by Ingis, Gail
Kate sought the shelter of Joshua’s arms. “I’m frightened.”
“We’re all armed.” Joshua led her to a rock. “The coach doesn’t look too comfortable.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “It’s nasty. My knees must be bruised by now. We sit so close to the other passengers that our legs interlock and we bang against each other.”
They sat and ate jerky and dry, worm-infested biscuits. The women refused the biscuits. “I’ll vomit if I have to eat those.” Cornelia wrinkled her nose.
Michael grinned and hit the hard biscuit on a rock, dislodging worms. “Even if I get them out for you?”
“Even then.”
“Right folks, all aboard. Times awastin’,” Charley hollered. He ejected a stream of brown spittle. “Shame we don’t have time to bag them prairie chickens grubbin’ through the horse droppings. Let’s hit the road, folks.” The horses took off with a will, ascending the mountain pass leading to the next way station.
Once free of the pass, Rork surveyed the land with an artist’s eye. Signs of human occupation disappeared, and prairie chickens became less abundant. The sun sank behind clouds, gilding the edges. Dark clouds piled on distant, jagged mountains. Brilliant stabs of lightning forked from the billowing mass, sending wild patterns across the massive cliffs.
Within an hour, the sky turned to a blinding mass of white flames, accompanied by thunderclaps. The wind increased, and dust devils swirled across the plains.
Jamming his broad hat down on his head, Rork lifted his coat lapel as rain pelted down, cursing as it dribbled down his back. The horses continued at full tilt, galloping fetlocks deep in water that rushed over the hard ground in a torrent.
There was a lull in the storm, and the magnificent display resumed, illuminating a deserted house. A raging river under tall cottonwoods careened past the house, dragging broken trees in its wake.
Charley halted the team. “We need light,” he yelled. Rork dismounted, and Charley handed him four kerosene lanterns. “Tell the passengers to light ‘em. At least it’s dry in the coach.”
Leaning into the wind-driven rain, Rork carried the lamps to the carriage. Once lit, he made his way back to Charley. “Let’s stop here.”
“Nothin’ stops me.” Charley leapt to the driver’s seat and sent the horses plunging into the stormy night.
Shaking his head, Rork mounted and followed, riding knee to knee with Joshua. “That man is insane,” he yelled above the storm and clatter of hooves and wheels.
The hours ticked by to the monotonous thunder of hooves. Sagging with exhaustion, Rork and Joshua rode on doggedly. “Doesn’t that old bastard ever sleep?” Rork yelled.
Ebony face gleaming with sweat and rain, Joshua removed his hat and slapped it against his thigh to rid it of water. “One of the men did take over for a few hours.”
“Well, he doesn’t seem to give a damn about us poor mortals. We need to stop and get some sleep.”
“Talk to him at the way station.”
Rork peered through the gloom and rubbed his gritty eyes. Exhaustion became a real problem as they ate up the miles, changing to the girls’ horses to relieve their mounts.
A farm appeared on the horizon as dusk washed over the waterlogged land. Charley spotted the farmer in the field, hauled on the reins, and jumped down.
He glanced at Rork and Joshua. “Yer lookin’ a bit worse for wear.” He popped a wad of tobacco in his mouth. “I’ve been thinkin’ o’ ya ridin’ nonstop and decided to break my rule. We’ll ask to bed down here for the night.”
“Mighty generous of you,” said Rork, dismounting. “My backside is numb.”
“Yup, ridin’ a horse for so long is a real ball crusher.” Charley roared with laughter.
“And you’re the damn court jester.”
Charley called out, “Hello.”
The farmer meandered over. “Hello, what can I do for you folks? Where you headed?”
“We are in need of a warm place to rest. We got two pregnant and their mates, and a few others. We be on our way to San Francisco. Can ya help?”
“We sure can. Welcome to the Comstock farm.”
Rork and Joshua shook the man’s hand. Rork led his thirsty horse to a trough. He took off his jacket and dunked his head in the water. “Ah.” He blew out a breath, shaking off the drips. “Good for a wake up.”
