Blake was sure the army wouldn’t do anything to him. In fact, upon his arrival, he would suggest that they hold the kid in the barracks if only to keep him from going back to his foolish ways. Davis Pits was too angry to reason with, so he’d take the prisoner to the fort and be done with him. He believed that Hunter would be better off taking his chances with the army than out there where he’d probably be killed the next time. Helping the boy escape only entered his mind for a fleeting moment and besides, he figured that the journey out west might do him some good also. It’s been awhile since he spent time in the wilderness. And Pits was making certain that the boy would be out of reach for anyone with a mind to free him.
“I hold you totally responsible,” Davis Pits said as he shuffled papers on his desk.
Blake slumped into a chair and nodded, remembering the events that led up to the boy’s capture. Right after he hooked up with Davis Pits, the abolitionist heard of slaves being brought here to the old deserted fort. They laid in ambush waiting for the men to arrive with their cargo.
The wagon was loaded with Negroes, chained and huddled together. He saw women and children, looking half-dead. He and other men rushed from the bushes, gun’s drawn; there were three slave dealers, all looking like farmers. A shot was fired and Blake returned fire, then he heard someone howl and fall. Flashes of gun power lit up the darkness making it hard to defend oneself. Beside him was Davis Pits, who fired his gun, killing another, but he saw someone ride out from there and disappear into the thickets. One dead and one injured, Davis Pits ordered his men to unchain the slaves after finding a key on the dead body.
Blake would never forget the lost look in the eyes of those people and the confusion when they were set free. One woman’s dark face would be imprinted on his brain for a long time. She clutched a small child to her chest, her black eyes looking up at him with fear and gratitude. He sensed that if she wanted to say something, but turned and followed the others. They were led by two of Davis Pits’ men into the dead of the night. He wondered if they were really doing the Negroes a service. Many would wind up being caught again, or starve as they looked for a way to escape the territory. Some had families to find, others had no place to go but up north, with no money or jobs. Snapping out of his disturbing musings, he watched Pits shift in his chair. Blake nodded in agreement and said he would take full responsibility and deliver the boy, but after that, he promised himself to give up his wondering days. He was tired of this life and wanted to establish some roots.
After the papers were signed, Blake extended his hand, receiving a warm, firm hand in return. “I’ll leave now, Sir. Been a pleasure knowing and working with you these past months,” he lied with a straight face. He had hated every minute of this and was certain Davis Pits knew it. He hoped his face did not reveal the white lie and quickly said, “The story of how you saved my father’s life from a gunman’s bullet has been told so many times, I know it by heart. My mother and I owe you much gratitude and I was happy to help my father fulfill his promise to work by your side, helping free slaves.” The part about gratitude and freeing slaves was the truth.
“Your father and I go back many years, since he first started practicing doctoring,” Davis Pits declared. “He saved many slaves who had been beaten and whipped. I am glad to have known his son.” He shook the man’s hand reflecting gratitude in his dark eyes. “Take care and when you see Josh again tell him he should be proud of his son no matter what he does. Sorry that you and your father have not been close these past years because of your decision not to be a doctor, but you are your own man. Thanks again and take care of yourself out there.”
Blake nodded and left. What a mess! He was as enthusiastic about this as when he had a wisdom tooth pulled. It seemed to him now that not only had he lost the tooth, but all his insight too. It was time to take his money from his trust fund and purchase a piece of land in Georgia and build a home. He was still a young man of only twenty, but he didn’t want to wait much longer.
The brightness of the noon sun made him blink when he stepped outside. His palomino, Checkers, was saddled and waiting. Shading his eyes he saw the young prisoner being led over to him. He was slouched on a black mare, his hands tied to the saddle horn. The bandage around Hunter’s head had telltale blotches of blood where he had been grazed. Nothing serious, Blake knew, but he still felt badly. No one bothered to clean the prisoner up; his face still had mud on it from the fall off his horse. His shirt had signs of dried blood also and his pants were torn over the left knee. Again, Blake did not like this and was remorseful. This was definitely all wrong even though Pits believed he was right.
