by Nathan Jones
The trouble came from the north end of town, near where Main Street returned to being a vehicle track after the last houses. A couple of seedy looking horsemen there had dismounted and were closing in on a young woman in a shawl who'd been walking past them. They moved with a predatory air that immediately made alarm bells ring in Skyler's head.
He shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. Two men hassling a girl right in the middle of town, and a quick look around showed the few locals in sight were pretending not to notice. Part of that was probably the Wild West mentality he'd once heard Trapper talk about, the lawless mindset where everyone minded their own business to the point where there were shootouts in the street and nobody stepped in.
Of course, it probably didn't help that the young woman looked Hispanic, with creamy brown skin, midnight black hair, and dark eyes; those who might've stepped in to defend any other girl were keeping a wide berth.
It was just the same as when Bradshaw and his goons had pushed Bryant around in the bowl valley years ago, at the beginning of the Mountain War.
Skyler grit his teeth and quickened his step, unbuckling the strap on his Glock's holster as he went. He was no fan of people who delighted in causing trouble for others at the best of times, and that went double for any man who'd try to frighten or hurt a woman. But those who targeted innocent people using their resemblance to Sangue as an excuse hit close to home for him.
“Bit early in the year for bloodsuckers, isn't it?” one of the men was saying loudly as he came within earshot. The girl tried to sidestep him and he moved to block her path again.
“Perdon,” she said politely, although her voice was trembling. So was she, for that matter.
“No,” the other man jeered. “That's the same word in Spanish, right? You understand that?” He crowded her from behind. “I don't think she's anything as innocent as just a chica that sucks Sangue, Tram. She looks more like a spy to me. Here to scope out the town's defenses and maybe do some sabotage before her buddies come in and butcher us all.”
The girl was looking around helplessly, dark eyes pleading for assistance. They met Skyler's, and even though he was still thirty or so yards away he decided he needed to act.
“Hey!” he shouted to get her assailants' attention. “You really stupid enough to think she looks Sangue?”
She looked visibly relieved as the two men whirled on him, then looked at each other. “This drifter talking to us, Tram?” the ruffian whose name Skyler hadn't yet heard growled.
Skyler continued forward confidently. He kind of wished he was wearing the flak jacket he kept stored in Junior's saddlebags, but it was too bulky and uncomfortable to wear aside from when he knew he was going into trouble. Not to mention it tended to draw notice he'd rather avoid.
Too late to lament not having it now, though. Wasn't like he hadn't been through plenty of scrapes without it.
He settled his hand on his Glock as he replied to the ruffian's challenging comment. “Would you rather talk to my friend?” Their eyes narrowed, but although Tram had a revolver on his hip neither seemed anxious for that kind of trouble.
They began backing away from the girl towards their horses, eyes spiteful. “Taking the bloodies' side, drifter?” Tram growled.
He kept walking to close the distance and put himself and Junior between the two men and their victim. “Heard there were some Mexican refugees who'd fled north from Sangue during the war who've built homesteads a few miles away,” he said calmly. Hancock had grudgingly praised the homesteaders for their hard work.
“Oh yeah?” the unnamed ruffian said, voice thick with affected innocence.
“Yeah.” Skyler hardened his voice. “But you probably already knew that. Guessing it doesn't matter much when you're just looking for an excuse to push around vulnerable girls.”
“It's welcoming her with open arms compared to what they do to ours,” Tram snarled, hand drifting towards his revolver. It might've been an unconscious gesture. Or maybe not.
“Try it,” Skyler invited, drawing his Glock smoothly and holding it ready, although still pointed at the ground. The ruffian snatched his hand back from his gun, and Skyler smiled grimly as he continued. “That sounded a lot like you admitting you never really thought she was a threat to anyone. Can't say that makes you look any better.”
He took a step closer to the two, forcing them to back away more. “I've seen my share of Sangue. I've fought my share of Sangue. And I've seen gutless SOBs like you who never had the stones to fight them yourself, but just love to find innocent people who look like them to push around as if that's the same thing.”
Tram narrowed his eyes. “Careful, kid. Sticking up for a damsel in distress hoping to get your pistol oiled is one thing, but you have no idea who we are. What kind of fight you're picking.”
“I could say the same.” Skyler gestured curtly with his 9mm. “Mount up and ride away, friends.”
They did, warily climbing into the saddles of their nondescript horses and wheeling away from him to walk their mounts away on the track headed north. It somewhat bothered him to see how much less nervous they were than they had been to begin with, as if reminded of some reason not to be.
He just hoped that whatever the source of their courage, they kept their ire focused on him and not on the girl he'd stepped in to protect. He could handle trouble, even if it meant needing to move on.
Speaking of said young woman . . .
Suddenly awkward now that the confrontation was over, Skyler turned to face her. His awkwardness wasn't helped by the fact that she'd backed away from him a safe distance. Her eyes, still wide from the recent confrontation, searched his face warily for a threat.
Very pretty eyes, Skyler couldn't help noticing. A warm, vibrant brown he could get lost looking into if he wasn't careful.
