by Erin Johnson
“But she did beat Tex to the draw.”
“Only ’cause he’s drunk.”
Grace strode toward the deputy, her hand outstretched. “My reward money, please.”
The deputy handed her a heavy sack.
“What’s that you’re giving her?” the sheriff demanded from up above the saloon.
The deputy smiled up at him. “Saw that stash of silver dollars when you opened your desk drawer. Figured the governor’s good for the money, so he’ll pay you back. Hope that was all right.”
The sheriff growled again, and his face grew so red Grace thought he might explode. His glare promised he would track her down and get revenge.
But it gave her an idea.
She wasn’t cut out for typical “woman’s work.” A barmaid or a seamstress? No.
But bounty hunting?
Bounty hunters made good money. And she had learned so much from Joe about how to track and shoot that now she was truly good at it.
If she became a bounty hunter, she could do two things. She could get revenge for her family, and she could make the world safe from criminals, so no one else would have to live through what she had. She would track down the Guiltless Gang, but she’d be glad to help anyone else who needed her.
Grace cleared her throat and hoped she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life.
“If this is the caliber of bounty hunters available in these parts, I’m throwing my hat in the ring,” she said loudly. “Anyone need a criminal tracked down, I’m putting myself out there for hire.”
Behind her Joe gasped. “What?”
But Grace moved through the crowd with confidence, ignoring the derisive laughter, the catcalls, and the cloud of doubt that hung in the air.
She had found her calling, her purpose.
She would not only avenge her family’s deaths, she would do this in their honor. Clear this town of criminals and make an honest living doing it.
Reverend Byington’s eyes contained a mixture of pride and sadness as Grace passed him carrying her reward. She smiled at him.
The pastor had his ideas about God, but his Good Book also said, “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.” And Grace was going to bring her own brand of justice to the West.
Maybe, given time, she would be able to forgive and trust God once again, but for now she had her mission. Nothing, no person would stop her.
Not Sheriff Behan. Not the townspeople. Not Reverend Byington.
And not Joe.
CHAPTER 25
Outside the saloon, Joe stood shaking his head.
“The sheriff, did you see his face?” Grace hugged the bag and shot a nervous glance toward the door of the Bird Cage. Would the sheriff come storming out?
“He’s not happy, that’s for sure,” Joe said tightly.
“He’s furious.” She couldn’t help but smile.
She stared at the sack as they hurried down the alley to the stables. “Think this is his pay-off money?” The thought made her want to throw the money down, but then she thought about it some more and laughed. “Actually, I guess it’s payback. The sheriff paid me for taking down one of the Guiltless Gang. Very fitting.”
Joe grinned along with her but quickly grew solemn. “Can’t that be enough for you?” But he asked it as if he already knew the answer.
Grace looked at him for a long minute. With what had happened to his parents, she thought he of all people would finally understand.
After they saddled their horses, Grace drew out a pile of silver dollars. “That’s for you.”
“I didn’t do anything to deserve it.”
“You gave me a bag of silver. I can’t pay you what that’s really been worth, but consider this a down payment.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” Joe started to mount his horse, then stopped. “In all this madness, I forgot that we have errands to run!”
They led their horses to the mercantile, keeping watch for Sheriff Behan. Grace bought small gifts for everyone. A bag of penny candy for Sequoyah, some patent medicine and healing tonics for Cheveyo, a bright bandana for Cheis. She added some small gifts and toys for the women and children. She picked out a shiny apple for Bullet.
But what could she get for Joe?
When he admired a Smith and Wesson revolver, she put it on the counter along with bullets.
Joe raised his eyebrows. “Giving up on the Colt?”
“Nope.” Grace tried to put some sass in her tone, so he wouldn’t guess why she was buying it. “I figure a bounty hunter should have more than one weapon.” She added plenty of bullets for the Colt.
Joe frowned. “You weren’t serious about that bounty hunter stuff, were you?”
Grace put her hands on her hips. “You think I can’t do it?”
“I have no doubt you can. The question is, should you? Don’t . . . don’t go to the dark side, Grace,” he pleaded.
“Since when is capturing criminals going to the dark side?”
Joe ignored her and continued heaping the goods Cheis had requested on the counter, but then he turned and looked her straight in the eyes. “I get the impression you don’t aim to capture them.”
Grace turned away from his probing gaze. “I’ll do whatever I have to do.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” Joe handed over the pelts and deerskins to the shopkeeper. “Most likely no one will hire a girl anyway,” he muttered so quietly that Grace almost didn’t catch it.
She clenched her teeth. Maybe not. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t try.
* * *
As soon as they had made their purchases, they galloped off, Grace still keeping a wary eye behind her for Sheriff Behan. When they finally made it to the outskirts of Tombstone, she took a deep breath. Maybe he really wasn’t coming after them.
But a short while later, hoof beats pounded behind them . . .
She turned to see Reverend Byington riding toward them. The tension that had coiled inside her relaxed.
“Well, Grace, I was so hoping to have a chance to talk to you. Although not under these circumstances,” the reverend gasped as he caught up to them.
