Now and Forever

by Mary Connealy

  He’d heard tell some folks thought he was a ghost. He was a white man raised by Indians, who wandered the area and appeared from time to time, and that made him a mystery in the little town that barely clung to existence on the edge of the Rocky Mountains.

  The rumors, when he thought of them at all, had always amused him, and it had suited him not to know many people. He had enough friends in Caleb and the other men who lived in the mountains with him. And they only crossed his path occasionally.

  But somehow he’d found himself married and dragged into the Wilde family and all the trouble that seemed to follow them. Why, he’d been to town more times this summer than in his whole life.

  “This is delicious pie, Miss Myra.” Nev was eating so slow, Tucker knew they were going to still be here to eat the noon meal if something wasn’t done soon. Well, maybe Nev wanted to eat for that long, but Tucker had a wife to protect and homesteads to check. There’d be no tracks after that blasted rain, but he could still satisfy himself that Coulter was right about the fires being set.

  “Nev, why don’t you split up the names of the homesteaders with Hiram? That way you can cover more land and get them all warned faster. I don’t think Aaron and I should leave our womenfolk alone. Not if someone dangerous is around.”

  Stewbold gave Tucker one of his smirks. Tucker promised himself then and there that before Stewbold left the area, he was going to use his fist to wipe at least one of those looks off the man’s face.

  “What is it, Hiram?”

  “I just noticed you have the cast off your leg, Mr. Tucker. But I think you would probably be wise to coddle your leg. No doubt after your ordeal of being injured, you still need plenty of time to . . . lay about.”

  Tucker decided it was going to be right now that he taught Hiram Stewbold a lesson he wouldn’t ever forget.

  Aaron erupted from his seat on the bench and clamped a hand on Tucker’s shoulder, no doubt reading the situation about right. “Stewbold, you stay and finish your pie with Nev.”

  Aaron had been an officer in the Union Army. He had a way with giving orders. Tucker had no intention of obeying them, but he had to fight the reflex.

  “Tucker, I’ve got something important I need you to do for me outside, right now. Now!” Aaron’s hand dug into Tucker’s shoulder so hard that Tucker either had to punch him or get up and follow.

  Figuring he could always beat the tar out of Stewbold later, Tucker nodded his goodbyes to the smug, the smitten, and the pretty baker and followed Aaron out of the diner.

  “You can punch him later. Right now I want to go see those burned-out homesteads, and pounding on Stewbold might take up to ten minutes.”

  “It’d take one good punch. Not even half a minute.”

  “Yep, but there’d be screaming.”

  “Miss Myra wouldn’t scream; she seems pretty steady.”

  “No, I mean Hiram. He’d scream for sure. And then I’d have to hit him and we just don’t have the time. You’ll have plenty of chances. I have no doubt.”

  “People are a lot of trouble, Aaron.” Tucker swung up on his grulla, took another look at Nev through the window, still taking gnat-sized bites of his pie and talking with the waitress while Hiram’s mustache twitched. “Now that my leg’s healed, I’ve a mind to take Shannon and head for my cabin in the mountains. I’d do it too, except I don’t like anyone thinking they drove me off my land.”

  “That’s not the only reason you don’t do it.” Aaron reined his horse to the south just as Gage Coulter came riding into town from that direction, and they rode toward him.

  “Sure it is.”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, why else?”

  “I’ve never seen your cabin, Tucker, but I’m betting it’s not big enough for you, your wife, and all her sheep.”

  “I hate sheep.” Tucker realized he was saying it now mostly out of habit. He’d gotten so he was sort of fond of the confounded little critters.

  Coulter rode up. “Did you find out if any other homesteads have been hit?”

  Aaron shook his head. “Stewbold said he’d start checking. He named off several he’s been out to recently that were all right. And I rode around the country the last few days to folks I know and didn’t find any more. I warned all of them to be cautious and told them to spread the word. There are a lot of homesteaders.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Coulter said.

  “It’ll take weeks to check them all.” Aaron had that military look he got sometimes.

