by Eden Carson
He went at an angle to the front door and pounded the butt of his Colt against the oak. If the scent of man and horse hadn’t scared off any four-legged squatters, a loud noise would usually do the trick. He pounded on the door a second time, then stepped quietly toward the window. There was still enough daylight left to see a few feet into the structure, but Jackson wasn’t relying on his eyes to see what his ears could tell him instead.
No sound came from inside, and nothing but the wind in the pines and the gentle snorting of their tired horses could be heard. He visibly relaxed and returned to the front door. “You can get down now and stretch your legs.”
Jackson tried to open the door, but it was jammed, and he had to shoulder his way through. For being abandoned through nearly twenty winters, the old place had held up pretty well, he thought.
He walked the perimeter of the one main room. Not much left but a table with a broken leg, one chair, and some old tin plates. There was a small room in the back and a sleeping loft above, covering a third of the length of the main room. He shook the ladder to make sure it was still reasonably solid and climbed up. Jackson scanned the loft, seeing nothing but cobwebs and rotting hay. He climbed down and pulled out his knife. He stabbed it into the earth, hoping for a small bit of luck.
He lifted his eyes to meet the bewildered green gaze of his unlikely companion. “What are you doing?” she asked.
Jackson grinned for the first time since they’d left town. “Checking to see how hard the floor is,” he replied evasively and walked out the door.
Before Ruth could wrap her exhausted mind around that cryptic comment, he returned with a shovel in hand. Jackson removed his shirt in preparation for the hard work ahead. The sun would be out for another hour yet, and the Indian summer heat still lingered in the stuffy confines of the small house.
Ruth found herself staring at his naked chest. She watched his long arms strain as he attacked the hard floor with the edge of the shovel. Every time he turned to toss a clump of dirt into the back corner of the tiny room, she felt an urge to run her hands across his well-muscled back.
When she realized he had stopped moving and was watching her, she quickly started chatting to cover the blush creeping up her cheeks. “Are you digging a hidey hole?” She asked, trying to look anywhere but at his naked chest. Her father and older brother had dug a hole in their barn before they rode off to war, and she and her mother had used it many times to avoid marauding soldiers.
“No, I’m going to dig a trap, which, if we’re very lucky, will break the leg of the first man through the door.”
That explained the location, she thought.
Jackson was making quick work, and had dug a good half foot down already before asking, “Do you think you can water and feed the horses yourself? I’d like to dig as much of this hole as possible while there’s still light out.”
Ruth nodded wearily. “I can do it, as long as your horse doesn’t object. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to teach him any manners.”
“I’ll help if he gives you any trouble. Try and hobble them about fifty feet northeast of the house, so they are out of the way.” Jackson caught himself just in time. He had been about to say out of the line of fire, but wasn’t sure Ruth was up to hearing that yet. They’d been fighting or running since the moment they met. He was amazed by her strength so far. She kept pushing through her weariness to offer help. And she had never once complained. But if she knew how slim their chances were now, she might regret following him.
He cursed his failure to remove her from danger.
Shaking off his mood, Jackson kept digging. He’d been in worse scrapes with not half the reason to live. He’d survive this – they both would. He’d be damned if he’d lose the first woman in years who could match his determination to live and start anew. The West was nearly empty of women, much less women of Ruth’s caliber. She’d make a fine wife to someone.
Jackson dropped his shovel and hurried to open the front door for Ruth as she returned. “Let me help you with those”. Jackson took the heavy saddlebags from her.
She was startled at the show of chivalry. Not that Jackson hadn’t been considerate of her needs - she knew he was traveling slower for her benefit. And God knows what her fate would be by now if he’d refused to help her and she’d run into the path of those backtracking outlaws. Ruth had witnessed enough barbarity during the War to understand that her fate could have been even worse than Jasper Smith. They likely would have raped her first, then left her to die by the side of the road if she’d slowed them down with a posse in pursuit. Jackson had known that, surely, and had risked his life to allow a small bit of human decency to survive.
Ruth smiled, amazed. She had lost hope that the world would ever regain any beauty and kindness. She’d been convinced it had died with her parents and brother during the horrors and desperation of the War. But on the road in the middle of what city-folks called the untamed, uncivilized West, she’d re-discovered the humanity of her childhood in this rough man. He’d restored years of lost hope in a moment’s bravery. She’d lied to him to get it, too, but she’d be damned if she’d let it go now that hope had found her heart again. Ruth was no quitter and she’d see this through to the end, no matter what it took.
Ruth followed Jackson over to the rickety table where he had laid down the saddlebags and was pulling out extra ammunition. “I’ll bring you some water and then you tell me how I can help,” she offered. “The horses are watered and combed down, but I re-saddled them. I wasn’t sure if you wanted them ready to leave.” Ruth had paid attention to everything Jackson and his brother had done on the trail so far, and she’d never seen them unsaddle the horses for more than the time it took to brush them down.
She might have learned more than most ladies about survival, but during the War, her only defense had been to hide in the surrounding woods. Traveling on the roads did no good, as every road seemed to lead to folks in even worse circumstances. So she’d dug in and stayed put. Unfortunately, that meant she couldn’t contribute much more than common sense and a steady demeanor to Jackson’s efforts to escape the men after them. But she intended to learn and watched everything he did on the trail.
