Connie and the Cowboy (Outlaw Gold)

by Mildred Colvin

  Barnett’s grandson inherited the house but hadn’t made the trip from back east to claim it yet. “I reckon I’ll save him a trip,” Connie whispered in the silent house, as she removed the top from the can of kerosene.

  A tiny squeak and a flurry of miniature feet announced a family of mice even before she saw them run for cover. A shudder passed down her spine. She felt as timid as the mice. Could she carry out her plan? When the sheriff came to mind, she stiffened her resolve. She had to. This was her only chance, and she had to get away tonight. Desperation drove her on.

  It didn’t take long to splash the contents of the two-gallon can throughout the downstairs and light every lamp she saw. In the kitchen she took the prisoner’s letter from her pocket and struck a match. She held the tiny flame under the letter until the paper caught fire then touched it to a pile of old newspapers in the corner of the room. She watched the flames lick at the papers before she tossed the burning letter on top and went back into the parlor.

  She lifted the first lamp she’d lit and threw it against the far wall. Glass shattered, sending tongues of fire to lick the kerosene-soaked floor and climb the walls. The old, dry timber in the house was a ready recipient for the fire. As flames spread quickly to the carpet, she went back to the kitchen, pausing long enough to smash every lamp she’d lit against the kerosene trail through the downstairs. Satisfied she’d accomplished what she’d come to do, she slipped out the back door and ran to the horses.

  Connie stood between the chestnut and the buckskin, holding their bridles while she watched the orange glow spread and grow until it reached the windows with hungry tongues of fire. Only then did she pull herself into the saddle and turn Chester south to continue the wide arch she started. Making almost a complete circle around the town, she avoided meeting any of Purgatory’s upstanding citizens before she dismounted in a grove of trees behind the jail. After tying the horses to a tree, she stole silently to the corner of the saloon and waited in the shadows.

  Connie listened to the tinny sound of the piano and the raucous laughter of the Silver Star’s patrons for an eternity before the clamor of the church bell brought a sudden cessation to the revelry.

  A man on horseback tore down the street shouting. “Fire! Fire! The Barnett place is afire!”

  Men and scantily clad women poured out the saloon door. The sheriff burst from the jail, shouting orders to the milling crowd. Connie left her hiding place and ran to him. “Uncle Everett, what is it? What’s happenin’?”

  “The Barnett place is afire. Dry as it is, this whole town could go up in flames.”

  “Oh, no. Can I help?” She wrung her hands. “What can I do? Tell me, Uncle Everett. What do you want me to do?”

  “Just calm down, Connie. It’s gonna take ever man in town to fight the fire, and that includes Deems. I want you to go in the jail and guard the prisoner.”

  “No, I can’t, Uncle.” She clutched at the front of his shirt. “I’m a-feared of him. You said he’s a cold-blooded killer. What will I do if he tries to escape?”

  “He ain’t gonna escape.” The sheriff pulled her hands from his shirt. “But if it’ll make you feel any better, take my guns.” He unbuckled his gun belt and thrust it into her trembling hands. “Those are loaded so be careful. But if he tries anything, shoot him.”

  He started to walk away then turned back with his usual leering grin. “Don’t you forget now. I’ll be seein’ you later on tonight.”

  With narrowed eyes, Connie watched him follow the crowd that surged toward the Barnett place. Distaste for her uncle filled her mouth as bile. “That’s what you think, Uncle Everett,” she muttered. “Iffen I don’t never see you again, it won’t be long enough for me.”

  Connie turned toward the jail and stepped inside closing the door against the confusion in the street. The prisoner stood holding the bars of his cell. She turned away from him and took a ring of keys from the desk drawer then emptied all the ammunition into the deep pockets of her dress. After that, she strapped the heavy gun belt around her slim hips and walked to the cell where the prisoner watched her with a puzzled expression on his face.

