Aiming for Love

by Mary Connealy

  Jo looked, and sure enough the nearest cow had a circle on its hip with a downward dash slanted on the bottom right corner.

  Dave bandaged. Quill groaned. Dave’s brow showed deep furrows of regret.

  “Welcome to my home, Quill Warden.” Jo forged on, trying to distract Quill. “And I agree that no place can be perfect. My grandpa always said there was nowhere all the way safe this side of heaven. My home is a land of grizzlies and blizzards, cliffs, lightning storms, and mountain lions. But he wanted his family to avoid risk, and he thought up here was best.”

  “Your home?” Quill’s rather bushy eyebrows arched in surprise. “I was up here with my son scouting. How come we never saw you?”

  Jo shook her head. “We have a cabin tucked in a canyon with a tight entrance, you missed it. And I’m surprised I never saw you. I usually notice what’s going on around my home. Ilsa said she saw you, just now when I went to get her. She hadn’t told us before. Did you stay a long time?”

  “We came up three times,” Dave said. “But we didn’t set up camp, just scouted around.”

  Jo didn’t like knowing that. She would’ve thought she knew everything that went on atop this mountain.

  “How far do you live from here?” Dave ran his sleeve across his brow, tense with worry about his pa. Why would he be? Ilsa had said Quill would be fine. Why wouldn’t he trust the word of a medicine woman?

  “It’s not that far. I ran there to get Ilsa, and I had to talk to Ursula awhile, but Ilsa came straight back. How far is that?”

  “Hard to say, and we were looking for open grassland and found this right away. We searched some, but it seemed to be solid forest after this meadow. We knew there was enough lush grass and running water to keep a herd of about two or three hundred head of cattle. We spent most of our time clearing that trail Ma and Pa just rode up. It’s meaner’n a rattlesnake.”

  “We had to knock boulders aside and chisel spots to widen them,” Pa said, flinching as he spoke.

  Jo glanced at Dave to see him tying off the bandage. Finally done. Jo heaved a sigh of relief.

  Dave was so relieved to not be hurting Pa anymore, he sighed until he almost collapsed.

  Pa caught his wrist . . . and held on to Jo at the same time. Pa must be feeling pretty good because his grip was like iron.

  “It was Wax Mosby, son.”

  Dave almost toppled off his knees. “You saw him?”

  “Yep, I didn’t see him shooting, and there were two other sidewinders firing. But I was running away from this trail and at the far end of rifle range, and someone skilled hit me. The snow was coming hard, and all I could think was my tracks were going to lead those varmints straight to you and your ma, so I headed away.”

  Pa’s eyes fell shut, and he seemed to gather himself before he could go on.

  “I got into the woods, and the snow wasn’t gettin’ through there yet, so I moved fast to give me enough space that my tracks would soon be covered. I had taken off up a mean slope, because we rode that way first, remember? Trying to find a way up? My tracks were filling in fast. Then I took that trail we found that skirted along the top of the mountain. I followed it until I connected with the trail my cows used. I think I lost ’em.”

  A chill that had nothing to do with the oncoming snowstorm slid down Dave’s spine. “Wax Mosby. There’s no one meaner in this whole territory.”

  Dave noticed Jo patting Pa’s hand. Between being shot and finding one of the fastest, most ruthless deadeyes in the West on his trail, Pa probably needed all the comfort he could get.

  “It’s said he’s kin to John Mosby, the one they called the Gray Ghost during the Civil War. And he’s like that, slipping around, attacking on the sly, then he vanishes and comes back again from a different direction.”

  Jo’s eyes sharpened. “Vanishes? He’s a ghost?”

  Dave didn’t want to frighten her, but if there was danger coming, she needed to know. “No, not a ghost, he’s a very skilled woodsman and tracker. It’s also rumored that someone hung the name on him because he operates like Mosby. I don’t know if there’s any relation.”

  “And he’s a hired gun for Bludge Pike.” Pa’s hand tightened on Dave’s wrist. “How sure are you that you found the only trail up here? I know we hunted, but if there’s another way—a way we’re not ready to defend against—it’s a sure thing Wax will find it.”

