Gambling on the Outlaw

by Margaret Madigan

  I went to Nellie and took her hand in mine. “I know you don’t trust men. I don’t blame you. But as a family we’ve made it our job to protect those who need it. When you needed a place to live, we took you in, didn’t we?”

  “Yes.”

  “When Lydia, and Daisy needed help, we gave them a place to call home.”

  “Yes.”

  “If anyone needs help now, it’s Isaac.”

  “Nellie has a point, Beth. I know you think it’s your duty to help people. It’s what you do, and you never hesitate. But you can’t help everyone.”

  “I can help him. It’s my fault they’re after him. Lydia didn’t trust me. She thought she was doing what was best for us, and maybe she was, but he’s innocent. I know it. If I can help him, I have to do it.”

  “Fine,” Daisy said. “I’m not happy about it, but you’re determined to go so I couldn’t stop you even if I wanted to. We’ll take care of the place while you’re gone. But damn it, Beth, you’d better come back in one piece.”

  Nellie bounced Shiye, her usually unruffled composure on edge, but she nodded. They understood me. My one disappointment was that Lydia didn’t.

  I went to my room to dig through Frank’s old trunk, and Daisy followed. I found a pair of his pants, and began stripping out of my skirt.

  “What’s with the getup?”

  “I learned a long time ago it’s a lot more comfortable to ride horseback in pants than in a dress.”

  “Not very ladylike, though,” she said, leaning in the doorway.

  “I never claimed to be a lady,” I said, smiling at her. She laughed and nodded, easing the tension between us.

  I threaded my own belt through the loops on Frank’s pants and cinched it tight. The fit wasn’t ideal, but it would do.

  Once dressed, I hurried to collect the rest of my supplies—a bundle of food, two canteens, two pistols with ammunition, a rifle with ammunition, a hunting knife, and a length of rope. I added my hat to the pile, opting for it over a bonnet for both comfort and practicality.

  “Take Little Sister,” Nellie offered. “She’s sturdy and determined and she likes Boreas. She’ll follow him anywhere.”

  “Thank you, Nellie.”

  “But you would be wiser to wait for the cover of night before you leave.”

  “How’s she supposed to track Isaac at night?”

  “Little Sister will follow him.”

  “She’s not a dog, Nellie,” Daisy said.

  “Nevertheless, she’ll follow him, just as Beth follows Isaac.”

  I had my hand on the door handle, ready to head to the barn and saddle Little Sister, when I felt it turn in my hand. I jumped away from the door, afraid the posse had returned, but it turned out to be Lydia.

  When she saw me, she had the decency to blush, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes, and she did her best to slink past me into the kitchen. I didn’t give her the chance. I followed after her and grabbed her by the shoulder, spinning her around to face me. She gasped and backed up until she bumped into the table and had nowhere else to go.

  “What in the hell were you thinking, Lydia? You turned an innocent man over to those horrible men.” I poked an angry finger at her chest. “Don’t you have a heart in that self-righteous body of yours?”

  “Beth,” Daisy said, warning in her voice.

  “What? She put all of us in danger by taking it upon herself to send the posse here.”

  Daisy nodded agreement, though somewhat reluctantly. “She did, but why don’t we ask her about it instead of yelling at her?”

  I turned back to Lydia. “Why did you do it?” I asked.

  I folded my arms over my chest and waited for her answer. She stepped away from the table, and me, and smoothed her dress before answering.

  “I felt it was necessary. You’ve obviously lost your ability to judge the situation clearly, and since it’s inevitable that Mr. Collins will have to face justice”—I started to protest the local definition of justice, but she hurried to continue before I could—“I know you disapprove of the sheriff, but I still have faith in the law, and if Mr. Collins is innocent, it will be proven by the law.”

  If I hadn’t been so angry at her, I would have laughed. As it was, I had a hard time formulating a rational reply.

  “You had no right,” was all I could manage.

  “I think what Beth is trying to say is that it wasn’t your decision to make because what you did affects all of us,” Daisy said. “At the very least, you could have just gone to Isaac and told him to leave or you’d turn him in. That would have solved the problem without putting us in danger.”

