by Linda Broday
“Go inside, Battle-ax. Make prayer beads smoke.”
Probably to irritate Bob, the sister crowded next to him on the log. Removing a rosary from the sash at her waist where it hung, Bronwen began to call on her saints.
Huffing, Bob promptly rose and renewed his chanting.
Great. The moon had brought war all right—a war of beliefs. Rayna was tempted to go to bed and stuff something in her ears, let the two old war birds fight it out and hope their differences wouldn’t lead to bloodshed. But before she could move away, a heavy fog rolled in, settling over them.
Maybe it was a sign, but she couldn’t recall any omen concerning fog.
Bob and the sister hushed their prayer duel. Without a word, both turned toward their respective tepees and left Rayna to a peaceful, silent vigil.
She listened for the sound of gunshots, praying in her own way that they wouldn’t come. She didn’t know if she could find her way to the hidden waterfall in the heavy fog.
Footsteps sounded, echoing off the fog. She looked up to find Doc Yates standing outside the men’s tepee.
“Couldn’t sleep either, Doc?”
“What in Sam Hill was all that racket? I’ve never heard such in all my born days.” He lowered himself to the log.
“A clash of Indian ways with the rigid Sister.” She told him about the problem. “But this fog silenced them both. They decided they needed their sleep. I was afraid they’d wake up the children.”
“If they slept through that, they can sleep through anything.” He took her hand. “I sense something is troubling you.”
“I’m afraid for Brett. Every time I start to care for someone, something bad happens to them.”
“You think sitting up all night will ward off evil?”
“No. I just want to be ready in case I have to grab the children and run.” She told him about Brett’s last words to her. “So I’m listening for gunshots.”
“Makes sense.” He patted the back of her hand. “I noticed from the first how much Brett means to you. Your eyes glow when he’s around, and you lose your focus.”
“I’ve never met anyone like him, Doc. I think I’d die if something happened to him.”
“That’s the way it is when you’re in love. I’m not so old that I can’t remember what it was like. He loves you back. That man wears his heart on his sleeve, though I’m sure he’d insist that you’re just friends if I were to ask.”
“Oh no, not anymore.” At Doc’s raised eyebrows, she went on. “He decided that we can’t be friends right after he kissed me last evening.”
Doc laughed. “I’m guessing he recognized that friends don’t feel the way he does. It’s not proper.”
“I’ve never been in love before,” she said softly. “How will I know when I am?”
“Didn’t your mother ever talk to you about these things?”
She shook her head. “Mama only told me never to settle for someone who would hurt me. My father isn’t a nice man. He took my mother into the town of Mobeetie and came back alone. I don’t know what happened to her.”
“What did he say when you asked?”
“That I’d have to do the cooking and everything.” Her voice lowered. “He said I’d wind up like her if I didn’t watch it.”
“I’m sorry. You deserve better than what you got.”
“I wish I’d have been an orphan like these children.”
Just then Brett’s confession about that mean ol’ Mr. Simon came back. She wouldn’t have wanted to be whipped and tied to the gates like a dog.
Air couldn’t get past the sudden lump blocking her throat.
Would they ever get rid of the ghosts of the past? All she and Brett wanted was to be free. But is anyone ever free of their past? she wondered. It seemed to follow behind wherever she went, like a dark, looming shadow.
*
Brett strained to see through the soupy muck that had silenced everything except the birds. A meadowlark’s call to its mate indicated approaching dawn. It couldn’t come too soon. Once he thought he heard a muffled noise and went to investigate, but didn’t find anything. He could hardly wait for the sun to come out so it would burn off the fog.
He added more wood to the blazing fire and sat down to wait and listen.
Maybe Dowlen and his men were afraid to try anything with Cooper and the reinforcements there. Men like Edgar Dowlen would wait until everyone left. They’d want to stack the odds heavily in their favor.
Brett stifled a yawn and rose to stretch his legs. He could sure do with more of Rayna’s coffee. He was stiff and cold, not to mention being sleepy enough to hibernate for six months like an old bear.
