Shepherd's Song

by Moore, S. Dionne

  If he kept to the trail and went into town, he might see Anna. If he could get a message to her, or to anyone in authority, they might be able to warn the bank before it was too late. He held on to the hope of becoming a hero for the duration of the ride, mulling over and over ways to get a message to someone.

  They trotted straight to the store. Tyler tied his horse and followed Dirk inside. Tense moments swelled when the first person he laid eyes on was the town’s marshal, a little man with big eyes that seemed outsized in his small head. Outlaws’ gossip said the man’s appearance wasn’t to be underestimated. Sheriff Walt King was pure poison with a gun.

  Dirk played it easy with the man, while sweat had formed between Tyler’s shoulders and dripped down his back. Walt’s demeanor matched Dirk’s in ease, the two exchanging words like old friends.

  The storekeeper finished up with a woman and leaned over the counter, a kind smile on his face. “Reckon Anna will be glad to see you. You back for a spell?”

  “Just in from the ranch for a few provisions.” He feared the man would continue to question him about his intentions toward Anna, but the conversation drifted to talk of ammunition, flour and sugar, bags of beans, and coffee.

  “You wanting this delivered?”

  “No,” he said, too quickly. The storekeeper’s eyes narrowed. “Thought it strange Mr. Billings didn’t come to order supplies himself.”

  “We’re leaving. Tired of breathing dust and repairing fences.”

  The floorboard squeaked and Dirk appeared beside him, his manner still easy. “We’re hoping to go up and try our hand at gold in the hills. Supplies are cheaper here than in any mining camp.”

  The storekeeper seemed to relax at that and turned his attention back to filling the order.

  That was when events became a blur of activity. Dirk had crossed to the front window of the general store, looked out across the street, and then checked the pocket watch he always carried. But it had been the look he’d given Tyler that brought a wave of fear. That, and the door of the general store opening. . .

  Tyler sighed, the telling of the story exhausting him. Renee shifted her weight, and he realized she had moved closer during his talk. He straightened his leg and relaxed back against the rock, feeling the hard poke of the rough surface. The fire had begun to blaze again. Almost as an afterthought, he realized she had thrown more wood onto it.

  “Tyler?” she asked, the sound of his name a warm whisper in the night.

  He nodded to indicate he was fine. His memories of what happened next remained clear. The events must have taken place in seconds, yet each one seemed to last minutes in his mind.

  He massaged his temples, almost feeling the stabbing pain of fear he’d felt when Dirk gave him that smirking glare.

  He heaved a sigh and continued to unroll the sequence of events. “Somehow when I saw Dirk’s sneer, I knew I’d been tricked. I moved to the window and stared across at the bank. Saw Marv’s horse, and Lance’s, and felt certain they were both inside, holding up the bank. I knew then, plans had been made to exclude me because I’d shown myself untrustworthy, and it made me both mad and relieved at the same time.”

  “What happened?” Renee asked.

  “I went for the door, but Dirk drew on me and told everyone to stay right where they were.”

  Tyler exhaled and closed his eyes. The next memories were the hardest and always the ones that kept him awake at night with the burning shame of what he’d done.

  nineteen

  Renee recognized that Tyler was in the grips of something powerful. Though she wanted to know what happened next, she stopped pushing. He would tell her in his own time.

  “Anna entered the store then. She had no idea what was going on, or that Dirk had a gun on everyone.”

  Tyler struggled to continue, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard. “She saw Dirk first, then the gun, and then her eyes went to me. Dirk, too, stared at me. And then. . .” He blew out his breath, long and slow. “And then he gave me a little grin and I knew. . . .” She watched him struggle to keep his emotions in check and placed her hand along his arm. “Anna ran toward me, her face full of terror, and I saw Dirk level the gun. . . .”

  Though Tyler’s eyes remained dry, his face appeared haggard. Renee could see the pulsing of his heart in his neck and noticed the wetness in his eyes before he dug his fingers into them to clear the moisture.

