by Vivi Holt
***
Genevieve ran from the campfire, tears streaming down her cheeks. She shouldn’t have let herself cry in front of him like that. She just couldn’t think about Quincey without getting upset. Her stomach churned, and she ran behind the Hanovers’ wagon and threw up into the grass. Dropping to the ground, she leaned up against a wheel of the wagon and let the tears fall. She’d never be free of him. He’d forced her down the aisle and they were married for only a few minutes – yet those few minutes were going to ruin her life.
She wanted nothing more than to fall into Thomas’ strong arms, to twist her hands around his neck and pull him down to kiss her lips. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t free to kiss anyone, not even Thomas, because she was married. She sobbed hard and sucked in a deep breath of the cool night air.
An owl hooted close by and she quieted herself to listen to the noises of the night. Crickets chirruped and the cattle rested nearby, letting out the occasional bellow to disturb the peacefulness of the prairie. She stood to her feet and wiped her face dry with her apron. She would return to the campfire circle and finish her meal. She couldn’t run off crying every time someone brought up Quincey. She drew a deep breath and turned to leave.
“Where you headed?”
It was Chipper, sauntering toward her in the dark. She couldn’t see his face clearly, only his outline, with the glow of the fire in the distance behind him. “Just going back to finish supper. Have you eaten yours?” He made her nervous, but she tried to appear confident as she brushed past him
He grabbed her by the arm, his grip on her tight. “What’s the hurry, honey?” He pulled her to him, his fingers pinching into her flesh.
“Ouch! You’re hurting me, Chipper – let me go!”
“All in good time.” He leaned his face toward hers and she could smell the mash whiskey on his breath. As his lips found hers, she gasped in surprise and pushed him away with her hands. He didn’t let go but pressed harder, kissing her as she struggled in his arms. His fingers fumbled with her dress buttons, and she slapped at his face.
He pulled back and slapped her, hard, on the cheek. She let out a squeak before his mouth found hers again. She was terrified now. It was obvious she wasn’t going to be able to get away from him – he was stronger than he looked, and she could barely move in his grasp. What could she do?
Just then, he drew back from her with a look of shock on his face, spun around and landed with a thud at her feet. Thomas was there, his closed fist dropped to his side. He’d just punched Chipper. She felt herself falling and he caught her in his arms. “I’m here, Genny. It’s okay, I’m here. I’ve got you,” he whispered into her hair. She felt a kiss as soft as a falling leaf on the top of her head.
She clutched at his shirt with both hands. Her breath came in short bursts and her head felt dizzy. She’d seen her mother suffer at Fred’s hands, and she’d suffered plenty herself over the years. She watched as Quincey treated the saloon women who came to his shack with violence and scorn. She’d always dreaded that it would become her destiny to be one of those women, and Chipper’s attack had triggered that panic again deep within her.
“Breathe, breathe, my darling. Everything is fine. He won’t hurt you again, I promise you that.” She could hear him speaking, but it was as if he were at the end of a long tunnel, some distance away. She held on tight to him, afraid to let him go. She could hear the pounding of his heart and felt her breathing slow to a normal pace as she listened. It felt so natural, so right to be in his arms again. If only she could stay in this place forever.
She pushed slowly away and smoothed her mussed hair. “Thank you, Tom. I don’t know what might have happened if you hadn’t showed up.” She hiccupped and dashed away a stray tear with the back of her hand.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, taking her hand in his.
“No, thank you. I think I’m fine.”
His face grew thunderous. “That lout! I can’t believe he’d treat you this way. I’m so sorry – he’s my responsibility. I won’t let him get away with it, I can assure you of that.”
She nodded and he escorted her back to the campfire, her arm linked through his, her heart still racing.
***
The morning dawned with a gray, overcast sorrow. Rain drifted in a drizzle to the damp, mournful-looking prairie below. The clouds sat heavy above them and the sunlight was unable to press its way through, giving the plains a half-lit, dusky look.
