by Erin Johnson
Grace patted Bullet’s neck as disappointment and worry began to overtake her sense of anger. The Watkins brothers had become only specks on the horizon, but as they’d headed toward Tombstone, she decided to set out in the opposite direction. Miz Bessie might agree to one more night in the room at the saloon in Bisbee. After that, Grace had no idea what she’d do.
She needed some bounties — now.
CHAPTER 4
As Grace dejectedly led Bullet into the alley by the stable, someone shouted her name. Few people in town knew it, and those who did either wanted payment or planned to cause trouble. She continued leading the horse, quickening her steps and fixing her gaze straight ahead, pretending she hadn’t heard.
“Grace? Grace Milton, wait.”
This time she recognized Reverend Byington’s voice, with not a little relief. She stopped and turned to him with a smile as the preacher hurried toward her.
“I thought that was you,” he said breathlessly, reaching out to stroke Bullet’s nose. “And I’d know this gorgeous palomino anywhere.”
Bullet snorted and flicked his head, clearly not keen to take the compliment, but when the preacher extended his other hand with a slice of apple on his palm, Bullet gobbled it quick enough and let Reverend Byington pat his neck.
He laughed. “I’d been planning to give that treat to my own horse, but it went to a worthy cause.” He focused on Grace. “So you’re staying in Bisbee? I wondered why I hadn’t seen you in Tombstone for some time.”
Grace scuffed the toe of her boot in the dirt. “Yes . . . I, uh . . .” She didn’t want to share that her main reason for leaving was to avoid seeing Joe when he came into town for supplies.
The preacher held up his hand.
“Why don’t you get your horse settled for the night, then we can meet for dinner at the hotel and you can tell me how you’ve been?”
Grace hesitated — she had no money for a meal, and even if she had, she couldn’t waste it at such a fancy establishment. She’d been planning to eat the few crumbs of pemmican left in her pouch.
“My treat, of course,” the preacher added, seeming to sense her hesitation.
“Oh . . . I-I couldn’t.”
“Nonsense.” He waved his hand to brush aside her protests. “I insist.”
Although she hated to be beholden to anyone, she knew she could do with a good meal. Someday, though, she’d find a way to pay back all of Reverend Byington’s generosity.
A short while later, Grace sat in the elegant dining room across from the preacher, closing her eyes and inhaling the aromatic steam from a bowl of beef stew. Her stomach growled, but she waited patiently if a little skeptically until Reverend Byington had asked the blessing. Then, finally, she dipped her spoon into the thick, dark broth and savored this bit of heaven.
The balding man with the scruffy gray beard sitting opposite her didn’t resemble the angels described in his Bible — and given all that had happened to her, she wasn’t sure she believed in such things anymore. But if they did exist, then to Grace, Reverend Byington had been an angel and more. Somehow he always caught her at her lowest times and offered aid. When she’d almost died of dehydration in the desert and he’d come to her aid with water and food. When he’d found the photograph of her family she’d thought was lost forever. And later, when he’d strode into the saloon and championed her cause after she’d shot Doc Slaughter. Now he was feeding her? Sometimes his kindness was overwhelming, but it served as a healing balm, soothing the frustration and fear balled up inside her. Every muscle in her body, taut and alert against sudden attacks, unknotted. Even if she didn’t believe the preacher’s message, his caring and generosity touched her spirit.
With Reverend Byington’s gentle prodding, Grace spilled the whole saga with the Watkins brothers between bites of potatoes, carrots, and chunks of beef.
Reverend Byington frowned. “I’m headed into Tombstone tomorrow. That outlaw you caught knows the truth. Perhaps I can convince him to divulge it.”
“He’d admit to being captured by a lone girl rather than four burly men?” She wanted to be polite, but her tone came out a mixture of sarcastic and incredulous.
Reverend Byington smiled a little and stroked his beard. “You may be right. Pride often trumps truth.”
