by Eden Carson
He knew he shouldn’t have jumped the gun on that, but some of the local bankers were becoming suspicious of the land he was accumulating, but not working. He was getting too many questions about when he was going to start buying more cattle or farming on his new parcels.
So Masterson had started putting new acquisitions in Ruth’s name, figuring he’d have no trouble whatsoever forcing her to sign things over to him when the time came.
Masterson came to the first of the hastily-covered bodies and tossed the reins of his horse over a nearby tree branch. He looked about quickly, making sure no one was watching, and started searching for a familiar face. He found one on the fourth corpse, when Jasper Smith’s scarred face was uncovered.
“Well, goddamn my luck! Where the hell is my wife, you useless bastard?” He tossed the bloody tarp to the hot earth and stood abruptly.
He paced back and forth, never taking his eyes off the lawman nearby. Masterson jerked his hat off his sweaty head and mopped uselessly at the dust and grime of the trail.
“Well, God damn!” With one last curse, he planted his boot into the side of Smith’s body in pure frustration.
Masterson turned to gather his horse and head back to town, when a quiet groan caught his attention. He turned around and rushed back to Smith’s body, kicking a second time – no gentler than the first. This elicited another moan, and a satisfied smirk from Masterson.
“Finally, some good luck for a change,” he muttered. Masterson set his hat back on his thinning hair and let out a few groans himself as he hefted Jasper Smith’s near-dead weight up onto his skittish horse. He swore viciously as he struggled to calm the horse.
“You stupid, useless, half-dead bastard,” he muttered, in the steadiest tone he could manage. “I’ve got dead bodies everywhere on account of this train robbery, but my fiancée is nowhere to be found. At least if you’d taken care of my wife, I could find another one. But no, she’s vanished into thin air. Could’ve run off with another man or fallen off the damn train for all I know.”
He finished tying Smith to the saddle, not caring that the injured man’s head nearly dragged the ground. As Masterson noticed blood dripping down the leather, he hastily plugged the oozing source with his sweat-soaked kerchief and figured he’d better give fate a hand and find Smith a doctor fast.
After failing to locate Smith’s horse in the livestock car, Masterson started off on foot toward the nearest town. He didn’t want to risk stealing a horse with a Federal Marshal not one hundred feet away.
The missing horse led Masterson’s thoughts back to his missing wife. If she were to show up on his doorstep six months from now, he could end up a bigamist – or worse. If she’d jilted him, well that was like stealing, since he’d put out the cost of her clothes and train ride. Not to mention the tidy sum he’d paid her loving auntie. Mrs. Ruth Masterson would pay for the privilege of his good name, one way or another, he swore to himself as his booted feet started to ache.
He’d be damned if he’d play the fool for a pair of wilted southern belles.
Chapter 19
“Turn around.”
Ruth swung around in fear, only slightly relieved when she came face-to-shoulder with all six foot three of Marshal Beauregard T. Jackson. She then made the mistake of looking up, into the most furious pair of black eyes she’d ever seen.
“Why are you following us?” He demanded. “I thought I told you to stay with the train.”
Although Jackson had spoken with utmost calm, Ruth could feel the tension rolling off his big body in waves. His black eyes were part annoyed, part angry, and even a little baffled.
She took a deep breath and prayed she’d have better luck convincing him to help her this time around. “I told you before – I can fend for myself. I just need a guide. I don’t know the land here, or how to get to Denver. I thought if I followed you as far as Fort Lyon, I could hire myself a local to take me the rest of the way.”
Spoken out loud, Ruth’s plan – concocted in the middle of the night, after the most terrifying moment in her life – seemed ridiculously absurd and reckless. But she’d be damned if she’d admit it to this man. Especially since she had no other alternative.
“Are you out of your mind, woman?” Jackson echoed Ruth’s thoughts. “We’re after the bastards that came five sleeping cars away from murdering you in your bed. And yet you follow us, because you’re too impatient to reach your lover’s arms? Those robbers could have circled back to pick up our trail and walked right across you by mistake. They would have enjoyed playing with you a bit I can promise you.”