Genevieve stayed abed as long as she could. She heard Cookie stir early, his latest binge having no doubt worn off in the wee hours of the morning. He served the cowboys breakfast with Sarah’s help. She heard Sarah whispering to Bill beside the chuck wagon where she lay: “She’s still sleeping. I don’t know what happened, but Tom looks unhappy about something and she’s not stirred from her bed. I’ll go and check on her soon, but perhaps I should let her rest for now.” Bill murmured a response and the two moved on.
She rolled over and closed her eyes. Her wrists were bruised and painful, and her cheek throbbed where Chipper’s slap had landed. She reached up gingerly to finger the bruise on her cheekbone and grimaced.
Thomas came alongside the wagon – she could hear his low voice. He was speaking with someone, and his voice grew louder and more urgent as he came closer. “You’ll leave this morning – this very moment, in fact. Here – I’m paying you what I owe you, but I want you gone. You’re not welcome on this drive after the stunt you pulled last night.”
“You’re firin’ me ‘cause of that piece of –”
“You’d better watch what you say. I’ve a good mind to teach you a lesson. Just be glad I’m letting you off easy.” Thomas’ voice was gravelly and low, and he snarled the words.
Chipper whined something she couldn’t hear. Then he said, “You’re sidin’ with her over me? I ain’t done nothin’ wrong. She wanted a little kiss, is all –”
“Don’t say another word. I saw your little kiss. I saw you slap her. She didn’t ask for you to kiss her and she certainly didn’t deserve to be hit. Leave now and don’t come back.”
She heard Chipper stomp off toward the remuda to collect his horse, and before long the thunder of hooves receded into the distance. He was gone. She realized that she’d been holding her breath and released it with a long sigh. At least she wouldn’t have to face Chipper today. She was glad Thomas had made him leave – she certainly wouldn’t have felt safe having him around for the rest of the drive. But she was surprised that he did it – it was the first time since Pa died that a man had stood up for her, protected her and believed her word over that of another man.
Genevieve sat up in bed and reached for her dress. The day was looking brighter already.
Chapter Sixteen
Chipper pressed his quarter horse forward, leaning over the bay’s neck, his elbows flapping wildly. He was angry, spitting mad. Who did that dang Thomas O’Reilly think he was, firing a man for doing nothing more than stealing a little kiss? No one treated him like that and got away with it!
He’d crossed the border into Kansas hours ago and could see the glow of lights from Baxter Springs. He knew the town well, having passed through it many times on the various cattle drives he’d been part of. None of which he’d ever been fired from … except one three years earlier, but the trail boss had been unreasonable about the amount of tequila he thought a cowboy should hold, so it didn’t count. He’d worked hard on every other cattle drive he’d done over the years and had never even been reprimanded, let alone fired. When a woman chose to spend her days with a group of cowboys on the trail, she knew what she’d be in for. How could he be blamed for wanting to enjoy himself a little?
His horse clattered into the main street of Baxter Springs and he pulled it up short in front of the Lazy Dog Saloon. He leaped from the bay’s back and threw the reins around a hitching post beside a chestnut nag that looked as though it were about to drop in place. Sauntering into the saloon, he ordered a shot of whiskey, then chased it
with another.
“Celebratin’ somethin’?” asked a gruff voice.
He turned to find a group of roughly dressed men watching him. They each held a drink in their hands and wore neckerchiefs and ten-gallon hats. They wore a mixture of plain clothes and Union soldier uniforms. Their faces were rough with beards and drooping mustaches, and it had been a while since any of them had seen a washtub.
“In a way, I guess I am. Got fired today.”
“Fired, huh?” The speaker slid down the bar toward him. “Name’s Baker, and those are my men.” He nodded at the rest of the group.
“I’m Chipper. Pleased to meet y’all.”
“Who fired you?”
“Man named Thomas O’Reilly. Thinks he’s such a big shot ‘cause he dug up a whack of gold in Montana. Now he’s drivin’ a herd over the Chisholm Trail. Caught me kissin’ a sweet young thing and didn’t take kindly to it, so he fired me right there on the spot. I got a good mind to …”
“Well, that don’t seem right. Not at all.”
