by Danni Roan
“I think we’re all dreaming of spring,” Maud agreed with a grin.
The old man stepped to her side and together they watched a handful of cowboys amble their horses down the street, their hats pulled low over hooded eyes.
“That’s a rough lookin’ crew,” George offered, his brown eyes trailing the men suspiciously.
“Are they staying here?” Maud asked, suppressing a shiver.
“No, we on’y got that new school teacher stayin’ with us right now, but he’s off ta the church with the youngins.”
George craned his neck to see the last of the riders make the turn along Main Street. “You want me to walk ya to your next stop?”
Maud smiled, “That’s mighty kind of you George, but I’m just nipping across the street to fetch Priscilla, then on to the general store to meet Sara.”
“All righty then. You be careful.” He turned to look in the direction the five men had gone one more time before turning and disappearing into the house.
“Prissy, what in the world are you eating now?” Maud asked a moment later as her middle daughter joined her on the stoop of the Grist Mill Restaurant, a dense-looking biscuit spread with white cream and jam in her hand.
The blonde-haired young woman turned her bright green eyes to her mother with a smile on her softly rounded face. “It’s called a scone,” she said carefully. “The new baker man here makes them.”
“What is a scone?” Maud asked.
“It’s like a biscuit, but not really,” Prissy said, taking another bite. “I like them,” she added around a mouthful of the pastry.
“You like anything sweet,” Maud grumbled shaking her head.
“Oh drat,” Priscilla Adams chirped, shoving the rest of the scone into her mouth. “I was talking to the new baker fella and completely forgot the dewberry jam I have in my bag.” She shook her head disgustedly. “I’ll be right back, Mama.” Her words were muffled as she swallowed her treat.
Prissy wheeled and headed back into the café so quickly that Maud had no time to protest, so instead she simply called after her impetuous daughter, “Meet me at the store.” Since there was no reason to stand outside freezing when she could be about her business, she moved down the steps toward the main drag.
Looking both directions, the older woman stepped into the street. The sound of the Grist Mill’s door opening and closing behind her registered only enough for her to assume that Prissy would be right behind her, so she moved on.
The strange sound of something pop, pop, popping further along Main Street seemed like a distance echo as across the street Maud watched her youngest daughter, Sara, her burnished hair set with a green ribbon, walk into the store followed closely by the a handsome young Rafe Dixon, whose hand rested possessively on the small of Sara's back.
“Sara!” Maud’s shocked voice was a strangled whisper as she stopped frozen in place by astonishment half way across the street.
The thunder of galloping hooves and the sound of a man’s voice screaming her name was the last thing that Maud Adams heard as five riders charged by, the lead horse’s shoulder crashing into her, throwing her to the ground and casting her into deep darkness.
“Mama!” Prissy wailed, dashing into the street.
“Run on to the Doc,” Harlan Dixon’s voice cracked like a whip. “I’m right behind you.” The man, known best for his animosity toward the Adams' family, scooped Maud into his arms as easily as he would a child and hurried on across the street.
In their rush to get the prostrate woman medical care, neither of them noticed a lean, smoke gray mustang slip around the back of the store, spiriting the rider in the frayed coat toward the mountains on silent feet.
***
"Don’t try to sit up, Mama," Aquila Adams Royal chided as her mother's eyes fluttered open, "you've had a bad fall."
Maud focused her eyes on her oldest daughter’s face, blinking to bring Quil’s green eyes and soft brown hair in to sharper clarity.
"What happened?" she croaked, blinking against the pounding in her head.
"You got run over by a passel of bank robbers," the gruff voice of Harlan Dixon rasped at her side.
"Harlan what are you doing here?" Maud's voice sounded small and confused.
A large work-worn hand came to rest on her shoulder, the gentleness of it belying its strength.
"I brought you up to the Doc," Harlan's voice sounded rusty. "I saw what happened."
Maud felt like her head was spinning. Harlan Dixon was being kind. The man had not spoken a kind word to her in well over twenty years. My, how her head hurt.