Joshua followed. “Think the farmer would swap our horses?” He pointed to a pen. “There are some mighty fine mustangs in the corral.”
Joshua bit down on his lip. “The Comstocks can set us up, but there are only two rooms for us all. The smallest is for the women.” Joshua walked off. “I want to make sure Kate is comfortable.”
Morning arrived to the roar of Charley’s voice. “Rise an’ shine, folks. Times awastin’.”
Still fully clothed, Rork groaned and rolled off the narrow, lumpy bed. He stood and stretched. “I’ve had better nights on a bed of rocks.”
Joshua and Michael sparked right up, ready to go, at the aroma of coffee, griddlecakes, and bacon. Michael reached for his crutches.
The Comstocks had food waiting. Charley did not want to use up time sitting down. Grab somethin’ and let’s get going.” He shook the farmer’s hand and slipped some money to him.
“I’ll be damn glad when we reach our destination,” said Michael.
Rork slapped on his hat and picked up his saddlebag. “Yup.” He strode out.
Charley was hitching horses. “Well, ‘bout time ya showed.”
“We need fresh horses.” Rork threw his bag on the ground.
Charley said, “Speak to my groom. He’ll set ya up. Seems y’all exchange horses with us for a small fee.”
As the sun crept onto the horizon, they were once more on the road and heading for the mountains. Upon entering a pass, Charley slowed. Cliffs soared above them. Horses slipped on the trail as they negotiated the narrow, rocky road. “Keep close, fellas. This is Cheyenne country.”
“This pass is airless,” Rork said with apprehension.
Charley’s lead horses shied away and whinnied. Dripping sweat, they struggled over the rough terrain.
Rork and Joshua rode to the coach. They stopped and drew their pistols.
A man in a long, ragged coat leveled two revolvers at Charley. “Give up the strong box like a good fella, Parkhurst.” He pointed a gun at Rork and Joshua, waggling it. “Now, fellas, ya don’t want to go bein’ dead heroes. Just put away them guns.”
“You son of a bitch!” Charley growled, slowly reaching for his rifle. “Ain’t this off yer beaten track, Sugarfoot? Santa Cruz is yer usual picking ground.”
Sugarfoot grinned, exposing a row of rotting teeth. “Aye, that it be.” He moved a piece of straw to the other side of his narrow lips. “Needed a change o’ scenery is all.” He wiggled the revolvers and stomped a burlap-wrapped foot. “Enough idle chatter. Hand over the loot.”
“Like hell!” A shot exploded from Charley’s rifle held at his knee. “Ya got me last time, but this time, ye’re shit out o’ luck, ya scaly bastard!”
The bullet slammed into Sugarfoot’s side. He screeched and dropped his guns then staggered away, disappearing between boulders.
Pulling out a revolver, Charley fired four more shots. The bullets ricocheted off the rocks where Sugarfoot had disappeared. Shoving the revolver in his belt, Charley lifted his whip and flicked it across his team. “Ya! Ya!” They took off across the uneven terrain.
Rork chased after the coach to catch up. “Aren’t we going after him?” he yelled above the rack of hooves.
“No time. With a wound like that, he’ll be dead before sunset.”
“Sugarfoot is an odd name. How did he come by it?”
Charley chuckled and popped a wad of tobacco in his mouth. �
�On account o’ the fact that he wears burlap on his feet and stomps to enforce his point.”
“You said Sugarfoot robbed you before.”
Charley slowed the coach. “Aye, I was on a run through Santa Cruz ‘bout a year ago an’ the bastard took the strong box off me.” Charley spat a stream of brown tobacco juice. “I swore that day I ain’t gonna let that happen again. An’ I didn’t.”
“When do we reach the next way station?”
“Just beyond this pass.” Charley cocked a bushy eyebrow at Rork. “You tuckered out already?”