Once more, he thought about freeing Hunter, but again he believed this was for the best.
He mounted Checkers, grabbed the mare’s reins and led his prisoner out of the run-down fort. The hot sun stayed on their backs as they trotted a while, then slowed the pace. Although he assumed the kid was in some pain, he was in no hurry to get to where he was going. Surely the prisoner had a good size headache at least, but the boy never complained. Hunter Walsh was stubborn, he never talked the whole while he’d been interrogated. But the kid was brave and he had to admire him for that.
They camped by a lake that night and Blake untied Hunter’s hands to allow him to wash up and relieve himself. He then informed Hunter where he was being escorted to and no further words were spoken by either and he didn’t mind. He was never one for idle chatter anyway, although he did wonder if his prisoner had a family.
Hunter had plenty to say to the tall cowboy but decided he probably be wasting his breath. Though a few times he thought he saw some compassion in the other man’s eyes. Why was he being led like a lamb to slaughter? Selling slaves wasn’t a hanging offense. Yes, those self-righteous men were known to beat up on slave dealers when caught but none were jailed or killed except in gunfire, like the night he was wounded. Just his luck the abolitionists were gun happy men. He settled down assuming that when he was left at the fort, he’d be sent back home. But you can be sure he wouldn’t do that again. It hadn’t occurred to him about what he was doing, he had never before seen darkies in that condition: the frightened look in their bleak eyes, the whimpering of women and children.
Dead God, he had lost all respect for his father at that moment. Being raised in the woods far from reality, he had no idea, only heard stories from his mother. How some men were whipped and mauled by dogs. How woman were raped by their owners to produce light skinned children. But they were only words. That awful night he saw for himself the horror of those words. Hunter swallowed the despair in his throat as terrible regrets assailed him.
So ashamed for his actions, he believed he deserved whatever was waiting for him.
THREE
Casey sighed. She was tired when she reached the post where she knew the slaves would be brought; glad she had overheard her father talk with Hunter the night before they left. It was deserted now, but there had been men here only a short time ago, the campfire was still smoldering. She searched the empty barracks for some kind of clue and was just about to give up when she spotted a piece of paper on the floor. It was part of a journal on what had taken place here. Her eyes scanned at the first few lines where it said that a prisoner was taken to Fort Tate.
Her brows knitted. Fort Tate? Why would they take a prisoner so far west of Georgia? And a federal fort? Were they afraid some southerners would try to free him, especially if they heard that one of their own boys was captured? Many folks hated the abolitionist and what they were doing. Whoever was in charge of prisoners was not taking any chances, she thought with anger, but luck was with her that day. Rolling the paper into a small ball, she threw it to the floor and turned quickly on her heels. She was probably a day or two behind her brother, if he was the prisoner. She could only pray he was. Casey trusted her instincts, they were usually right; it had to be Hunter.
Two days later, she found herself wearily camping by a tree-shaded lake. She had pushed herself hard and w
as gaining on them fast. The two riders left good clues along the way and thanks to her father’s insistence that she learn to track. She unsaddled Sadie and removed her clothes. A quick dip in the cool lake was just what she needed and she didn’t waste any time in doing so. The water made her shiver but it eased her aching bones. Not wanting to chance catching a chill, she didn’t wash her hair for fear it wouldn’t dry in the cold night air. Hand picked wild berries were her main diet since the jerky she took from her father’s saddlebag was finished. She hated leaving the saddle and turning his horse loose but there had been no other options.
Glad her father never traveled without coffee and an old pot, she brewed the last of the beans. A small fire relaxed her and soon she was asleep with a rifle by her side. She woke before dawn serenaded by a meadowlark. Since the cheerful bird made her mind up for her, she got an early start and covered about a mile before Casey saw smoke in the distance. Unsure whether it was Hunter and the man taking her brother to the fort, or drifters; she was cautious and walked through the thickets quietly. Dry leaves crackled under her boots and a few twigs snapped in her wake; other than that, it was quiet.