  “Are you planning on doing that?” Tucker didn’t think it was Aaron’s job.

  “Someone needs to.”

  Ten riders, all riding at a full gallop, stormed into town from the west.

  “Boyle,” Coulter muttered as he scowled at the newcomers.

  “I’ve heard you say that name before.” Aaron turned his black gelding to face them. “There must be trouble.”

  “They ride like that all the time. Anyone who gets in the way had better watch out.” Tucker knew that for a fact.

  Aaron glanced at him. “You’ve been in their way before?”

  “Not me, but a man I know got himself on the wrong side of Rance Boyle and didn’t live to talk about it. A troublemaker who never meant no harm, but he shot off his mouth to a man who’s quick on the trigger.”

  The three of them stood in a row as Boyle rode straight up to them. Tucker wondered if Boyle would keep riding just to see if he could make them give way. Instead, Boyle pulled his horse, a huge buckskin stallion, to a halt a few paces in front of them. His eyes roved between them, but settled on Gage.

  “Coulter.” Boyle nodded. He didn’t bother greeting Tucker or Aaron.

  “Heard you’ve been burning out homesteaders, Boyle,” Coulter said by way of greeting.

  Tucker remembered Coulter saying if anyone accused him of burning out homesteaders, they’d better be ready to fight. Maybe Coulter wanted a fight.

  Boyle smiled. “I heard there’d been trouble, but none of it is my doing. I did get here in time to do some business with the land office, though.”

  “Stewbold agreed to sell land that homesteaders had been burned out of, only days after they’d lost it?” Aaron didn’t seem interested in being ignored.

  “That he did.” Boyle looked at Aaron, his eyes dark as sin, his hair white. He was a huge man, broad gone to fat. He needed that big horse to carry his weight.

  Despite his arrogance, his clothes were none too fancy and showed signs of wear. His buckskin was a raw-boned animal with no sign of fancy bloodlines. Boyle wasn’t a wealthy man.

  “He said the homesteaders signed away their rights to the claims, all proper and legal. They didn’t just walk away from it. If they had, there was time to change their minds and come back. But they’d come to him and said they were leaving the country.”

  “How many homesteads have you bought?”

  “Three. I went into the land office just a few days ago and asked about land for sale, and those three claims were available. They happened to be handy to my land, Coulter.” His black eyes swung back to Gage. “Yours too, I reckon.”

  Tucker didn’t speak. He was busy studying Boyle and the horses and men with him. The hoofprints they left. The stride of each animal. He wanted to recognize these horses if he came upon a trail. Especially one left by this big buckskin.

  He tried to imagine those hooves tied up with rags.

  “I have business, Coulter. I’d best get on.” Boyle tugged at the brim of a battered felt hat—not a Stetson, which cost more than Boyle could afford most likely.

  Boyle rode on. Tucker looked around Aspen Ridge and wondered, What business? “Not much business to be done here. I wonder what he’s in town for.”

  Aspen Ridge had a small general store, Erica’s Diner, the jailhouse with a U.S. Marshal who was rarely around, Sandy’s Livery, and a couple of saloons—one with dance-hall girls. A few other stores that were open part of the time when someone came in town and had a no
tion to try and run a business. Most of them folded up after a while and moved on.

  “I don’t know, but with Boyle you can bet it’s no good.”

  “Maybe he rode in to see if more homesteads have been abandoned.”

  “Could he have heard of the attack on your place, Tucker?”

  “He didn’t pay me any special attention. But I’ve never met him. Maybe he doesn’t know it was my place that was attacked. Maybe he just expected to come in and find some homesteader giving up.”

  “Let’s go check the homesteads.” Aaron headed for the edge of town.

  Tucker followed. Coulter reined his horse and came along with them.

  22

  Shannon liked fighting back a lot better than she liked sitting home wringing her hands, hoping her big, strong husband solved all her problems for her.

  Not that she had any objections to him solving all her problems for her. If he did, good for him. While she waited, she’d see about solving them herself.