Grace reined Bullet to a walk, so the preacher could catch his breath.
Byington struggled for words. “About today . . . I’m sure what happened was an accident. Self-defense?”
His look made Grace squirm. It was as if he could see clear through to her soul. His eyes held both compassion and a warning.
“Trying to play God can jeopardize your soul, Grace Milton. Only God should decide a man’s fate.”
Joe burst out, “I’ve been telling her that. And that she needs to let go of her anger and find peace!”
“Sounds like you’re a good influence, son.”
Would everyone stop talking as if she weren’t here?
The preacher turned toward Grace. “I know mere words won’t stop you, but look to the light rather than the dark.” He reached into the bag slung over his shoulder. “I’d planned to ride out and give you this.” He withdrew a square object wrapped in a handkerchief and held it out.
Grace didn’t reach for it. She only shook her head. “You’ve done too much for me already.”
The preacher smiled. “It’s not a gift. It belongs to you.”
Grace unrolled the fabric. There in her hand was the tintype, with her family’s faces staring out at her. Her eyes filled with tears. “I . . . I thought I would never see this again. Thank you, thank you, thank you . . .”
“Don’t thank me. Thank God that I found it. I’d started back toward town but knew I would never rest until I knew you were safe at the Joneses. I rode back to accompany you and saw that glinting on the ground near a mesquite tree.” He gave her a stern look. “I searched for hours but never found you. I hoped that nothing had happened to you.”
If she hadn’t gotten lost, she might have run into Reverend Byington, and she’d now be stuck at the Joneses. Instead, she had been through more pain, but she had remained free and now had the skills she needed to take care of herself.
The preacher pursed his lips. “The Ndeh are good people . . . but you should be in a real home.”
Joe sat up straighter. “The Ndeh have given her a real home.”
“I’m sure they have, son. I only meant a home where she’ll get some teaching from the Good Book.”
Silence descended for a minute. Grace wanted to rail against that, but the preacher had been nothing but kind.
She kept silent.
The preacher took a deep breath. “Well, now that you have money, I hope you’ll consider settling down.”
Grace looked away. She couldn’t meet his eyes and say what she had to say.
She didn’t want to read the disappointment in them.
She hugged the tintype to her chest with her free hand. But before she could say anything, Joe said, “We’re taking good care of her, sir.”
“Very well. I’ll be out to check on both of you from time to time. But Grace, every time you look at that photograph . . . remember that you came from love, not hatred or vengeance.”
Grace nodded. He had given her back her most prized possession; she could give him a promise in return.
“I’ll try to remember that.”
Reverend Byington’s grin might not have been so broad if he knew of her plans, but Grace would keep them to herself.
The preacher wheeled his horse around. “I need to head back now, but I’ll be praying for both of you.” Then he laughed. “You know what you should be called? Amazing Grace. Do you know the hymn?”
He broke into song, and the sound of his deep bass echoed after them as they sped up the hill to camp.
CHAPTER 26
The sun was sinking fast by the time they made it back to the village.
Sequoyah came racing toward them and grabbed Grace by the arm as she dismounted from Bullet. She pointed toward her father’s kuugh’a, where a horse was staked.
“You want to show me you got a new horse?” Grace said, confused.
“No, no.” Sequoyah seemed close to tears. “It’s . . . it’s Tarak’s.”
Grace didn’t understand why Sequoyah sounded so desperate.
Joe’s deep voice broke in. “Grace doesn’t know all our customs yet.”
Grace noticed he said “our.” Despite what he had said before, she realized he really did feel a part of the Ndeh.
That’s where she and Joe were different from one another. As much as she loved the Ndeh, Grace needed to journey out on her own.
“When a man stakes a horse outside a girl’s home,” Joe explained, “he’s asking to marry her. She has four days to respond. If she feeds and waters the horse, she’s agreed to be his wife. If she does not want the man, she does not care for the horse.”
Sequoyah’s voice was tight with panic. “I cannot leave a horse without food and water for four days. But I do not want to say yes.”
“What is your heart telling you to do?” Grace asked gently.
Sequoyah looked confused.
Joe translated, but then he shuffled his feet and looked uncomfortable. “I’ll go unload the horses.”
Sequoyah waited until Joe had left. Then she clasped her hands against her chest. “I only love Dahana.”
“Then you must turn down Tarak.”
“Dahana must care for his family. He is not ready for a wife.”
“Wait for him,” Grace urged.
“But my father say Tarak is good hunter and warrior.”
“But you don’t love him. Follow your heart.”
“Like you?
Sequoyah glanced over to where Joe was unloading the horses.
Grace pulled her gaze away and shook her head. “That’s different.”
“I do not understand. You love him, do you not?”
“I . . . it’s complicated. Besides, Joe hasn’t asked me to marry him.” Grace had to change the subject. “You’re the one who must decide.”
Sequoyah’s face took on a troubled expression. “If I feed the horse too soon, everyone will say I too eager. If I wait too long, I look cruel. So I must decide by tomorrow.”
