by Alison Bruce
Marly didn't really think Jase Strachan would do that. She almost trusted him.
But then she had trusted that hazel-eyed snake, Charlie, too.
She remained cautious. Even if he didn't hurt her, Jase would probably feel it his duty to send her back to Aunt Adele.
She couldn't let that happen.
I reckon, she thought as she scrubbed her face, if I can pass for a boy sleeping back-to-back in the same bed, I probably don't have much to worry about.
After Marly took care of her ablutions, Jase purchased extra supplies. Flour, sugar, coffee, beans and bacon were distributed between their saddlebags. Marly's bags also carried chocolate, dried fruit and peanuts. Jase's carried extra ammunition.
She hoped they wouldn't have to use the latter.
"My man has at least four days on us now," he announced as they rode out of town. "I know he's headed for El Paso, so I'm gonna risk headin' there directly, instead of trailin' him from town to town."
"He's on the stage?"
"Good guess," he acknowledged with a nod of his head. "He's not the ridin' type. He's been travellin' the stage, stoppin' now and then to play poker and relieve more suckers of their cash."
"And that's why you are hunting him?"
Marly's skepticism was met with a derisive snort.
"If he cheats at the table, sooner or later it'll catch up with him. No, I'm on his trail for a more ambitious crime. He embezzled money from the wrong people. The kind who take this sort of thing personally and have the contacts in the Governor's house to back up their vendettas."
"So you're after the money he stole."
"He doesn't have the money with him. We caught him once and he gave us the slip. Lost him for a bit after that, then I got a tip that he was headed for El Paso."
"How do you know he doesn't have the money now?"
"I don't," he admitted with a shrug. "I'm guessin' because he's livin' hand to mouth. Game to game, in his case."
They stopped mid-afternoon to make camp.
"I'm not tired yet," she said.
"We don't have a waiter to bring us dinner tonight. Or a readymade bed. We can't just ride 'til you're falling out of your saddle."
Marly was about to protest. Hadn't she travelled a hundred miles on her own, often walking for long stretches of the day? It was true. She didn't have Jase's stamina in the saddle, but...
She bit back a retort that was at the tip of her tongue. She had only a commonsense notion of how to make camp.
Swallowing her pride, she listened to Jase and did as she was told. She committed every step to memory, from tending and hobbling the horses to clearing the area and digging a fire pit. Jase had found a slight hollow with scrub providing additional shelter. The horses were kept within sight, out in the open where they could graze on prairie grass.
"Know how to handle a revolver?" Jase asked once they were settled.
She eyed him with suspicion. "I know enough not to shoot my foot off."
Jase had two revolvers. A Colt Peacemaker, which he wore in his holster, and a Colt Navy, a relic of the war. He put aside the Navy and had Marly start with the lighter weight Peacemaker. He unloaded the gun and took it apart, explaining the various parts and their functions with the bored ease of a teacher repeating the most basic lessons.
She got the impression that Jase had been an instructor and a soldier in his past. Under his tutelage, she reassembled, loaded, unloaded, and disassembled the Peacemaker. The third time she loaded the gun, he stopped her, took the gun back and checked it over.
"Okay," he said, picking up the second gun and his rifle. "Let's see what you can do."
She followed him to a place where deadwood created a natural wall. Using large stones, he set up six targets. Then he counted off fifteen paces and signaled her to stand beside him.
He handed her the Peacemaker. "Point and shoot."
Marly reluctantly took the gun and checked it before straight-arming the revolver in front of her and pulling the trigger. The gun wobbled and a clump of dirt flew up several feet in front of the target area.
Jase stepped up behind her and reached around her waist. "Steady the gun with your other hand."
As he posed her arms, his hard muscles pressed into her back.
Torn between fear and excitement, Marly stiffened.
"Relax," he whispered. "Take your time. Speed will come. Squeeze, don't pull." He backed away and cleared his throat. "And try aiming. It helps."
