The Gunman’s front teeth flashed as Grace swung and he deflected her blade. He took a lazy step backward as she grunted and swung again. The saber ricocheted off the barrel. Grace’s face flushed red as she swung again and again. Finally, as though weary of the dance, the Darksome Gunman jabbed the rifle butt into Grace’s stomach. She staggered and turned as he swung the butt of his rifle against her head. Jessie heard a sickening crack and Grace dropped to the ground.
“Grace!” he cried and tried to climb to his feet. Pain overwhelmed him and he slumped to his knees. Grace moaned and writhed on the dirt road.
The Darksome Gunman slung the big-fifty behind him and looked down at her with contempt. “Now stay down like a good girl.” His voice was as dark and smooth as his outfit.
Grace struggled to sit up and the Gunman tsked at her. “Don’t make me put a bullet in you, girl.” His gloved hand slid down to a silver revolver he wore low on his pelvis. It hissed as he drew it from its holster. Grace struggled to sit up and scrubbed the stream of blood flowing into her eye.
A blur flashed from the side as Kaga lunged at the Darksome Gunman. The Gunman met the wolf’s attack with open arms, snagged a hand around the wolf’s throat while the other snatched Kaga’s ruff. Using Kaga’s own momentum, the Darksome Gunman flung Kaga to the ground, stepped back, and leveled the revolver.
“No!” Grace and Jessie cried.
The revolver barked and Kaga yelped. The Darksome Gunman watched impassively as the wolf scrambled in the dirt, dragging one bleeding leg behind him. Grace let out a banshee scream and threw herself at the Gunman. The Darksome Gunman managed to turn, holster his revolver, and meet Grace’s attack in the same fluid movement. He caught her wrists in his arms and spun her around. He pulled her tight against his chest. Grace struggled and kicked, cussed and bit, but the Darksome Gunman held her effortlessly. The Gunman’s oily voice was just audible over her screams, “Keep it up and I’ll kill the wolf and line my bed with his skin.”
Grace abruptly halted, though her muscles bulged beneath his hands. Her face was an ugly mix of blood, dirt, and rage.
“That’s better. It don’t take much to be civilized.”
Kaga whined and struggled over to Jessie. As he approached Kaga’s head sank to the dirt as though the effort of holding it up was too much. Jessie dragged the wolf closer, though the exertion cost him dearly. He doubled over in agony and buried his face in Kaga’s soft fur.
“What now you piece of whore shit? Gonna finish what you started ten years ago?” Grace asked.
“My, what a right potty mouth you got, girl. Didn’t your ma ever teach you manners? No, that’s right. Her brains were blown out before she got the chance.”
The mention of Grace’s mother set her bucking and screaming anew. The Darksome Gunman held her until she thrashed herself out. “Done now?”
“Gimme a gun and then we’ll see who’s done!”
The Darksome Gunman laughed. It was such an unpleasant sound, Jessie squeezed Kaga tighter to both comfort the injured wolf and take comfort from Kaga’s warm presence. Grace growled and squirmed but couldn’t break free of his dark embrace.
“Ah, girl, you amuse me. Such fire. Such whupping determination. Even as a child you fought. Course it was easier to keep you in line when you were eleven. Good slap upside the head and you soon listened.”
Suddenly his laughter was gone. The smile vanished and darkness spread across his face. One hand fell from Grace’s wrist and clamped around her throat. “But make no mistake, girl, you ain’t ready to face me. You ain’t ready to face you yet. You got a lot of learning and finding yet before you do. You hear me?”
Grace choked. The Gunman’s fingers dug into the soft skin around her throat. He shoved her, and Grace went sprawling onto the dirt. She coughed and gasped and rubbed her red throat.
The Darksome Gunman turned to the magnificent white horse that stood behind him. Jessie frowned. Where had the horse come from?
Grace crawled on her knees and dry retched. Kaga tried to move but whined in pain and sank back into Jessie’s arms. The Darksome Gunman tipped his hat politely to Jessie, then swung up into the silver saddle of the stunning horse. Grace coughed and started to rise to her feet, death in her eyes.
The Darksome Gunman held up his revolver. “I wouldn’t. Not unless you want your man to suffer any more than he already is.”