  She pulled one of the pistols from the holster and leveled it at him. Making her expression as mean and hard as she could manage, she said, “Get your hands up, mister. You’re comin’ with me and don’t try anything stupid. Iffen you do, I promise you won’t live long enough for the good sheriff of Purgatory to hang you tomorrow. Iffen you behave yourself, you might live to see your grandkids grow up.”

  With her threat hanging in the air between them, she took the key to the cell and inserted it in the lock. One turn of her wrist, and the cell door swung open. She motioned for her prisoner to step out.

  Chapter 5

  Brett stared at the girl with disbelieving eyes. What kind of game did she think she was playing? A dangerous one to be sure. Her big blue eyes held enough determination to convince him she was dead serious. Had God sent her to set him free? But at what price? Where were Sheriff Burns and his deputy? Fighting the fire with the rest of the men no doubt. He’d heard the alarm and the commotion outside. Both Deems and the sheriff had run out without a word to him, but he hadn’t expected this. What should he do?

  “Ya gonna move or stand there starin’ at me all day?” The girl held the gun steady at his chest. “Come on, mister! We ain’t got much time.”

  Brett took a couple of cautious steps through the open cell door.

  The girl darted behind him, and he felt the cold steel of the gun barrel prod him in the back. How hard would it be to turn and yank the gun from her? He’d play along for now, though.

  “Move it! If we ain’t outta here by the time the sheriff comes back, I’ll shoot ya and tell him you was tryin’ to escape.” Her voice held no emotion.

  Brett glanced over his shoulder only to receive another prod with the gun. He sucked in a gulp of air. She would shoot him without a second thought. She shoved him forward then took his gun belt from a peg on the wall, popped the cylinders of his pistols out and dropped them into her pocket before handing the weapons to him. Although the empty guns were useless without ammunition, he strapped them on as they moved to the door.

  This might be a game to her, but Brett had no time to play. He’d better take advantage of his chance for freedom. For the first time in his life, he was ready to meet his maker, but he had no desire to swing from the end of a rope. He could only imagine the pain and anguish that would cause his father.

  “Step aside and don’t try nothin’.” The girl shoved him to one side. She opened the door a crack and peeked out.

  He could easily grab her gun. Instead he looked over her head. A skinny dog nosed around through the gutters, but otherwise the street was deserted.

  She motioned him out and closed the door behind them. “Our horses are tied in the back.” She nudged him around the corner of the building. “Hurry before someone shows up.”

  The horses waited in a small grove of trees several yards back of the jail. She climbed into her saddle, keeping her pistol pointed at him. She motioned for him to mount.

  Brett hid his smile as he swung into the saddle of his own horse. She had everything planned and she acted tough, but he could’ve taken her gun away at least three times just coming from the cell. He kept his expression as serious as hers, although he had a strange urge to laugh. “All right, miss, where do we go from here?”

  The gun pointing at his chest never wavered. “Springfield, Missouri. You lead the way.”

  Brett’s heart lurched at the mention of his hometown. All humor left, as he stared at the girl. Was this a dream, or did God have a hand in arranging for his return home? He echoed her words. “Springfield?”

  “Yeah, now get goin’ or we’ll both be swingin’ come mornin’.” He heard the note of desperation in her whispered command.

  Brett nodded and nudged his horse into a fast walk. She kicked her own horse forward as he obeyed her.

  “Mister, we gotta go fa
ster than this if we plan to see daylight come mornin’.”

  Brett dug his heels in his horse’s side and leaned forward as he broke into a run. He heard the chestnut coming fast behind him and didn’t look back. He was going home. As they raced from Purgatory into the darkness, weakness washed over Brett with the realization he was truly free. He clung to the saddle horn as if he didn’t know how to ride. How had this happened? Surely, God’s hand was on his life. For whatever reason, God had sent a little angel to set him free.

  Together man and girl raced north, putting distance between them and Purgatory. They rode all night by the light of the full moon, slowing to a fast walk after a time. Still they didn’t stop until the sun rose in the east, bathing the land in golden rays of sunshine.