With great concentration, she aimed the gun, instead of merely pointing it. The shot went over the targeted stone.
"Better. Watch me."
Marly handed over the gun with relief.
"Now draw a bead on your target. Stare that pebble in the eye and shoot it before it shoots you." He demonstrated, picking off the next target. Then he spun the Peacemaker and handed it back, grip first. "Try it. Think of it as somethin' that can shoot back."
With a fatalistic shrug, she accepted the gun and followed his instructions. The stone exploded into dust. She looked at Jase in surprise and received an 'I-told-you-so' expression in response.
"Again," he ordered.
She hit the next target, but not dead-on. It ricocheted off the log.
"Again."
She missed.
"Don't try so hard. Just do it."
Click.
"Don't to forget to count your shots," he said, setting up more targets. "You have to reload first."
Marly reloaded the gun. She hit four out of six targets, missing one and nicking the other.
"You got a good eye," Jase said. "Let's try another round, then we'll go on to the rifle."
Hitting five out of six, she smiled with satisfaction.
In a flash of blue steel, Jase drew the Navy and shot the remaining target. With a showy spin, he returned the gun to his holster.
Marly stared in awe. Returning to the business of reloading, she handed the Peacemaker back to Jase. He checked and holstered it, tucking the gun into the small of his back.
He handed her the Winchester .44 carbine. They hunted around for more targets and set them up. He counted off twenty-five paces this time, explaining that the rifle had a greater range and accuracy than the handgun.
"Ready?"
Marly took a deep breath. One. Two.
The stones exploded in quick succession.
She backed up five more paces. Three. Four. Five.
Not one miss. All hits were dead-on.
She gave him a smug grin. He acknowledged it with a raised eyebrow. Without warning, he threw two pieces of wood into the air. Marly swung the rifle up and both pieces of wood were hit, square on. Jase let out a whistle of admiration.
"My Aunt Adele," Marly explained, expertly topping up the Winchester's magazine, then cradling the rifle in her arms. "She thought that riding horses was a waste of resources and sidearms were only respectable when carried by an officer of the law. Even then, she wasn't too sure about them. But I can hitch and drive a pair, and she made sure I learned to hit what I was aiming at with a shotgun or a rifle."
Jase grinned. "Jack rabbits mostly, I expect."
"And wolves. I have to admit, I didn't aim for the animals, just the earth beneath them. I figured they could warn their kin off if they lived to tell about their near miss. Anyway, the way I see it, long as there are rabbits, the wolves will eat them. And long as there are wolves, the rabbits won't overrun the garden." She shrugged. "Still, Aunt Adele was convinced I was a lousy shot."
"What else did she teach you?"
"She's a school teacher, so she taught me reading, writing and arithmetic. She also taught me how to cook, mend, chop wood, build a fire, tend chickens, hoe, mow, fear God and mind my manners."
"Why'd you leave?"
"She told me to."
It was close enough to the truth, though Aunt Adele had another destination in mind.
"I suppose," she said, bitterness in her voice, "I didn't learn some lessons as well as I did others.
"
That killed the conversation for a few minutes. Marly was pensive and she was thankful that Jase was too cautious to ask the kind of questions that might prompt her to reveal her secret.
How long could she keep it from him anyway?
It was only a matter of time before he found out she was a girl.
Jase put her to work cleaning the guns and rifle as he cooked. It was not the most inspiring fare―beans and biscuits―but the coffee was good.
"Who taught you what you know?" she asked when Jase showed her how to clean dishes without water, using the sandy earth instead.
"I got a little schooling when I was a youngster. I learned to read and write and do my numbers. Then my pa was killed. I had to stay home and work the farm with my ma and help take care of my little sister. In the evening, I'd read to ma. She liked to hear stories and she wanted me to keep in practice."
"Sounds nice."
"It wasn't a bad life, I guess. Can't say I ever took to farming. At sixteen, I joined the Rangers."
"Your sister?"