“Better to let it go,” she said with a sigh. She sure could have used that reward money.
The preacher set his fork on his plate and leaned toward her. “Better yet, leave it to God. Then it’s sure to work out for the best.”
Grace pinched her lips together to curb the stream of resentment that bubbled up and threatened to erupt. Where was God when that gang stole her family’s horses, torched her home, and murdered her parents and siblings? When she dug their grave all night long until her palms were bleeding and blistered? Or, indeed, just this afternoon when she’d lost the bounty she so desperately needed to survive? Did that all work out for the best?
As if the preacher sensed her thoughts, he reached across the table and patted her hand. “Sometimes it’s hard to understand God’s purpose for allowing tragedies, but rest assured, He does love us,” Reverend Byington said, his eyes filled with sympathy.
Grace lowered her gaze and concentrated on corralling bits of onion floating in her stew. She wouldn’t argue with him after he had been so generous, but she had a hard time believing God cared for her. She’d seen too much evidence to the contrary.
Reverend Byington’s expression shifted to a concerned frown. “So, other than today’s fiasco, how have you been? Besides bounty hunting, what have you been doing?”
Grace felt guilty as she realized that he imagined her success in bounty hunting to have been greater than it was. She longed to confide her true situation, but likely the preacher would insist on paying her room and board in addition to tonight’s meal, and she couldn’t let him do that.
“Not a great deal . . . trying to make a success of this new line of work takes up most of my time.” She smiled weakly. “Uh, how have your travels been?”
Reverend Byington frowned at her lack of elaboration, but then his face softened. “Are you missing your Ndeh friends . . . and Joe? I passed the village a week ago, and all seemed well.” His jaw tightened. “As well as it can be with the cavalry hunting them down.”
Grace drew in a sharp breath. “They weren’t attacked again, were they?”
“No, no. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” The preacher’s sigh came from deep within his chest. “I was referring to the overall state of affairs. Most people don’t believe that the good Lord’s command to love everyone includes the savages.”
“They’re not savages,” Grace snapped, unable to hide her irritation.
“Perhaps not in my eyes or yours or in God’s.” With a look of sadness on his face, Reverend Byington gestured around the dining room. “But most people would term them so. It’s always a relief to see the Ndeh safe and unharmed.”
She nodded, calming down a little. “So everyone was doing well?”
“It seemed so.”
“I’m glad.” She fidgeted in her chair and tried to keep her voice casual. “And . . . you say Joe was with them?”
The preacher glanced up at her as he wiped his lips with his napkin, pausing for a moment before he spoke again.
“Actually, I ran into Joe in town — Tombstone, that is — a few days ago, buying supplies for the Ndeh. I had a meal with him there, much like we’re having here.”
Grace stared at the dregs of the beef stew in her bowl. “Did he . . . did he, umm, mention me?”
“Can’t say I recall . . .”
Grace hoped the jab of pain to her heart wasn’t reflected on her face, but the preacher quickly back-pedaled.
“I’m sure he thinks about you often,” he said kindly.
Did Joe really think about her? Or had she broken his heart so badly he pu
t her out of his mind forever? On that last night together, the strength of their passion when they finally kissed could have ignited a starburst . . . but then she’d slipped away before dawn, leaving him behind without so much as a goodbye. She’d been afraid — not only of the intensity of their feelings for each other, but that Joe was the one person who could make her forget her quest for justice. A quest he’d labeled as revenge.
Reverend Byington cleared his throat, startling Grace from her thoughts.
“I must say, I’m glad you’re turning your talents to helping the law rather than vengeance.”
She cringed. Of course Reverend Byington agreed with Joe. Both of them, and the Ndeh, had urged her to forgive her parents’ murderers. She had felt surrounded by people who didn’t understand — she could not let those outlaws roam free, destroying lives and property, killing other innocent people.
When she didn’t answer, the preacher continued. “To be honest, I’d like to see you find another line of work, though. One more suited to women. The Jones family is still looking for help with the children and household chores . . .”