Although he felt bad even acknowledging that. Like he was being unfaithful. It was usually how he got around girls these last two years, which was annoying since he'd never been particularly shy or self-conscious with them growing up.
And the worst part was, he felt more like he was betraying Tabby than Lisa when he acknowledged that any other girl was good looking. Even though he was here searching for Lisa, even though he'd never abandoned his love for her, it was usually Tabby he thought of.
Tabby his mind drifted to on nights out in the wilds, when he was lonely and miserable and wondering what he was even doing up in the Northwest. He always stubbornly steered his thoughts back to his search for Lisa, of course, but they somehow inevitably found their way back to the friend he'd left behind.
Remembering the time in his life when he'd been truly happy and content, although he hadn't realized it until he left and it was gone forever.
Because it was. Any hope of having something with Tabby had ended the moment he'd chosen to set out on his search; she'd outright told him so. In fact, his friend had almost certainly moved on and was probably married by now. Might even have a kid already.
The idea hurt more than he liked to admit, same as it always did when he let himself think of it. Not that he wouldn't be glad for his friend if she'd found happiness without him, of course. But that didn't make it any less painful.
And while he'd been ruminating on his sorry love life, the silence had stretched on uncomfortably between him and the young woman in front of him. Skyler gave her a reassuring smile. “I'd say the trouble's over for now, ma'am.”
“Thank you,” she said in heavily accented English. But her gaze drifted down to the ground, and she still looked almost as nervous around him as she'd been with her two assailants.
“De nada,” he said gently, then continued in Spanish. “Are you okay?”
Her eyes darted up, surprised, and she gratefully answered in the more familiar language. “You speak Spanish?”
Skyler nodded. “My dad taught me. I'm Skyler Graham.”
She hesitated before answering reluctantly. “Adalia Ruiz.”
“Good to meet you, Miss Ruiz.”
He glanced after the disappearing men. “You get hassled by townspeople often?”
Adalia also glanced after them. “No. That is, well . . .” She trailed off uncomfortably. Skyler guessed she did, but was too proud or embarrassed to admit it. Then she rallied. “Those two are new to town, like you.”
She probably hadn't meant it like that, but it still stung. “I can assure you, Miss Ruiz, they're nothing like me.”
The young woman hesitated a beat too long, just on the verge of hurting his feelings. “No, of course not, Mr. Graham. They're part of a group that recently set up not far from my homestead.” In spite of herself the young woman shivered slightly. “Too close for comfort. As you saw, they're not the most wholesome sort.”
He had indeed. And if they were part of a larger group, and one close to where she lived, then it was likely her trouble with them wasn't over. In fact, by stepping in and wounding their pride he might've made her situation even worse.
Scrud. “In that case, would you like me to walk with you on whatever errands you have in town?”
Adalia clutched her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “Thanks, but I-I think I want to just go home.”
“Then let me at least escort you there, for my own peace of mind. If those two live near your home I couldn't in good conscience let you go alone.” Skyler nodded towards Junior. “You can ride Horse, and I'll walk.”
The young woman gave him a tight-lipped smile. “I appreciate the offer, but I'm fine. I wasn't exactly wringing my hands while those men hassled me.” To illustrate her point, she opened her shawl enough to reveal that beneath it she was clutching a 9mm pistol. One not too different from his, actually.
At his obvious surprise her smile widened slightly, becoming more genuine. “Wouldn't be the first time I've run into incivility since leaving Mexico. Those two gentlemen weren't the only people I've met who can't tell the difference between refugees who fled north from Mexico to escape Sangue, and the animals who made them flee in the first place.”
Skyler chuckled in admiration. “Guess you had things covered.” He glanced north again, the direction Adalia would have to travel to get home. “Still, two on one is bad odds. Especially if they're part of a larger group.”
She hesitated, looking torn. He supposed he didn't blame her for not immediately trusting him; he did look like, well, like he'd spent most of the last two years sleeping in ditches and the barns of generous farmers.
But after looking into his eyes for a few moments she nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Graham. My family can look after ourselves once I get home, but I'd appreciate company on the way.”
In spite of that show of trust, Skyler wasn't blind to the fact that Adalia spurned his help mounting in spite of her obvious lack of experience with horses, which was further complicated by her only using one hand to do so. Presumably so she could keep her 9mm handy, just in case.
Well, as long as she wasn't planning to use it he supposed he didn't mind her caution. Much.
He set off leading Junior by the reins, feeling awkward walking in front and sure she was staring at his back the entire time. There was no way to casually turn around to talk to her, and even if he could he wasn't sure what he'd say.
If he never found Lisa, if Tabby had married back home, wouldn't he eventually have to find someone else? Learn how to court a young woman and show he was more than some scruffy drifter?
He nearly jumped when Adalia abruptly spoke from behind him. “Your Spanish is incredibly good, so I'm a bit confused about you saying “horse” instead of “caballo”. Especially with improper grammar. Unless it's a name?”
Skyler felt a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. As usual when talking about the stallion's name. “Yeah, my horse is named “Horse.” He paused. “Horse Jr., actually.”
He glanced back to find her staring at him, a somewhat pained quality to her expression. “You . . . have two horses named Horse?”