Carefully, she peeped over a bush and noticed a young cowboy who rose from a bedroll and lazily stretched. He slept in buckskin pants and his chest was bare and she couldn’t help but admire his long form and muscular arms. Curiously, she watched sinewy arms extend. His broad chest made her skin crawl with peculiar sensations. Casey shook her head and wondered what was wrong with her. It wasn’t as if she never had seen her father and brother many times in their long johns. But this man before her was a magnificent specimen. He flexed his muscles and her throat went dry. As he moved around to limber up, she saw his back ripple, drawing her eyes to his narrow waist and hips. She knew it was evil to spy on him but she couldn’t take her eyes from gazing down his long lean legs. She had not yet looked up to see his face wondering if she would dare but she suspected he would be handsome.
Peeking up higher, he quickly looked over in her direction and she hastily ducked back down. Breathing in shallow gasps, she crossed her fingers that she wasn’t spotted. It seemed as if hours passed as she sat nervously on the ground wondering if he detected her presence. Would he pounce on her? But to her embarrassment, she heard him relieve himself nearby. She waited until it was quiet before she risked peeking again. He went over to a sleeping form and nudged him with his foot.
The stranger helped his captive sit up and there was no doubt that this was her brother. She watched with acute and loving anxiety but gasped seeing Hunter’s bandaged head and bound hands. This angered her but she was pleased to see he was not seriously wounded.
Immediately, Casey returned to her horse and stuffed her long hair under her hat and put dirt on her face hoping to fool the stranger into thinking she was a boy so she could put her plan into action. With the heel of her boot, she kicked her mount into the clearing, noticing that Hunter was already sitting by a tree watching the tall cowboy build a fire. She took a deep breath, praying her brother wouldn’t give her away.
“Hello!” she called out, making her voice as deep as possible, which was easy for her since her voice was quite low for a female. She kept her head bent hoping Hunter wouldn’t recognize her right away.
The cowboy stood and curiously eyed her.
Casey forced her nerves to settle down. She’d always prided herself on being strong. And it wasn’t the predicament that put her nerves on edge, but the way the stranger gazed at her. He had clear, observant eyes and she feared he could see through her disguise. She swallowed the lump in her throat hoping for the best and inquired, “I’m looking for Fort Tate. Do you know if I am headed in the right direction?”
The cowboy nodded, still scrutinizing her suspiciously as he came up beside her and it was the first time she got a good look at his face. He was indeed, God Almighty good looking. She sucked in a long breath of air, for he was just as handsome as she knew he would be and then some. Although, sporting a few days growth of hair on his chin, which gave him a more manly appearance, it was his incredible palest blue eyes that held her spellbound; like the northern sky on a sunny day. His eyebrows and hair was a sandy blonde, but not as light as hers. His nose was long and straight and his lips were full and kissable.
She blinked. Why on earth did she have such thoughts? Then she cleared her throat, hoping he didn’t notice her observing him.
“Where’re you from boy? And why are you out here all alone? Kinda young to be drifting out on your own, aren’t ya?”
“Well, I’d tell ya mister,” she drawled, “but I don’t reckon it’s any of ya business. And I’m old enough to take care of myself.” She knew she sounded harsh and hoped she didn’t offend him too much. Not expecting him to question her on her whereabouts, she didn’t have an answer for him. He looked at her for a long time and although she was now sitting high on Sadie, Casey felt very small for the moment. Did her voice betray how nervous she really was?
“Snappy little type, aren’t you,” he spat and then shrugged. “But as you say, it’s none of my business. The fort is another day’s ride,” he answered.