  Lydia hung her head, looking chastised. Apparently it hadn’t occurred to her that there were other potential solutions to the problem than running to the law.

  “Just what do you mean I’ve lost my ability to judge the situation clearly?” I asked, settling on the part of her accusation that prickled the most.

  “Aren’t you attracted to Mr. Collins?” Nellie asked.

  “Well, yes, but that doesn’t affect my judgment,” I said.

  Daisy laughed, followed by a loud snort. “Oh, Beth, darling, maybe Lydia’s right. If you can’t admit how much you like him, you’re just plain blind.”

  I looked from one friend—one sister—to another, and the truth of it was imprinted clearly on each face. Was I that obvious?

  “Certainly he’s a handsome man,” I offered.

  “That he is,” Daisy said, a wry smile on her lips. “But I suspect there’s more to it than that. There are plenty of handsome men in Palmer, and some of them have even paid you their attention. Hell, Clay’s handsome despite being an ass. But you’ve rejected them all. No, Mr. Collins is more than just a physical attraction.”

  I scoffed at her. “I hardly know the man, Daisy. How could my interest in him be anything more than simple lust?”

  She smiled at my backhanded admission that I was at least beguiled by his looks.

  “Sometimes the heart is two steps ahead of the mind and body,” Nellie offered.

  We all shot her surprised looks. Nellie was the last of us I’d ever suspect of having a romantic side. It made me realize that I still had a lot to learn about my friends.

  “Be that as it may, I am not in love with Isaac Collins.”

  “Yet,” Daisy added, her smile widening into a grin.

  “I can’t afford to be. Besides which, we hardly know each other.”

  “Yet,” Daisy said again.

  I gave her a sour look, then turned to Lydia. “All that is beside the point, which is that Lydia turned Isaac in to the sheriff without consulting us first.”

  Lydia ducked her head, considering her shoes, then stood up straight and squared her shoulders.

  “Maybe I acted rashly,” she said, but when I nodded, she added, “but I was only trying to protect our family from the possibility that the posse would come back and find him. We were in more danger with him here, and I was afraid after catching the two of you kissing that you’d try to make him stay. I see now that there may have been other options for dealing with the situation, so I apologize for not consulting with all of you first. But I’m not sorry that he’s gone.”

  She lifted her chin in defiance as she said it.

  “Well I am sorry he’s gone,” I said, and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Lydia asked.

  “To the barn to saddle Little Sister and go after Isaac.”

  “The posse didn’t arrest him?”

  “No. We saw them coming and I sent him off on Boreas.”

  “And they didn’t go after him?”

  “We sent them in a different direction,” Daisy said.

  Lydia looked panic-stricken.

  “What happens when they realize you sent them in the wrong direction? They’ll come back here, that’s what. We’ll be in danger all over again. What were you thinking Beth?”

  I turned to face her, my hand still on the door, but I looked he
r right in the eyes to be sure she felt what I said.

  “I was thinking about saving an innocent man from hanging for something he didn’t do. If they come back after I leave, tell them whatever you like. Tell them you thought he went that direction, tell them I’m a ridiculous fool and I can’t resist a wild man, so I lied to them. Tell them I wanted the bounty all to myself. Make something up, anything that lays the blame on me and keeps you safe. But do not set them on my trail.”

  “We won’t,” Daisy said.

  I headed for the barn where I saddled Little Sister, Nellie’s paint pony, then brought her and a pair of saddlebags back to the house, where we packed my supplies and slung the bags onto the horse.

  “It would be safer to wait,” Nellie said, reiterating her earlier argument.

  “I know, but I can’t. He’ll just get that much farther ahead of me.”

  Daisy pulled me into a hug. “This is crazy, you know?”

  “I know. But I’m going anyway.”

  “I would tell you to be careful, but I’m certain you won’t be,” Daisy said.

  I smiled. “I will be careful, I promise.”

  Nellie stroked Little Sister’s neck and whispered in her ear. Baby Shiye giggled when the horse’s mane tickled his nose.