"Dead. All the family I know of is dead or gone."
There was a long silence.
Jase finally broke the mood by launching into a lecture on how to pack the gear in the saddlebags so it took up the least amount of space and the weight was evenly distributed. By the light of the fire, he had her unpack and pack her saddlebags to prove she'd been listening. While she packed, he started a second pot of coffee.
"I generally sleep light on the trail. Since there's two of us, we might as well take turns sleepin'. You take the first watch. Just sit comfortable and keep the fire low. Don't stare into the flames. It's a sure way to get sleepy and it'll ruin your night vision. When the moon is high, wake me. I'll take over. Coffee will be ready soon. It'll help keep you awake."
"Are we likely to get attacked?"
"No, but chances are we'll run into trouble sometime on the trail. We'll come out all right. You're travelling with a Texas Ranger." He gave her a lazy smile. "Smart folk don't mess with Texas Rangers."
Vigilantly, Marly sat out her watch. She stood and stretched a couple of times, careful not to disturb Jase. Twice, she thought she heard something approaching the campfire. It was either her imagination or whatever it was thought better of bothering them.
It seemed Jase was determined not only to look out for her, but to teach her to look out for herself. It was unlikely that he suspected she was a girl. This left her with mixed feelings. Mostly, she was pleased she could perform her part so well. But beneath the guise of the charming, willful lad was the heart of a young woman with vanity enough to want to be considered attractive and feminine.
She replayed her shooting lesson in her mind. In her imagination, Jase's arms wrapped around her, guiding her shots. Then, taking the revolver back, he turned her in his arms and gazed lovingly down at her before letting loose her braid. Fingering the curls, he told her how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her.
Except, she thought, my hair would be matted with dust from the trail and the layers of clothing between us would hamper the kind of romantic scene I'd read about in the penny dreadfuls I'd hidden from Aunt Adele.
What she needed was a dress, but certainly not any dress she'd owned in her life. She needed a petticoat with an easy to loosen ribbon at the neck and maybe some ruffles. Though why she'd be wearing such a garment during a shooting lesson was hard to imagine.
When the moon reached its zenith, she gently roused Jase to take his watch. They exchanged a few words, then she took his place between the covers of his bedroll. She had not realized how tense or how chilled she had become until she relaxed under the blankets. They were still warm from Jase's body.
For a few pleasant moments, she dwelt on that thought.
Then fatigue plunged her into slumber.
Morning came too quickly.
Determined not to be a burden, Marly shoved aside her blanket and pretended that she wasn't dead tired. With the help of fresh coffee and biscuits, she managed to convince herself that she was well rested.
By the time the sun was visible on the horizon, they were on their way. Though she was sore in places she didn't like to mention, riding that early had its benefits. The landscape was beautiful in the dawn light. Later in the day, the sun would bleach the color out of the scenery. For now, everything was vibrant and the scent of sage wafted on the breeze.
Ahead of them lay the Sacramento mountain range. Around them, the plateau was so flat Marly could see the dust of riders far in the distance. No one came any closer than that.
Mid-morning, they stopped and let the horses graze for half an hour before setting off again. Around noon, Jase pointed out a good place for lunch, with grazing for the horses and a little shade. They dined on jerky and leftover biscuits from breakfast. Everything tasted wonderful.
But she was bone tired. She yearned for a nap.
"Come on, kid. We can get some target practice in while the horses rest."
Marly suppressed a groan. She ran through the possible responses that boys she knew might have. Target practice wasn't a chore, therefore dragging her heels wasn't appropriate. Maybe he'd put his arms around her again.
More cheerful, she hitched up her pants and set her hat forward to shade her eyes after smoothing back sweat-soaked tendrils of hair.
"Not much to shoot at," she remarked.
She pulled a leaf of dry grass and used it dislodge a piece of jerky from between her teeth―an action as unladylike as it was practical.
"We'll aim at the tops of the tall grass," Jase said.