“You did the right thing. I have plans for those horses. See if you can get us something to eat. No fire. I figure they’re no more than six hours behind us, so we have a lot of work to do before they get here.”
“What should we do when they catch up?” Ruth asked, trying to keep the worry out of her voice. She’d made the decision to trust this man with her future and would help as much as she could. But she still needed to understand his thinking. She’d been on her own too long to blindly trust anyone.
“After I dig this hole, we’ll spread my saddle blanket over it and cover everything with a bit of dirt. Then I’m going to lead the horses off into the woods and backtrack to you. If we’re lucky, they’ll split up, thinking we rode off, but still needing to check. We’ll keep a small fire going to confuse them, so they aren’t sure if someone’s here or if the tracks they find are the real trail. They’ll have to search the house, but will sit a spell and watch us first, if they have any smarts among them. We have to be quiet so they’ll get lax, thinking no one is inside and they’ve been tricked. If we can get one or even two of them to break down this door and fall in, I can shoot the next man through the door.”
Jackson took Ruth’s chin in hand and asked her point blank, “Can you live with being part of that or would you rather go hide in the woods? I know you weren’t expecting this violence. I swore to protect the innocent and I mean to, by any means. But it’s going to get ugly.”
Ruth kept her gaze steady and didn’t flinch when she replied, “You do whatever is needed. Tell me how I can help.”
Jackson got angry at himself in that moment, thinking this brave woman could be dead in hours, if he failed. He set aside his misgivings and squeezed her hand reassuringly.
“Good girl. I could use some crossfire to kee
p them occupied. You don’t have to shoot anyone, although I’d certainly recommend it.” Jackson watched Ruth’s face carefully, looking for any hesitation that could put them at a disadvantage.
“If you think I’d have a guilty conscience over those animals, you don’t know me at all. I saw what they did to the other passengers on the train. Give me the rifle. I know how to use it.”
Chapter 23
Halper carefully examined the horse tracks embedded in the trail before remounting his mare and addressing the men. “There are three horses, but I’m positive only two are carrying a rider. And one is either a woman or a child. There isn’t enough weight behind those faint hoof prints to be anything else. I say we ride on. We can catch up before nightfall.”
“What if it’s a trap and there’s another posse coming after us?” Bear asked, fingering a well-worn spot on the brim of his hat. “Nothing has gone according to the plan Jasper Smith gave us. We should maybe cut and run.”
Halper snorted at Bear’s obvious nerves. He frightened easily, for such a big man. “There’s no posse behind us. They split up hoping we’d chase the other group and allow these two to get away. And even if we’re wrong, that woman could be used as a hostage in case a new posse comes after us. It’s safer to have her along.”
Silently, Halper counted his profits – from this job and from the woman. If no posse showed up, he planned to sell her to a brothel. Why pay the Comancheros to be the middlemen? He would give the Mexican’s mother first chance, but the highest bidder would win out. Halper had some opium left he could force on the girl to make her passive. He had deals with several brothel owners to supply him in exchange for bringing fresh women. He’d use half and stash the rest for any future opportunity that crossed his path. The West was full of desperate widows and abandoned wives looking for their next meal.
“We’ll split up.” Halper announced. “Jones, White, you come with me.” Halper turned and looked straight into the eyes of the Mexican. “You take Bear and Green and meet us at the cabin three days from now.”
The Mexican immediately protested. “We should stay together and ambush them. The woman will be a distraction. We can take them right here and head south.”
Bear shook his head at the sudden change in plans. “Jasper Smith won’t like that. He told us straight out to meet him back at the cabin three days from now.”
“Bear, don’t be such a fool,” Halper admonished. “Smith won’t know about the woman, and doesn’t deserve a share if he’s not here. We have plenty of time to head south, sell the woman, and still meet him on time.”
Bear frowned before insisting. “It will take four days - maybe more if the weather is bad.”
Halper silenced the debate when he cocked his rifle. “You men head west. Jones, White, you’re with me.”
The Mexican grumbled under his breath to Bear and Green, “Señor Halper will cheat us on our share of the woman.” But the three men mounted their horses and headed out. Halper had quietly killed the last man who failed to follow orders.
Chapter 24
The hours dragged on as Jackson and Ruth waited in complete silence for the inevitable arrival of the outlaws. Jackson would move around the tiny cabin, silent as a hunting cat, every twenty minutes or so. Ruth quickly learned why, as her arms began to ache just from propping up the rifle. Cramped legs could get in her way too, so she followed suit and started stretching her limbs as soon as she saw Jackson return to his position to the left of the single front-facing window.
There was a full moon, which worked to their advantage, Jackson thought. The outlaws already knew where he and Ruth were located, moon or not. Having light all around allowed him a chance to pick off their pursuers, if his initial plan to lure them inside failed.