  In the silence of night, wisps of cool fog seeped toward them. She didn’t like fog; it always seemed to rob the day of something. She sat in miserable silence, wishing she could ease the burden of his hurt. His grief mingled with hers in a silent twist, much like the shifting, burgeoning clouds of the rolling fog. She shivered as the fingers of the mist roiled and shifted, swirling around her body and laying a coat of silver across their shoulders.

  “Tyler?”

  He finally shifted and rose to his feet. Using the long branch, he stoked the fire to a blaze. “Stay close to camp. It will burn off by mid-morning.” He cast her a sideways glance. “Be glad we’re just on the west side of the mountain now. If we were on the east, it could stay for days.”

  She couldn’t fathom paddling around in fog for days, and even the idea of having to do so made her scalp prickle with fear. “What about the sheep?”

  “I’ll take Teddy out and we’ll make sure they’re not straying. The dampness will make them miserable but it’ll limit their movement somewhat.”

  She didn’t know why a damp fog would bother a sheep, but she did know she sure hated it. Worry that Tyler might get lost niggled at her mind, but she kept her silence. He’d seen these things before; that much was obvious to her. She had no doubt he knew exactly what to do and when to do it. Still, when he disappeared into the thick fog, her insides squeezed in an agony of fear. With nothing left to do, she lay down on the ground and closed her eyes, replaying the story of his past. Her heart ached for Tyler’s pain.

  Deep breaths eased her, and she noted, too, a freshness in the air that hadn’t been there before, or maybe she hadn’t noticed. She likened it to the scent of mountain mahogany, or the air scrubbed clean after a heavy rain, or. . . She fell asleep trying to decide.

  ❧

  Tyler could feel the moisture penetrating the sheeps’ wool, weighing it down. The first rays of sun were lightening the sky, though blocked by the mountain peak for now.

  Teddy, his nose guiding the way, had bolted off after a few ewes that had strayed out on a narrow trail. Tyler made note of the area, knowing he would have to return when the fog lifted and stack rocks to prevent future wanderings. A subtle lightening of the oppressive air relieved his mind. The fog was moving out, and the dark silver of the mist was brightening. The familiar work tending the sheep kept his mind occupied and away from the specter of Anna that would have, he knew, stolen sleep from him even if he had tried to rest.

  Teddy led the way back to camp, the fog still a heavy presence. Tyler stoked the dying fire and checked the blankets to assure himself Renee hadn’t wandered off. He knelt to touch the soft spot his feet found. “Renee?”

  In the thickness he heard no rustle of response or soft whimpers and shuffles of someone waking. “Renee?”

  He stretched his hand out farther. Empty. And that’s when he heard the rush of feet and the half-choked sobs. He angled back toward the fire and bumped hard into something. A choked gasp identified the object.

  “Renee?” Her exhale was forced and shuddering, and he placed a hand on her arms, feeling the quivering terror of her breathing. “What is it?”

  “A monster.”

  He chuckled and pulled her closer to the fire where he could finally see the vague outline of her face. “There are no monsters. Was it a bear? A cat?”

  The same shuddering cries rocked her shoulders. “Tall. Small head. Long arms.”

  It was balanced on his tongue to deny it again but he thought better of it. “What were you doing?”

  “I—”

  Her hesitation told
him all he needed to know. “You went to. . .‘talk to the neighbors.’ ”

  She gaped up at him then away, smudging a hand across her cheeks.

  The fog hid her expression, but if he’d been a betting man he would have bet her face burned as hot as the fire. “You saw your reflection in the fog. It happened to me once before in fog this thick. I’d gone out a few paces from camp and saw this apparition. It was just like you described. Took me a few seconds and a couple of bullets to realize what I was dealing with.”

  He could almost feel the tension draining from her. Her expression, clearer now through the thinning fog, sported a sheepish grin. Flickering flames licked shadows along the side of her face closest to the fire. His eyes followed the dancing light along the curve of her jaw then down the column of her neck. A powerful longing to draw her close rose within him. With every ounce of willpower, Tyler removed his hand from her arm and took a step back. “I’m going to catch some sleep.”

  twenty

  “What are the black sheep for?” Renee asked later that day.

