by Linda Ford
His ma’s words rang in his head. Revenge is a nasty companion. Johnny released his tension-filled lungs. He would not take justice into his own hands, but he would see that this pair received the full force of what the law had to offer such men. They would not get away with this.
He followed the tracks a few feet to be sure what had happened and then straightened. He had to make plans. Before he went back to Willow, he must calm his anger, so he stood by the river and slowed his breathing. God, I could sure use a heap of help now. Only when his trust returned did he make his way back to her.
She rushed toward him and fell into his arms. “Did you find her?”
He held Willow tightly, reluctant to tell her. When he didn’t answer, she tipped her face toward him, her eyes full of knowing.
“What did you discover?” She stiffened, not wanting to hear bad news. She might have run but he wouldn’t let her escape his arms. Not yet. Johnny wanted to calm her fears, give her reassurances. He swept her hair off her face and tucked it behind her ears. He drank in every detail of her features and smiled as calmly as he could.
“I found the tracks of two horses and two men. I saw evidence of Celia struggling with one man, and then her footprints disappeared and the horses headed away.”
The information sank in slowly. Willow’s eyes widened, her lips pressed together and she swallowed. “Are you saying...” She glanced at Sarah, who paled as she listened.
Willow lowered her voice. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“’Fraid I am.” He drew her to his side as he crossed to the wagon. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring her back.”
Willow stood trembling, her hands gripping the nearest wheel. He knew if she let go, she would sink to the ground. He did not want to leave her but he must.
He saddled Gray, then paused. He couldn’t go without making sure he covered every possibility. If something should happen to him...or if someone else threatened them...
He hitched the mare to the wagon so they would have a means of flight.
Holding Gray’s reins, he stood before Willow. “Get your pistol and keep it with you at all times. Don’t let Sarah or Adam out of your sight. Stay here unless someone threatens you. If you’re at all concerned, head for town. I’ll bring Celia here and if you’re gone, I’ll follow you.”
“What if—”
“Whatever happens, I will find you and get you safely home.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I know you will.” She leaned into him, and with one arm, he held her close.
She lifted her face toward his. “Be careful. Be safe.”
“I will. You, too.” He smiled encouragingly. She smiled back bravely.
This wasn’t goodbye, but who knew what might happen? “This is my promise. I’ll be back with Celia.” Johnny lowered his lips to Willow’s, lingered a heartbeat to enjoy the taste of her. He closed his eyes as they clung to each other, then he broke away and swung onto Gray’s back.
Just before he disappeared into the trees, he glanced around and saw Willow holding the bag with her gun in it. She stood with Sarah and Adam in front of her.
Catching his eye, Willow waved and said something. He couldn’t be sure but thought it might have been “Go with God.”
Johnny rode to the river to find the trail of the two horses, then kept his attention on the tracks. All the while he moved cautiously and quietly, lest the men might be lying in wait.
* * *
“Is Celia dead?” Sarah’s voice crackled.
Willow knelt beside her little sister and pulled her into her arms. “Oh, honey, no. But she’s missing and Johnny has gone to find her.”
“Did she run away?” Sarah looked into Willow’s eyes. “She talked about running away, but she stayed ’cause I wouldn’t go with her.”
“We won’t know for sure what happened until Johnny brings her back.” Sarah did not need to hear all the details.
“You said ‘Go with God.’ What does that mean?”
Willow sat on the quilt and pulled Sarah into her arms, grateful that Adam had fallen asleep at her knees. “It means I’m asking God to go with him and protect him.”
“Like Miss Esther prays?”
“I suppose it is.”
“I want to pray, too.” Sarah scooted around to kneel at Willow’s side. She bowed her head and folded her hands. “God, please bring Celia and Johnny back safely. I don’t want anyone else to die.”
Willow fought to keep her breathing calm. She didn’t want anyone else to die, either. Especially not Celia or Johnny.
She pressed her fingers to her lips. He’d kissed her. A sweet, gentle kiss demanding nothing, simply offering comfort and a promise to bring Celia back. But it felt as if he’d offered more than that. For now, she let herself find strength in the thought.
Once Celia was back, Willow would have to deal with the reality of the impossible gulf between them—namely, her shameful secret. One she would take to her grave.
Only one other person knew the truth—Mr. Reames—and she meant to stay as far away from him as possible so he wouldn’t feel the need to deny Adam’s right to that name.
It was the one fly in her plan. She hoped her promise to stay away would make the man leave her alone. Legally, Adam was Bertie’s son and Mr. and Mrs. Reames’s grandson, but Willow had no wish to pursue that right.
Sarah pulled her knees to her chest and stared at the spot where they’d last seen Johnny. Willow wanted to do the same, but she had to help her little sister relax. “Let’s see what we can find in the clouds.” She lay back and stared at the sky. How could it be so bright and clear on such a troubled day? Was it a reminder that God saw clearly? Please guide Johnny to Celia and keep them both safe.
She studied the clouds, then pointed toward a cluster. “I see a turtle. There.”
Sarah lay beside her. “I see an elephant.”