Ruth paled at hearing the unpleasant possibility spoken aloud. “They could have circled back to the train just as easily,” she retorted, straightening her slim shoulders. “They knew we were easy prey with you gone and only a couple wounded marshals left to guard us.”
The girl’s comment hit too close to home for Jackson’s conscience, so he changed tactics. “There are wild animals all over these parts. Did you give any thought to how many would scent your perfume and come to investigate?”
When she remained stubbornly silent, Jackson started to pace.
“Hell, forget the outlaws and the wild animals. I might have slit your throat by mistake, with you shadowing our trail in the dark.” He pulled his hat off, if nothing else to keep his agitated hands busy and off the woman’s pretty throat.
“I’m sure the scent of my perfume would have stopped you in time.” Ruth snapped back, too tired and dirty to be sensible and hold her tongue.
Jackson backed Ruth into a tree, to intimidate her with his size or smell her perfume again, even he wasn’t sure. “Now I know for certain you don’t have enough good sense to keep yourself alive out here. Mouthing off to a man twice your size in the ass-end of nowhere can get you killed.”
“But not by you, Marshal,” she answered with more calm than she felt. “I may not have known you for long, but I’ve seen your character plain as day. You saved my life and the lives of the people on the train with me - men and women with no connection to you. But you did the right thing anyway when a dozen other men would have stayed hidden to save themselves.” Ruth didn’t need to rely on bravado for this speech. Her instincts hadn’t felt this good about anything she’d done since she’d left her Aunt Kate’s house.
“I was just doing my job,” Jackson insisted. “I don’t get paid if too many dead bodies start appearing. It’s bad for the railroad business.”
Ruth smiled, just a little, knowing a lie when she heard one. “You should have stuck to the wild animal story. It’s much more plausible.”
He couldn’t believe this woman. She was part wild-eyed innocent and part he-didn’t-know-what. She certainly had guts.
He was saved from coming up with a suitable reply by the approach of his younger brother, Emmett, and Old Mike. They had deliberately approached upwind so Jackson would hear their footsteps well in advance of any instinct to strike down the unknown.
“Jackson, you’d better take a look at this,” Emmett advised solemnly.
Ruth saw the tall, lanky man dismount with more grace than his frame suggested was possible. While Jackson’s impressive six-plus feet of pure muscle forced Ruth to tilt her head up considerably to subdue him with a look, this man would require her to mount Caboose to hold a conversation. She watched the man hand Jackson a spyglass and silently point thirty degrees southwest.
Ruth stood in silence, watching both men scan the horizon. Whatever the distraction, she was glad to have Jackson’s focus on someone else for a change. She needed a moment to gather her wits, because she wasn’t entirely sure how she was going to win their argument and convince Jackson to take her further west instead of dropping her in the nearest excuse for a town. From every action and appearance, he struck her as strict, old-fashioned southern gentlemen. One with just enough western practicality to refuse to act as her guide into the wilderness, yet who would insist on leaving her safe in the hands of the nearest lawman. If only
she’d found that character in her husband and his hired man instead of this random chance stranger, she thought.
Ruth shook off feeling sorry for herself and tried to focus on more reasons to change Jackson’s mind. Before she could finish that thought, he turned abruptly toward her.
“Damn. What the hell are we going to do with you?” He clearly didn’t expect Ruth to answer, as he’d already turned his attention back to his tall companion.
“Change of plans, little brother. We’ll have to split up. I can’t risk the woman in a fight if they really are doubling back. You and Mike take the rest of the men and track the main group. If you’re right, and the leader was wounded, the two of you should be able to trail them easily enough without my help.”
Ruth had to sidle close to hear the brother’s reply.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“The nearest town is too far away,” Jackson replied. “She’s got a decent forest mount. I think if we stick to the high country, we can reach the ranch in two or three days. I can meet back up with you at Fort Lyon after I drop her off.”
