Dead Aim

by Dusty Richards

  Surprise was written all over the stranger’s face, like he had not expected to find anyone, when he saw Long stand up. He booted his horse up onto the bank above the beach. The second horse came, too.

  Dripping wet to his knees, he reined up and set his horse down. After a glance over at the one he led, he turned back to Long. “You need her?”

  “Who is she?” Long reset his near windswept Stetson to settle it on his head.

  “A big Sioux chief’s daughter. He’d pay you a hundred buffalo hides for her safe return.”

  What in the hell would he do with that pile of hides? He moved around to inspect her. She turned her face away from him.

  “You speak English?” he asked, deciding she was only a teenager.

  She sullied for a moment, then turned to him and in perfect English she said, “Only to polite people. My father would pay more than that for my return.”

  “Damn you, bitch. She ain’t said one damn word in English to me in two days.”

  “How did you get her?”

  “I found her out picking wild flowers and decided there was a reward out there for her.”

  “I think he was spying on me.”

  “There’s two sides to everyone’s story. What do you want for her?” he asked her captor.

  “Five hundred dollars.”

  “I only have about a hundred and seventy dollars in my pocket in real money on me.”

  The stranger dropped off his horse and used the mount to steady himself while he removed one boot at a time to dump the water out of them. “That ain’t enough.”

  “Well you will have to go find a more prosperous customer. That is all I have.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That means I have no more money than that.”

  “Pay me,” he said in defeat. He held out his hand.

  “I am sick and tired of putting up with her.”

  Long counted the paper money out into his hand. It was most of the hatchet contest prize he’d won at the outpost.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Jack Bromley.”

  “That includes her horse?”

  “Hell, yes. That’s some dumb Indian broomtail. You got a thing to eat?”

  “Nope.” Long shook his head.

  “You’re an Injun, too, huh?”

  “Part Cherokee.”

  “Well you can have that bitch.” Took him two tries to get back in the saddle in his soaked boots. “Oh, she says she’s a virgin. I doubt that.”

  “Bye, Jack. Travel safely.” Good riddance of that dumb guy. The man rode away. He walked over . . . got out his jackknife. She drew back.

  “Hold out your hands. I’ll cut that rope.”

  “Good.” She held her hands out and he cut the rope that bound them.

  She lay down on the horse’s neck to catch the lead rope. Once up she booted him to leave.

  “Wait,” he said. “I lied to him. I do have food.”

  Like she didn’t hear him, she didn’t rein the horse up to stop until she was down at the water’s edge. Then she twisted and looked back at him.

  He spoke to her over the river’s rushing by. “I don’t want your body or any rewards, but you should stop and eat. Then you can go find your people.”

  She reined around. “You serious?”

  “I bought you didn’t I?”

  Still on horseback she made a sour face. “I wish I knew why.”

  “I hate to see anyone be a prisoner that doesn’t deserve it.”

  “That was lots of money.”

  “It saved your life. So what is money for anyway?”

  “But I am an Indian, you are mostly white.”

  “No, we both have hearts that pump our blood, and we both should care for one another.”

  “Why should I care for you?”

  “Because we are both human beings.”

  She shook her head as if she couldn’t figure it out, then slipped off the horse.

  How old was she? A teen. No matter she was a real pretty girl. But after their meal she would disappear like smoke in the rolling land beyond that river. No matter. He would feed her and, maybe, she would answer some questions about her people he, himself had no answers for.

  He cooked her the other fish he’d saved for breakfast. She sat cross-legged across the fire looking very fixed on leaving as soon as his meal for her was over.

  “We get through eating, I need to catch more fish for breakfast.”

  “You have a bow and arrows?”

  “No, I use a grasshopper.”

  She made a face like she thought he was crazy. “How does he catch fish?”

  “After you eat I can show you how.”

  She shook her head about the possibility of it happening.

  He watched her eat the cooked fish with her small fingers a piece at a time. Second bite she smiled. “He is very good. I never ate one so tender.”

  “Most people cook them too hard.”

  She laughed and pointed at him. “That is it. They do.”

  “How far are your people away from here?”

  “Maybe three to four days’ ride. They hunt for buffalos to have food this winter. So they move a lot.”

  “Can you find them?”

  “I will.”

  “There are lots more men out there like him.”

  “I know.”

  “Have you ever seen the Rocky Mountains?”

  “I saw lots of mountains. Which ones are they?”

  “They told me there are some great mountains that run north to south across the land.”

  “Oh, yes, but you have to be at the foot of them to see them.”

  That was different from what he thought it would be. He reached forward and poured her some coffee.”

  “What is this?” she asked when he handed her a cup.

  “Coffee.”

  She handed the cup back. “I don’t like coffee.”

  “Try it. You didn’t like hard fish.”

  She stopped, looked at him, and laughed when she reached for it back. “I will try it.”

  She put her lip on the cup.