Marly was required to repeat back all his lessons from the day before. Then he pointed to a stalk and let her shoot.
"You missed."
"I did not. I hit the one I was aiming at."
"Then you were aiming at the wrong one."
She pushed her hat back and gave him a hard stare.
Jase sighed and pulled a thread from his bandana. He marched into the long grass, tied the thread around one of the stalks and returned to her side.
"Okay," he said. "Can you see your target now?"
Marly aimed, fired and missed. She shook off her irritation, and after a moment of squinting at the grass, she tried again.
The top of the stalk disappeared.
Jase set up another four stalks. With careful aim, Marly hit each one. Then he threw a rock in the air. She nicked it, sending it spinning. She shot at it again, but was out of ammunition.
"We'll work on your loading skills later," Jase said, taking the gun. "We'd best rest a bit." Settling in the shade, he pulled a book out of his saddlebag and started reading.
Marly flopped down on the hard ground, irked at the lack of appreciation for her improving skills. After all, a day ago she had never even held a handgun, much less fired one. Jase hadn't seemed to notice how much better she was at riding either.
She considered sulking, but decided it was too much effort. It was much easier to stake a claim to a patch of shade and imagine saving Jase from some undefined danger. And rubbing his nose in it.
Jase gave Marly's shoulder a gentle shake. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. For a few seconds, they just stared at each other and he was tempted to say something―if he could think of something that wouldn't cause trouble.
Instead, he stood and gave her a hand up.
"How long did I sleep?" she asked, her attention shifting from the sun to the saddled horses, then back to him.
"Couple of hours. You looked like you needed it."
She shuffled her feet. "Did you sleep?"
"I rested my eyes a bit.
Again, their gaze met and he resisted the urge to tell her he knew she was no boy. She broke contact first this time and began to brush dirt and dried grass off her clothes.
"Tomorrow, we'll just rest at noontime," he said. "Target practice can wait until the evenin'. You're pretty good. I might just make a sharpshooter out of you."
He saw pleasure, pride and just a t
ouch of preening flit across her face before she thanked him for the compliment. Squelching a gallant impulse to help her into the saddle, he swung up onto Grandee. He waited as she mounted Trouble with only a little difficulty.
Jase, he thought, you are riding the trail to Perdition. And I don't mean the half-dozen mining towns of the same name.
He had told Marly that he picked this trail because it was shorter. Looking at a map, it seemed shorter than the stage route. If they rode hard, it could be a faster route―but he had no intention of riding hard.
He told himself that he picked the trail to give him time to prepare Marly for what was ahead. That plan would make sense if she actually was a boy who needed a mentor to keep him alive and on the right side of the law. Instead of teaching her to ride, shoot and track, he should have spent his time finding out who Aunt Adele was and sending the girl home. Now he was stuck with the masquerade until trail's end. Or until he admitted he was a fool.
Before stopping for the night, he shot a rabbit for dinner. The sound startled Marly, who was staring dreamily into the setting sun. It upset Trouble too and he unseated her. Both gave Jase an indignant glare.
"Get used to it," he advised, squelching the desire to apologize. Or laugh.
Later, Marly skinned the rabbit with practiced ease. She rubbed the flesh with fresh sage she'd picked. Next, she gathered fuel for the fire and salt from their supplies. She skewered the rabbit and set it to roast above the fire. After burying the head and offal away from the camp, she set to the task of scraping the skin.
"Another skill your aunt taught you?" Jase asked as he worked on his chore of cleaning weapons.
"The older I got, the more Aunt Adele expected me to cook. She was busy teaching and doing church work. Rabbit and chicken were the meats I most often had to put on the table."
"You prepare them, but you won't shoot them?"
"I'm not against hunting for food. I've killed chickens. And Aunt Adele had me help butcher the hog she bought one year. I didn't like it much." She chewed her bottom lip. "Some folks enjoy killing. I don't. I guess I'll do it if I have to."