“Whose ranch?” she asked, unable to remain quiet any longer.
Having her fate once again decided by others, with no input from her, was scaring Ruth.
“Pack only what’s necessary for survival, with as little weight as possible,” Jackson ordered ignoring her interruption. “That means food for you and the horse, warm clothing, and bedding. Bring rain gear if you’ve got it.”
She was otherwise ignored as both men were already mounting their horses. Questions would likely get her nowhere at this point. Seeing her only choice was to go it alone or do as the Marshal ordered, she grabbed her sleeping blanket and jerky, but left her change of clothes. She wasn’t sure Caboose would tolerate the loose riding skirt without dumping her to the hard ground, so it only took Ruth a few seconds to cross it off her list of necessities. She swung up onto the Paint.
“I’m ready to go,” Ruth said, hands folded calmly over the pommel.
Jackson noted she’d left her clothing out in the open. He dismounted quickly and stuffed her riding skirt under the nearest bush. There was no time to bury it properly, so they’d have to take their chances that the outlaws had mediocre tracking skills.
As he re-mounted and grabbed her horse’s reins, he answered her questioning look. “Don’t want the outlaws coming after us to know you’re a woman. They’ll see it as a weakness if we’re lucky, and if not, as a lure. Our best chance of survival is out-riding them. Most outlaws are lazy by nature, but if they catch the scent of a woman, they’ll ride that much harder. You’re worth a hell of a lot on the open market.”
Ruth paled, but nodded her head in understanding.
Jackson’s brother rode off in the other direction, with just a tip of his hat to her and a curt “Good luck” to his brother. Old Mike followed suit, leaving Ruth entirely alone with the Marshal.
Jackson handed Ruth her reins, lightly squeezing her trembling hands in what little comfort he could offer. “We’re going to ride hard, so do your best to keep up. If you find yourself getting too tired to stay awake, stop me. We’ll strap you to your mount so you don’t fall and break something. Understood?” He waited for her nod before kicking his horse into a hard gallop.
Chapter 20
“They’ve got a woman?” Bear scratched his over-sized scalp as his clumsy hands held up a pair of what could only be a woman’s petticoats. “What’s she doing riding with a posse?”
Halper spat a wad of chewing tobacco into the dense brush, barely missing Bear’s worn out boots. “She’ll be worth a hell of a lot to the Comancheros.”
“If she survives us, that is,” the Mexican added. “My marvelous pecker will exhaust her so much, she will not have the strength to crawl out from under the Bear, here, and will be crushed to death.” The Mexican laughed at his own humor.
He was the only one. Bear was looking slightly squeamish, as he was the only one in the group who didn’t take pleasure in hurting others. Men didn’t bother him so much, but women and children made him cringe.
The Mexican wiped his tears of mirth off with his dirty kerchief, then was suddenly all business as he turned to Halper. “The Comancheros, my friend, will just as soon slit our throats as pay us what we are owed. We will be better off riding her down to Mexico to my madre’s place. She will pay us three times the usual price for a white woman. And my madre’s house is a fine place”, the Mexican added. “This woman will have fine clothes and good food in her belly and a man always between her legs. What more does a woman want, eh?”
Halper glared at the crude outlaw. He wasn’t objecting to the unknown woman’s pain, like Bear. He just didn’t like being surrounded by fools and peasants. They were beneath a man who’d studied at Oxford. And if the Mexican thought he’d have any say in the fate of captives, he’d be questioning his poor judgment directly with his Maker.
Halper didn’t share women. If she was pretty, he’d take her, and the rest could watch in envy. If she wasn’t, they still would not get a taste of her.
The Comancheros paid more for a woman who still had spirit. He wouldn’t lose out on that kind of money.
Chapter 21
Ruth followed Jackson at a ruthless pace for nearly four hours. He slowed their mounts from a gallop to a canter only when the horses needed rest or the trail grew too steep for anything but a careful walk.
