Montana Surrender

by Simmons, Trana Mae

  "I can't leave Idy here alone right now, Jessica. Lord knows what happened after we left there last night."

  "Just how in hell do you think you're going to help her when you have to hide out here? It makes more sense to get some help to clear your name!"

  "I fight my own battles, Jessica. I always have and I always will."

  "Ned was right. You ride a lonely trail, don't you, Storm?"

  "I've had to. Come on. Eat your breakfast and get dressed."

  "All right, Storm," Jessica agreed, startling Storm with her compliance. She sat back down and picked up a biscuit and piece of bacon. "Maybe you're right. I'll go back and get Frederick to help me. He's always done anything I've asked him to before."

  "Who the hell's Frederick?"

  Jessica munched a bite of biscuit in an attempt to still the twitch at the side of her mouth. She made herself swallow first, then bent her head so her hair would slide down to hide her face while she tore the biscuit open and placed a piece of bacon inside it.

  "He's the attorney I mentioned," she said before she took another bite.

  "Oh," Storm muttered. "And he'll do anything you ask, huh?"

  "Umph," Jessica said through her mouthful of biscuit. She swallowed again and busied herself making another biscuit sandwich. "Like I said, he always has before."

  Storm stared down at the shining curls hiding Jessica's face for a moment. "Just how well do you know this Frederick?" he asked before he could stop himself.

  "Oh, I've known him for years," Jessica said, waving a hand vaguely in the air. "He's a marvelous dancer."

  Storm tightened his hands into fists, then turned abruptly away from her. "I'll get your horse ready while you dress."

  The twitch stilled with no problem on Jessica's cheek as she tossed her hair back and watched him cross the cave floor. She hadn't really lied to him, she told herself. Frederick really was a wonderful dancer, even if he was three times her age. And he did do everything she asked him to, as long as she paid the fees he charged her.

  She swallowed the last bite of biscuit, though it tasted like dry leaves in her mouth. Taking the second one with her, she rose and went to the fireplace, where her riding skirt lay over the chair back, now dry. She stuffed the biscuit in the pocket before she shrugged into the skirt and picked up her blouse.

  It really was almost beyond repair, and she had another one in her saddlebags. But her lips quirked and she slid her arms into the torn blouse, tying it snugly under her breasts just as Storm led Cinnabar into the cave.

  "I'm ready," she said when he glanced at her. "Maybe we should wait for Ned to find us, though. I don't think I have enough money for train fare back to Wyoming."

  Storm's eyes lingered on the open neck of her blouse before he determinedly looked away and handed Cinnabar's reins to her. He reached up to pull back a rock beside the supply shelf and drew out a bag of coins, which jingled when he held them out to her.

  "Idy brings this out now and then. For some damned reason she thinks I deserve part of her profits from the brothel, just because she started it with Baker money. I've been keeping it for her and Elias, when they finally make up their minds to get married, but she won't mind if you use it."

  Jessica nodded and took the bag, only removing a couple coins from it before she handed it back.

  "You may need more than that," Storm said with a frown.

  "No." Jessica placed the bag again on the shelf and hid it with the rock. "This will be plenty."

  "You and your pride, Jessica Callaghan."

  "Yep," she said saucily. "Ned calls it the Callaghan pride. You seem to have your own share of that wicked vice yourself, Storm."

  "Sometimes it's all a man has to keep him going," Storm said quietly.

  "I understand," Jessica agreed. Then her eyes fell on the gramophone. "Storm, you promised to play the gramophone for me. I really enjoy listening to the music. Ned even said something about getting Mattie one for Christmas this year. He said she'd seen it in a catalog."

  "There's no time now, Jessica. Maybe another time." He muttered under his breath as he turned away, "That is, if there ever is another time for us."

  Jessica didn't bother answering him as she led Cinnabar after him. There would be another time for them. And lots more times after that, she vowed silently to herself.