But then, thinking of sleeping aroused memories of Rayna.
How she’d curled up beside him in the cell in Steele’s Hollow.
How her curves had fit perfectly against him.
And how he’d known he’d never be able to be apart from her.
The pretty lady had woven some sort of spell over him. He couldn’t be a hundred feet away without wanting her in his arms, pressing his lips to hers.
A form leading a horse strode from the mist. Brett’s finger tightened on the trigger.
“Don’t shoot, Brett, it’s me,” said Cooper.
Brett relaxed. “What’s up? Any sign of anything?”
“Nope. I don’t think they’re coming.”
“Either you being here or the fog probably scared ’em off.”
Cooper shook his head. “Wasn’t me. Dowlen isn’t afraid of jail. Hell, I saw that when we confronted him. But this is damn poor weather for mounting an attack. Can’t see anything.”
Brett cupped his hands and blew on them. “Wish we had a pot of coffee.”
“Ain’t that the truth? We might as well go make some.”
“You and the boys go ahead. I’m going to lag behind a while longer just in case. The sun will be up soon.”
Nodding, Cooper collected the reins of his horse and went to tell the men. Brett sighed and glanced wistfully at the mustang tied to a low branch.
Soon, he told himself. Soon he’d see Rayna’s bright smile, and the cold and misery of the night would vanish.
*
By the time Brett allowed himself to mount up and go search for coffee, the sky had lightened considerably. Though the fog hadn’t lifted, he could see a lot better.
About a hundred yards out of camp, he spotted a dark form on the ground. He slid from the saddle and walked over to the carcass. A huge amount of blood and entrails spilled onto the ground. Someone had cut the steer’s throat and gutted it. Brett’s spirit cried out against the senseless carnage.
No doubt Dowlen bore responsibility. While Brett couldn’t be positive, this appeared to be his handiwork.
A check of the brand made his heart sink. Dowlen’s. Brett took out his bowie knife, intending to cut out the twisted S design registered to his neighbor. Before he could move, men on horseback swarmed from the gray fog to encircle him. Dowlen’s pockmarked face stared down at him.
“Caught you red-handed, breed. You killed my steer.”
A rope whirred, then trapped Brett’s arms to his sides. “You know I didn’t do this.”
“I have you dead to rights. You still got the knife in your hand. Reckon you needed something to feed those heathen kids and looked to my beeves. Took advantage of the fog in order to hide your thieving ways.”
Brett glared. “Loosen this rope, and we’ll settle this once and for all. You and me. No weapons.”
“Ain’t got a prayer this time, breed.” A horseman moved closer. There was something familiar about that voice.
The bearded rider moved through the fog to Dowlen’s side, and Brett saw the ugly twist of the man’s mouth.
Sheriff Oldham.
The former sheriff must have heard word of Dowlen’s plan spreading through the nearby towns. With a hate as strong as his, it was no wonder he joined in the cause. Foreboding crawled up Brett’s spine. Defiance seemed his
best bet. If he could keep them talking, he might have a chance. Voices traveled pretty far across flat land. Someone had to hear. “Last I heard, the Texas Rangers were chasing you, Oldham. About like you to throw in with Edgar Dowlen. You’re always going to be on the wrong side of a fight, because you’re nothing but scum of the earth.”
Oldham’s face flushed. “I’m happy to help good people get rid of your kind once and for all. This time, I’ll do the job right.”
At the sound of galloping horses, Dowlen and Oldham moved to face the riders coming through the fog.
Cooper, followed by the ranch hands, leaped from his saddle. “Get that rope off right now. What are you doin’ on Wild Horse land?”
“Catching a cattle rustler. I’m taking him over to China Wells where I can get justice.” Dowlen spat a stream of tobacco juice onto the ground.
“You’ll go through me to do it.”
“Hide and watch. You’d take up for your brother no matter how much evidence I got. He’s still got that long knife in his hand. He cut this cow’s throat.” Dowlen wallowed around a big plug of tobacco in his mouth.
“I know my brother, and he’s never stolen anything in his life.”
