by Stacy Henrie
Tate shook his head. “Not a peep.”
“Good.” Fletcher situated the saddlebag of money onto one of the horses. “No lawmen will likely catch up to us, then.”
“What’s the plan?”
“We’ll split up again, just in case. You, Silas and Clem can ride together. And me, Jude and the girl.”
Uneasiness churned inside Tate’s empty stomach at Fletcher’s words, though he hid it behind a thoughtful look as he casually crossed his arms. No way was he letting Essie out of his sight. Not yet, and maybe not at all. Though she wasn’t completely helpless, she was still a bit naive, viewing their flight to the hideout as a grand adventure.
“We can do that,” he said with nonchalance. “Though I thought the girl was my responsibility.”
“She is, but I don’t trust you, Tex.” The outlaw leader threw him a level look. “You left her behind yesterday. What’s to say you aren’t gonna try another move like that today?”
Tate’s jaw tightened. “Because I now understand that if something happens to her, I’m to blame.”
Fletcher nodded, a sneer on his mouth. “You got that right, cowboy.”
“Besides.” Tate pressed on. “She’ll likely slow you down today.” Though he doubted it. Essie could ride better than any woman he’d encountered. “And if you do run across the law, you’ll have far less explaining to do if you aren’t riding pell-mell over the hills with a woman in tow.” He let that reason settle in before he finished with, “As the leader of this gang, you’ve got to keep yourself far from the most risk.”
Scowling, Fletcher rubbed a hand over his whiskered jaw. “You may have a point, cowboy.” He pushed up his hat and stared in the direction of the camp. Tate could see Essie working over a pan at the fire. “You take the girl with you. Clem will come with us. Now let’s eat.”
Tate hid his smile, in spite of the relief coursing through him, as he trailed Fletcher and Silas to the fire. The smell of freshly cooked dough filled his nose and made his mouth water.
“Your breakfast, gentlemen,” Essie announced when they approached. “Courtesy of Clem and myself.”
“I only done the beans,” Clem muttered, scooping portions of them onto the tin plates. But his brown eyes glowed with obvious appreciation at Essie for including him.
Tate thanked her as she passed him a full plate. The biscuits looked as light and airy as clouds. Maybe Essie could be cajoled into taking over all the cooking for the duration of her stay.
Lifting a biscuit to his mouth, anticipating the flakiness melting on his tongue, he paused when he caught sight of Essie’s dipped chin and shut eyes. She was giving thanks for the food. He lowered his arm, feeling a twist of regret at not praying himself. He hadn’t known Essie was religious, but he found he wasn’t surprised. And while he couldn’t outwardly show his own faith, not if he wanted to maintain his brother’s identity, no one would hear his Heaven-sent thoughts.
Pushing his beans around his plate, he offered his own silent prayer of gratitude. Lord, thank Thee for this food. Thank Thee for keeping me...and Essie...safe. Guide my actions and bless my efforts. Amen.
He lifted his gaze and found Essie watching him, a puzzled frown on her mouth. Did she suspect he’d also been praying? Clearing his throat, he bit into the biscuit with relish, hoping to throw off her perceptiveness, then grinned at her. “Best biscuits I’ve ever tasted,” he said after swallowing the delicious morsel.
“Amen to that,” Jude and Fletcher admitted at the same time. Even Silas was silently nodding approval.
Essie lowered her gaze from his, her cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink, and ducked her head. Was it all the compliments that made her blush? Or his in particular? Tate couldn’t help hoping his words had affected her the most.
Once the fire was out and their belongings stowed, it was time to saddle up. “Who am I riding with today?” Essie asked. Still sporting his jacket, she held the handle of her bag between her hands and watched him and the others expectantly.
“You’ll ride with Tex and Silas, on your own horse,” Fletcher said as he swung into the saddle. “We’ll split up one more day and meet up again at the camp tonight.”
“Oh...wonderful.”