  Outside the cave entrance, she mounted Cinnabar and urged him after Spirit. She barely noticed the brilliant sunrise on the hilltops as she trusted Cinnabar to pick his own way down the narrow trail. She glanced down at her rifle, riding securely in the scabbard, and her hand went behind her to assure herself the saddlebags were fastened tightly to her saddle.

  Storm kicked Spirit into a canter across the small valley floor and Jessica followed willingly until they nearly reached the top of the hill on the other side. There she pulled Cinnabar to a halt.

  "Storm," she called before he could ride out of hearing. "Storm, I think Cinnabar's picked up a stone."

  As Storm turned Spirit to ride back to her, Jessica reached down and touched Cinnabar on his shoulder, clicking softly under her breath. The stallion immediately lifted his front leg. She watched Storm pull Spirit up a few feet away and slide off to ground tie him. When he had taken a couple steps toward her, she jerked her hat from her head and kneed Cinnabar forward.

  "Hie! Hie, Spirit!"

  Cinnabar nimbly jumped around the startled Storm and flattened his ears as he lunged at the other stallion. Spirit reared his defiance, but Cinnabar's shoulder hit him in the side, knocking him out of the way of his plunging path.

  Jessica quickly tightened her reins and brought Cinnabar under control, urging him across the hilltop and down the other side. She heard Spirit's hoofbeats behind her as the stallion sought to avenge himself on Cinnabar, and smiled in satisfaction.

  Spirit wouldn't follow her far. Even above the pounding hoofbeats of the two stallions, she heard a loud whistle from Storm split the air. The sounds behind her immediately stilled and she leaned down on Cinnabar's neck, urging him faster.

  "Come on, boy," she called, and saw Cinnabar's ears flick back at her words. "Spirit's probably just as fast as you, and the only hope we have is to get a good start on him."

  As though understanding her, Cinnabar stretched his legs even farther apart, until Jessica could swear they were floating over the ground. The pounding hooves and bunching muscles under her told her differently. She brushed at the flying mane stinging her eyes as she sought to make her body smaller and her mind worked frantically. Never had she been so glad that once traveled country became firmly embedded in her mind.

  There. Over that next hill. She pulled slightly on Cinnabar's reins, urging him into a wide sweep toward the top of the hill. Seconds later, she pounded down the other side, with only Cinnabar's sure gait keeping him from sliding down on his haunches.

  The mares in the herd of mustangs threw up their heads when they heard the huge stallion rushing at them. Nearby, a bugle of defiance sounded and Jessica glanced to the side to see the black stallion pounding toward them. Cinnabar hesitated slightly, but Jessica slapped her reins on his rump and called sternly to him. Reluctantly, Cinnabar answered the pressure of the reins as she guided him a far distance around the mares before she slowed to turn her head over her shoulder.

  The black stallion slid to a stop and quickly turned around. He reared again and Jessica heard an answer to the bugle he sounded come from far behind her. Now. If only she was right and this was Spirit's former herd. She trotted Cinnabar to the top of the next ridge and held her breath as she watched the scene below her.

  Storm frantically sawed on Spirit's reins, but the stallion only tossed his head and continued his headlong plunge toward the black horse. For a moment Storm seemed to lose control of Spirit and only a few yards separated the two furious stallions. Spirit stopped to rear and Storm jerked his head around to turn him back the way they had come.

  Jessica gave a sigh of relief as she saw the black stallion go in purs
uit, then stop to look back at his mares. She sent Cinnabar down the side of the hill, which would hide her progress from Storm.

  The stream rushed angrily past her, swollen from the rains of the past two days, as she urged Cinnabar into the water. When he tried to head downstream, she firmly guided him into the onrushing current. The sounds of a waterfall grew louder the farther upstream Cinnabar plodded.

  The waterfall barely topped Jessica's head when she guided Cinnabar out of the stream and over beside it, but it would do just fine. As she suspected, she found enough space behind it to hide both her and the horse. Mist from the falls drifted over them, and she reached back for the cloak in her saddlebag. After wrapping it around her, she slid down from the horse's back and gingerly made her way to the edge of the shelf behind the pouring water. A convenient rock allowed her to hide and peek now and then over its top.