“No, it don’t.” Chipper felt his spirits rise at the stranger’s sympathetic words. “He’ll get away with it, ‘course, but he dang well shouldn’t.”
“I got an idea, if yer interested.” Baker sidled closer still, and Chipper could smell tobacco and whiskey on his breath. His yellowed teeth stuck forward at an odd angle and his mustache hung down in long curls on either side of them.
“I’m listenin’.” Chipper set his glass on the bar and motioned to the barkeep for another.
“How ‘bout we ride out ‘n take some of them juicy longhorns off his hands? Whaddaya say to that?”
Chipper’s face perked right up and his sullen look was replaced with a sly grin.“I say that sounds like a fine idea. Who are you fellas, anyway?”
“We’re known ‘round these parts as the Jayhawkers.” Baker said it proudly, puffing his chest out as though Chipper should immediately recognize the name.
Not wanting to insult the men, he nodded enthusiastically as though he’d heard of them before. “Jayhawkers, yep, yep. Right, then. First thing tomorrow they’ll be headed this way. Probably about a day behind me, since I rode here hard and they have the beeves to contend with. They’ll probably expect to set up camp for the night close to here and head into town for supplies, I’d reckon.”
“Well, they won’t see us comin’,” Baker assured him. “We’ll take ‘em ‘round lunch time, when they’ll no doubt stop for somethin’ to eat and to give the herd a ‘ rest. We’ll siphon off as big a chunk of the herd as we can manage and send the rest runnin’ with a few gunshots – should do the trick mighty well. Them longhorns’ll stampede at the buzz of a gnat.”
Chipper chuckled. “They sure will.”
“Tomorrow, then?”
“Tomorrow.” The two men clinked their glasses together and downed their shots at the same time, heads thrown back in unison and each with a gleam in their reddened eyes. Chipper felt as though his burden had been lightened some. He relished the idea of paying back that puffed-up phony Thomas. That man didn’t deserve all that he had. Chipper was just as good as he was – no, better. More of a man, anyway.
And he would take great pleasure in wresting a share of it from Thomas’ greedy hands. Great pleasure.
Chapter Seventeen
The Jayhawkers hit them out of nowhere. It was just after noon, and the herd had stopped to laze in the shade of a few hackberry trees on the edge of a large marshland that stretched out to the west. Shore birds flocked to the skies as the Jayhawkers thundered across the prairie toward the company.
Thomas heard them coming and spun Alto around to face the approaching gang. With neckerchiefs raised to cover their faces and ten-gallon hats pulled down low over foreheads, it was obvious to him what the men wanted the moment he saw them. They were after his herd. He whistled loudly to his team, signaling with his hands and pointing to the northeast where the men were riding in from.
The rest of the cowboys immediately saw the problem and hurried to the chuck wagon to grab and load their weapons. He saw Genevieve and Cookie passing out rifles and ammunition. He drew his own pistol from its holster and turned to face the men. “Halt, or I’ll shoot!” he cried.
But his voice was carried off by the prairie wind and sailed out over the marshlands. All that could be heard was the thunder of hooves. There must have been two dozen of them, half dressed in the Union Army uniform, half in ragged civilian clothing.
Thomas knew the Jayhawkers’ reputation and had hoped he wouldn’t meet them in person. They were spoken of throughout the South as a ruthless gang who’d paid their dues to the Union. After the war, with no homes to return to, they’d taken to thieving and fighting for a living. He also knew that if he discharged his weapon now, the longhorns would stampede and he could lose the entire herd.
He held his pistol high, finger on the trigger. Sweat beaded along his forehead and he licked his dry, cracked lips. He’d worked so hard to get to this point. He was so close to making it to the Oregon Trail that would lead them to the Bozeman Trail and from there all the way into Montana Territory. He could almost taste the cold Montana air. He’d be darned if he was going to let a ragtag bunch of militia steal his cattle out from under him.
He cocked his weapon and took aim.
