Her Rocky Trail_Seeing Ranch series

by Florence Linnington

  “What’s your sister’s name?” he asked.

  She brushed her hair from her face and looked back at him with wild eyes. “Helen.”

  Helen. Cyrus blinked as a slow realization crept over him. “Hold on. And you’re Katherine?”

  Her lips parted in surprise, but she kept up the hearty pace, pulling herself to the top of the bank. “Yes.”

  Cyrus’ pulse thudded in the base of his throat. He kept his back turned to her. “Can you ride?”

  When he looked over his shoulder, she was already in a saddle.

  “Right.” He nodded, swinging atop his own horse. “Let’s get back.”

  “How did you know...”

  Cyrus kicked his heels into his horse’s sides, and they took off, leaving Katherine Byrum’s question hanging in the air.

  At the train, the bodies had been moved—to where Cyrus didn’t know. Probably somewhere in the caboose or the front of the train.

  Katherine caught up to him, breathless though she’d been riding. “How do you know my name?” she demanded.

  He shot a look over his shoulder, and realization swept across her face. “Oh,” she gasped.

  “The train is about to move on,” a voice said. Cyrus looked over to see the bearded man coming out of the caboose. “I have six men willing to posse. Plus you and I. We already got all the guns and ammunition off the dead men.”

  “Six. Just the right number,” Cyrus answered, praying that was some kind of harbinger of success.

  “Mr. Guthrie,” Katherine spoke up. “I need to come with you.”

  Cyrus glanced between the two of them. Did everyone on this train know each other somehow?

  Mr. Guthrie’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I understand how you’re feeling Miss Katherine, but you know that’s not a good idea. Now, trust me. I swear on my life I’ll do everything I can to get your sister back.”

  Cyrus watched despair warp Katherine’s face. This was the woman he had ordered to marry. He’d known she was young, with dark features, but other than that had no other information. No picture. No detailed description. She could cook and clean, the mail-order bride agency had assured Cyrus. What more did he need?

  “You stay here,” Cyrus added, giving Katherine a stern look.

  Her eyes flashed in anger. “And do what?”

  “Go to Pathways. Wait for me there.”

  Katherine’s chin quivered, but Cyrus was done arguing. The men forming the posse were joining him now, coming out of the caboose and around the side of the train with the horses he’d collected.

  “Go on now.”

  Though her chin was raised in defiance, she climbed off the horse, her green and brown plaid skirt spilling around her. The palms of her white gloves had already been dirtied, and sweat beaded on her neck. It briefly occurred to Cyrus that she had probably put in a lot of effort to look good for meeting him in Pathways. It was ironic that their first crossing should come down to such a tumultuous hour as this one.

  Cyrus turned from Katherine, doing his best to put her out of mind. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he told the gathered crew. “I’m sorry we should meet under these unfortunate circumstances. Those robbers have taken a young woman with them, and if we move fast, there’s a chance of getting her back. I’m Sheriff Cyrus Ross, and this here is my second...”

  He looked over at Mr. Guthrie, who didn’t look shaken in the least to abruptly be declared second-in-command. Cyrus smiled at that. He liked this man already.

  “Domino Guthrie,” the man nodded.

  “We’ll be moving fast. Be prepared to camp out for the night and miss a meal or two. As I’m sure you noticed, these men are dangerous. They aren’t afraid to kill. If that changes your mind, I understand. It’s best you stay behind now. There’s no shame in wanting to live to see your missus and children again.”

  Cyrus paused, giving anyone who wanted to retreat the chance to do so. When every man stayed planted in their saddles, he nodded in satisfaction.

  “Right.” He nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Turning his horse, Cyrus spared Katherine one last look. “Go,” he fiercely said.

  I can’t lose you too.

  He didn’t know where the thought had come from. It didn’t make much sense. The two of them had only just met, and so far, she’d done a poor job of playing the obedient wife.

  Katherine opened her mouth, likely to protest, but he turned away, his horse’s hooves already slamming into the earth.

  Chapter Five

  5. Kitty

  Chapter five

  Kitty watched the posse ride away, taking what was left of her heart with them. Left with no Helen and no way to know what was to happen next, she was emptier than she had ever been. All the prior calamities in her life added together paled in comparison to losing the one person she had left.

  Tears sprung in her eyes, but she blinked them back. If she were to start crying again, she would never stop. Cyrus Ross and Mr. Guthrie would do everything they could to bring Helen back. She had to believe that.

  Sniffling, she pulled herself onto the back platform. All her muscles shook, and she feared she would not be able to make it more than a few steps. The afternoon’s dramatic events played through her head. The gunshots. The screams. The robber’s hand on her arm. Helen… dear, Helen.

  Kitty clenched her jaw. No, she would not break down. That would do her no good.

  Stopping at the doorway, she closed her eyes and leaned against the frame.