"You all need to clear out of here," Doctor Walker stated, trying to clear the room, but Maud sat up with a jerk and cried out before anyone could leave.
"Wait just one minute," her voice echoed. "Sara, where's Sara?"
"I'm here, Mama," the girl replied, stepping to her mother's bed, her eyes still pink with tears.
Maud's head spun, but she forced herself to look at her daughter. "Sara Ann, you tell me and you tell me true. What were you doing with Rafe Dixon?"
A harsh gasp wrenched from Sara as her eyes grew wide, but before she could answer two strong arms embraced her, pulling her close.
"I reckon everyone might as well know now as later," Rafe Dixon spoke up, his handsome face stern and his light brown eyes serious. "I've been seeing Sara in secret since last Christmas when she fell out of that tree."
All eyes turned to the young man as he tightened his grip protectively on the girl in his arms.
Maud fell back against the pillows of the small bed as Harlan Dixon shot to his feet, a grimace on his face.
"You all git out of here, and git out of here quick." His voice was a low rumble. "I'll deal with you later," he added, his dark eyes flashing at Rafe.
The old doctor shook his head worriedly as he ushered the young people from the room, directing them to the kitchen for a strong cup of tea.
"I'll be a minute yet, Doc," Harlan said, not moving from where he stood by Maud’s side.
"Don't you go upsetting her any more than she already is," Doc grumped, his bushy brows beetling over his eyes.
"I won't," the other man replied, his words surprisingly soft.
"Don't start, Harlan," Maud spoke from under the arm that covered her face.
"I ain't gonna start nothin', Maudlee," he said as he took her hand in his.
Slowly, Maud lowered her arm and opened her eyes. She must have hit her head much harder than she realized if Harlan was holding her hand.
"You haven't called me that since we were kids at school, she whispered.
"There's lots of things I haven't done for a long time, and lots of things I should have done a long time ago."
"Harlan what on God's green earth has gotten into you?" Maud's voice was still small as she felt a tiny shiver through his hand.
"Maud, I've been a mean, hard-hearted fool for a long time and I don't have the words to tell ya how sorry I am." He shook his salt and pepper head. "Ever since you and Andy got more than friendly, I've been hatin' and resentin' you both."
"Harlan?" Maud began, but he waved her down with a hand.
"I didn't even come to my best friend’s funeral all because I felt slighted, cheated even."
"But why?" Maud's eyes were filling with tears. "We were all friends."
"I've been tellin' myself for years that that wasn't true." Harlan continued, "I told myself no real friend would have stolen the woman I loved right out from under my nose."
Maud Adams struggled to sit upright. "Wha..., what are you...?" She could not finish the sentence.
"I was in love with you, Maudlee," Harlan said, laying his other hand over hers where it still rested in his, “and Andy went and married you."
Maud's head and heart were pounding so hard it sounded like a herd of wild horses was galloping through her ears. None of this made any sense, no, perhaps it made too much sense. She groaned softly.
"You want me to fetch t
he Doc?" Harlan rose to his feet, a tremor of fear in his voice.
"No." The single syllable was terse.
"Do you want me to go?"
"No." This time her voice was tender. "Harlan, did you tell Andy you were in love with me?"
Long silent seconds ticked by as the older man sat once more.
"Not in so many words," Harlan said, "but he was my best friend, he shoulda' known." His voice was small, like a little boy who had been caught doing something he knew was wrong.
Fat tears began to trickle down Maud's face as years of hurt and confusion poured themselves out. "We didn't know." Her voice was strangled.
"I'm so sorry, Maudlee." Harlan's big hands slipped from hers as he hung his head, preparing to go.
"Stay," she gurgled, lifting her arms.
The stout man with the dark eyes sat on the side of the bed, pulling her into his arms as she wept.
"I miss him every day," he managed, as years of unshed grief bubbled over.
Chapter 2
"Easy, Smoke," Bruno whispered as the sure-footed horse picked its way over the rugged trail, soft puffs of steam emanating from the pony's dark muzzle.