  Tucker had told about the tracks and what little he’d learned from them. Now Shannon remembered something. “I’m sure that man was in my barn. We didn’t search in there for tracks.”

  “Tucker didn’t think of looking for tracks inside?” Sunrise sounded deeply disappointed in her son.

  “I thought of it first, honestly,” Shannon said with some pride, “but we never got around to searching.”

  “Why not?” Bailey asked, staring at the muddy yard.

  Shannon remembered well why not. First they’d talked about the war and then they’d started kissing, and then . . . Shannon felt her cheeks heat up a bit. Kylie noticed. Her eyes widened. She grinned and went to look out the door.

  “Uh . . . we . . . well, it was raining, and we . . . had to get back to the house.” Shannon spoke too fast, then shoved the cabin door open and walked out so that no one could see her blush.

  Sunrise grumbled something, which wasn’t like her. She was a quiet woman normally. She followed Shannon to the barn, and Sunrise began studying the dirt floor. All of them did, but Shannon let her sheep run loose in the small barn. There were two small corrals for their horses. Otherwise it was one open area. Which was covered with dozens of hoofprints. And Shannon and Tucker had been in here, so the ground had been trod on plenty since the intruder had come and gone.

  It took Sunrise a while, but finally, off to the side of the barn door, she went to one knee and stared intently. “Like the horses . . . he ties rags on his feet.” She looked around. “In here, he did not cover his tracks well. If it had not rained, we would have found him. I cannot read him from these odd tracks, though. His height and weight are hidden.”

  Shannon stared at the rough indents. She’d have never recognized them as tracks if Sunrise hadn’t pointed them out.

  “But he is not as good as he thinks he is. He knows tricks, but that does not make him a woodsman.” Sunrise stood, still looking down at the track, rubbing her chin with a thumb. “And I can tell one thing clearly.”

  “What’s that?” Shannon asked. She could tell nothing from this one misshapen dent in the dirt in her barn.

  “This is someone who does not understand Tucker. Someone who thinks driving off sheep will make Tucker run. A single blow will not bring my son down. That is not Tucker’s way.”

  Shannon thought of Tucker knocked off that mountain by a grizzly bear. Thrown off a cliff by her. Tossed over a waterfall. Bashed unconscious. Broken leg. Gashed-open belly. A five-day hike out of the black heart of the earth.

  Nope, a single blow didn’t bring Tucker down. Sunrise had that right.

  Sunrise looked up from the floor into Shannon’s eyes. “And most of the people around here, those who have been here any time at all, know Tucker. Or at least know of him. He borders on legend. Most people would not choose him to attack. That tells us something of the one we hunt.”

  Hunt. Shannon liked that word.

  They were hunters now. It made her feel grim pleasure, especially when she thought of her lost sheep. Let loose among wolves, her animals had been prey, but now the man who’d done this was the prey and she the hunter.

  Bailey smiled, her eyes shifting from Shannon to Kylie. “You might not know this, Sunrise, but the Wilde sisters, well, we might not have the woods savvy of Matthew Tucker, but we’ve got more than our share of tough. This varmint kicked over the wrong hornet’s nest when he attacked my sister.”

  Shannon thought of the war and all she’d survived. It was no less than the truth.

  “He strikes in the night. The woods are infested with wolves. He likes fire. He’s a coward. I think we know all we need to know to catch him.” Bailey headed for the door. “Now, let’s get ready, and hope this man is fool enough to come after you again.”

  Whatever Bailey had in mind, Shannon already decided she liked it. And when she heard the details, she knew it was exactly right.

  “It’s wrong!” Tucker jabbed a finger straight at Shannon. “And your blamed-fool sister is wrong, too.”

  Bailey was gone, so he swung his accusing finger straight for his ma. “Ma is wrong, and neither of you are going anywhere.”

  “Tucker, I understand why you—”

  “Stop! That’s the same tone of voice you used on me every time I asked if you were done sewing my pants. Stop that right now or we’re having lamb chops for dinner.”

  “Tucker, calm down and be reasonable,” Ma said.

