by Bobbi Smith
“You’ve hired me to do a job, and I’m going to do it—my way. I work alone. It’s better like that.”
“No, you don’t understand,” she countered in a tone that brooked no argument. “Like you just said—I hired you to do a job, and that means I’m your boss.” She paused for effect. “You work for me. When you head out, you won’t be going alone. I’ll be riding with you, and so will Jake and Hank.”
Trent was not happy. He had to be free to do his job the way he liked to do it, but before he could argue any further, Faith went on.
“I don’t doubt that you’re good at what you do, but according to my brother, there were at least three, maybe four warriors in the raiding party. When you catch up with them, you just might need some help.”
He was tempted to refuse the job right then and there. Only the thought of an innocent young woman in the hands of murderous renegades kept him from getting up and walking out the door. He didn’t want Faith Ryan and the other men riding along. They would only slow him down and make things more awkward, but it looked like he had no choice.
“When I travel, I travel hard and fast,” Trent said tersely, hoping that might discourage her.
It didn’t.
“Good. That’s what I expected from you. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover and a lot of lost time to make up for. They’ve got a four-day head start on us already. How soon do you want to ride out?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
“I can get the supplies we need together and be set to leave in an hour.”
Trent only nodded. He had nothing more to say, though his gut instinct was telling him this woman would mean trouble for him.
“Come with me,” Faith said, standing up. “I want you to meet my brother, Mason.”
Trent got to his feet. “Sheriff Fike told me he was shot during the attack.”
“He was, but he’s doing all right now.”
Trent followed her from the office to the back of the house. They went into a bedroom to find the young man braced up in his bed, his chest tightly wrapped with thick bandages.
“You’re Trent Marshall?” Mason asked as they came in.”
“That’s right,” Trent answered.
“I’m Mason Ryan.” He extended his hand to the hired gun as he met his gaze straight-on. “Rose was just telling me about you.”
They shook hands.
Then Mason added, “Find my sister.”
“I intend to do just that,” Trent said. “Tell me everything you remember about the attack.”
Mason began to relate the events of that fateful day to Trent while Faith left them to get ready. She met with Rose to tell her what supplies they would need, then went out to speak with Jake and Sheriff Fike. As she’d expected, Jake was ready to ride with them, so she took him with her to find Hank. She told Hank to get her horse ready, and to be prepared to ride himself. They sought out the foreman, Tom, next. Faith knew he wanted to go with the search party, too, but she insisted he stay behind and run the ranch. She had no idea how long they’d be on the trail, and Mason was in no condition to take charge.
Faith returned to the house. The first thing she knew she had to do was get cleaned up. She bathed quickly and washed her hair. She left her hair unbound for the time being, wanting it to dry before she plaited it into a more practical braid. Faith donned clean clothes, wearing pants again. She packed a few extra things, and then returned to Mason’s room, where Trent was still talking with him.
“I’m ready,” Faith announced as she came to stand in the doorway.
Trent glanced over toward Faith and had to be careful not to do a double take at the sight of her standing there with her long blond hair loose and falling about her shoulders in a soft cascade of still-damp curls. Had she been wearing a gown, he would have thought her the image of feminine beauty, but she was dressed in pants again. Even so, he had to admit to himself that he admired the view.
“All right. Let’s go,” Trent said tersely. He glanced back at Mason. “Thanks for your help. We’ll be back.”
“With Abbie,” Mason added.
When Trent had stepped from the room, Faith went to her brother to kiss his cheek.
“Do you want me to help you lie back down?”
“No, I’ll be all right,” he told her, meeting her gaze. He took her hand as he said, “Be careful.”
“We will be, and you do everything you can to get better.” She was still worried about him.
“Hurry back.”
She gave him a tight smile and left. She paused only long enough to quickly plait her hair into a manageable braid, then strapped on her sidearm, got her rifle, and put on her hat.
It was time to go.
She was riding out with a hired gun in a last desperate attempt to find her sister.
Faith started outside where Trent, Jake, Hank, and the packhorse were ready and waiting.
“I’ll tell you what I told your boss lady, here,” Trent was saying to the other two men as she joined them. “I usually work alone. I ride hard and I ride fast. I don’t wait for anyone. If you can’t keep up, don’t bother coming along.”
“We’ll keep up,” Jake said firmly.
“You’d better. If you get lost or we’re separated, you’re on your own. I’m not going to waste time backtracking to find you. I’m after the raiding party.”
Jake and Hank understood what he was saying, and they didn’t doubt for a moment that he meant every word.
“All right. Let’s head out to the scene of the attack.” He looked impatiently back at Faith, who was finally getting ready to mount up. “Are you coming?”
“Try leaving without me,” she replied, swinging up in the saddle. She didn’t say another word as she led the way from the ranch house.
CHAPTER NINE
They made the ride to the scene of the attack without speaking. Faith reined in at the spot where they’d found Mason. She quickly explained to Trent what they’d done the first day out, then showed him the trail they’d followed.