Darkness was not so far away up under the canopy of trees that made a broken line across the foothills of the Rockies.
Bruno's eyes scanned the trail for signs, marking each track, overturned rock or broken twig. Years of trailing lost sheep had made him and Smoke keen trackers, and this time something far more dear had been taken.
The young man on the lean horse shivered, pushing his fear, doubt and anxiety down into a little box at the bottom of his soul.
Sticking his hand into his pocket, he ran it over the silky length of the yellow ribbon he had purchased at the store. He had been heading to the bank to see if he could walk Janine home when the ruckus broke out.
The sound of gunfire and galloping horses had brought him to a halt in the back alley across the street from the bank, and the sight of a hard-faced outlaw throwing Janine over his saddle had nearly frozen Bruno's blood.
The man's harsh words still echoed in his ears. "If a posse even thinks about followin' us, the girl buys it," He'd spat, laying spurs to his horse and charging away.
Bruno ran a chilled hand over his face, rubbing some of the feeling back into his cheeks. He was used to the harsh elements, but the shock of the bank robbery and subsequent kidnapping of the girl he loved had left him shaken.
Smoke snorted softly, bringing him back to the broken trail he had been following for the past two hours, and he stroked the pony's mane as they moved soundlessly through the trees. Years of working together herding sheep had made the pony careful.
Sheep were silly things, easily frightened and dangerously inept at looking after themselves. They were the only animals Bruno had ever known that seemed to be looking for the fastest way to die. If one got lost in a precarious place, it was as likely to jump to its death upon hearing a rescuer as it was to be saved by an approaching rider.
Smoke had learned this lesson well and walked quietly wherever he went.
An owl called into the early dusk, its plaintive cry a reminder that Janine was out there with desperate outlaws and a shiver ran down Bruno’s spine. “Who indeed,” he whispered.
The trail was getting harder to see as the light faded and Bruno let Smoke drop his head, following the trail more by scent than sight now, but when the pony lifted his head and tipped his ears forward, he knew he'd found the riders.
"Hush, now boy," Bruno whispered, swinging out of the saddle and walking into the trees, trusting the horse to follow.
As he inched silently forward, he caught the first sparks of a fire being lit and the gruff sound of men's voices.
"What you want me ta do with this little snit?" a paunchy man in a dirty coat asked.
"Tie her up and leave her 'ere," the hard-looking man in the black hat growled as he pulled heavy saddlebags from his horse.
"What ya gonna do with her?" another man asked as he squatted, blowing on the fire.
"She's our insurance fer now," Black-hat replied. "Once we know there ain't no posse on our heels, I don't care what happens to her."
On the other side of the tiny clearing, Bruno could see Janine sit up straight, her eyes wide with fright.
"But whatever ya do, don't take that gag outta her mouth. She don't seem ta know when ta shut her pretty face."
Bruno felt the hair on the back of his neck raise like the hackles on a dog's back, but instead of action, he eased back into the darkness of the pinewoods, biding his time.
"You ain't gonna kill her, are ya?" a fourth man's words were muffled through the trees. "I didn't sign on to kill no woman," he continued.
"Yeah, it's bad enough you shot that banker fella," the man by the fire added.
"Ain't like I kilt him," Black-hat returned.
"Well just so yous know, I ain't killin' no woman," Fire-starter whined.
The big man in the black hat glared at the others. "Alright, alright. We won't kill 'er. Once we divide up the take, we'll set her on the trail and she can find her way back or not."
A general tone of agreement emanated in the little space, and Janine shivered, tears pooling in her eyes.
Fire-starter built up the fire until a small bright blaze burned, illuminating the five men in harsh angles of light as they counted out the money in steadily growing piles.
Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to hours as the men heated beans over a fire and ate them out of hot tins before spreading bedrolls near the fire.