  The sheep had watered and were moving back toward the bedding ground. Tyler and Renee stood atop a ledge that allowed full view of the herd, which made the summer pasture easy to manage. Welford camp, as it was called, had a stream that ran the length of the boundaries, which also eased the need to push the herd from bedding ground to watering sites and grazing places.

  “Markers,” Tyler replied. “One for every two hundred sheep. If I’m missing a black sheep when I go to count, I can assume I’m missing white sheep and do a search. It might mean predators or that they’ve strayed off trail.”

  “It’s quite a system.”

  Tyler nodded, completing a silent count as they stood there. Six black sheep. He stood for a moment, Renee a few feet off, and watched the sheep mill, some lying down as others chewed cud and a few grazed. The littlest of lambs bounced and played. A light breeze blew against his face—cold air, the promise of a cool night, like most of the nights while summering herds.

  “Let’s hope there’s no snow tonight,” he said out loud, not realizing he’d spoken his thoughts until Renee replied.

  “Should we put up the tent?”

  He turned, wondering if she was more worried about him or herself. The last several nights, he’d allowed her to use the tent while he slept under the stars. “Frostbite isn’t so bad.”

  She stared at him for a few seconds then reared back her head, her hair snaking along her shoulders, her laughter punching the air. God help him, she was beautiful. He looked away until her laughter died. “Tyler?” She tilted her head back in the direction of camp and cocked an eyebrow. “Do I need to gather more wood? I’d hate for you to lose toes to frostbite since I’ll be snug in the tent.”

  Tyler lifted his face to the sky, all desire to tease leaving him. “We’ll be good for tonight, but there’s a cabin down a ways from camp if you’d like to move in.”

  She tucked hair behind her ear. “Your cabin?”

  “Trapper built it long ago. It comes in handy when bad weather threatens.”

  He shuffled down the face of the rock, turned, and offered a hand up to Renee to guide her descent from the rough surface. Her touch seemed too warm against his palm, and he let go as soon as she was steady. His heart pounded in his ears, and he forced himself to concentrate on something other than the woman at his side. “I’ll show it to you and you can decide. I’ve got to pick up the traps and set them before night.”

  She stood in front of him, her eyes sober, and he wondered what she was thinking. Hoping to reassure whatever thoughts of impropriety might be running through her head, he added, “I’ll stay outside in the tent.”

  ❧

  Renee wondered if Tyler knew what a handsome man he was or if any thought of himself had been trampled beneath what he perceived as his failure with Anna. “Have you tried anything other than herding sheep?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe you could get work with cattle or something.”

  “Rich Morgan had a job to do and it fell to me.” He pivoted away from her and she felt dismissed.

  “Do you think they’re after you?”

  “I don’t know, Renee.”

  She dared to ask the question that had been plaguing her since their conversation. “Are you risking my life by keeping me up here when they might be coming up the mountain as we speak?”

  He stopped in his tracks, his back to her. She could see the hard line of his lips. “Take the horse down tomorrow. Find your own way home. I’ve got a job to do.”

  Tyler’s words bit hard, and for the first time in a long time she felt the claws of shame against her conscience. She hadn’t meant it to sound so. . .selfish. Like she was laying the blame for whatever might happen to her at his feet. There was irony in her question, too, when only days earlier she had entertained the idea of never going back to her father.

  She opened her mouth to repair the harm she’d done, but his long strides took him swiftly away from her. Renee stood there in silent misery, watching as the sheep lay contentedly among the rocks and patches of grass. Hundreds of them. Content because they knew Tyler would protect them.

  A shiver trickled down her spine. She had wanted to believe her father would protect her forever. Her mother’s death had shown her that her father simply did not want to be bothered with her. As he’d grown, Thomas had become the one to bridge the gap between father and daughter. She’d resented the silent arrangement at first, imagining Thomas’s every reasonable suggestion as the voice of her father. When she’d decided to go off on a cattle drive, Thomas, caught between the warring opinions of father and sister, had come to her.