“You do? Where?”
They played the game until Adam wakened. “Man?” He looked around for Johnny, and when he couldn’t find him, his bottom lip quivered.
Willow hurried to the grub box. They were down to a few raisins, which she divided between the children. Other than that, there was only some flour and other baking supplies that she’d stashed in the wagon when she’d begun her journey to Granite Creek. How simple life had seemed then. Never could she have anticipated the surprises and challenges she would encounter. Would she have made the same plans if she’d known? Yes, but she would have brought more food, prepared more thoroughly, not expected everything to be rosy. Maybe she would even have prayed and asked God for guidance.
It might be too late to plan, but not too late to pray. So once again she asked God to guide and protect Johnny and Celia.
Not knowing how long they’d be waiting, Willow moved boxes about in the wagon until she unearthed her baking supplies. “Who wants to help me make biscuits?” They’d be more like bannock than the fluffy biscuits Mama had taught her to make, but it would be warm food. Willow had syrup in a box somewhere, too, and would dig it out.
Sarah eagerly joined in helping mix up the dough and then fry it in a spider.
Willow kept her bag with the pistol hanging from her skirt and constantly looked about for any sign of danger. By the time the bannock had cooled enough for Sarah and Adam to eat it, her nerves were ready to snap.
Where were Johnny and Celia? They should have been back by now, shouldn’t they? What if things had gone badly? Willow checked the position of the sun. She had no desire to be sleeping out in the open with the danger of marauding men. Granite Creek couldn’t be more than an hour or two away. If Johnny didn’t return soon, she would head that direction.
* * *
Johnny followed the tracks along the river, moving constantly west. Were they headed to Wolf Hollow
? But to what purpose? Did they think Celia had information on a gold mine? Had Willow’s husband owned one? Odd how little Johnny knew of the man other than his name. Willow seldom mentioned him.
He could tell from the tracks that the men weren’t in any hurry. A thought almost made him smile. Celia would be giving them pause to reconsider taking her. She wasn’t one to go along peacefully. Would they tie her to subdue her? And they must have gagged her or he’d hear her protests carried on the breeze.
The river turned to the left, giving him a view far ahead, and he reined in. Two horses and riders were just disappearing from sight. He’d almost caught up to them. He hadn’t seen Celia, but likely she rode in front of one of them. Johnny grinned. He sure wouldn’t want to be the one holding her.
He followed slowly, keeping close to the trees so they wouldn’t see him. Now that he didn’t have to check for tracks, he could go faster, but he didn’t want to give away his presence, so he moved carefully.
Ahead, the riders stopped to let the horses drink. Johnny could see Celia now. She sat with her arms and feet tied and, indeed, a gag in her mouth, but her elbows jabbed at the man holding her and he grunted.
Keep it up, Celia. It will distract him while I edge close enough to do something.
Johnny dropped from his horse and moved silently through the trees, grateful for the lessons his ma had taught him. He carefully considered his options. He’d never before killed a man, though he would if it meant protecting Willow, her sisters and her son. Whatever he did, he must ensure the pair did not get away and continue to be a threat.
If he shot their right arms, they wouldn’t be able to shoot him. As Johnny edged closer, he made a plan. It better work, because he’d likely get only one chance to test it.
“It’s your turn to carry her,” the first man said.
Johnny was close enough to see his hard features and his black stringy hair. Johnny’s jaw cracked as he clenched his teeth. The man was a half-breed, but not one he cared to identify with.
The other man was blond, with a scar from his nose to his ear. He was an ugly man even without the scar, with eyes too prominent, a heavy brow and protruding lips. Poor Celia must be terrified of this pair.
As if to prove him wrong, she head butted the half-breed.
“I ain’t taking her no farther.” He pushed her to the ground.
She thrust out her bound hands to keep from landing face-first, then straightened and hopped about to stare daggers at the men.
Good. She was out of harm’s way. Johnny could make this work.
He tossed a stone to the far right, and the men jerked about and shot in that direction. That was all the distraction Johnny needed. He got off a shot that hit the half-breed in the shoulder, and the man fell to the ground. Johnny hadn’t expected that. Was it something he practiced so he could escape a situation such as this? “Celia, get out of the way.”
She hopped out of the men’s reach as fast as her bound legs allowed.
Johnny pumped in another bullet and shot the second man. As he did, a bullet whizzed by him, close enough that he heard the whistle. Johnny leaped forward, swinging his lariat. He dropped the loop over the blond man, jerked the rope tight and pulled him from his saddle.
The half-breed was on his feet now, aiming his gun.
But Johnny had his rifle on him. “Drop it or I’ll shoot you.” The man’s weapon wavered as blood soaked his shirtsleeve. Even if he got off a shot, it would likely miss.
The roped man jerked about, trying to pull Johnny off balance, but he kept the rifle dead center even as he struggled to keep his feet under him.
“Drop it now.”
The half-breed finally growled and lowered his arm, the gun dangling from his hand.
“Toss it to one side.”
With a muttered oath, he threw the gun out of reach.