  Dave’s eyes met Jo’s. “Do you know of trails down the mountainside?”

  Jo was silent, her gaze locked on his. “Grandpa talked of one other way down. He said no horse could make it, but a determined man could pull himself up a few cliffs. Of course, I may not know all the ways off the mountaintop.”

  “Can you show me?” At this rate Dave was going to have to post all his men as sentries, and he wouldn’t get any kind of shelter built before winter closed in.

  “I’ve never been on it.”

  Dave realized he was patting Pa’s hand just like Jo. Maybe Dave needed comfort almost as much as Pa.

  “We can go. And it’s by a grassland larger than this. You wanted to find more grass.” Then Jo’s brow lowered. “What Gray Ghost fights in a war? What war?”

  Dave shook his head. “When was the last time you heard any news from the outside world?”

  Jo frowned. “News? What do you mean? Things are new down there?”

  Dave almost smiled. “No, I mean when was the last time you went down the mountain and spoke to another person?”

  “I’ve never gone down the mountain.”

  “Not once in your whole life?”

  “No, and no one’s ever come up. Grandma said folks were dangerous down below. That’s how my parents died. Grandma warned Mama and Papa long and hard before they left. And they never came back, so she had the right of it. Grandpa went down for supplies, and each time he came back up, he’d camp away from the house for a time, until he was sure he brought no fever with him.”

  “What if he had gotten sick, who would’ve doctored him?”

  Jo shrugged. “As far as I know he never got sick. Maybe he was careful and stayed well away from feverish folks when he went for supplies. Then Grandma died. Grandpa went on as before, going down for supplies, and left Ursula, Ilsa, and me up here alone. He’d camp away from us just as Grandma wanted, even though she wasn’t here to fuss, then he’d come in with the supplies. He did that until the day his joints got to aching too bad to go down. And he’d been teaching us to survive here so we wouldn’t need supplies from down below. He brought seed for corn and wheat and taught us how to grow it. We learned what things would grow up here on a mountaintop and how to keep a garden. Toward the end he got . . . confused. He talked to Ursula like she was Grandma. He sometimes didn’t remember any of our names, and he spent most days either rocking by the fire or staying in his bed. When he died, it was fearsome to be alone. And sad. We missed him. But we managed. We remembered his teachings, and we remembered the rules he’d set down. The ones we’d already been taught by Grandma. We never went down.”

  Jo’s head came up, and she asked, “Did you bring enough food for everyone here?”

  Dave shook his head. “No, we’ll have to go—”

  Jo moved so suddenly Dave was struck dumb. He watched her whirl to face the nearby woods. She moved with such grace it was nearly a dance, and she moved to the music of the wild. In a single motion, she swept her bow off one shoulder. Her strange clothing floated and fluttered like leaves in the autumn woods. Her muscles rippled with a strength that was shocking in such a fine-boned woman.

  In one continuous motion, she drew an arrow from her quiver and sent it flying. She whipped out another and shot, then a third. It was all done in an instant, without hesitation. She was thinking, seeing some threat, acting on it, all faster than Dave could even see what was happening.

  Than a loud squeal from the woods drew everyone’s attention. The cowhands, Ma, even the horses looked.

  A wild boar burst out of the woods with a single arrow
in its flank. Jo let fly a fourth arrow and a fifth.

  The hog fell dead at the far end of the clearing.

  The noise stopped around her. The chopping, the hauling, quiet voices.

  “You hit a running boar from fifty yards. He was at least that far away by the time you let the last arrow fly.” Dave could still see her whirling, shooting, faster than lightning but so graceful it was like each second unfolded like a perfect picture that he knew he’d always remember. With her bow and arrows, she was so much better than he was with a gun, it pinched his feelings a bit. But being bested didn’t pinch hard enough to make him deny what a skilled hunter she was. He would like to watch her move like that for the rest of his life.

  He’d never used a bow and arrow, but he might try to learn. He’d enjoy having her teach him.

  7

  Jo turned back to Dave to see him shake his head.

  “You’ve provided supper for all of us in the twinkling of an eye.”