Casey nodded, not trusting her voice anymore; her throat was dry as sand. What was it about this cowboy that made her uneasy? She took a swig of water from her canteen wanting to splash the clear liquid on her face, but she didn’t wish to remove the dirt. She watched the cow-boy return to his fire to pour himself a cup of coffee. He opened a can of beans and her stomach rumbled. Not wanting him to see the hunger in her eyes she turned away to study her brother.
“I have a prisoner to escort to Fort Tate,” the cowboy volunteered, “but you can ride with us. Stay clear of him, he doesn’t seem dangerous, but I don’t want you talking to him. By the way, I’m Blake January, what’s your name? That’s if you think it’s my business to know.”
She didn’t miss the teasing smile on his face and she wished she had because it was too damn sensual. Swallowing, she nodded, “Casey.” She tried to maintain an even, conciliatory tone. The cowboy offered her a small amount of beans, then he fed the prisoner. She had a hard time swallowing the food seeing the sad state of affairs her brother was in. Being hand fed she knew was humiliating to him. After the light meal, they readied themselves to depart. She watched Hunter’s hands being tied to the saddle horn before Blake mounted his own horse. His palomino pranced, ready to exercise its legs.
They rode off in silence, but Casey didn’t miss her brother’s angry scowl. She ignored his thunderous expression and smiled to cover her annoyance that he should be so irked. Did he expect her to just leave him to his fate? He knew her better that! Never mind how provoked he was towards her, she would help him escape. Her mind was set and no amount of angry looks from him would discourage her! Following behind the two men, her mind continued to work up a plan but the handsome stranger’s face kept breaking into her thoughts.
Very discouraging and damn right provoking.
Stay focused, you cannot permit yourself to fall under his spell!
But then, that’s easier said than done, she scoffed inwardly.
At first Hunter hadn’t paid much attention to the newcomer until he noticed that there was something familiar about the voice. He turned his head to get a better look and noticed the clothes and worn out hat. There was no doubt in is mind who it was. His heart jumped into his rib cage wondering what the hell his sister was doing out here alone and how she managed to find him? He shouldn’t have been too surprised, knowing Casey was capable of doing anything she set her mind to.
Hunter’s mind was jammed full of questions about his sister and father. Why was she out here alone? There was only one answer: his pa was dead. But it made no sense, he saw his father ride away. And how did she know where to find him if his old man died? Maybe their father wasn’t dead but he feared something must have happened to him. He had to have told his sister what happened for her to come looking for him. If that was the case, then why wasn’t he here? His stomach knotte
d, his head smarted, but most of all he was enraged at her foolishness.
The more he tried to figure it all out the more confused he became. He had a desperate need to speak with Casey; so many questions plagued him? Apparently, she didn’t want his captor to know she was a girl, which was understandable. He twisted at the ropes that bound his wrists, but they only dug deeper, inflicting more pain. He had to bide his time and trust Casey. She was smart. He snorted to himself. She was wiser than he was most of the times, but this was not one of them.
Still he trusted her, but he surely didn’t want her risking her life for his mistake and was sorry he got mixed up in his father’s business. He had never agreed with his pa about selling slaves, but the old man had bragged about the money he made. Hunter snorted to himself, a lot of good that money did his family. Whenever his father came home with a fist full of greenbacks, he would go into town and drink and gamble it away. They had lived in poverty all their lives. But he thought this one time he could make some money and take his sister away from that life; start some place new and give Casey a chance for a decent life. Now, he had made more of a mess for her and himself. Hunter swallowed, forcing back tears. He was a man and he had to take responsibility for his own stupid actions; he was just sorry he dragged his sister into it, putting her life in danger by coming after him by herself.
Alone in the wilderness anything could’ve happened. She had always looked after him, even as children. She was a mother to him when their ma died and a better parent when their pa was away. His sister had to grow up fast and never had much of a childhood. Now he had put a bigger burden on her shoulders. For a small girl, she stood taller than any person in his life.
Love by Dawn Page 2