Rork scowled and concentrated on keeping his horse steady. “No, I’m not tired. I’m looking for someone.”
Charley slowed his team to a gentle trot. “Who ya lookin’ for?”
“My betrothed.”
“How did ya lose her?”
“Damn it, Charley. I didn’t lose her, and it’s got nothing to do with you why I’m looking for her.”
“Well, women are ornery creatures. Ya must o’ done somethin’ to piss her off.”
“It has nothing to do with you.” Rork dropped behind, glaring at Charley’s back. “Nosy old bastard.”
Joshua looked up. “Hell, let’s hope we don’t encounter Indians.”
Charley yelled, “Move! Dog Soldiers!” He whipped his team into action, and the coach forged ahead, swaying violently.
Chapter 34
“Separate and make for those trees up ahead!” Charley yelled.
Joshua galloped alongside. “I don’t like the idea of leaving my wife.”
“Just listen to me, man!”
Rork nudged Joshua and yelled, “We must draw them away from the coach!” They veered off and hadn’t even made a hundred yards when triumphant howls erupted behind them.
Dropping flat on his mount’s withers, Rork scanned the forest ahead. He wasn’t sure if they could make it. He looked back.
Joshua’s horse stumbled and fell.
Wheeling at full gallop, Rork raced back to him.
Joshua struggled up as his horse flailed on the ground.
Rork urged his mount to pick up the pace, and his heart tripped.
A dozen Dog Soldiers galloped toward them, waving spears and yelling. The sienna feathers of the leader’s magnificent headdress whipped like flames with the speed of his passage. Black and white war paint on their faces presented a frightening visage.
Rork leaned down without checking his speed, his breath rasping in his throat as he closed in on Joshua. “Grab my hand!”
Joshua, dripping sweat, took Rork’s hand, leapt up behind him, and wrapped one arm around Rork’s waist. Rork looped the reins around his hand, urged his mount, and galloped toward the Indians with his revolver drawn.
“Are you mad?” Joshua yelled.
“Element of surprise. Shoot when we get closer.” He kicked his horse, increasing the pace as he headed directly for the middle of the group of howling Indians.
The Dog Soldiers veered from Rork’s path. Their horses, spooked by the unexpected attack, skittered aside at full tilt and reared, dismounting several Indians.
Rork fired as he cut through them, hitting two in the chest.
Joshua fired rapidly, wounding three.
Rork hollered to Josh. “Hold tight. I’m going to charge them again!” Foam flew from his mount’s mouth. The rank stench of horse sweat assailed Rork. He wheeled and repeated his tactic.
The Indian leader stopped and turned his horse, drawing his bow. The first arrow went wide, but the second one found its mark.
Rork grunted. The sharp, serrated arrow slammed into his left shoulder. Ignoring the pain, he fired, missing the leader.
“Son of a bitch!” Joshua rasped and fired his remaining bullet, hitting the leader in the side.
Rork galloped between them, shooting randomly.
Bleeding profusely from his wound, the leader shouted a command.
The warriors took off, heading for the mountains.
Panting with pain and exertion, Rork reined in his mount and stared after them.
Joshua laughed. “I can’t decide if I think you’re brave . . . or an idiot.”
“Since I managed to get wounded, probably an idiot.” At a shout from behind, he twisted around.
Charley ran toward them. “Damn fools! Could’ve gotten yerself killed!” He stopped and pushed his hat back on his head and whistled. “Best we get that arrow out o’ yer shoulder, lad. Can ya ride to the coach?”
“Of course I can ride to the damn coach,” Rork growled.
Charley walked beside them, his eye twinkling. “Just as well ya routed ‘em. Coach lost a wheel before we reached the trees.”
Cornelia and Kate ran to them. Tears streamed down Kate’s pale cheeks. Joshua dismounted, and she flew into arms. “Oh, my God, I thought you were going to die.”
Joshua smiled. “I have a life to live with you and our children. How can I die now?” He set her aside and helped Rork down.