  Though she watched for over half an hour, she saw no sign of Storm, and relaxed somewhat. He would have had no trouble following her tracks to the stream once he managed to get Spirit past the mustang herd, and the black stallion surely would have quickly led his mares away when he realized Spirit wouldn't challenge him further. Hopefully, though, Storm would think she had taken the easier path downstream, when he didn't find her tracks on the other side.

  She shivered once inside her cloak as the mist penetrated even the thick lining and determinedly glanced at the sun to mark the time. She would wait at least another half an hour.

  From time to time, she looked over at Cinnabar. The stallion's ears were much sharper than her own, and even through the pouring water he would hear anyone approach. Cinnabar remained standing quietly, waiting for Jessica's next instructions.

  She finally mounted again and slowly urged Cinnabar out of their hiding place. Her eyes scanned the area around them, seeing no sign of another horse. She thought briefly about stopping long enough to build a fire and dry out, but the sun already shone hot overhead. Instead, she tied her cloak over Cinnabar's rump to dry and let the sun warm her shoulders.

  She didn't need the map — she knew exactly in which direction the next landmark lay. Ned had made himself familiar with the map, too, and sooner or later he would know where she had headed.

  First the gold. Besides the threat of losing her freedom if she was arrested for assault, Ned's paying her mortgage note still galled her pride. She damned sure wasn't going to ask him to pay for a lawyer for her. With the gold, she could hire the finest lawyers in the country to fight any charges the Bakers would fling at her and Storm.

  Storm. Her eyes continued to scan the hills around her and she snorted softly to herself when she realized she was actually hoping to see him. Once she frowned slightly as she recalled her vow to never touch the gold, which might be cursed.

  The curse seemed all too real to her for a moment, even reaching out to touch the people who only searched for it. She had never been in such a mess in her life. Lordy, Uncle Pete and her father would turn over in their graves if they knew she was worried about her face appearing on a wanted poster. The prospect of spending time in prison sent a chill up her spine, and she found herself wondering how long Storm had been in jail.

  Maybe the curse could be broken. After all, she never would have met Storm if she hadn't come to search for the gold. She never would have seen the pain leave his eyes or notice them turn into black pools filled with love for her.

  She kicked Cinnabar into a canter across another valley. Some way or another, she would have those eyes filled with love on her again and the pain erased forever from the shadows hidden in them — even if he could never be hers totally. She had promised him she would take only the crumbs of his life. She had to be content knowing they were both putting aside their love for Prudence's happiness.

  It hurt, though. Oh how much it hurt, especially since Storm had admitted his own love for her.

  Chapter 18

  Something tugged at Jessica's mind as she pulled Cinnabar to a stop and stared out over the vast valley before her. Scattered groups of brown, white-faced cattle checkered the rolling green grass as far as she could see. This must be part of the free range Harlin Baker had mentioned.

  Jessica had ridden warily all day, chafing at the delay her detour around Baker's Valley made necessary. Now this. Where there were cattle, there could be men tending them. Keeping Cinnabar on the edge of the timber line, she urged him forward to make another wide sweep around the valley. Crossing it directly would have saved her several hours, but not if someone discovered her.

  A crackling in the brush drew her attention and Jessica reined Cinnabar in as a cow, followed by a spindly legged calf, emerged from the underbrush. The cow stared at Jessica for a second, then dropped its nose to nudge the calf ahead of it. Jessica had plenty of time to study the tilted B on the cow's flank.

  "That's the Lazy B brand," she said softly to herself. "Oh, Cinnabar, I hope we don't run into any of those cowhands. I doubt if they'll even stop to ask questions if they recognize me. They'll shoot first."

  How had Storm ever stood it, she asked herself. After only a day of hiding — being on the run, she guessed they called it — she didn't think she could take much more. Every slight sound sent her head turning toward it until she could determine the cause.