  “It is hot. Only sip it.”

  She did and smiled. “It is good and it is hot.”

  “See I have not lied to you.”

  She nodded.

  “I need to get back to Texas. But I came to see those mountains. After I see them I can try to take you to your people. Or you can go back alone and try to dodge guys like him.”

  She gave him no answer.

  “Can we ride there in a week?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I have been out there but I never counted how far it is.”

  “Well, wait until morning and I won’t bother you and we can go find them.”

  She was drinking her coffee. “That was very good. Show me the grasshopper trick.”

  “Let’s go.” He took off his boots and socks, then he rolled up his pants. Armed with his pole, he led her to the water on the way catching a fat hopper in his Stetson for a net.

  She stood close by while he threaded the bait on a hook. When he finished she snickered and shook her head at the joke he’d pulled on her. He waded out and cast the hopper upstream. The hopper traveled down the current, and, immediately, a trout took it. The pole bent and the girl joined him, wading in the stream, to cheer his fight on until he managed to corral a nice-size fish and toss him on the gravel.

  He rapped him on the head with a rock before he noticed her skirt and britches were neat-like, lying on the bank. He knew Indians didn’t take being half-naked as seriously as white people. Then she handed him another fat grasshopper.

  “Thanks, I needed more bait. Get out there in the water. I can show you how to catch them.”

  She obeyed him. He was grateful she still had her blouse on. She tossed the hopper. But not where he felt it should be. He made the next cast for her and handed her the pole. It was swish and the pole bent into a U. She had a real fish on
her line, and he caught her by her slender waist to hold her from being drug downstream.

  “We—got hi—him.”

  “Yes, we did, girl. Lead him to the shallows and I’ll toss him on the bank.”

  He moved around, bent over, and scooped the slick large fish up onto the gravelly beach.

  When he rose he saw three tough-faced men seated on their horses facing them.

  “Not a bad catch. Huh, guys?”

  CHAPTER 4

  “Well ain’t she a real pretty bitch, boys?” the big man with the mustache asked the two saddle bums with him on horseback. They nodded and grinned like some greedy dogs about to feast on guts at a cow killing.

  “What’s your business here?” Long asked.

  “The Indian princess.”

  “She isn’t free to go.”

  “We ain’t asking you—”

  It was his time to take action. Long roared so loud that he spooked two of their horses backward. Then with his gun in his fist he shot at the leader fighting to draw his pistol while trying to control his horse, but he was already half out of the saddle. Another one tried to shoot over the struck man’s spooked horse, but Long’s bullet cut him down.

  Number three was whipping his horse to escape. During his scramble to get up the bank, Long shot at him three times but missed and he was gone in the brush. Long’s gun arm dropped in disgust.

  She was shaking there beside him and hugging him.

  He petted her on her back and wondered how to settle her down. “I’m sorry but I had no choice. They would have killed us or killed me and took you.”

  “I know. I am not a child. Are there more?”

  “Lord, I don’t know. But I imagine they are only the first ones.”

  “How did they find us?”

  “I bet they found Bromley and he told them.”

  “What should we do?”

  “I’ll clean the fish while you dress. Then we’ll load up our horses and head west. Find us a safe place, tomorrow, down the road and sleep.”

  “I know that you chose me over your own life. I will go with you.”

  “I hope I can protect you. If we move fast, I think we can shake them, but it will be tough going at times.”

  He was back at the water’s edge washing out the big trout he had gutted, and she had put on her clothing. Next he dressed the other fish and told her to take them to camp. He’d clean up the mess, take the dead men’s guns, and be along to load up.

  The big dead man had little identity. Long was about to give up when in the man’s saddlebags he found a letter written to Wallace Odom. The address was Omaha, Nebraska. The other man had nothing but a worn-out cap and ball pistol. He dragged their bodies down to the water one at a time and then he put their corpses out in the river to float downstream. He unsaddled their mounts and tossed their worn-out saddles in the stream. Next he sent the two horses into the river shouting and waving his arms, making them go across the river. They struggled up the far bank under a barrage of rocks thrown at them to make them hurry off.

  He had two well-used handguns, two knives, and twenty dollars in change and went back to camp. She had it all packed and he began to load the packhorse. Then he saddled his own horse. They were on the road as the sun sank beyond the far horizon.

  “I am so sorry that intervened in our talking. What do they call you?” he asked.

  “It is the Sioux word for a flower. You can call me Rose.”

  “Rose.” That is what he’d call her. “Their saddles were not worth a damn. I will find you one that fits you.”

  “I can ride a horse without one.”

  “I will find you a suitable saddle.”

  “You are very made up in your mind.”

  “What is that?” He frowned over at her.

  “I wanted to leave you. You stopped me. You want me to ride a saddle and you won’t listen.”

  “Trust me I know. You will need a saddle if you ride with me.”