Trent dismounted and studied the tracks, looking for anything unusual. He stood up and stared off in the direction the trail led.
“We still have a few hours of daylight left. Let’s keep going,” Trent directed.
They pushed on, traveling at a ground-eating pace. They followed their earlier tracks until darkness forced them to halt. They made camp and then settled in to eat. Little was said while they made short work of the food Rose had packed for them.
An almost tangible sense of tension prevailed, because it was obvious that Trent resented their presence, but Faith didn’t care. There was no way she was going to change her mind and stay behind. She could keep up with him, and she could shoot as straight as any man. There was no way she could just sit back at the ranch and do nothing while she waited for word of her sister’s fate—word that might take weeks or even months to reach her.
“What do you think the odds are that we’ll find them?” Jake finally asked, breaking the silence.
“If I were a gambling man, I’d say the odds weren’t good after so many days, but I’m not much of a gambling man,” Trent answered. “I mean to find them, but it’s not going to be quick or easy.”
“I hope you have more luck picking up the trail than we did,” Hank told him.
“How far out did you lose it?”
“About another half day’s ride,” Jake offered.
Trent nodded. It was good to know that they would have plenty of daylight left once they reached that location. “Be ready to ride at dawn. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover tomorrow.”
Everyone bedded down for the night.
Trent lay in his bedroll, his thoughts on all that had happened during the day and what they faced over the days to come. Restless and on edge, he got up sometime later and walked away from the campsite. He stood there in the darkness, studying the lay of the land and trying to get a feel for where the raiding party might have been headed. When he heard someone comi
ng, he tensed, ready to draw his gun.
“Trent,” Faith quietly called to him when she saw him standing there, staring out across the land. Trent was an intimidating, solitary figure. Tall and broad-shouldered, he was a man to be reckoned with. She’d been hoping to have the opportunity to speak with him alone, and after seeing him get up and move away from the camp, she realized this was probably going to be the only chance she would have for a while.
Trent relaxed a little when he discovered it was Faith—not that he was glad to see her. He didn’t want or need the distraction she presented while he was tracking the renegades. He let his hand fall away from his sidearm as he waited for her to come to him.
Faith made her way across the rocky ground toward Trent’s imposing figure. What she had to say wasn’t going to be easy for her, but she wanted no conflicts between them while they were on the trail.
“There’s something I needed to say to you,” she began.
“What?” He waited, unsure what she was leading up to.
“I wanted to thank you.”
Trent was surprised. “For what?”
“For taking the job.” She faced him squarely. “Back at the ranch, when I insisted we ride along with you, you could have refused. You could have walked away and never looked back, but you didn’t, and I appreciate that.”
He was impressed by her unexpected display of humbleness. “It really hurt you to say that, didn’t it?”
“You have no idea,” Faith said stiffly. It wasn’t often she had to swallow her pride, but for Abbie’s sake, she would do anything.
“We haven’t found her yet.”
“Not yet, but judging from what Sheriff Fike told me, if anyone can find her, it will be you.”
They fell silent for a moment as they looked out over the night-shrouded landscape.
“She’s out there somewhere,” Faith said, emotion lowering her voice to a whisper. “I just hope she’s still alive.”
Trent recognized her pain, for an instant, was almost tempted to take her in his arms and comfort her. Angered by his own reaction to her momentary display of vulnerability, he stated, “So do I.” Then he turned away from her. “We’d better get some rest. You coming?”
For some reason, Faith felt bereft for a moment; then she managed to get a grip on her emotions. She hardened her heart so she could deal with what the future might hold. “Yes.”
Faith followed Trent back to the campsite to bed down for the night.
It would be dawn soon.
Abbie lay huddled beneath the blanket. She was pretending to sleep, but every fiber of her being was aware of her surroundings—of the flickering campfire and of the warriors drinking the whiskey they’d stolen from the two men they’d attacked and killed on the trail earlier that day. They had left her behind, bound and gagged, when they’d launched their assault, so she hadn’t witnessed the actual murders, but she had seen the victims’ bloodied bodies afterward.
Abbie had silently mourned their deaths. She hadn’t realized her captors had the whiskey until they’d stopped for the night. Only then had she come to understand the possible horror that awaited her there in the darkness. So far during her captivity they had left her untouched, but she knew that if the warriors got drunk and went wild, anything could happen. She shuddered at the thought. The one hope she held on to was that they would drink so much they might pass out. If that happened, she would have the opportunity to escape. She had no doubt Faith was out there searching for her somewhere. Abbie would do everything she could to get away and try to find her way back home.
Home . . .
Memories of the Lazy R and her brother and sister were all that were keeping her sane. She hung onto them tightly as she waited to see what was going to happen next. If the renegades drank themselves insensible, she would be able to sneak off and have a good head start on them before they even realized she was gone.