He stayed focused on the surrounding woods, until Ruth started moving. Maybe it was being this close to death or just the tense waiting focusing his senses, but every silky stretch she made put him on full alert. He’d never been a man who was a slave to his body, not even in his youth. But at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to stroke his rough hands down the silky length of Ruth Jameson’s arm, fingertip to shoulder and back again. He couldn’t recall seeing anything quite so beautiful as the sight of this tired and dusty woman struggling to hang on to a too-heavy rifle and keep her tired green eyes open.
Jackson shifted uncomfortably, berating himself for acting like a boy lusting after his first woman. This was no place for foolish men. He could get them both killed if he didn’t stay focused.
Ruth moved again, changing into a cross-legged position. She was no doubt trying to get comfortable, too, Jackson thought to himself wirily, nearly smiling at his dilemma. Of all the times to have to stay put, he thought good naturedly, so as not to shock a woman with the fit of his pants.
As if she suspected his thoughts were focused on her, Ruth turned and gazed straight into his eyes.
He wanted nothing more at that moment than a strong wind to cool his thoughts and cover the damned moonlight with storm clouds.
The sound of a horse nickering came like a shot in the night. Jackson’s focus centered completely on the job at hand as he belly-crawled to a spot just left of the front door. He’d checked earlier and found he could see the front of the homestead clearly through a gaping space between the rotting log walls.
He caught a glimpse of three horses riding on the edge of the forest, with one set of hooves circling around back of the house and two more stopped as their riders quickly dismounted and took cover.
Jackson glanced at Ruth to make sure she was ready.
She gave him a nod with more confidence than she felt, but there were no alternatives now. She’d made it this far with Jackson’s help and her own fortitude. She wasn’t giving up, no matter how bad their odds seemed at that moment.
Ruth cocked the rifle and slid the tip of the barrel through a tiny slot window in the loft. Jackson had given her simple and straightforward instructions – don’t shoot into the yard or at anything moving in it until at least one man stepped through the front door. Her job was to give Jackson time to take them out, and make sure the whole group didn’t charge the place at once. If Jackson could disable two, he said that the third would not pursue on his own.
Jackson gazed over the open clearing where his uncle’s corral used to be. The forest hadn’t yet taken over, which suited his purpose just fine. The outlaws would be hesitant to cross an open clearing under a full moon with only scraggly brush for cover, but they’d be impatient too. They always were, if he just waited long enough.
He’d warned Ruth not to shoot as they crossed. Jackson’s plan was to get them thinking their prey had moved on and not stopped in the cabin at all. They’d check out of habit, but once they crossed the clearing with no one shooting, they’d immediately relax their guard, thinking the tracks they’d spotted to the East were real and not a trick.
He wanted them to come all the way into the house, so at least one would be thrown off balance into the hole he’d dug. It might not break a leg, but if nothing else it would throw confusion into the mix and ruin the aim of their attackers.
Twenty minutes passed, then an hour.
Jackson nodded his reassurance at Ruth every ten minutes, hoping she’d continue to show the patience their lives depended on.
Finally, he spotted movement to the left of the horse corral. There was one man – skinny and taller than average. The outlaw was doing his best to hunker down behind the remaining corral posts, as he quietly crept toward the front door. Jackson immediately shifted his position to look for the man’s backup.
Right on cue, Jackson spotted a second figure, shadowing the tree line and heading toward the cabin. The taller man angled in from the left, sliding against the porch. Jackson could hear his booted footsteps along the rotting floorboards. There was no window to the left of the door, but there was one to the right. Jackson slithered back from the front wall, until he was behind the cover of the table and lone chair, deep in
shadow.
The second man did his best to look inside the dark house through the lone dirty window. Ruth held her breath as he seemed to look up and right at her, but then crept along the remaining steps to the door without raising the alarm.
The deafening crash almost unseated Ruth from her perch above the main room. Both men had shouldered the door with full force, causing it to shatter. The first careened in, off-balance, and stepped directly into the tarp-covered hole in the floor. He fell forward and instinctively grabbed for his cohort’s arm, which tumbled them both the floor.
Jackson knocked the shorter man senseless with one swift club from his shotgun stock, then swung up to his right to knock down the larger man, who was still off balance in the half-dug pit.
Ruth forced her eyes away from the struggling men, trying to stay focused on the front yard. The commotion and yelling of the two robbers from the house had the remaining man poking his head out from the cover of the surrounding forest. Ruth took aim, knowing that Jackson would have expected a male partner to shoot to kill. Ruth didn’t figure a man like Jackson would ever ask a woman to do such a thing, but Ruth was beyond any female niceties. This was not only her life and virtue at stake, but Jackson’s life as well. He’d saved her and countless others on the train.
Ruth would be damned if she’d prove squeamish when she was guarding his back.
She waited like Jackson had shown her, until she had a clear shot at the man’s middle. She squeezed the trigger, nearly losing her balance again at the force of the blast. When she raised her eyes up over the window sill, she was almost disappointed to see the clearing empty.
She couldn’t tell if she’d hit him – if he’d yelled in pain, she wouldn’t have heard over the blast in her ear. She kept scanning the clearing for any sign of movement, and found none. After firing once more into the spot in the woods the man had originally come from, she was rewarded with the neigh of a horse and the sound of retreating hoof beats.