  “It’ll last longer’n just supper.” Jo pointed to the spot she’d originally aimed at. “There are two more I got with my first shots, there in the woods.”

  “Three?” Pa said. “You got two more in the woods? I can’t even see past the trees.”

  “I heard them and smelled them, knew they were wandering close, knew they were heading away from us. There were five in all, but two were little, spring piglets I reckon. Not a lot of good eatin’ on them. Best to let them grow for another season or two. And I had to move fast to get the third one, but it was wounded, weren’t no help for it. I had to get him.”

  “Two more down? And two got away?” Dave looked dazed. “I can’t even see them. How do you know you got them?”

  “I’ve got sharp eyes and ears like a nervous jackrabbit.” Jo smiled at Dave, then turned to Pa. “We’ll cook pork over a spit, but we’ll make sure there’s a soup full of tender bits for you. It’s easier on your belly.”

  Jo hung her bow back over her shoulder. She did it so easily that he was sure she never let it get far from her hands.

  “I’ve got to see to the butchering and hope my arrows are in good shape. Saves me making new ones.”

  She rose to her feet to get to work just as Ma came walking up. “Jo, that’s fine shooting.”

  “I’ve been feeding my family since before Grandpa died. I reckon that’s more’n ten years now. I’ve learned to hit what I aim at.”

  As she walked away, she heard a hissed conversation behind her and wondered what the Warden family was on about. Well, if they wanted her to know, they would speak up. She strode toward the boar that had made a run for it.

  Dave caught up to her. “I’ll dress out the hogs. You stay and talk to Pa. He seems to be taken with you.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she stopped and crossed her arms. “Taken? Your father has taken something from me? I can’t think what. I have my quiver and bows.”

  Dave smiled, and she forgot every other thought in her head so she could watch that smile.

  “It’s a saying from the lowland. No, we don’t want to take anything. Taken with, it means Pa likes you. He thinks you’re a fine woman.”

  “I’ll go back then. You’ll be awhile with three boars. I’m mighty fast at the butchering, but if you want me to stay with your pa, I will. Maybe you should ask some of these men you brought along to help you.”

  She turned to go back to her wounded new friend and heard Dave laughing quietly behind her.

  “And Dave, have a care with my arrows. It’s a lot of work to make new ones.”

  Now she was sure she heard laughter. She turned to see what was so funny, but he’d headed on toward the closest boars, the two she’d brought down instantly. Two of his men were walking toward him, probably to help with the butchering.

  Needing three arrows for that third hog was just plain shameful.

  Dave kept moving, laughing a little harder now. She had no idea why, but honestly, she probably didn’t want to know.

  Ilsa came down out of the trees to help.

  Jo had seen her perched up on a branch when she shot the hogs. Ilsa had a way of fading into the leaves. . . . Though most of the leaves had fallen, so now she faded into the branches.

  Ilsa watched and learned and finally decided she was needed, so she came down from the tree and tended Quill with her usual almost-miraculous hands.

  There were stories of healing in one of their Bibles, and Jo had often wondered if Ilsa had the gift of healing. She was as kind to animals as she was to people. Good grief, she was even gentle with plants. She was a wonder with weaving whip-thin tree branches, woody vines, and sturdy tree roots into ropes she could swing on. And everything she touched healed and thrived.

  So much of Grandpa’s care had fallen to her when he was ailing. Heaven knew, even at such a young age as Ilsa had been then, she’d had endless practice at doctoring.

  Now that Ilsa was here, Jo turned to helping Ma, who was making fried pork for dinner. Jo felt a spark of pride that she’d helped provide the meal, something she did for her family.

  Ma had several skillets. She said she’d brought everything from the bunkhouse. Jo didn’t know what that was, but she could only guess it was a house where they stored a lot of pans.

  Together, they cooked a mountain of meat for the hands and potatoes that were different from the Indian potatoes that grew up here, but very tasty.

  Jo ate while Ilsa checked the bandage. She didn’t change it. She seemed satisfied with how Quill was doing. She talked quietly with Quill and sent up prayers to heaven as she worked. Jo should leave with Ilsa when she headed for home. Jo didn’t want to, but she should.