  Brett turned in the saddle and looked behind him. His companion nodded in exhaustion, but looked up when she noticed his gaze. She patted her rifle now lying across her lap and called out. “Don’t think I can’t shoot you still. So don’t try nothin’.”

  He smiled at her, letting his horse fall back to ride beside her. “Don’t worry, miss, I won’t. We’d better find a place to rest the horses if you want to keep traveling.”

  She bristled. “Look here, mister. I’ll make the decisions. I just need you to point out the way.”

  Brett shrugged. “Fine. So what do you think we should do?”

  “Reckon we need to find a place to stop. Someplace secluded where the sheriff can’t find us.” She glanced around the countryside and pointed to a bluff facing them. “That’s a likely place. Let’s climb up there and have a look-see.”

  Brett nodded. “Good choice. If there’s water anywhere near, we should be fine.”

  “Course, that’s why I picked it.” She sounded annoyed. “Reckon I know we gotta be lookin’ toward the south for Burns. And don’t you be thinkin’ he won’t come lookin’ for us, ’cause he will.”

  “I never doubted that for a minute.” Brett nudged his buckskin up the incline to the top of the bluff with the chestnut coming along close behind.

  Brett wondered about the girl. She couldn’t be any older than his youngest sister. Why had she run away from home? He couldn’t imagine any of his sisters doing such a thing.

  As they neared the top of the bluff, the bubbling of a small stream winding its way down through the trees covering the hillside reached Brett’s ears. He dismounted when they reached the top where they could see for several miles to the south. For a young girl, she had chosen wisely. Sheriff Burns would have to ride through open ground before he could find them here.

  He turned and looked at her. “What’s your name?”

  “Why you wanna know that?” She sounded surly.

  Brett resisted the smile that threatened to show. He shrugged. “I heard the sheriff call you Connie. Is that all the name you have?”

  “Ain’t none of your business.”

  “Maybe not, but we may as well be friends if we’re going to ride all the way to Springfield. My name is Charles Brett Norris the fourth.”

  She gave him a sharp look. “The fourth? Why’ve you got a number in your name?”

  Brett couldn’t stop the laughter that burst out. “Because I’m the fourth in a line of men with the same name. My father, my grandfather and my great grandfather were also named Charles Brett Norris.”

  She stared at him as if he were teasing her, and she didn’t like it. Finally, she asked. “If you all have the same name how do you know who folks want when they call ya?”

  “That’s simple enough. My grandfather and great-grandfather are no longer living. My father goes by Charles, and I go by Brett. Now, what about your name? Shall I call you Connie?”

  She turned away as if she’d lost interest in the conversation. “Reckon so. That’s all I had until I took Davis for my last name when I was eight years old.”

  Something constricted in Brett’s heart at her forlorn look. His voice became gentle as he asked, “Why don’t you go home, Connie?”

  When she didn’t answer, but stood staring off into the trees as if looking at something that wasn’t there, he persisted. “Isn’t the sheriff your uncle?”

  “No!” She spat the word out, swinging around to glare at him. “He ain’t.”

  “Okay.” Brett didn’t know what to think. “But won’t he be worried about you when he realizes you’re gone? Especially when he finds me gone, too?”

  Her hand went to the gun on her hip. “You wanna stand around jawin’ or would ya rather eat? I got enough food for one meal.”

  “What do you plan to do after that?” Brett decided he wouldn’t find out anything about Connie yet, but he hadn’t given up. He’d win her confidence before they reached Springfield. Maybe he could find out why she’d run away. The sheriff was probably mean to her. That wouldn’t surprise him. Surely, some family would take in a pretty, young girl like Connie.

  “Don’t you worry none. I got no intentions of lettin’ you starve. Least ways not afore we get to Springfield. There’s plenty of game between here and there.”

  His hand went to the gun on his belt. “I can’t get much game with an empty gun.”