Bruno's blood boiled as he watched their utter disregard to Janine, who sat on the frozen ground shivering, a filthy bandana protruding from her mouth, and yet he waited. He waited until darkness had fully covered the mountains, the fire had died to glowing coals, and the men had wrapped themselves in their blankets and begun to snore.
Hunched over and feeling his way across the pine needle laden earth, Bruno squirmed his way toward where Janine hunched, half-dozing in her misery. Behind him, Smoke's hot breath tickled his neck, as the beast became an invisible shadow.
"Janine," Bruno's voice was a mere breath in her ear, but she started and almost yelped with fright.
"Shh," he chided, gently untying her hands and removing the gag. "We don't want to wake nobody."
As silently as possible, he half-led, half-carried the girl to Smoke and heaved her onboard. There was no way that Janine Williams could be quiet in the woods, but if she did not talk maybe, just maybe, they could get away.
Again, Bruno shifted and squirmed his way slowly out of the camp and toward an old familiar trail.
"Bruno," Janine's harsh whisper shattered the silent night.
In a flash, the young man reached her, placing a hand over her mouth, shaking her head as he did so trying to make her understand. To his surprise, she quieted and he moved on.
Smoke's muzzle pushing at his shoulder confirmed what Bruno's feet suspected. They had made it to the old winding sheep trail that led to the sheep-pens.
Silently expelling a breath he'd been holding for what seemed like forever, he gathered up the reins and vaulted up behind Janine. She was still shivering, so he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
"There's a cabin up at the old sheep-pens," he whispered. “We'll shelter there for the night.”
"Bronwyn Sparak, you take me home to my daddy this instant," Janine hissed. Her voice sounded hoarse and dry.
"I can't," he argued quietly, reaching around her and lifting the canteen from the saddle horn. "First it's too dark to make it safely down the mountain and second if them fellas wake up and come a lookin’ they'll think we're headed ta town."
He unscrewed the cap of the canteen and settled it into her hands, pleased when she lifted it and drank thirstily.
“My daddy is not going to like this one little bit,” she grumbled, nestling back into his warmth as he guided Smoke along the trail.
“They didn’t hurt ya, did they?” Bruno fin
ally asked a little later as a dark lump of a shape came into view at the edge of the beaten path.
“Yes, they did,” Janine sniffed. “My wrists are raw where they tied my hands and when I hollered that nasty man in the black hat shoved that retched kerchief in my mouth. I told him he’d regret takin’ me and that my pa would get them all.”
Bruno smiled; glad he’d reached her before any real harm had come to her. As it was, chafed wrists, bruised dignity and a slight chill seemed to be her biggest complaints.
“We’re here,” he said, pulling Smoke to a stop in front of a shabby shack. “It’s not much, but it’s snug and there’ll be food.”
“Just help me down and start a fire, Bruno,” the disgruntled girl snapped peevishly, extending her hands toward him.
Bruno grasped her around her small waist and gently lifted Janine to the frozen ground. “You go on in while I get Smoke settled,” he suggested, aiming her in the direction of the front door.
“You want me to go in there all by myself?” her voice was full of shocked horror. “What if there’s someone in there or some animal has made it into a killing lair?” She crossed her arms over her shapely chest and did not move.
Sighing, Bruno pulled the worn Winchester lever action rifle from his scabbard, patted Smoke and took Janine by the arm.
“There ain’t nobody here,” he chided. “If someone was here, they’d a built a fire and we could have seen the smoke. As for critters, it’s unlikely unless an old possum or pack rat chewed its way in.”
“What if those wicked, wicked men come?” Janine continued to drag her feet.
Bruno stopped short, an all too familiar frustration rising in his chest. “Janine Williams, have I ever got you in trouble?” he asked an edge to his usually patient voice.
“No, but...”
“If those men had known about this shack, don’t you think they would have come here where they could keep warm and dry instead of camping in the grove?”
“Well…” the girl began again, but he had already grabbed her elbow and started marching her up the log stairs to the door.
Letting go of Janine’s arm, Bruno grasped the metal latch on the door and pushed it open, only to be greeted by midnight silence.