“Lie facedown. Put your arms above your head.”
More muttering.
Johnny waited until the man obeyed. “Celia, can you make it over to me?”
Once she’d hopped to him, he cut her ropes. She yanked off her gag and glowered at her captors.
“Hold the rifle on that man.” He indicated the dark one. Celia took the gun. Johnny hesitated. He wouldn’t put it past her to shoot the guy. With utmost speed, he trussed up the blond man.
“You can’t do this to me,” the kidnapper whined. “I’m hurt. You shot me. You got to take care of me.”
Johnny grunted. “You’ll get what you deserve.”
He lifted another lariat off one of the saddles and tied the dark man, then grabbed the horses’ reins. “Get on one,” he told Celia.
She chose the blond man’s. “Had enough riding on that one.”
Johnny boosted her into the saddle and swung into the other.
“You gonna leave us here? We’ll die.”
“Maybe.” Though he doubted it. Their wounds weren’t serious enough. The blond man was barely bleeding and the bloodstain on the dark one’s sleeve had stopped spreading. “But I’ll send the sheriff back for you. If you’re still alive, he’ll take you to jail. I expect you’ll hang for kidnapping, so you might hope you die first.”
Celia rode her horse so close to the half-breed that Johnny wondered if she meant to trample him. “I hope you bleed to death,” she told him.
“Let’s go.” Johnny waited for her to head out, then he followed. They rode away, ignoring the angry demands of the two men.
She slowed to ride at Johnny’s side. “I hope they suffer tons and die in the middle of the night.”
He kind of hoped the same thing, but hearing the harsh words from her made him realize how cruel it sounded, and he softened his attitude. He stopped to gather up Gray’s reins and lead him. “Either way, justice will be served. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
“I’m mostly mad. If I had a gun...” She turned to him. “I should have used yours while I had it.” Her eyes flashed with hatred. “Give it back. I’ll take care of them permanently.”
“I don’t think so.”
“From now on I’m carrying my own. And a knife.”
“You’re safe. That’s what counts.”
She huffed. Obviously she didn’t think that was good enough.
“Did they give any indication what they wanted?” Johnny asked.
“They’re convinced Willow inherited a gold mine. Stupid men. Do they think she’d be riding around the country looking for her sisters if she had one?”
“I don’t think she wants you to be together because of having or not having a mine.” Celia’s reasoning didn’t make sense to him, but perhaps she was too angry and afraid to think clearly.
“Where’s my sister now? Did you leave her in Granite Creek?”
“I left her with Sarah and Adam where we ate.” He urged the animals to a faster pace. “I hope they are okay. She’ll be awfully happy to see you.”
“She’s thinks I’m a troublemaker.”
He let that pass without comment. Hoped she would, too.
“If you’re expecting me to thank you, you’ll wait a long time.”
“You wanted to go with them?” He knew she didn’t, but she should acknowledge it instead of packing around a chip on her shoulder the size of a log cabin.
“Nope. But doesn’t mean I’m going to thank you.”
“Anyone ever tell you you have a bad attitude? One that’s going to get you into serious trouble if you don’t correct it.”
She snorted. “Anyone ever tell you to mind your own business?”
“It’s saying such things that will get you into trouble. If you were a man I’d be sorely tempted to teach you some manners.” Johnny kept his tone mild, not wanting her to feel threatened, only warned.
She turned her horse to face him
, a look of defiance hardening her eyes and mouth. “With your fists?”
He met her look without flinching, even though he sensed a world of pain behind her defiance. When he spoke, his words were gentle. “Is that what Mr. Reames did?”
Something dark and fearful flickered through her eyes before she turned away. “Just because you have your cap set for Willow doesn’t give you the right to say anything about me. Keep out of my business.” She rode away.
He hurried to keep pace. He’d touched a nerve with his words, and knowing so touched one in him. He hated seeing anyone—man or beast—beaten. Hated seeing people treat each other with anger.
“If ever you want to talk about it, I’m ready to listen.” He wasn’t surprised when she didn’t reply. He hadn’t expected her to. He simply wanted her to know he would be available.
They reached the break in the trees that would take them back to the campsite where they’d had dinner. The sun sent long bony shadows from every tree. The afternoon had rushed by and they were still an hour or more from Granite Creek.
Celia paused, looked down the river, turned the horse in that direction.
Johnny rode closer, crowding her so she couldn’t ride away. “Willow will be waiting to see if you are okay. No need to make her worry any longer.”
“There you go again. Sticking your nose in my affairs.”
He gave her an impassive look. “There you go again, being needlessly rude and confrontational.”
She glowered at him, but he was certain he saw something else beneath the anger. Was it fear? Regret? He couldn’t say.
He edged them forward through the trees. He could hardly wait to see Willow, be responsible for erasing the worry from her face. Would she think of the kiss he’d given her before he left? Would she give an indication as to her feelings about it? Had she enjoyed it? Would she welcome another? Was he rushing headlong into hurt and disappointment again? Maybe he would take his time, giving opportunity for things between them to go either way.