  Lydia hovered near the door, watching as I swung up into the saddle.

  “She will follow Boreas,” Nellie said, a statement more than a hope. I had no doubt she’d told the horse exactly what her responsibility was.

  “Take care of each other while I’m gone,” I said.

  “Just come back safe,” Daisy said.

  I caught Lydia’s gaze. She looked miserable, and I couldn’t blame her. I hated leaving things bad between us, especially since I had no idea what lay ahead, so I smiled and tipped my hat to her, hoping that was enough to tell her, ‘I’m still angry at you, but you’re still my family,’ then wheeled Little Sister and gave her my heels.

  Chapter Eight

  ~Beth~

  Little Sister headed faithfully north, behaving more like a hound on the scent of a rabbit, than a horse, so I let her lead, and settled in for the ride. Knowing Boreas, and given how motivated Isaac was to stay ahead of the posse, I figured we were well behind, but with the posse chasing shadows into the California Sierras, I saw no reason to push Little Sister to her limits.

  But as we followed the trail over the course of the afternoon, I worried. There was no clear evidence that Isaac had passed this way—no fresh tracks, nothing out of place, no horse droppings, but Little Sister continued on her stubborn way, nevertheless. There were tracks, to be sure, because people traveled back and forth between Palmer and Smith Valley, and places farther north, including Virginia City. But I saw nothing fresh enough to be Isaac and Boreas. At least once I considered redirecting her, thinking maybe Isaac hadn’t followed the trail, trying to avoid leaving tracks, but that would mean scrabbling through the rocky hills, and slower going. So I spent the afternoon wondering how foolish I was to trust a horse to guide my search.

  By late afternoon we’d reached the north edge of the valley where the trail branched. The main trail went left and northwest toward Carson City. The right trail headed northeast toward Smith Valley and eventually Virginia City. Instead of either of these trails, Little Sister crossed Cross Creek and headed up into Jenkins Canyon.

  I pulled her to a stop long enough to water her and refill my canteen, scratching her neck while she drank.

  “Are you sure you know where you’re going, girl?” I asked, stretching my sore back muscles.

  She lifted her head from the creek and looked me in the eye, then tossed her head toward the canyon and nickered.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” I said. She had me spooked, and I wondered just how much she understood. After watching her with Nellie, I could swear she was as much human as horse, but I was glad to have her along. Given my lack of tracking skills, she was a godsend.

  I climbed back in the saddle and was about ready to head into the canyon, when something caught my eye on our back trail. It looked like a dusty plume. I squinted against the afternoon sun, and other than a bit of brown haze, I saw nothing.

  Who could be following us? Even if Dawson and Dearborn realized we’d sent them in the wrong direction, they’d go back to the house to interrogate the girls, and there was no way they could have made up that much time. What I needed was a better vantage, so I pulled the reins, leading Little Sister to the canyon.

  The trail wound into the hills leaving behind the grass and junipers of the valley for the scrub and ponderosas of the foothills. Little Sister picked her footing carefully as the dust turned to gravel and rock. At the top of the slope before we entered the actual canyon, I reined her to a stop and slid from the saddle. Scrambling up onto a good-sized boulder, I pulled the brim of my hat a little lower to shade my eyes from the sun, and peered out over the valley trail.

  The air was still hazy, but I didn’t see anything else. I took the bandana from my pocket and swiped the sweat from my forehead, considering what could have caused a plume. It could have been a dust devil or an animal, maybe a loose steer or a big cat. I squatted on the rock and watched for a while, but the haze dissipated and the trail remained clear, as best I could tell. Maybe I just imagined it.

  Either way it was gone, and I needed to get moving. I’d have to find a place to make camp soon, and I wanted to be sure to have enough cover.

  Little Sister whinnied and stomped, irritated with my delay, and I was hardly in the saddle before she took off up the path, her confident steps heading into the canyon.

  The walls of the canyon swallowed the sun quickly, leaving us tromping through gray-and-purple shadows of early evening. When I started looking for suitable campsites, Little Sister fought the reins, eager to continue on her way.