  About dawn, they found some brush cover down by the riverbed, unloaded the horses, and slept in the shade until past noon. He awoke drowsy. She was still sleeping in a blanket he gave her.

  His holster strapped in place, he put his hat on and checked on their horses.

  They were grazing and fine. When he came back she sat up under her blanket.

  “Are you awake?”

  “Oh, I am fine. I couldn’t start the fire.”

  “I bet I can. You look peaked.”

  “What is that?”

  “Worn out?”

  She made a disappointed face at him. “I am at that time when I need to be alone.”

  “I can try to find us a hideout today.”

  “Alone?”

  “Whatever. Will you be well in two or three days?”

  “It should go away by then.”

  He cooked the fish. She barely ate anything. They moved west without any interference. Her pale face made her look ready to faint. His greatest concern was she might faint, fall off her horse, and hurt herself.

  Four hours later in the moonlight, he led them down into the brush and cottonwood trees along the river to find a place where they could camp. There was grazing there for the horses. He set up her blanket and then carried her there from where she dismounted.

  “I am not a baby.”

  “I didn’t call you that.” He hauled her small body in his arms and gently laid her down on the blanket. “I am going to cook some beans. Sleep.”

  “Long?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are a very sincere man.”

  “Where did you learn English?”

  “Padres.”

  “They come out here?”

  “They came from Canada for three summers to our camps. I learned French, too.”

  “Well, all I ever learned was English. My mother was a great teacher. Me and my brother, Harp, did lots of bookwork, and when we’d get a little sloppy talking she’d twist our ears. Guess it didn’t hurt either of us.”

  “Harp is your brother?”

  “Half anyway, but I call it all. Mom had me after she learned my father was killed off on the Outlet. My stepfather’s first wife drowned and he found Mom, took her to a dance, and married her there. Harp’s nine months younger than I am. Oh, he’s a dandy.”

  “You miss him?”

  “I’ve never been separated over a day or two in my life from him. I let him talk for me when we needed a voice on the trail. I got this big crazy idea to see this country when we started home for Texas. Told him I’d go see the Rockies and then come home.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t do this sick business on purpose.”

  “I didn’t think you did. I’m just proud you stayed with me.”

  “Can you afford to lose a few days here?”

  “I can. But I wish I had a better place.”

  “I am a Sioux. We live out here.”

  Long shook his head. “How old are you anyway?”

  “I have been here for fifteen winters. My mother has them notched on a stick. She can’t count.”

  “A fine way to know things.”

  “She told me she had these same problems, too, as a girl. She promised me I would outgrow it.”

  He stood up. Were they through chasing her? He doubted it. Damn, if only he had Harp there—

  “Have I ruined it?” she asked.

  He whirled around. Her dark brown eyes looked sad in the fire’s light. “Ruined what?”

  “When I told you my age, did that worry you?”

  He dropped his chin and put his hands on his hips. “I had hoped you were older. You sound older. I’ll be twenty-one.”

  She shook her head. “That is not old.”

  He snickered. “I need to tell you a story. One day last year when Harp found his woman it was some kinda magic. Her man at the time was going to be hung shortly for murdering another man. So she had no one. She stayed around that store in Arkansas and he came by, bought two cans of peaches, and they w
ent off up on a creek to eat them and they were set forever.”

  “That dumb man caught me away from the main camp. I was really feeling sorry for myself when he found you.”

  “Tell me something from your life before. When you were at home. Did any warriors bring horses to your family tepee to marry you?”

  She nodded her head. “I untied them. Then I shooed them away.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “They weren’t for me.”

  “You never saw me until Bromley brought you to me?”

  “You were the first white man he met since he kidnapped me. He said he wanted lots of money for me.”

  “I won that money throwing hatchets at a post the day before.”

  “That was all you’d paid for me?”

  He nodded his head, sat down beside her, and hugged his knees. “Rose, you get to feeling better. I don’t know our enemies. I don’t have any horses to send to your father. No canned peaches to feed you . . . but I figure we can work all that out between us.”

  She put her hand on his knee. “I will get better I—promise.” She drew up in pain.

  He sat up and nodded. “Willow leaves tea.”

  “What is that?”

  “Stay here.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To find some willow leaves.”

  She looked at him, peeved. “You were about to get serious and you are going away.”

  “Rest easy. We’ve got lots of time to talk.”

  In a short while he had several limbs of leaves he had gathered off the willows down by the river. His arms full, he dropped them on the ground and built a fire. Then with his jackknife he began slicing up the leaves and bark.

  He soon had them in his boiling water and sat back.

  “What is that going to be?” she asked.

  “An elixir.”

  “What is that?” She held herself in pain.

  “Stops pain. I don’t know how long it has to boil.”

  He took the cup from his belt, dipped out a half full cup of steaming water, and set it down. “It’s too hot.”

  When it was cool she sipped it. “Not as good as your coffee.”