Grace shook her head, irritation rising in her again. “I have a job to do, Reverend. And I won’t rest until it’s done. Doesn’t the Good Book say we should use our talents? My talents are tracking, riding, and shooting.”
Byington smiled a little. “I really don’t think that’s what —”
The carved wooden hotel doors burst open. One of the women who worked in the saloon across the street came marching into the dining room, glancing around, until her gaze fell on Grace.
Then she strode straight toward their table.
CHAPTER 5
The woman slapped her hands on the table so hard the china rattled. “You’re that female bounty hunter, ain’t you?” she barked, looming over Grace.
She edged back, her mouth dry. This strange woman seemed fairly unhinged.
The preacher cleared his throat. “Excuse me, young lady, perhaps I can help you with something?”
The woman rounded on him, fire in her eyes. “I was talking to her.” She stabbed a finger in Grace’s direction.
Grace took a deep breath. If she was courageous enough to hunt outlaws, she should be brave enough to face down a hysterical woman. She sat up straighter.
“Yes, I’m a bounty hunter.”
The woman took a step back and appraised her from head to toe. “Mighty young, ain’t you?”
Grace bristled. “I’m old enough to do what has to be done,” she said. Including defending herself against whatever this woman intended to do . . .
As she glared up at her, some of the fight seemed to leak out of the woman’s face.
“Sorry. It’s just . . . ooh, I could kill —” With a quick glance across the table, she spotted the reverend’s collar and stopped abruptly. “You’re that preacher fellow?”
Reverend Byington nodded.
“I didn’t mean what I said. Truly I didn’t. I wouldn’t kill no one, but I’m so mad I could spit — well, not spit exactly. Wouldn’t be ladylike.” She plunked down in a chair. “I’m Clarissa.”
Noticing Grace’s still-defensive posture, the woman let out a high, almost hysterical cackle. “Y’all thought I was gunning for you? Now, ain’t that rich.” Clarissa threw back her head and laughed, but it had an angry, nervous edge.
Grace looked over to catch Reverend Byington’s eye, but the preacher had his head bent and eyes closed, and he was mumbling to himself.
Clarissa followed her gaze. “Probably praying for a sinner like me,” she said with a grimace. “He’d do better to pray you can find that con man who cheated me. Stole my money and took clean off.”
Now that she was fairly certain Clarissa’s fury and edginess was directed at someone else, Grace relaxed a bit, though she was still struggling to follow this woman’s conversation. Clarissa grabbed her arm, sharp painted claws digging through the thin calico sleeves of Grace’s bodice and into her skin. She tried to shake her off but Clarissa held fast, pulling Grace closer until their faces were only inches apart.
“I want you to find that man. You get my money back, I’ll give you half. You see that he gets put in jail where he belongs. I’ll pay you for that too.”
Reverend Byington finally finished praying and looked up with a frown. “I don’t think that’s wise. Why not inform the sheriff?”
Clarissa shot a withering glance in the preacher’s direction, but quickly rearranged her features into a smile that more closely resembled a smirk. “Girls like me, we avoid the law.” Then she looked away and muttered under her breath, “Except as paying customers.”
Byington’s eyes widened. “Perhaps we ought to pray on it before —”
Clarissa threw back her head and laughed again disconcertingly. “You do that, preacher. You do that,” she gasped, shaking her head. “Let me ask you, what do you think God —”
Grace interrupted before things went any further. “I’ll take the case.”
* * *
The next morning, armed with Clarissa’s description of the man, his horse, and the direction he’d traveled, Grace saddled Bullet and set off out of Bisbee. Clarissa had insisted on giving her a retainer, assuring Grace that back East, her lawyer father had always requested money before taking a case. And she wanted a contract indicating Grace would give her whatever the con artist had taken. Rather than set the woman off into another rant, Grace accepted the payment and signed. Contract or no, she had always intended to return any money and valuables she recovered, but the retainer was a welcome relief — it would help her survive if the hunt took a while, and she could use some of it to replace her lost lasso.