  “You’ve got to stop this, sis. You’re killing him.”

  She’d known immediately who “him” was and tried her best to tune out her little brother and continue her preparations to ride over to the rival ranch. The rancher’s son had taken a shine to her, and though older by ten years, he’d given in to her pleas to ride with them during the drive. “Maybe Pa’ll come with me. He can be my protector.”

  “You know he can’t.”

  “You mean he won’t.”

  “No, Renee, don’t you ever listen? He can’t. Pa’s got his own cattle to round up and send out.”

  “Well I won’t get in his way then.”

  Thomas had squeezed his eyes shut, his frustration showing in the way he worked his jaw back and forth. “Renee, you’re wrong. You are so wrong about Pa. He does love you; he just has a hard time showin’ it. Please don’t do this. Nathan Potter is not a gentleman and you’ll be the only woman. Don’t think for a minute that he’ll protect you from. . .”

  She’d drawn up short at his choice of words, a little stunned to realize the scope of her brother’s knowledge of women. “What do you know of such things?”

  Thomas had cracked a little smile. “I hear the hands talk all the time.”

  “They should be more careful.”

  “Why? You’d protect me from that talk but ride right into a situation that puts yourself at risk?”

  His heartfelt plea and pointed question had turned her away from the folly. She had even tried to make amends with her father after Thomas’s pleading, trying her hand at cooking and learning to keep house. But other than an occasional, grudging thank you, Pa had never seemed to notice.

  Renee stepped into camp, deflated by the memory of her failure to gain her father’s affections. By her words and Tyler’s reaction, though, she almost couldn’t blame him for taking offense.

  The camp was empty, though the fire had been stoked and the rifle left behind. Tyler either forgot his promise to show her the cabin or had been so irritated he’d decided against it.

  Restless, she moved to the canvas-wrapped haunch of meat high in the tree, lowered it, and hacked away a nice piece with a huge knife. She could at least make him something to eat. Settling the skillet deep into the hottest part of the coals, she wondered at the wisdom of Tyler leaving so lat
e without the rifle. Even though it was still daylight, the shadows were growing long.

  She browned the mutton and added the beans Tyler had left soaking that morning. He had no fresh vegetables and very little flour and sugar left. The low sugar supply had been her fault, and she felt the twinge of guilt for her selfishness. In those first few weeks, he had always offered it to her, never seeming to mind how she mounded it into her coffee while he drank his black. Now she saw how he must have cringed as she dug selfishly into his supply, never once denying herself but claiming the sweetness as if it were her right. As the days had progressed and weeks passed, she had come to understand more and more the preciousness of his supplies and the measured use of each package and sack he allotted himself.

  When the mutton stew, such as it was, was bubbling merrily, she moved to the edge of the camp and squinted into the near darkness. Sassy stood picketed to the same spot Tyler had placed her that morning. The horse’s presence did nothing to relieve her concern. She eyed the rifle then stared back into the night. If Tyler hurt himself or had a run-in with an animal, she would never be able to rescue him in time. Maybe he’d left the rifle thinking she would feel safer, just in case the gang did trace their path up the mountain and found their campsite.

  Renee moved back to the ring of fire. She rubbed her upper arms to ward off the chill, amazed how the warmth of day could fade so absolutely into coldness. Nudging the coffee closer to the fire, she readied a mug. When the brew boiled, she poured the thick, dark liquid and took a cautious sip. Bitter. Very bitter. But it was hot and she was cold. She’d get used to it.

  twenty-one

  Tyler ran his hand over his hair and down his neck, massaging the knot of tension at the base of his skull. Renee’s words mocked him. If the Loust Gang had somehow tracked him and was on its way, he was risking Renee. But there was far more at stake. Only Rich knew Tyler’s other secret. The one that could get them all killed.