They were at their slowest pace yet, as they rapidly gained altitude. Ruth’s horse stumbled, as they scrambled up the side of a mesa, but quickly re-gained his balance with her experienced hand at the reins.
Jackson looked back over his shoulder at the sound of falling rock. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she replied. “Caboose lost his footing on the gravel for a moment.”
Jackson could see Ruth was out of breath, and her mount wasn’t doing much better. But she hadn’t complained once. “The altitude can be brutal when you’re not used to it. We’ll stop up ahead so I can check our back trail.”
Nodding her understanding, Ruth nudged Caboose forward. Several minutes later, she pulled up at the flat spot where Jackson had stopped and dismounted.
“You should climb down and water your horse,” Jackson said, before grabbing a spyglass from his saddlebag.
“Should I take care of yours, too?” Ruth asked.
Jackson nodded his approval before climbing up a large boulder. The afternoon light gave him a decent view of their back trail for close to three miles. He carefully started scanning the path, lingering over several areas that were hidden behind the curve of the mountain.
After a few minutes had passed, Ruth heard him curse out loud. The words were enough to make her stomach clench. “What is it?” she asked.
“My plan didn’t work. We’re being followed.” Jackson motioned her over and handed her the spyglass. “Look to the left of the clearing over there, about eleven o’clock. You can see their dust trail.”
“Are you sure it’s them?” Ruth asked, turning to look into Jackson’s solemn eyes.
“I wouldn’t bet your life on being wrong,” Jackson replied, running his hands through his short black hair. “There aren’t many travelers this late in the season. And I deliberately took the most difficult route – one that only Indians and trappers use.”
Jackson stepped down off the boulder and reached up a hand to steady Ruth. “We’re going to have to go to ground. Make a stand. I wish I had a way that was safer for you, but I can’t see any alternative. If we keep running, they’ll catch up by tomorrow afternoon, no later. We’re moving too slowly to reach safety before then.”
Suspecting she was the reason they were moving too slowly, Ruth frowned. “I know it’s not much, but please accept my apologies, Marshal. I was wrong to follow you, and foolish to disregard your advice in the first place. Now I’ve put you in danger.”
“Apology accepted,” Jackson smiled crookedly and placed his hat on Ruth to shade her sunburned
cheeks. “Now put it behind you. It’s a waste of energy, and you’re going to need every bit you have right here and now. I became a Marshal to protect the weak and innocent. It’s what I do.”
Ruth squared her shoulders and looked Jackson straight in the eye. “Marshal, I watched my father and brother ride off to war, never to return. I nursed my mother for two years only to see her die from hunger and heart break. And if that weren’t enough, I spent the last year of that godforsaken war hiding in the woods from our own damn soldiers. I can promise you I am neither weak nor innocent. Not anymore. And I’ve come too far to give up now. I may not have your strength, but I can pull a trigger for the right reason.”
Jackson took Ruth’s hand into his larger one. “Then follow me. I have an idea.”
Chapter 22
“That’s my uncle’s old place up ahead.” Jackson pointed to a tiny wooden house visible through two towering pines.
Ruth’s first thought was a strong wind just might topple the entire right side of the house. It had started out as more than a shack, she had to concede, as they drew closer to the front door. But the signs of neglect and abandonment were everywhere. The weeds and brush were nearly as tall as the front door and were growing through gaping cracks in the walls. The single visible window was covered with a tattered scrap of burlap hanging crookedly from the top corner.
Jackson turned in the saddle and looked into Ruth’s doubtful eyes. “Stay mounted while I check out the inside.” He threw the reins of his horse to her as he dismounted. He had his pistol out and cocked before she caught the reins of the sixteen-hand roan.
Ruth understood that it was just second nature to this man, to have his gun at the ready, but her heart sped up nonetheless.
As if reading her thoughts, Jackson voiced his plan. “This homestead has been abandoned since my uncle died in ‘51. There might be an animal taking shelter. Wait here a minute.”