It turned out the man she was seeking had swindled several gamblers and painted ladies in the area, and Grace knew the town of Rawhide was even more lax about protecting their brothels and saloons, so that’s where she planned to head. But as she was about to set Bullet to a canter out of Bisbee, she heard a little voice cry from behind her.
“Grace, wait!”
Eight-year-old Emily Abrams jogged after her and she reined Bullet in, waiting for the little girl to catch up. The young girl often accompanied her mother, who cleaned the rooms over Miz Bessie’s saloon, and she’d taken a liking to Grace. When she saw the wanted posters in her room, Emily had been fascinated with her being a bounty hunter, and when Grace collected the same set of flyers of the Guiltless Gang for Emily to study, she and the young girl had become fast friends. But Grace tried not to let herself get too close — whenever she saw the young girl’s boundless energy and enthusiasm, the pain of losing her own little sister, Abby, welled up inside her.
Breathless, Emily caught up with Grace but stayed a safe distance from Bullet’s stamping hooves. “Ma said you’re going bounty hunting. Are you going after the Guiltless Gang? Can I come too?” Emily spoke so rapidly her sentences bumped into each other.
Grace hated to disappoint her, but of course Emily was much too young to help. “I may be on the road for days,” she said kindly, humoring the little girl. “Your ma would worry.”
“No, she wouldn’t. She says you take care of me better than anyone she knows.”
“But she’d miss you.”
Emily stopped for a moment, a thoughtful look in her eye. “Yes, and I’d miss her too. But Ma says we have to do many things that are hard. I could help, I know I could!”
She sighed — convincing Emily to return home wasn’t going to be easy, but Grace really needed to be on her way. She wanted to get to Rawhide and scout out the town before the evening activities began. She dismounted and knelt in front of Emily, laying her hands on the girl’s small shoulders and looking her straight in the eye. “Emily, I need you to do a very, very important job for me. Do you think you can do that?”
Eyes shining, Emily stood straighter. “What do I have to do?”
“What I need
you to do is go back home. Your ma needs you there to look out for her. Who knows what kind of lowlifes could show up in town tonight?”
Emily looked at her dubiously, sticking her bottom lip out in a pout that reminded Grace achingly of Abby. “You don’t want me to help,” the girl said.
Her fingers tightened on Emily’s shoulders. “I do need your help. I’m going to Rawhide to look for a bad man who stole some money. While I’m gone, I also need someone to watch for the Guiltless Gang here in Bisbee. You know exactly what they look like, right? You studied the posters. Can you look out for them for me?”
Emily sniffled a little but nodded. “I’ll look at those posters every day. And I’ll watch for that gang. Really truly. I promise.”
“I know you will. I’m counting on you.” She stopped and thought for a moment. “But Emily, if you do see any of them, I need you to wait for me to come back before you do anything. I’ve been looking for them for a long time, so I need to make sure I catch them myself. All right?”
Emily nodded more emphatically now, and before Grace could stand, the girl launched herself into Grace’s arms and gave her a fierce hug. Grace stiffened, but then slowly, reluctantly, she put her arms around Emily and hugged back. The bittersweet pleasure of hugging her brought up more waves of sadness. Grace would never hug Abby or baby Zeke again.
Her eyes stung and her throat was clogged, and she disengaged herself quickly, turning Emily in the direction of her home.
“I’m counting on you, Emily,” she said, clearing her throat and trying to sound bright.
The girl smiled. “When I grow up, I’m going to be the best bounty hunter ever, just like you.”
Her chest swelled proudly, Emily hurried back down Main Street to her home and Grace exhaled with relief. “Best bounty hunter ever, huh?” she muttered. She’d have to catch a few more fugitives before she could lay claim to that title . . .