  She snorted. “You? You think I’d let you be shootin’? My gun ain’t empty, and I can shoot the eye out of a gnat at a hundred paces. Like I said, you ain’t gonna starve. I need you to get me to Springfield.”

  Brett barely suppressed the laughter that welled in his chest at her exaggeration. His heart went out to this strange, lost girl, scarcely more than a child. “I’ll get a campfire started.”

  “No! No fire.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of the wild varmints roaming around in these woods?” Brett couldn’t resist teasing her a little. “A fire will keep them away.”

  She shook her head. “I ain’t afraid of no four-legged varmints. It’s the two-legged kind what might see a fire that worries me.”

  Brett watched her walk to her horse and rummage in her saddlebags. She pulled out an oilskin packet and tossed it to him. “Here, eat this. And shut up. I need to think.”

  Brett took his packet of food and sat on a large rock protruding from the ground nearby. Connie sat on another several feet away. They wolfed down the cold beef and biscuits in silence. When they finished, Connie led her horse to the spring where she filled the canteens with water and let her horse drink. She stripped the gear from the chestnut and hobbled him.

  Brett watched in silence while she spread out her bedroll and positioned her saddle to be used as a pillow. She put the gun belt and Sharps rifle to the side but kept one of the pistols in her hand.

  She straightened and frowned at Brett. “Take care of your horse. You can have the first watch. I’m gonna get some sleep.” She covered a yawn.

  Brett felt her gaze on him as he obeyed. He could get away from her anytime he wanted, but he felt responsible for her safety. She’d be lost out here alone without someone to take care of her. Why had she run away? And why would she take a convicted murderer with her?

  After he took care of his buckskin, Brett sat near the edge of the bluff where he could see to the south. Connie adjusted her gun belt and rifle so they were closer to her on the pallet. She pulled her boots off and lay down with her arsenal at her back, except for the pistol, which she kept clutched close in her hand. “I’m a light sleeper,” she warned. “Don’t try anything, or I’ll blow your brains out.”

  Brett suppressed a grin as a big yawn took the credibility from her threat. “Yes, miss. I’ll be good and let you know if anyone comes.”

  “See that you do.” She pulled the blanket over another yawn and closed her eyes.

  Brett sat for more than an hour keeping a close watch on the open space below him. If Burns figured out which way they’d gone, he’d have to ride through the clearing. He had no doubt the sheriff would track them down. If nothing else, he’d want to get his niece back. She said he wasn’t her uncle, but he said she was his niece. Whatever the truth, he’d want to know she was all right. Of course, that didn�
��t put Brett in a good light. He was already convicted of bank robbery and murder. Now, he could easily have kidnapping added to the charges. How had this happened?

  Everything in the last several days seemed unreal. Meeting Fagan and his gang had started it all. Getting so sick just before the bank job. Being tried for a murder he hadn’t committed and sentenced to hang. The girl taking him from jail at gunpoint. Everything had the hazy quality of a dream.

  Everything except the experience of salvation as he prayed through and received forgiveness. God had met him in a special way in that jail cell. He wouldn’t discount what he’d received from God as a dream. His life had been changed. All he’d learned from his stepmother, all the teachings of the church, made sense now. He smiled as joy filled his heart. Then he bowed his head and prayed for safety for the girl and for himself.

  Sunshine flooded the field below while he sat in the shade of a wide-spreading oak. Looked like they were moving on to mid-morning by now. Today would’ve been his last day on earth if not for the girl breaking him out of jail. Funny, she’d saved his life, and he scarcely knew her name. He looked across to where she lay sleeping. Connie Davis. She barely made a bump under the blanket.

  He crept to her side. Her hand had moved from the gun making it easy for him to lift it away from her. With a satisfied grin, he quickly snapped it open and emptied the chambers into his hand. He hated to deceive her, but there wasn’t any sense in either of them getting hurt. He snapped the gun back and returned it to her side before pocketing the bullets. She didn’t stir. Poor kid was worn out. He reached over her to take the second gun. Emptying it was as easy as the first.