  Please God, keep her safe. I beg of you. We need to be together more than anything else. Save my sister, and I will do better. I will commit my life to you.

  A more earnest prayer had never left Kitty’s heart. Just offering it up to the Lord helped some of the weight on her heart lift. God could save her sister. He had done many greater things than that.

  Kitty also knew that God moved through people. If she were to allow his Grace to work, she would have to keep her heart and mind open. Doing so, her mother taught her, allowed a person to be God’s hands and tongue.

  Holding tight to that small nugget of hope, Kitty stepped into the caboose—and screamed.

  Bodies. Half a dozen at least. They were those of the robbers who had fallen in the gunfight. Kitty covered her mouth and sealed her eyes tight.

  “Oh, honey. It’ll be okay. Don’t look,” a female voice said from somewhere nearby.

  Keeping her eyes closed, Kitty allowed herself to be guided through the caboose and into the next car. There, she collapsed into a seat.

  “Now, just rest, dearie.”

  Kitty opened her eyes to see a woman in a simple dress hovering over her.

  “Why—why are they there?” Kitty gasped.

  “I expect the men figured they couldn’t just leave them next to the railroad tracks.”

  “Yes,” Kitty weakly answered. “I suppose not.”

  “Here.” The woman offered Kitty a canteen of water, and she drank gratefully. The cool liquid gliding down her throat reminded her of Helen going to retrieve a drink earlier, though, and Kitty’s stomach unexpectedly recoiled.

  Sputtering water, she pressed her palm to her mouth. “I am sorry.”

  “It is all right. We have all been through a lot. Thank God we survived.”

  Kitty couldn’t answer. Her eyes were being pulled to the window, to the mountain range. How far had the robbers made it? Could there be a chance, even if it was ever so slight, that Helen might escape them? Or that they would let her go?

  All Kitty could do was pray, and hope God gave them all—herself, Helen, the posse—the strength and tools they needed to survive the ordeal.

  As she sat there, the train whistle blew, signaling the start of the remainder of the journey. With a slight jerk, its wheels began moving, taking them closer to Pathways. Farther from Helen. Kitty kept her eyes on the mountains, fighting the urge to run toward them.

  The train inched along, slowly picking up speed. A small, gray form appeared in the gras
ses, making Kitty sit up straighter. Could it be…?

  “There is a horse out there,” the woman commented.

  Kitty’s breath hitched. Yes, a horse! But not just any horse.

  There was no need for thinking, no time for questioning. She knew what she had to do. Leaping from her seat, Kitty rushed from the car. The woman yelled at her to come back, but her shouts were a distant buzz.

  She was at the back of the caboose in a flash, barely noticing the bodies this time. The train sped up more, the tracks and grass flying by at a nauseating pace. Kitty took a deep breath, knowing another moment of hesitation could be deadly.

  Pushing herself off from the platform, she flew through the air. The ground rushed up at her, and she curled her body, tucking in her shoulder. She hit the earth with a smack, and Kitty rolled, legs going up over her head.

  Blood rushed in her ears as she sat up. The train was chugging away, getting closer to full speed. Kitty’s shoulder ached, but her heart sang. She had done it!

  Turning, she looked for the gray horse and found he had moved closer to her. His tail swung from side to side as he nibbled at a patch of green grass. His reins hung loose, and he seemed completely oblivious to the sudden disappearance of his owner.

  Gulping, Kitty tip-toed toward him. She’d ridden horses before but had never needed to fetch one herself. Being helped into a saddle by competent hands was a far cry from wrangling one set loose all by herself.

  He lifted his head as she got closer, warily inspecting her. Kitty halted, dropping her arms to her sides and doing her best to look meek.

  “Good horse,” she whispered. “Come now, I just need to ride you. We must stick together out here.”

  Whether the horse understood or not, she couldn’t tell. But, he went back to munching, allowing Kitty the time she needed to get closer. With the feel of the reins and leather saddle finally in her hands, she sighed in relief.

  Thank you, her heart sang. Ignoring the throbbing in her shoulder, Kitty pulled herself into the saddle. She had a horse. A will to fight. And a love that would never run out. She would find her sister, no matter how long it took.

  “Sweet boy.” Kitty patted the horse’s neck and clicked her heels, sending the horse galloping across the valley in the direction the bandits and her sister had gone. She would have to slow him soon so that he would not become exhausted, but at the moment they had a posse to catch up with.

  And what would she do once that happened? Kitty’s stomach knotted. Cyrus Ross would tell her to leave.

  Unless she waited until they were deep in the mountains to reveal her presence. Once they became far enough from civilization, surely Mr. Ross would not think to send her back? It would be a dangerous trek for anyone to take on their own, least of all a woman.

  With the plan set, Kitty dug her heels into the stirrups. She’d flung herself onto the saddle cowboy-style, and the wind whipped her dress around, tangling it further around her legs.