Oldham snorted. “Well, that was before he got his reservation to feed.” He turned to his men. “Get the rustler on a horse. We’re ridin’.”
Cooper slid his Colt from the holster in one fluid movement. Steel reinforced his deadly words. “I’ll shoot the first man who tries. Move, and I’ll blow your head off. In case you’re thinking of challenging me, I have to tell you that I never miss what I’m aiming for.”
Dowlen’s men glanced from one to another.
“Get that rope off my brother,” Cooper barked. “Now. Or my finger might just press this trigger a little too hard. Sometimes it has a mind of its own, boys.”
Dowlen spat another stream of tobacco. “Do as he says.”
The man holding the rope released it, and Brett stepped out of the loop. He gave each of the trespassers a hard glare. “Stay off my land. And take your dead steer with you. I have no need of it.”
The former sheriff of Steele’s Hollow shot Cooper a glare. “You’ve crossed me twice now, Thorne. There won’t be a third time.”
“You know where to find me,” Cooper answered, taking a wider stance. “I seem to recall you being a man on the run. A telegram giving your whereabouts to the right people will fix everything.”
With a curse, Oldham spat, “Ain’t no charges against me.”
“I’ll check for myself.”
With Cooper’s Colt still keeping them in its sights, several of the interlopers dismounted. One tied the rope that had been around Brett moments earlier to the slaughtered cow’s hind leg. Brett, Cooper, and the ranch hands watched until they disappeared from sight, dragging the carcass behind them. Only then did Brett return his knife to the sheath and Cooper holster his weapon.
“Coop, this is going to get real ugly.” Brett gazed into the thick soup. “They’re trying everything to turn China Wells against me. Dowlen and Oldham will have the whole town up in arms. Maybe some of Battle Creek’s citizens too, unless I miss my guess.”
“I know, Brett. I fear the same thing.” Cooper laid a hand on his back. “Dowlen was bad enough. Now that he’s in cahoots with Oldham, the situation will be totally out of hand.”
“I’m just wondering…how did they ride up so fast?” Brett couldn’t shake the feeling he’d been in their crosshairs and hadn’t even known it. He should’ve been more careful.
Suddenly he froze. What if they’d caught Rayna a few hours earlier? His hand shook. He would tear them limb from limb if he could get to them. He drew a shaky breath and wiped the thought from his mind, reminding himself she was safe. “I had just gotten off my horse and walked over there to check the brand,” he continued. “Once I saw it was Dowlen’s twisted S, I got my knife to cut it out. It looked to be hair-branded, not all the way to the hide. I wanted proof.”
“They probably caught a maverick and quickly slapped a brand on it,” Cooper said. “Dowlen wouldn’t kill one of his own beeves. I heard that man is after the almighty dollar.”
“But how did they know to ride up at the right moment?”
“With this fog, they wouldn’t have seen you unless they were lurking like vultures close by. That’s all I can figure.” Cooper climbed into the saddle. “Rayna’s cooking breakfast. Bet you’re hungry.”
Brett mounted up. “You guessed right.”
He didn’t waste any time heading toward the grub. A minute later, his heart leaped when he saw Rayna standing apart from the others, seeming to search for sight of someone—him? Suddenly, the prospect of hot food didn’t hold much importance. Her eyes lit up when she spied him. She lifted her skirts and ran to meet him.
“I’m so glad you’re all right,” she said, out of breath. “I was afraid…”
“I’m none the worse for wear.” Brett slid from the saddle and faced her. He would’ve given anything not to feel men staring, because he wanted to hold her against him and run his fingers through her wild hair. Though the help was necessary and he was glad they were there, the Wild Horse had gotten a mite crowded.
Now that they stood eye to eye, it seemed neither knew what to say next.
Finally, she murmured, “I just boiled a fresh pot of coffee. Bob’s been helping to cook. I don’t recognize anything, but it smells good.”
“Oh Lord! Did he put any meat in it?”
Rayna smiled happily. “No, I made sure.”