  “We’re not going to catch them tonight, Sister, and it’s not safe to travel all night. We can’t see.”

  She struggled against the reins, still, and continued her stubborn march for a while longer, but when I spotted a good place where the trail opened out and a few small pinyons offered shelter, I nudged her in that direction, and she reluctantly gave way and went for the trees.

  In the waning light I couldn’t see much, but there was a bit of scrubby grass for Little Sister, and I kicked rocks aside to clear a spot for my bedroll so I might sleep with a minimum of discomfort. I didn’t want to risk a fire, and I was tired enough that it wasn’t worth the effort, anyway.

  I secured Little Sister to one of the trees, and removed her saddle, leaving the blanket on her back to keep her warm overnight. I dug a couple of apples from the saddlebag and offered one to her, rubbing her velvety nose as her lips wrapped around the apple and neatly removed it from my hand. As she crunched hers, I bit into mine and patted her neck.

  “I’m glad you’re here with me, girl. I’ll admit, it’s unsettling out here. I thought it was dark at home at night, but here, it’s as if all the light has bled out of this place. I’ve never seen so much blackness. I sure hope Isaac’s safe.”

  Little Sister stamped a hoof and snorted, jerking her head up as she did, and I couldn’t help but smile. She was one determined female.

  “Yes, I hope Boreas is safe, too.”

  I patted her one last time. Grabbing my blanket from the saddle, I wrapped it around me, tucking it in close, and laid down on the ground, nearby, using the saddle as a pillow.

  …

  The sound of scraping gravel jerked me awake. I sat up quickly, blinking my bleary eyes in an attempt to get my bearings.

  It seemed as if the sky was just a shade lighter above the east ridge of the canyon, so it must have been a couple of hours before dawn. I sat frozen in place, my ears straining to hear what had woken me from sleep, but the only sounds were the rustle of a breeze in the branches of the Pinyons. Not even a cricket chirped, which made me that much more suspicious. If crickets were quiet, something had interrupted them.

  I glanced at Little Siste
r, thinking maybe she’d scraped a hoof in the dirt, and that had woken me. But her long face was turned in my direction, watching me expectantly, her ears quirked. All I could do was shrug I had no idea what had made the sound. I was ill-equipped for tracking and trail life.

  The only time I’d spent in a saddle had been traveling with Frank, and that had been decidedly less oriented to danger and running from the law, and more oriented to indulgence and excess, roaming from town to town and game to game. We’d stayed to main roads well traveled, and usually journeyed in groups with others.

  Little Sister and I sat stock still for a long time, waiting for something to happen, or the sound to repeat, but it never did. We sat until the crickets finally felt safe enough to continue their songs. By then, dawn had finally inched to the edges of the canyon, and I couldn’t take it any longer so I abandoned the ground, ready to be back on the trail.

  It didn’t take long to get Sister’s saddle ready to go. We climbed the rocky trail most of the morning. It gave me plenty of time to think—about Isaac, about myself, about my family, and about what I wanted. Now that the urgency of Isaac’s escape had dissipated, and he was out of reach, for the moment, what did I want? Of course, I wanted him to be safe, and vindicated, as much as I’d want that for anyone in his situation. Being falsely accused of a crime was a burden nobody deserved, and even though Dearborn had probably earned Isaac’s wrath, I wondered if proving his innocence was a better use of our energy.

  It didn’t escape my attention that even inside my own head I’d started thinking about him in terms of “us” and “our” instead of just “him” and “me.” What did that mean? Images of him in my imagination stirred up muddled feelings of lust and longing, desire and decency, wantonness and warmth.

  I hadn’t known him long, but he’d made a lasting impression on me, and despite my promise to myself after Frank’s death to walk the straight and narrow, even where men were concerned, I found myself chasing after the first man to arouse my mind and body. Perhaps I was doomed to forever be a victim of my own heart. I shifted in the saddle, uncomfortable at that truth. Or maybe my heart knew something my mind didn’t. I supposed there was only one way to find out.