  I am coming, Helen. Do not worry.

  Kitty squinted against the May sun, counting each second it was taking to reach the valley’s end. The departing groups had left tracks in the dry earth, making their journeys easy to follow. As she rode, a memory washed over her.

  She had been fifteen, tall and lanky, with all her dresses hanging awkwardly off her lithe frame. Little Helen was eleven, vivacious and clever. The fire in her personality, though it had been seen in earlier years, no longer showed itself. Life for the two sisters was more difficult than it had ever been.

  The back door slammed, making Kitty jump in the hard, wooden chair next to her mother’s bedside. Under the quilt, Mother stirred, her pale lips parting. Father’s muffled grumblings could already be heard.

  “I will be right back, Mother,” Kitty promised, laying a kiss on her forehead and going into the main room.

  Father was at the table, his head resting on his folded arms. He seemed to be sleeping, though Kitty knew that impossible. Quietly as she could, she crept alongside the wall, going for the room she shared with Helen.

  “The doctor come?”

  Kitty froze at her father’s voice. Lifting his head, he looked at her through hazy, red-rimmed eyes. He had been handsome once. She knew this because she’d heard more than one neighbor speak about it. ‘Richard Byrum,’ they all said, ‘Now there was a fine man to look at.’

  Things were different now.

  “Yes,” Kitty answered, pressing her palms together.

  “How much?”

  She bit the inside of her cheek, suppressing the anger and hurt. It was the money he wanted to know about, not how well his wife was fairing.

  “He did not say, but mother is not doing well. She must rest.”

  He grunted, turning away. Kitty reminded herself that the interaction was a lucky one. The less attention from her father, the better.

  Slipping into her bedroom, she found Helen hunched over the bed, candlestick in one hand, poring over the book of fairy tales again. She looked up as Kitty answered, her eyes wide.

  “Mother?” she whispered.

  “Sleeping.” Kitty shut the door and pressed her back against it. She wanted to lock it but worried that would only further anger her father.

  Taking a seat on the bed next to Helen, Kitty pulled her into her arms. The room was cold, frost collecting on the dark window. Above, the baby in the second-floor apartment cried. It seemed to Kitty at that moment that pain filled the whole world.

  But at least she had Helen. That made the ache of living ease a bit.

  “Will she die?” Helen turned her mournful face up to Kitty’s.

  A sharp inhale burned Kitty’s throat, and she took Helen’s hand in her own. “Helen, listen very carefully to me. God has a plan for all of us. Sometimes it makes no sense. I believe it is not until we leave this world that we are truly allowed to see why everything that happened did. You understand?”

  Helen nodded, the book of fairy tales forgotten and the candlelight flickering across her face.

  Kitty continued. “God wants us to be strong and to have faith. Do you believe that?”

  “Yes,” Helen earnestly whispered.

  “Good.” Kitty squeezed Helen’s hand.

  “So Mother might die?”

  Tears pressed against her eyes, and Kitty fought to keep them in check. She had to be strong for Helen.

  “I do not know,” she admitted. “The doctor said the pneumonia is far along. It is all so uncertain at this stage.”

  Helen bit her bottom lip and nodded. Tears swam in her large eyes, and Kitty could tell she was also trying to keep her heart in check.

  Taking the candle holder and setting it on the floor, Kitty pulled Helen into her arms. “No matter what happens,” she whispered into her younger sister’s hair, “I will always be here for you.”

  “I know,” Helen rasped back. “I know.”

  Their mother was dead the next day. After a fitful night of checking in on her, Kitty had fallen asleep for a few hours only to wake up and find a cold and lifeless body waiting for her.

  The death made their father come undone in a violent way. The anger he’d harbored for years turned into a full-out rage. When he turned the kitchen table over and made a move to strike Helen, Kitty made the choice she knew she had to.

  It did not matter that Father’s hand had not landed on Helen’s face. Sooner or later, it would. Kitty had spent years watching the bruises form on her mother’s cheeks and neck. With their sweet matriarch passed and gone, there was no reason to stay. Kitty packed one bag between the two of them, and she and Helen left that very day. A goodhearted friend of their departed mother took them in for a short while, until the sisters found work as maids.

  Their father never came for them, and they never once went back. Since the hour they left their childhood home in the working-class area of Philadelphia, they had stuck together through everything.

  This day in Wyoming marked the first time the sisters had been separated in years.


  Retracting herself from the memory of that cold winter, Kitty realized they were arriving at the foot of the mountains. Bringing the horse to a slow trot, she frantically searched the land. The tracks had abruptly ended as the grass grew denser, and the posse was still nowhere to be found.

  Think, Kitty, think.

  If she were a posse or a band of train robbers, where would she go? There were no trails that she could see, leaving creeks and rivers as the most logical mode of transportation. It was a hot May, and horses could wade in the flowing waters so as not to leave tracks.