Grace looked down and her eyes widened. With the sinking sun, Kaga’s shift had begun, and he trembled and jerked spasmodically in Jessie’s arms. Jessie’s eyes were wide with horror as the wolf’s body cracked and shivered in his arms. He started to shuffle backward on his hands, when he caught Grace’s expression. The terror in her eyes stopped him from abandoning Kaga and he reluctantly held the wolf as his bones elongated and organs shifted and grew.
Grace turned to the Darksome Gunman. “I’m gonna find you, you sonuvabitch, and when I do, you’re gonna die painful.”
The Darksome Gunman nodded. He holstered the pistol and brushed a speck of dust from his lapel. “Well, now you might be needing some help if that’s on your mind. Tell you what. You round up the others, come find me, and then we’ll break words. If you don’t like what I have to say, why then you can try to kill me. Sound good?”
Grace blinked.
“I’ll even give you a helping hand to find the first one. Buzzard’s Ford. Just shy of Whitestand Hollow. Fixing for a mighty ruckus. Best you don’t dawdle.” He nudged the horse with his knees, and she set off down the dusty road.
Grace spun and lunged for Crowbait. The horse shied at her sudden movement but held still as she yanked her Winchester free. She slapped the rifle against the crook of her arm and cranked the lever as she spun. She glared down the sights of the loaded and ready rifle, but the Darksome Gunman was gone.
“Hanhepi wi...”
The pain-filled voice cut through the night, and Grace spun and dropped the rifle. She thumped to her knees beside Jessie, who gently held the naked native man. Tears streaked down his blood-spattered face, and he fought nausea and agony as he held Kaga. Kaga twisted in Jessie’s arms and weakly reached out for Grace. She stared down the length of his long, lean body and shuddered as she looked at the bullet wound in his leg. She grabbed Kaga’s hand, drew it to her lips, and kissed his fingers as she buried her face against his chest.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Normal life now seemed alien to Jessie. He gingerly leaned against a railing, still mindful of his busted ribs, and watched the townsfolk of Grindgulch as they went about their day. He sucked on a piece of penny candy and watched a blacksmith hammer a horseshoe. A farmer’s wife entered the general store with a basket on her arm, no doubt to fill it with the necessities they couldn’t make or grow on the farm. A lovely girl in a pale-green gown wandered by. She looked down demurely as she swept past. Only a fortnight ago, the sight of such a comely lass would’ve set Jessie’s heart racing and his eyes goggling. Now he did little but tilt his stolen blood-and-sweat-stained hat at her and turn back to his journal.
It ain’t like girls don’t interest me anymore. It’s just that’s all they are. Girls. Who’d want a girl when he could have a woman?
Jessie’s thoughts drifted to Grace. He recalled how she’d bound Kaga’s wounded leg in strips of cloth, then strapped him to Crowbait. He could still feel her firm fingers as she’d lifted him up and led him to Paul. She’d gotten him mounted and strapped to the gelding like Kaga. And then she’d led them away from the ruined town with its fill of death and blood. She’d led them away and she’d not spoken a word about the Darksome Gunman since.
It’s a lot like life. Who’d want a life of drudgery, cleaning, and dusting some old saloon, when he could ride beside her?
Jessie looked down at the words he’d written and blinked in surprise. Was that really how he felt? That he could turn his back on a normal life in favor of...what? Riding around with a woman who courted death at every step?
Jessie thought about the conversation
he’d had with Kaga the first night they’d come upon Grindgulch. The Ba’cho man had spent most of the night drunk on whiskey and soporific herbs. Grace dug around in his leg with a set of borrowed dentist’s tools until she finally plucked the bullet from his flesh. After dousing the wound with whiskey and binding it with clean bandages, she dropped into an exhausted sleep. Jessie covered her with a warm woolen blanket and was stroking her blood-matted hair when Kaga spoke.
“Her head wound needs to be cleaned.”
Jessie flinched and found himself looking straight into Kaga’s eyes. He was unnerved to find himself looking into the eyes of the man who had so often peered at him from behind wolf eyes.
“Sure does, but damned if she’ll let me tend to her.”