Tate thought he detected a note of disappointment in her voice, but he wasn’t certain of its source. Was she wishing she could ride with Fletcher and Jude? Or was she regretting the fact that she wouldn’t be sharing a horse with him this time? He had to admit he wouldn’t mind having her ride with him once more, even at the risk of being badgered by her bag handle and her questions.
Raking his hand over the bristles of his jaw, he reined in his bizarre thoughts. “I’ll help you up, Miss Vanderfair.” Somehow the idea of calling her Essie in front of the others felt too personal.
He helped her onto the horse she’d ridden yesterday and then climbed onto the back of his own mount. Shifting his weight, he flexed his hands around the reins, preparing himself for another long day of riding—this time bareback, since he’d opted to give his saddle to Essie. But to see Fletcher and his gang eventually apprehended, he’d ride twice as far and twice as long.
After picking their way through a short range of hills, Fletcher, Clem and Jude headed northwest, while Tate and Essie followed Silas northeast. Both groups would double back at some point to meet up at the next camp. Looking over his shoulder, Tate saw Essie coming steadily behind him. She rode well, especially with a saddle.
“I can ride bareback,” she said, catching up with him. “I did it yesterday.”
“And I can do it today.”
She arched her eyebrows at him. He was beginning to recognize it as her telltale sign of skepticism. “When was the last time you rode without a saddle?”
Tate glanced at the sky, trying to remember. “I might have been ten.”
“I was fifteen, which means it’s been fewer years for me.”
“Then that’s all the more reason for you to enjoy having a saddle today.” He urged his horse a little faster. Couldn’t she just be grateful at his attempt at being a gentleman? He’d already fended a curious look from Fletcher after moving the saddle to her horse earlier.
To his consternation, she kept her horse in pace with his. “I don’t want to be a burden. I’m a lot stronger than I look.”
Tate shot her a glance. “I wouldn’t say you’ve been a burden so far. Especially not after that breakfast this morning.” He couldn’t help a smile when he thought of her biscuits. It was the first decent food he’d eaten since joining Fletcher’s gang. “I don’t doubt your strength, either.”
Instead of smiling, though, she turned in the saddle, facing away from him. He hadn’t seen her this agitated since he’d found her wandering over the prairie the day before, angry at him for leaving her behind. There was more underlying her words than stubbornness or pride.
Sudden understanding filled his mind. “Who’s told you that you aren’t strong?”
“A great many people,” she murmured, loud enough to be heard over the horses’ hooves but soft enough to convey the hurt behind the words. “Everyone I know, really.”
He opened his mouth to contradict her, to remind her that God knew her strength and He was the only One who mattered. But he forced himself to swallow the truth. Talking about faith with her would only raise her already-heightened suspicion about him.
A cloud of uneasiness settled over them before she twisted to look at him again. “It doesn’t matter.” She offered him a smile, but it didn’t strike Tate as quite as genuine as some of the others he’d seen since yesterday. “And thank you for the use of your saddle.”
He nodded in acknowledgment though he couldn’t shake his regret over not being able to talk more openly with her. Silas maintained the lead position, which suited Tate just fine. He didn’t know the geography like the outlaw did and,
this way, he could observe their surroundings without drawing scrutiny from Fletcher’s man.
“It’s a glorious day for a ride, isn’t it?” Essie declared, the gloom of moments ago apparently forgotten. “Beautiful sunshine, beautiful countryside.”
Tate resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The landscape consisted of nothing but undulating stretches of grass and sagebrush with white, rocky bluffs rising in the near distance. It struck him as rather bleak.
He scrutinized the terrain again in an attempt to see what Essie found fascinating. He supposed the countryside did hold a certain wild beauty to it. And if it wasn’t for the potential dangers ahead, Tate had to admit he might actually be able to enjoy himself. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d gone for a ride simply for the pleasure of it and not because it was part of a job. Maybe there was something to be said for Essie’s skill to see the bright side of things.
