec’s heart sank; he’d been so pleased and relieved at how well Lacey had coped with the situation the day before, that he’d begun to assume that she’d continue in the same way. He had no idea how to cope with a sobbing woman. Should he leave her to cry it out, or try to comfort her – and if so, how? For a few moments he had the urge to simply pull his quilts back over his head and hope for the problems to go away: crying women, outlaws, consciousness, even. Alec sighed. Tempting though the idea was, it wouldn’t solve anything. He had to do something, and the first thing to do was get out of his cosy bedroll.

  Alec set about the morning tasks of camp as though everything was normal. He refreshed himself, took the horses to a nearby creek to drink, then fed them both some of the grain he’d taken from the outlaws’ supplies. By the time he’d done this, Lacey had stopped crying. She was sitting up in her bedroll, wearing Alcott’s coat, and brushing out her hair. Alec returned to the bedrolls and opened a saddle-bag.

  ‘It’ll have to be a cold breakfast, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘I dare not light a fire; the smoke would give us away.’

  ‘All right,’ Lacey replied in a small voice.

  Alec took out a lump of cheese and some crackers. ‘How are you feeling this morning; are you sore?’

  ‘I ache,’ she said decidedly. ‘And my legs are sore where the saddle rubbed.’

  Alec thought for a moment. ‘I have a spare pair of trousers you could borrow,’ he suggested hesitantly.

  ‘Trousers? Oh, no, I couldn’t!’ Lacey exclaimed. She paused, pursing her mouth as she thought. ‘I’d rather not if I could help it. I mean, I could sew up my skirt to make a proper divided skirt, but I don’t have needle and thread,’ she finished unhappily.

  Alec opened another saddle-bag. ‘I do, you can borrow my housewife.’ He took out a small fabric bundle and tossed it across to her.

  ‘Thank you.’ Lacey unrolled the bundle to reveal needles, thimble, flat skeins of thread, three safety pins and a pair of small scissors all tucked into pockets. She looked at them, then suddenly smiled and looked at Alec. ‘A housewife! I should have realized before. My father served in the War, and my mother’s family are mostly military. I made a housewife for Cousin Tom. You were in the Army, weren’t you?’

  ‘Aye,’ Alec admitted proudly. ‘I was in the Fifth Cavalry. I served ten years, and made captain.’

  Lacey studied him, shaking her head slightly. ‘I thought you seemed different to the other outlaws – the real outlaws, I mean. They treated you like a bit of an outsider, but you acted like a man used to giving orders, not taking them.’

  ‘It wasna’ easy,’ Alec agreed. ‘I’ve gotten used to command. Ma deputy sheriffs all served with me so I’m still commanding the same men.’

  A cool breeze gusted across Alec’s face, bringing him back from thoughts of his friends back home.

  ‘We need to get moving,’ he said briskly. ‘I’ll get some breakfast now, while you fix your skirts, then I’ll get the horses ready. You can eat when you’re done sewing, or in the saddle if necessary.’

  Lacey had worked her hair into a long braid, and pinned it up in an untidy coil on the back of her head. She picked up the housewife and gave it a malevolent look.

  ‘I never liked sewing, but at least this isn’t a sampler,’ she said in tones of infinite scorn. ‘Samplers are just so pointless. All they do is hang on the parlour wall and get pointed out to young men who visit, like an advertisement for how good you’ll be as a wife. It’s demeaning, like being advertised for sale like a horse. For sale, one prospective wife. Well broken and quiet to handle. Has seen hounds,’ she added with a giggle.

  Alec laughed too, relieved that she’d got her sense of humour back. He turned so he was facing away from her as she wriggled her skirt and petticoat off inside the bedroll, and began eating his cold breakfast.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘It’s so warm already!’ Lacey exclaimed.

  Alec looked across at her with a smile as they rode. ‘It’s like that in the mountains,’ he replied. ‘Gets so cold at night and warms up quickly in the day. I was told it’s because the air’s thin up here.’

  ‘How can air be thin?’ she asked incredulously.

  ‘I don’t understand myself,’ Alec replied. ‘It just is when you’re higher up, an’ we’re about eleven thousand feet above sea level here, mebbe more. That’s why the air is so clear in the mountains,’ he said appreciatively. ‘With the air being thin, you can feel it when you do harder work. Some folk are more bothered by it than others, but you can get out of breath pretty easily up here.’

  ‘Well, I feel fine now,’ Lacey replied.

  ‘Good.’

  She looked to be all right too. Alec had no idea how she’d managed her petticoat, but Lacey was sitting quite comfortably in her saddle, with the divided skirt hanging well on either side. The going wasn’t too bad here, the horses moving at a steady walk as they warmed up for the day’s travel. The gulch that Alec had ventured up during the night curved sharply before opening up into the main park. They were heading back down the gulch, on the sunnier side of the valley to enjoy the warmth.

  Thinking about the bandits, Alec did some mental calculations and pulled his horse to a gentle stop. Lacey halted beside him, her expression changing from relaxed to anxious.

  ‘I reckon the sun rose a good couple of hours back,’ Alec said. ‘Alcott and the others would have woken soon after, and found we were gone, and Jacob was dead. I’m guessing Alcott would come after us as soon as possible, once they’d buried his brother. They couldn’t travel too fast – they’d be watching for our trail – but they could be pretty close to the mouth o’ that gulch about now.’

  ‘Really?’
Lacey sat straighter in her saddle, as if ready to whirl her horse around. ‘They might have gone the other way; maybe they thought we’d headed back towards the pass over to the railroad?’ she suggested.

  ‘I was kinda hoping that myself,’ Alec admitted. ‘But I’ve heard Manford bragging on his skill at following a trail. You wait here, and I’ll climb that spur of land to see if I can spot them.’

  ‘All right.’

  As he rode forwards, Alec was pleased that Lacey dismounted to rest her horse as she waited. He angled his horse across the side of the spur, zig-zagging back and forth to make the climb easier. Alec let the horse choose his own footing, and Moray picked his way carefully over the ground, where rocks were often concealed in the patches of snow. Alec halted below the crest of the hill, and tied his horse to a scrubby juniper bush. Bending and moving cautiously, Alec approached the top of the spur. He used a cluster of rocks as cover, avoiding the patches of snow that crunched beneath his boots as far as possible. By going carefully, often on hands and knees, Alec found a spot between two rocks where he could lie and look out into the park beyond, almost as far up as the mouth of the gulch.

  He heard the bandits before he spotted them. They were gathered about a quarter of a mile from the mouth of the gulch, four of them watching as Manford scouted on foot. Houston was now riding Jacob Alcott’s horse, and leading one of the packhorses, while O’Leary had the other. Alec could catch their voices, though not the words. There was a brief bout of wild laughter from O’Leary, before Alcott turned and said something that silenced him. Manford turned and called to them, He gestured towards the gulch, and nodded in reply to something shouted by Alcott. Alec had seen enough. Backing away carefully, as soon as he could, he began trotting back towards his horse.

  Back in the saddle, he pushed his horse into a jog, trusting to its surefootedness. Lacey watched his approach for a few moments, then led her horse to a low rock and used it as a mounting block to get herself back in the saddle. She was ready to move as soon as Alec got back to her.