A smile touched Kaga’s lips. “Do me a favor. Do it now, while she sleeps.”
Jessie couldn’t help but return the grin. He set to work cleaning Grace’s head wound and only hesitated once when she rolled on her side and muttered a string of obscenities. When he finally finished, Jessie pulled the blanket up around her and wandered to Kaga’s side.
“How about you? Need anything?”
The Ba’cho shook his head and eased back down on the cot. Jessie scrutinized his golden skin and muscled chest. When he raised his gaze to Kaga’s face he found himself staring into the man’s dark, all-knowing eyes.
“You love her lots, don’t you?” Jessie whispered.
“With everything that I am. She is Hanhepi wi. She is the sun I never see through these eyes.”
Jessie remembered the lump he’d felt in his throat at Kaga’s answer. He knew Kaga would sacrifice his own life for Grace if it came to it. So why did he feel the need to ride with her? She had her very own wolf-man protector. The last thing she needed was some greenhorn boy who couldn’t even shoot the side of a barn.
Jessie looked back down at the words in his journal and added a line beneath them. Who’d want a normal life when he could fight evil on the side of good?
“Sounds like your mind’s made up, boy.”
Jessie jerked at the intruding voice. His ribs screamed at the sudden movement, and he sucked in a sharp breath. He squinted at the man standing beside him, who leaned lazily against the railing and was looking over his shoulder at his journal.
Jessie frowned and slammed the notebook closed. He opened his mouth to give the grizzled prospector a talking to, when he felt a pang of familiarity touch him. His eyes narrowed as he studied the older man. He was clad in a typical outrider’s getup: leather dungarees, cotton shirt, and dusty vest. He sported an overlong, flowing mustache and equally bushy beard that touched his chest when he bowed his head. A broad-brimmed John B. sat atop his head and shielded his eyes.
“Do I know you?” Jessie asked, trying to place the face.
The prospector shrugged and smiled. He tilted back the brim of his hat and Jessie saw his rheumy eyes. Something about those eyes helped the memory come rushing back. This was the prospector who’d dropped his mug back at the Bad Hoss Saloon and caused Jessie to tend the front of the bar and clean up the mess. If not for this old fuddle and his clumsy fingers, Jessie might never have laid eyes on Grace Dyer. Jessie didn’t know whether to kiss the prospector or kick him in the shins. He was struggling to recall the prospector’s name when the old man spoke.
“So? You gonna don your shining armor, boy?”
“Eh?” Jessie asked, as all thoughts of the old moss’s name fled.
“Don your shining armor. To ride into battle. For the side of good.”
Jessie scowled. “You oughtn’t be looking over peoples’ shoulders. It ain’t mannerly.”
The prospector held up his hands, palms out. “Right you are. Right you are. I just couldn’t help it. I seen you done struggling with a mighty decision and couldn’t help but see how the cat jumped. An interesting choice you made.”
Jessie frowned. “I ain’t made no choice yet.”
The prospector blinked rapidly. “Didn’t you just decide to ride out with your rowdy gal? To shy a normal life and fight by her side?”
Jessie felt something cold wrap around his chest as he faced the prospector. Something about the man was off. Jessie shook his head and started to turn away, intending to have nothing more to do with the old coot. The man’s gnarled hand snaked out and gripped Jessie’s journal. Jessie looked into the man’s watery eyes. They made him think of the paintwork on Pa’s old curio cabinet with the crucifix carved in the doors. Jessie frowned and tugged the journal. “Quit it!”
The prospector glanced down at the journal, his gaze fixed on the bloodstain Jessie had left on the leather binding. It had happened when he’d cut his palm open the night he saw Grace and Kaga making love. The prospector rubbed the leather beside the bloodstain and smiled at Jessie.
Jessie yanked the book from the prospector’s hand. “I said quit it! I’m packing iron!”
Jessie’s heart hammered and he doubted he’d be able to draw his Colt let alone use it. His threat worked, however. The old prospector put up his hands and mildly bobbed his head. He took an elaborate bow, tipped his Stetson, and smiled.
“Enjoy the war,” he said quietly, then turned and wandered away.
Jessie was still staring after the old prospector when a hand fell on his shoulder. He jerked, aggravating his broken ribs again, and came face to face with Grace.