That had been Tex’s personality. Always looking for the next fun adventure, always trying to make others laugh and enjoy themselves. It wasn’t a bad way to live, but Tate had eventually come to resent his brother’s wide-eyed optimism. Someone had to be responsible, and as the older twin by five minutes, he’d felt compelled to take up that burden after their father left.
Some responsibility you showed, Tate’s head argued back. Not only does your brother up and leave, but he becomes an outlaw, too.
Tate frowned. He was doing all he could to right the situation, wasn’t he? Steeling himself against further thoughts of Tex, he focused on taking mental notes of the scenery they rode through.
According to his watch, they stopped at noon beside a tiny creek to water the horses and fill their canteens. Silas handed around some jerky and some of Essie’s biscuits that Clem had insisted they save for later, despite protests from the others about finishing all of them at breakfast.
Tate had just taken a bite when the sound of rapid horse hooves reached his ears. “Did you hear that?” he asked, swallowing hard.
Silas cocked his head. “Someone’s coming.”
“I believe it’s more than one someone,” Essie said.
Sure enough, two riders crested a nearby hill, heading straight for them. Tate squinted against the sun to get a better look. “Who is it?” Was it Fletcher and one of the other outlaws? If so, something must have happened.
“They ain’t with us,” Silas murmured, his grim expression mirroring the wariness twisting Tate’s gut.
“Then who...?” The question died on his tongue as the sunlight reflected off a shiny silver star on the taller stranger’s jacket. Tate’s uneasiness spiked to alarm. He glanced at Essie and Silas, lunch entirely forgotten. “We’ve got ourselves a problem.”
* * *
“What do you mean? Who are they?” When Tate didn’t answer, Essie studied the approaching riders more carefully. They weren’t dressed like fugitives. In fact, they almost looked like... Something glinted in the sun, momentarily blinding her and making her look away. But she’d caught enough of a glimpse to know one of them wore a sheriff’s star.
Fear rolled through her at the realization. The two lawmen were nearly upon them and here she stood with two wanted outlaws. Would she be considered an accomplice? Should she turn Tate and Silas over to them to save herself?
“This isn’t going to look good to them,” Tate said, glancing at the horses. “If we try to run or split up, they’ll just chase after us. But if we wait for them to come to us, what reason can we give for being out here, so far from any town or ranch?”
A flash of memory had Essie peeling off Tate’s jacket from around her shoulders and spreading it on the ground. It was a similar trick to one she’d used with her hero in her book The Lawmen’s Legacy.
“What are you doing?” Tate’s voice held exasperated panic.
“Sit,” she commanded them both. “We’re having a picnic.”
Tate stared at her as if she’d grown a second head. “A what?”
“A picnic.” She took a seat on the edge of his jacket and motioned for the two men to do the same.
Throwing another look at the lawmen, Silas frowned and sat.
“Mr. Tex? Please join us.” She forced herself to take a bite of her jerky, though every sense was attuned to the men on horses less than a hundred yards away. “Now,” she snapped.
He pushed out a sigh, his expression full of doubt and dread, but he finally lowered himself onto the ground.
“Eat.” She lifted her biscuit to demonstrate, hoping they’d keep playing along. They wouldn’t be very convincing if both men kept scowling at her when the lawmen reached them. Then again, most men probably didn’t fancy a picnic, especially out here.
“Hello there,” one of the riders called out.
Essie swallowed the bite in her mouth, which barely made it down her dry throat. “Hello,” she called back. She could feel the tension rolling off the two men next to her.
The lawmen jerked their horses to a stop, though the creatures danced a bit at the sudden drop in speed. “Whatcha folks doing way out here?” the sheriff asked. His dark eyes lingered on each of them in turn. Essie had to remind herself to remain the picture of perfect calm.
“We are having a picnic, Sheriff.” She smiled at the two strangers. “Care to join us?”
Tate reached out and squeezed the toe of her shoe, hard, as he nonchalantly bit off a piece of jerky. She furrowed her brow at him, trying to wordlessly communicate the importance of acting as if they were doing the most ordinary thing in the world. And that meant extending an invitation to these two strangers to join them.