“My bag is in the coach,” said Cornelia. “Go sit under that tree. I’ll be there in a moment.”
Michael joined them. “What you did back there was damn courageous.”
Clutching his shoulder, Rork laughed. “Only because it worked. If my ploy had failed, my epitaph would have read, Here lies Senseless, who charged rather than ran.”
Cornelia waved everyone away. “I need to get that arrow out and treat the wound before it putrefies.”
Charley dropped to his haunches beside her. “I’ll take it out for ya. Done plenty in my time, an’ I’m quick.”
Cornelia scowled. “No offense, Charley, but you are rather rough.”
He grinned. “No offense taken, honey.” In one swift movement, Charley shoved the arrow through Rork’s shoulder. He rapidly snapped off the shaft and pulled the arrowhead out from the back.
Rork arched, cried out, and collapsed.
“There. Told ya it was quick.” Charley tossed the bloodied arrowhead in one callused hand. “I’ll wash this and make a leather thong for it. He can wear it around his neck. Hope he doesn’t decide to charge a grizzly next. Might not get to wear a claw or tooth.” Chuckling, he sauntered away.
Cornelia glared after him. “I knew he’d be savage.” She set about washing the wound and dressing it. She waved smelling salts under Rork’s nose.
He came to, groaning. “What did that old bastard do? Felt like a damn hot poker going through my shoulder.”
“Well, Charley isn’t exactly endowed with finesse, but he got it done faster than I might have.” She held a vial to his lips. “Drink this laudanum. It will dull the pain.”
Rork pushed her hand away. “I can’t ride if I’m half asleep.”
Cornelia scowled. “You are definitely not riding, my friend.”
Struggling to his feet, Rork swayed and leaned against the tree. “No damn way I’m riding in the coach. Charley drives that thing like a maniac.”
Michael lifted one eyebrow. “Don’t be an idiot, Rork.”
Rork snorted. “I’d be a bigger idiot to ride in the coach.”
“For God’s sake, be reasonable, Rork. Our women ride in the coach.” Joshua said.
“Enough!” He lifted his good hand. “Nothing will persuade me to change my mind. Besides, the wagon wheel needs repairing, and by then I’ll be fine.” He stumbled away, his head swimming from loss of blood.
They sat around Rork, who tossed and turned on a makeshift pallet under the trees. Charley shook his head and ejected spittle. “I don’t know if he’s gonna make it, an’ I need to get goin.’”
Michael struggled up off the rock he sat on. “Then go. We’ll continue once he recovers.”
“Like I said, don’t know if he’ll make it.” Charley rose from his hau
nches. He popped another wad of tobacco into his mouth and eyed each passenger. “Maybe three o’ the folk can ride an’ we’ll put him on one of the seats.”
“We are happy to ride.” Cornelia glanced at Kate, who nodded.
Three male passengers looked away. A slender man with thinning hair hooked his fingers into his suspenders. “I paid to ride in the coach. Besides, I don’t fare well on a horse.”
Charley glared at him. “We owe our lives to this fella an’ his friend. Them Injuns would’ve had yer sorry scalp by now.”
“And I’m grateful to him, but I paid to ride in the coach,” he insisted in a nasal voice. He took out a pocket watch and flipped it open, tapping the face with a skinny finger. “I have meetings in San Francisco in a few weeks. We need to get going.”
Joshua towered over the man and poked his chest. “You ungrateful, selfish bastard.”
The man’s eyes dilated, and he stepped back. “How dare you touch my person, you overeducated darkie.”
Joshua’s fist slammed into his face, sending him flying.
The man landed on his backside and glared at Joshua. “I’ll see you hanged!”
Charley strode to him and jerked him to his feet by his jacket lapel. “Shut up, ya little snot. Mr. Formby is right. Ya are a selfish bastard! An’ just try an’ lay a charge. I’ll have yer guts on a platter.” He shoved him, sending him to the ground again. “Now git yer scrawny ass outta my sight!”