“Follow your heart,” Grace repeated, thumping her chest.
“It is not easy.”
Grace grimaced. “It never is.”
Sequoyah studied Grace more closely now. “You look different.”
Grace didn’t want to get into the whole story. She only nodded. “That reminds me. I’ve got something for you.” She held out the gifts from the mercantile. “This is for you. And these are for everyone in camp to share.”
Sequoyah hugged her. “Oh! Thank you.” Her face saddened. “You are . . . going?”
Grace nodded, swallowing hard. “I’ll miss you, Sequoyah. Thank you . . . for everything.” With a heavy heart, she turned and started to walk away.
“Wait, Grace!” Sequoyah called and ran after her. She lifted a shell and bear-claw necklace over her head and draped it around Grace’s neck. “To show we are friends forever, we give gifts from heart. I will remember you always. You remember me?”
Grace hugged her. “I’ll never forget you, Sequoyah. Never.”
And maybe someday we’ll meet again.
* * *
The sun had almost disappeared below the horizon. Grace wished she could ride off now, but it would be safer to wait until morning. She wandered through the camp, silently saying farewells. When she passed the new medicine lodge, Cheveyo called out to her and motioned her inside.
When she gave him his gift, he rewarded her with a broad smile. “I will see if the white man’s medicine is as good as ours.”
“I’m sure it won’t be.” Grace pulled up her sleeve. Her scar had faded to a thin line. “You healed me. And Bullet is all better too, thanks to you.”
“I am glad.” Then Cheveyo’s face grew serious. “I, too, have a gift for you. I have waited for . . . the right time.” He moved to one of the baskets and drew out a handful of pouches. Then he sat down in front of her and looked deeply into her eyes.
“Dyami, you are going on a journey. You will travel far. Not only your body will walk this path but your spirit too. The way will be hard, and you will face much danger. You must be ready for what lies ahead. And you must learn to listen to your heart.”
Grace sat quietly, taking in his words.
Cheveyo waited, letting his stillness speak to her soul.
Then he pointed to the pouches. He explained the properties of each ointment and herb and how to apply them. Grace accepted them gratefully — she had seen what powerful medicine Cheveyo wielded. And she would remember his words of wisdom.
* * *
By the time Grace had handed out the rest of the gifts, the moon had risen and the camp had a subdued air. No dancing or drumming. People walked among their huts with sadness in their eyes. But mothers hugged their children close and smiled at Grace. They all murmured words of appreciation as she passed. But the one person she most wanted to see was nowhere to be found.
With a heavy but determined heart, Grace gathered all her belongings and went off to search for Joe. Using her tracking instincts, she mounted the rise to the pasture by camp with soft steps.
There he stood, his back to her, staring off toward the town far below, just as she had done so many times these past weeks. A few lights glowed in the distance, but most of the light came from the moon and the stars dancing overhead.
Grace knew this might be the last time she would ever see him, and she wanted to keep this memory forever. She watched Joe for a long while, imprinting ev
ery detail in her mind.
Then, her voice soft so as not to startle him, she called his name.
Joe turned and looked at her, noting the belongings slung over her shoulder.
“This is it?” He kicked at a clod of dirt by his feet.
He looked so crestfallen that it broke Grace’s heart. If she didn’t have her family’s deaths to avenge, that look alone would have convinced her to stay.
He walked over slowly and reached for her hand, a sad smile on his face. “You don’t have to go, you know.”
“Why would I stay, when you’ll be going yourself? The Restless One. That’s what they call you, right?” She tried for a smile but failed. “If I stayed and you left, I’d feel . . . I don’t know . . .”
Grace lowered her eyes. She couldn’t say what was in her heart.
“I will stay if you do.” Joe tilted her chin and gazed deep into her eyes.
Then he leaned toward her. This time Grace didn’t close her eyes. She didn’t wait and hope. Sequoyah’s advice came back to her. You kiss him.
She stepped closer and gently brushed her lips to his. But it was like kissing stone; his mouth didn’t move. Embarrassed, Grace started to pull away, but then Joe’s arms encircled her fiercely, pulling her close as if he never wanted to let her go.
Their lips pressed together, moving rhythmically, their hearts beating as one.
It was everything Grace had dreamed it would be and more.
When they finally broke apart, Joe ran a finger across her lips. “I could go with you . . . ?”
The question hung between them as they settled on the grass, Joe’s arm around her, her head on his shoulder. They stayed like that until Grace began to shiver. “Cold?” Joe nuzzled her neck and wrapped both arms around her.
When Grace nodded, he reluctantly pulled away from her, stood up, and gathered firewood. She admired his broad back as he bent and piled the wood, then twirled two sticks together until sparks lit the dried grasses he’d found for kindling. Then he bent and blew gently until smoke rose and flames licked the wood. He made it look easy, she thought wryly, and a mix of emotions jumbled in her chest.
Thanks to Joe, she now knew how to light a fire. Still, it would be good to have him alongside her. It would be the best of both worlds, and it would mean that she wouldn’t have to leave him.