Releasing her foot, he seemed to get her message. He lifted his piece of jerky in the air. “We don’t have much, but you’re welcome to share it.”
Essie allowed herself a breath of relief.
The sheriff and his partner, who Essie guessed must be a deputy, eyed their food and shook their heads. “No, thanks,” the sheriff said with a chuckle. “Our womenfolk sure know how to fancy up a plain meal, don’t they?”
“That they do,” Tate agreed, shooting her a brief look. Essie couldn’t decipher if he thought her crazy or downright brilliant. Possibly both.
She maintained her smile while silently pleading her plan would work and the men would leave them alone. She couldn’t turn Tate and Silas in, not yet. Not when she’d only had one interview—and not the most thorough or helpful one at that. She peered in Tate’s direction. If she had to turn him over to the law, would she have the courage to do it? She hoped so, and yet she didn’t want that moment of testing to be now.
“What brings you out here?” Tate questioned. She noticed he and Silas kept their hats tugged low, but she had no such way of covering her face. Still, there was no reason why the law would be looking for her. She wasn’t featured on any Wanted posters.
“We’re looking for some train robbers,” the deputy said. “Five of them, though we have reason to believe they may have kidnapped a young woman and taken her along with them.”
Essie’s pulse thrashed harder in her veins. “How horrifying. I hope the young woman is safe.”
The sheriff appeared to be studying her carefully, so she kept her chin upturned, her expression as terrified as she felt inside. “So do we, ma’am.” He swung out of his saddle and led his horse to the creek. “You folks see anything suspicious?”
“While you’ve been out here picnicking?” The deputy’s tone conveyed a good dose of sarcasm. Climbing off his mount, he and the animal joined the sheriff at the water.
Irritation prickled Essie’s skin. She might be picnicking with outlaws, but they were picnicking nonetheless. “This is a lovely spot, isn’t it? Not many more weeks and long outings such as these will be on hold until spring.”
The sheriff removed his hat and ran his sleeve across his forehead. “I reckon you’re right, ma’am. Th
ese warm autumn days will soon be a thing of the past.” He replaced his hat. “You folks from somewhere nearby?”
“I’m not,” Essie said before Tate and Silas could speak. She wouldn’t lie, and if she could keep the sheriff focused on her, then those with her wouldn’t have to lie, either. “I’m here on business.”
“Business?” The deputy made a show of looking around them at the nearby hills. “What sort of business brings you way out here?”
She sat straighter. “Writing business. I’m a novelist.”
The deputy started to smirk but a glance from his boss silenced him. “What sort of books do you write, ma’am?” the sheriff asked.
“Dime novels. Tales of adventure, woe and romance.” She motioned to Tate and Silas. “My friends here have been educating me on life in Wyoming.”
“Is that right?” The sheriff looked Tate and Silas over. “They treating you well?”
Another question she could answer honestly, at least at this point. “Yes, sir. Very well.”
A long pause followed her answer—one ripe with unspoken questions and searching glances from the sheriff and his deputy.
Uncomfortable strain emanated from Tate and Silas, but Essie hoped the lawmen would blame it on the forced picnic. Just when she thought she might scream from the tension, the sheriff blew out a sigh and gathered the reins of his horse.
“Thank you for your help, folks. I hope your writing goes well, ma’am.” He tipped the edge of his hat to her. “If you do run across anything or anyone you find suspicious, you let someone know.”
“Will do, sir. And I hope you liberate that young woman soon.”
The sheriff and the deputy climbed onto their horses. “Good day, folks,” the sheriff called to them. Then they were off, galloping east again.
Essie remained frozen, along with Tate and Silas, her hands clasped in her lap, until the pounding of the hooves grew faint. When she could no longer hear anything but the beating of her own pulse in her ears, she blew out a long breath. Her palms still felt clammy with icy sweat and her lips hurt from smiling in the face of her fear. Never again would she draw a blank when trying to describe her characters’ emotions after an encounter with the law.