“Easy there, desperado,” Grace said with a smile touching her lips. Her hair was tied back with a leather thong, accentuating her lean face and prominent cheekbones. There was a purple bruise across her temple, and the scratches down her cheek were scabbed and red. Jessie thought she’d never looked finer. With her arrival came two usual elements, one that caused Jessie to smile, the other that caused his stomach to clench: a nose full of her peculiar scent—leather and myrrh—and the silent, padding shadow at her side. Kaga.
Jessie looked down at the limping wolf and nodded stiffly. Kaga peered back.
Jessie had left the two alone in the bunkhouse on the third night of the full moon. Some part of him hoped the Ba’cho would be too weak and too pained by his wound to make love to Grace. He hadn’t stuck around to find out if his hopes had been gratified. Instead, he’d spent that night wandering the streets of Grindgulch with a bottle of cheap hooch in his hand.
“Friend of yours?” Grace asked and cocked her head in the direction of the old prospector.
Jessie frowned and shook his head. “Just some old fogey.”
Grace peered into his eyes and nodded. Jessie tucked the journal into his pocket and turned to face her.
“Well, we’re about done with this town. We’re cutting out,” Grace said. She glanced down at Kaga and patted his head. “Kaga’s good enough to get moving, and I want to get on the trail to Buzzard’s Ford before the sun hits the yard arch.”
Jessie nodded. He was still somewhat distracted by the prospector, so when Grace swiftly leaned in and pecked him on the cheek he nearly fell backward over the railing.
Jessie’s eyes widened as he raised a trembling hand to his cheek. “What was that for?”
Grace shrugged. “Just want you to know I’ve appreciated your company, Jessie. And your help. But this is the next town over and I’m guessing you’re fixing to stay on here?”
Jessie frowned and recalled the promise he’d made to Grace when he set out with her on the outskirts of Redrock Ridge. She’d let him ride along on the proviso that he find himself a home at the next town they rode into. Jessie swallowed and looked from Grace to Kaga. He glanced off in the distance where the old moss had wandered away.
“I’m gonna don me some armor it seems,” he muttered low under his breath.
Grace frowned. “What’s that?”
Jessie shook his head and focused on her. “Seems right unmannerly to up and leave you without a cleanup boy when you got Kaga’s bandages needing changing and supplies needing outfitting. Who’s gonna make a new batch of pemican for the road? Him?”
Grace’s lips twitche
d, but she otherwise remained stoic as she fixed Jessie with her piercing gaze. “Jessie, this ain’t no joke. You know what I’m up against now. You know what kinda things I run into on my trails.”
“And that’s why you need me...to clean up after you.”
Grace breathed out and her attention drifted to Kaga. The wolf’s placid gaze revealed nothing of the man’s thoughts going on in his head. It would be another whole month before he took on human form again and gave his opinion on the matter. Grace fished about in her pockets until she came up with a cheroot. She stuck it in her mouth and slapped her pockets to find a match. Jessie smiled, slipped his fingers into his vest pocket, drew and scratched the end of a match with his thumbnail. A small dancing flame appeared at the tip. He offered the flame to Grace, who smiled as she lit her cheroot. Jessie flicked the match into a nearby puddle and watched the filthy, dark water swallow the little spark of light.
Grace puffed on the cheroot and slapped Jessie’s arm. “Then let’s make tracks and hightail it out of here. Got a lot of miles to cover before dark.”
Jessie cracked a grin and followed behind Grace and Kaga as they made for the bunkhouse. The pretty town girl in the pale-green dress wandered past Jessie again and smiled.
This time, Jessie didn’t even notice her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was early when the strange trio passed, early enough for steam to rise from a local lass’s milk pail. She stopped, straightened, and watched them with wide eyes. The rider in the broad-brimmed John B., who sat atop the ashen mare, stared straight ahead. The lad riding beside her turned and tilted the brim of his hat gentlemanly. But it was the skulking wolf who padded beside the riders that caught and held the girl’s gaze. He was sleek and dark and walked with a slight limp. She froze as the strange group passed, but when the wolf turned and cast a look over his shoulder, the girl let loose a shriek and ran for the homestead.
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