  Tucker knew that, with these two, being reasonable was just a pure waste of time. “No, I’m standing watch. You don’t trust me, and frankly it’s insulting.”

  “He’s almost for sure not coming back tonight, Tucker.” Shannon came up close, almost like she wasn’t scared of him at all.

  Maybe he needed to work on his yelling. “We can’t be sure.”

  “That’s exactly right. We can’t be. So we need to have someone standing guard every night, and one man can’t do it. We’ll take turns. Let me show you what Bailey—”

  “Someone oughta hog-tie your sister and ship her back east, where she can’t get you into any trouble.”

  Shannon rolled her eyes.

  Tucker narrowed his.

  “Tucker will stand first watch.” Sunrise wasn’t asking; she was telling. “I think this man is most likely to strike at that hour so you are most likely to face him, Tucker. That should suit you. You may think you can do the whole night, and maybe for the first few nights you can if you sleep well in the daytime. But the time will come when you fall asleep and leave us all in danger. When you are ready to admit that, come to my teepee and get me.”

  Sunrise turned her dark eyes on Shannon. “Then I will knock on the door, and Shannon will watch. The least dangerous time. From what you have said of this man I doubt he has the patience to wait until dawn.”

  “I don’t need to be given the safest time.” Shannon crossed her arms. “I can take care of myself.”

  Tucker wanted to yell at both of them some more and absolutely refuse to consider them taking a turn standing guard. Sure, Sunrise was as good as he was. Better, if he dared to admit it. And Shannon probably would be safe in the last watch. To keep yapping at them made him feel like one of the wolves that had snapped and snarled at the sheep last night. Only the wolves had gotten a lot more respect.

  “Tonight, at least, I’ll stand watch.”

  Ma smirked. “Do as you think best. But promise me when you get too tired you will not endanger us with your stubborn pride.”

  And with that, Ma left. She’d always had a talent for making him see things her way. Probably because she was usually right.

  “Don’t you want to see the place Bailey figured out we should—”

  Tucker’s hand flew up and he flattened it almost in her face. “I think I know how to keep an eye on the land. I’ve been staying alive in a hard country for years.”

  “Yes, but the way the homestead lies, there’s really only—”

  “Shannon!”

  Now it was her turn to gr
owl. “Have it your own way then. I hope you enjoy your night in the woods.” She sniffed, then turned to her stitching. The sun was setting, and Tucker thought of what the nights should be like, now that his wife had decided she knew him well enough. It appeared none of that was going to happen tonight. And he suspected if he tried to tempt her into it, she would only sniff again with that cute little nose of hers and tell him to get busy standing guard. He had half a mind to threaten her sheep, except he’d done it too often and she knew he was all bluff. It didn’t even get her attention anymore.

  As he got ready for his long night alone in the woods, he decided he’d pass the time trying to think up whatever might work to get the woman to obey him. He was pretty sure he’d heard that in the wedding vows. Maybe he should bring Parson Ruskins in and encourage the parson to have a stern talk with Shannon about wifely submission.

  That’d teach her.

  He’d do it, even though he was a little bit afraid.

  23

  Tucker lasted a week, until the day another homesteader got burned out and Coulter came and demanded that Tucker help to figure out what happened. It ruined Tucker’s sleep, but it was his first chance at a fresh trail.

  “The family already left?” Tucker swung off his grulla well back of the burned-out barn. There was no sign of life around the humble-looking cabin.

  “I found it like this. I’ve been riding around, checking out the nesters who’ve moved onto my property. When I saw they were gone, I rode into town and talked to Stewbold and found out a young couple name of Lansing owned it. They’d signed away the rights to their claim, took a freight wagon and headed east. Boyle already bought the acres.”

  Tucker scowled. “Stewbold is mighty careful to get all the paper work in order, isn’t he?”

  “Yep, and Boyle seems to know about the homesteaders giving up almost the first minute they do it.”

  “Does that mean he’s the one burning them out? Or whoever is doing it is reporting to him? Or is he just friendly with Stewbold, and the land agent is reporting to him? Because it sure isn’t just chance.”