“Then let’s go taste it.” He offered his arm as though they were on Battle Creek’s main thoroughfare. When she giggled, linking her arm through his, he remarked, “Maybe Bob has found a calling.”
He glanced toward the campfire. The sister, with the white-and-black thingamajig on her head, was giving Bob heck. She was trying her best to put something into the pot that Bob held out of reach. But the latest skirmish between the two didn’t hold much interest for him.
The lady beside him captured all his attention. She’d left the top button of her dress unfastened.
A gift he’d be sure to thank her for later.
Twenty-three
Rayna sat on the log next to Brett, watching him eat his second plateful. Though she’d had to pester him before he’d talk about it, he finally told her about the trouble with Dowlen and Oldham coming in. She realized how narrowly Brett had escaped. The thought of losing him terrified her. She let her leg brush his as he seemed to enjoy the unknown dish Bob had cooked. “How is it?” she whispered.
“Not half-bad. Ol’ Bob is full of surprises. How about you?”
“It’s delicious.”
Brett’s fork paused in midair. “How is Adam doing? I should have checked on him.”
“You wouldn’t have found him in the tepee. He’s down by the corral.”
She didn’t miss how quickly his gaze shifted to find his nephew, or the worry that lined his face.
“Isn’t this too soon?” he asked.
“He’s sore but said he’s tired of sleeping.” Rayna cleared her throat, praying that she wouldn’t sound bossy. “Speaking of that¸ you need to lie down at least for a couple of hours. You can’t keep up this pace. Your body won’t let you.”
Brett gave a wry grin. “I’m afraid if I do lie down I won’t wake up until next year.”
“I won’t let you sleep too long.”
“All right. What are your plans?”
“I’m not sure.” She’d already gone with Doc to check on the children, and they’d made remarkable progress. Now that they’d broken out in a rash, the fever had left. The worst complaint to speak of was the horrible itching. Most were running around and playing.
Little Flower left a group of kids, picked up one of the cats, and crawled up in Rayna’s lap. Brett tickled the girl under her arms and was rewarded for his efforts with peals of laughter. The sound was a balm to Rayna’s heart.
Only… Now that the children were bette
r, would she have to go back to town with Doc? She didn’t want to leave Brett.
Spending precious moments on the Wild Horse had provided healing in a way. This land, even during this dangerous time, had brought the peace she’d sought so she could start forgiving herself.
“How are you today, Flower?” She smiled down at the girl. “Are you feeling better?”
Flower nodded shyly, twisting one of Rayna’s curls around her finger.
Rayna smoothed back the six-year-old’s tangles that wouldn’t stay out of her face. “Do you want me to comb and braid your hair in a minute? I love the color of it. I always wanted black hair, or any color except red.”
“I love the color of your hair,” Brett mumbled, low. “It reminds me of the leaves in autumn.”
The unspoken things lying beneath his words made her heart skitter. She flashed him a smile.
“Comb.” Flower put her hands on her head and grinned.
“All right.” Rayna stood after Flower hopped down. She took the child’s hand. Turning, she spoke low to Brett. “Will you be free for another walk later today?”
He smiled up at her, and her heart skipped a few beats. “I’ll make time.”
With happiness doing flips inside her, she led Flower into the tepee she shared with the nun. The next opportunity to see Brett didn’t come until around noon, and then he was in a huddle with Cooper and the men. She guessed they were mapping out a plan for the coming darkness. The thought sent quivers the length of her. After the blood moon last night, and Dowlen and Oldham almost capturing Brett in the morning dawn, she didn’t know what to expect, but something told her things were going to get much worse.
Shortly after lunch, Doc Yates found her soothing a young boy’s tears over a spat he’d had with another. “I’m going back to town, Rayna. Have to check on my other patients.”
Her breath struggled to get out as she pressed a hand to her stomach. There wouldn’t be any more walks with Brett. “I’ll get my things.”
“No, I want you to stay here. The children need you. These men are too busy, and the old nun is incapable of caring for them.”
A smile spread over her face. “I agree. But if you need me in town…”
“I don’t. Not right now.”