“Well yeah. But to avoid confusion I call this one Junior.”
The young woman's eyes narrowed. “You're messing with me.”
“Only in the sense that everyone does a double take about my choice of names.” Skyler chuckled. “What can I say? My dad has a legendarily understated sense of humor. He thought it would be funny to have a horse named Horse. He's had two with that name, now, and I wanted to honor the tradition.”
“I suppose that means he also has a mare named Mare?”
Skyler smiled fondly, thinking back to that day in Grand Junction all those years ago when Trapper had returned with their first horse. “Mary, actually. Mare's a silly name.”
Adalia swore under her breath, sounding exasperated, although when he glanced over his shoulder again he could see her biting back a smile. She was also patting Junior's neck affectionately; she was obviously fond of horses, even if she had some reservations about this one's owner.
He faced forward again, searching for something else to talk about. No telling how far away from town she lived; the farms and homesteads stretched for miles. “Your family been here long?” he finally asked before the silence could get too awkward.
“You could say that,” she replied dryly. “Aside from the few people originally living here, we were some of the first settlers in Lone Valley. Not that you'd know it by asking our neighbors.” She managed to keep most of the bitterness out of her tone when she said that.
Yeah, Skyler was well aware that after Sangue had spent over five years terrorizing what had once been the United States, a lot of folks were less than welcoming of anyone who looked like them. He'd seen Mexican refugees shunned or even driven out of more than a few places.
Which was a shame, since they tended to be honest and hardworking people, tight-knit families who formed strong communities wherever they settled, and were generous with what little they had. He'd been offered hospitality by more than one Mexican family in his travels, since as a lone wanderer he often encountered a lot of the same suspicion and hostility they did.
Of course, it helped that he spoke fluent Spanish and treated them with respect and courtesy.
Although on the other side of the coin, there were bad sorts in any group; he'd heard in a few towns that some of the refugees they ostracized later turned to banditry. Or started out as troublemakers which led to them being ostracized; things were rarely completely black and white, and most often both sides of an argument shared some of the blame.
And then to further inflame tensions there were the Sangue deserters, who continued to plague small towns and isolated settlements all over the country, from coast to coast and from Mexico's border up to the border of the Northern League. Skyler had run afoul of one such group himself in Northern Utah not long after setting out from home, and with the help of a posse from a nearby town had hunted them down and brought them to justice.
He threw Adalia a sympathetic look over his shoulder. “You'd think that after everything folks have suffered at Sangue's hands, they'd have more kindness to spare for others who've suffered the same.”
“You'd think.” She laughed bitterly. “It's like they never bother to wonder why we traveled across an entire country of people who can't tell the difference between us and the monsters we fled. Never wonder what sort of horrors we suffered to make us leave our fertile land and cross barren wastelands, not knowing if what was on the other side would be good for farming.”
It was hard to think of a good answer to that. “Well hopefully once enough time has passed and Sangue is a distant memory, people's prejudices will fade as well.”
The young woman laughed again, although she seemed more sad and weary now. “You seem like a solitary sort of traveler, Mr. Graham. It's obvious you haven't been around people much.”
Skyler thought of the people of Emery. They'd known the Hendricksons for years, and still stood by and did nothing when Bryant was being tormented for the unfortunate reason of the Hispanic half of his heritage, due to what Aunt Vicky had suffered at Sangue hands.
“I've
gotten to know more people than you'd think, from all walks of life,” he said quietly. “Enough to learn that there's far more good than bad to find in most.”
Adalia was quiet for a few moments, and he snuck a peek back to gauge her expression. She was staring at him thoughtfully, although she quickly looked away when their eyes met. She cleared her throat, and he thought he saw a hint of a blush on her cheeks. “Thank you again, for back in town,” she said quietly. “It could've turned scary if you hadn't shown up. I don't want you to think I don't appreciate it.”
Skyler felt his own cheeks flushing. He couldn't think of a gracious way to accept her heartfelt gratitude, so he awkwardly tipped his hat and faced forward again. “Just glad I was there to help, Miss Ruiz.”
“Adalia, please.”
“All right, then call me Skyler.” Almost nobody had called him by his last name before he'd left the ranch. In fact most people, even some friends, had mistakenly called him Miller, same as the rest of his family. He hadn't minded much, since he was proud to be Trapper's son. But he was also proud to be Miles Graham's son.
It just felt weird to be called Mr. Graham. As if he was in his 30s instead of almost out of his teens.
“Skyler, then,” she replied. He thought there might've been a hint of warmth in her tone.
Well, it was a start.
✽✽✽
Adalia's homestead was about an hour's walk north and a bit west of town, almost to where the pastureland for the ranches began. Luckily they didn't see any sign of the two ruffians who'd accosted her in town on the way, mostly because she directed him onto a smaller footpath halfway there that led directly to her home.
The homestead was a good-sized one, a cluster of five houses and a couple outbuildings in the middle of fields spreading out in all directions, built around a small stream trickling in from the mountains to the northwest. There were even signs of a few animals, probably goats or sheep. Skyler guessed that maybe twenty or thirty people lived here, almost certainly all Adalia's extended family or maybe close friends.