  The sun set on the short fall day, and quietly, snow sifted down as the moon rose.

  The cowboys finished knocking together a shelter as the night turned cool. Pa was gently moved into the small building by Dave and one of his hired men. The little building was about the size of the milk cow’s stall in their little barn and had no fireplace. But it had room enough for Ma and Quill to sleep side by side.

  Getting her husband under cover for the night had been Ma’s first priority, so the men had stopped everything else.

  Then they made a strange building of cloth. Jo heard it called a tent, and they hauled their things inside. Maybe even these tough cowboys had no love for sleeping in the snow.

  Jo’s curiosity over how they’d build a house had kept her nearby, though that wasn’t as important as Quill. Talking to him really seemed to help him. The man was in pain and struggling not to show it . . . which probably made the pain even worse.

  And it wasn’t as important as Ma. Jo reveled under her kind words and gentle hands. She hadn’t realized quite how much she’d missed by not having a mother. And it made her ache for the loss of even her grandma’s gruff scolding.

  Add to that, she was fascinated by Dave’s deep voice and strong arms, the way he worked hard and talked with the other men. She hung on every word.

  Then there was Ma’s good cooking.

  Altogether, Jo hadn’t been able to leave. It was well after dark, and now she had to go home.

  As Ilsa stood, Jo rose with her. The clothes she’d made so carefully to conceal herself in the woodlands danced and fluttered in the cool fall breeze. She swayed with exhaustion as she realized she’d stayed out all night last night, been very busy all day, and was now nearly falling asleep on her feet.

  Dave was at her side instantly and caught her arm to steady her. Had she really looked like she was near collapse?

  “I’ll ride home with you.”

  Ilsa arched a brow. In the firelight, Jo could clearly see her confusion. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because it’s not safe in the woods.”

  Ilsa looked at Jo.

  Jo shrugged and asked, “What danger is there?”

  Dave didn’t seem to understand the question. “It’s night in a deep woods in the wilderness, and you’re two women alone.”

  Which was no answer.

&
nbsp; “I’ve been known to wander the woods at night,” Jo said. Many, many nights. Most nights. “I like it. Many animals are night critters. If I want to see them and learn their ways, I have to be out at night.”

  “It’s not safe. Just because you haven’t gotten hurt so far doesn’t mean you should do it.” Dave’s voice rose with every word.

  “I do it all the time. And here I stand, unharmed. Yes, there might be dangerous animals, but mostly they run away from me.” She wished they wouldn’t. “I have to be very quiet and sly to get close to a lion or a grizzly. I’ve gotten near enough to touch them, but when I do, they always run.”

  Dave’s hand clamped hard on the top of his hat as if it were threatening to blow away. “You touched a grizzly?”

  He came closer, and he was already very close. “That’s dangerous. You can’t get that close.”

  “I just said I have gotten that close. No harm has come to me.” It was probably men she shouldn’t get close to.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ilsa drift away, slide into the woods. Here was Dave trying to protect them both, and now, because of his kindhearted fussing, Jo would be walking home alone instead of in company with someone. Ilsa vanished, became part of the forest. Jo almost caught her breath with envy. Ilsa had such grace that her movements rarely caught the eye. She moved with such silence that once she vanished, it was nearly impossible to find her. Jo and her sisters had played hide-and-seek in the woods all their lives. Ilsa had mastered both hiding and seeking. Jo had, too, but she didn’t have Ilsa’s skill. Ursula wasn’t nearly as good as Ilsa and Jo, but she was still very good.

  “I have to go. Do not come with me. Ilsa is already gone, but I’ll catch up to her quickly. If there is any danger, we’ll handle it, though I can’t imagine what danger there could be. I’ve lived in these woodlands all my life. They are my haven and pose no risk.”

  Dave seemed frozen with doubt. She turned and walked away quickly, hoping he didn’t thaw and come after her. Then he’d have to walk back through the woods to get here to his camp. And she’d probably have to follow him to make sure he didn’t get lost in unfamiliar land, and if he caught her following, he might think he needed to walk back to her cabin with her. And then she’d need to follow him again.