Abbie could hear the sounds of drunkenness in the warriors’ voices, and, not for the first time, she wished she understood their language. Being ignorant of their plans for her put her at a disadvantage, but in their drunken condition, she figured their only plan for the night was to stay put until morning.
Black Cloud took another deep drink of the firewater, then handed the bottle to Little Dog.
“It is good,” Black Cloud declared in a slurred, drunken voice.
“Very good,” Little Dog agreed, chugging even more of the potent whiskey.
“It is a shame Crooked Snake will not let us take the Golden One for our pleasure,” Black Cloud said as he looked over to where their captive lay sleeping nearby.
“You are right. She would please me greatly,” Little Dog agreed, handing back the bottle. “But the firewater pleases me, too.”
“You are right. The firewater gives more pleasure than that one would,” Black Cloud slurred, smiling as he took a drink.
Little Dog didn’t know if he agreed with Black Cloud, but he didn’t argue. He just let his gaze linger on the woman as he continued to enjoy the liquor.
The two warriors continued to drink heavily until they both fell back on their blankets, dead to the world around them.
Lone Eagle took a swig from the bottle he and Crooked Snake were sharing, and then offered the bottle back to him.
“This is a good night,” Crooked Snake said, celebrating the success of their raids. They had the woman and now they had whiskey.
“Yes, it is,” Lone Eagle agreed.
“We have done well, and there is yet another ranch ahead, just three days’ ride from here,” he told Lone Eagle, already anticipating their next raid. “Perhaps we will find more women there.” He smiled at the thought and looked over to where the Golden One was sleeping. He drank eagerly from the bottle.
As Abbie lay there, biding her time, she began to believe that the moment would never come when it would be quiet at the campsite. Finally, though, long into the night, the last two warriors fell silent. Encouraged by the stillness, she carefully lifted the edge of her blanket and peeked out from underneath it to find that they were all sprawled around the campfire, passed out and oblivious to their surroundings. They may have been celebrating earlier, but now she was the one with something to celebrate.
This was her chance.
Now was the time.
She was going to make a run for it.
Abbie had been chewing at the rope that bound her wrists and had made some progress loosening it. Sitting up, she was finally able to free her wrists, and then quickly untied the binding at her ankles.
Abbie wished she had a gun. She looked around, hoping to see one somewhere close by, but the warriors had kept their weapons beside them, and she didn’t want to risk getting caught trying to take one.
Carefully brushing her blanket aside, she checked the campsite one last time to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, then piled her blanket up in a mound to make it look as if she were still sleeping there. That done, she began to move slowly and silently. She couldn’t afford to make any sudden, unexpected noise that might alert the drunken warriors to her escape attempt. Creeping ever farther from the campfire, she sought the dark, protective cover of the night.
The horses were tied a short distance away, and Abbie offered up a fervent prayer that they would not stir too much as she neared them. She held her breath as she made her way to the place where her own horse was hobbled. Stroking his neck, she freed him and took up his reins.
Abbie was thankful her prayer was answered. The other mounts did not cause any trouble as she led her horse away.
With infinite care, Abbie moved farther and farther away from the campsite. She didn’t stop to mount up until she was certain it was safe. Only then did she swing onto her horse’s back. She needed to get away fast. She needed to put as many miles between herself and her captors as she could. And she needed to do it as quickly as possible. She desperately wanted to put her heels to her horse’s sides and gallop off at top speed into the night, but she did
n’t. She had made it this far by being cautious, and she wasn’t going to do anything to ruin her escape. With a slight nudge, Abbie urged her mount on at a slow, quiet pace. Only when they were several miles away and out of earshot would she speed up. For now, silence was all that mattered.
Little Dog awoke suddenly in the middle of the night. Dreams of the white woman had left his body on fire with his need for her, and that need was throbbing within him. With liquor impairing his judgment, he gave no thought to anything but easing the demanding ache in his body.
The campfire had burned down low, and he was glad. The darker it was, the easier it would be for him to lead the Golden One away from the campsite without disturbing the others.
Getting to his feet, Little Dog drew his knife and staggered toward where she lay sleeping. He believed that when she saw the knife, she would be terrified and obey him without a fight. That was what he wanted—a submissive woman who would do exactly what he wanted her to do.
The thought heated his need even more.
He was ready.
Any concerns he had about Crooked Snake were forgotten in his drunkenness.
His animal desire driving him on, Little Dog knelt beside the sleeping woman and picked up the corner of her blanket. The warrior lifted the blanket a little so he could see the Golden One. In his drunken state, it took him a moment to realize she was missing.
“She is gone!” he raged.
At his shout, the other three warriors came awake. Crooked Snake got up and staggered to his side.
“Where did she go?” he demanded, looking around in confusion.
“I don’t know,” Little Dog told him. “I thought something looked strange, so I came to check on her.”
Black Cloud and Lone Eagle joined them there.
Lone Eagle knelt to pick up the ropes that had bound her. “I’ll check the horses.”
He moved off to see if her horse was still there. It didn’t take long for him to find out.