  A deer bounding through the brush made her heart pound wildly and before crossing each hilltop, she dismounted to warily crawl to the crest and study the land before her. But she guessed riding alone, yet still free for the moment, had to be better than staring out from cell bars.

  A while later she again snaked her way up a hill and peered anxiously over it. The low hanging afternoon sun lay close to the horizon, and in the distance she could see new rain clouds gathering. She thought she could already hear the thunder, before realizing it was her stomach growling with hunger.

  She had eaten the biscuit sandwich at noon, but it hadn't even begun to fill the empty space inside her, and she didn't dare try to shoot any of the abundant jack rabbits. The noise from her rifle would surely bring the entire countryside down on her.

  She gazed at the white-washed buildings below her. A large ranch house nestled against the foot of the hill, surrounded by scattered outbuildings. The largest barn she had ever seen set off by itself, and what seemed like miles of white plank fence bisected different portions of the land. The fence even bordered a drive leading up to the house, which stretched several hundred yards to the intersecting dirt road.

  Jessica lifted the fieldglasses to her eyes to read the letters cut into the sign at the end of the drive. Though she had to read them backwards, Lazy B stood out clearly.

  So this was the ranch where Storm had grown up. She trained the glasses on the house, surprised to see weeds growing up almost to the porch. On closer examination, she could see faded patches of paint on the house and a broken window covered by a haphazard board. Funny. Given David Baker's immaculate appearance whenever she saw him, she wouldn't have thought he would let his house go to seed like that.

  The back door slammed and Jessica turned the fieldglasses toward the sound. A slovenly appearing woman walked across the yard, throwing what looked like potato peelings out from the dirty apron she held turned up in her hand.

  "Here chickie, chickies." The gruff voice floated across the still air and reached Jessica's ears. "Come on, you damned varmints!"

  From here and there across the yard, Jessica watched white chickens emerge from different hiding places. Instead of converging in a flock toward the proffered food, they hesitantly made their way forward. Once the woman moved a fair distance away, a chicken ran up, grabbed a potato peeling, and raced across the yard, squawking and flapping its wings in an attempt to protect its food.

  The next chicken wasn't as lucky. The woman stopped for a moment, then threw a large handful of peelings close beside her. An instant later, the chicken dangled from her hand. She carried it, squawking loudly in distress, to a chopping block, which had a hatchet embedded in it.

  Jessica shive
red and lowered the glasses. For some reason she found herself thinking the woman was going to enjoy killing that chicken. She cautiously began making her way back down the hill, her stomach rumbling louder as she thought of the delicious chicken and dumplings Mattie made from time to time.

  Hours later, Jessica sat huddled under an outcropping of rock she had carefully searched for snakes, staring down at Tobias's ranch. Welcoming lights shone through the clear window panes, but she didn't dare try to see if the welcome would extend to her. The lone piece of beef jerky she had found in her saddlebags lay like a lump in her stomach, nothing like the stew she had eaten at the little cabin on her other trip there.

  A streak of lightning split the air and the rain pounded harder. She pulled Cinnabar's saddle a little further under the rock and watched him turn his rump into the wind. Bowing his head, the horse stood resolutely accepting the fury of the storm.

  Maybe the storm would prove to be a blessing, Jessica told herself. It would give her some cover to slip down to Tobias's barn and at least get Cinnabar some grain. In a few minutes, she would go. She leaned back against the rock behind her while she waited for the rain to slacken again.

  Bright sunlight woke her, and Jessica gasped as she sat up. She bumped her head on the rock above her and bit back a moan of pain. Gingerly she rubbed the spot on her head and uncurled her legs from under her. No way would she be able to steal a portion of grain for Cinnabar in broad daylight. She sighed and crept out from the overhanging rock.

  Her eyes searched for Cinnabar until she saw him cropping grass a ways off. Well, at least he would have that to eat. Her own stomach rumbled alarmingly.

  Maybe Tobias was out somewhere on his range. As soon as the thought entered her mind, Jessica heard the barn door creak open loudly below her. Tobias crossed the yard, headed for the house.