At first he thought the Jayhawkers were veering away from the herd. They looked as if they’d sail right past. He squinted over the sights of his pistol, then pulled back, his face covered in confusion. They raised their guns skyward and let loose – bullets zinged into the air and the sound of their discharge reverberated loudly across the prairie.
Thomas watched in dismay as cattle raised their tails, lifted their heads and charged wild-eyed in every direction. The herd leaders soon found their bearing and the rest of the herd followed, bellowing loudly into the fray. The herd was heading east and there was nothing he could do in that moment – he couldn’t get ahead of them, and even if he did, they were so terrified they’d likely gore and trample Alto. He cantered along the fringe of the group, trying to stay with them but out of their way at the same time.
The Jayhawkers whooped and hollered, enjoying the success of their venture. Thomas spun Alto about, his face black as thunder. Why had they targeted him? What did they intend? Then he saw the bay – Chipper’s horse! He was there, riding along with the Jayhawkers. He was the reason.
Dan pulled up alongside Thomas, riding a black gelding. “What’s the plan, boss?” he yelled over the roar of stampeding hooves.
“You and the men should follow along until they run out of steam, then try to bring them back. I’ve got to stay here and keep an eye on things. I’ll come after you the first chance I get – I’ll follow the cattle tracks. It shouldn’t be too hard.”
“Got it,” Dan cried, taking off after the disappearing herd and motioning for Bill, Dusty, Coop and Vaquero to follow him. They spurred their horses forward with looks of determination on their faces. Thomas turned back toward the wagons. He couldn’t leave Sarah, Cookie and Genevieve on their own, not with Chipper and the Jayhawkers circling around.
He heard a scream come from the chuck wagon. It was surrounded by longhorns, and he could see it being jostled dangerously by the rushing cattle. He hurried toward it, pulling a leather whip from where it hung curled on his saddle. He threw out the tip and flicked it down hard, sending a crack through the air that scattered the herd, giving him an opening to reach the wagon.
When he reached the wagon, he leaped from Alto’s back onto the wagon seat where Cookie sat, his face white, his hands clenched tightly to the seat below him. “Howdy, boss!” he cried.
“You okay, Cookie?”
He nodded and flicked his head toward the back of the wagon. “She’s back there.”
Thomas glanced at Bill and Sarah’s wagon and saw that it was safely ensconced between two hackberry trees. Sarah looked calm and secure on the wagon seat, holding tightly to the reins of their bay horse, who she’d let out of the tr
aces and stood on the opposite side of the wagon for protection from the cattle. He waved at her, then retreated under the canvas cover of the chuck wagon.
He hurried through the maze of foodstuffs to the back of the wagon. There was no sign of Genevieve. He poked his head out through the round hole in the back of the canvas where it was pulled tightly together in the center. There she was, standing behind the wagon, cattle pounding by on all sides. She held a rope in her hands and looked to be upset. He jumped from the wagon and rushed to her side, taking her hands in his. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, looking at him with fear in her blue eyes. “She’s gone.”
He turned his head from side to side, wondering who she was talking about. “She’s gone? Who’s gone?”
“Patches. The cattle stampeded and they were jostling her, then she fell and she was going to be trampled, so I cut the rope and pulled her to her feet. Then she ran – she ran off with the herd. She’s gone!” She fell onto his chest, her hands clutching at his shirt. “What will happen to her? She’s just a baby!”
He stroked her hair and watched helplessly as the last of the cattle hurried past them and disappeared across the prairie. Silence returned once more, the distant thunder of hooves all that was left of his herd. “She’ll be all right. I’m glad you’re okay.” He let her go and stepped out to look around for the Jayhawkers. They were nowhere to be seen. No doubt they’d followed the herd, intending to take them and sell them at the first opportunity.
He hurried back to Genevieve and took her by the shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. “Listen, Genevieve – I have to go after my herd. I’ve got to help the men bring them back. You’re okay – you stay here and make camp with Cookie and Sarah. We’ll be back as soon as we can, and you need to be ready to feed the men, then pack up and leave immediately. Do you understand? We won’t be spending the night here – we’ll have to keep moving. Can you do that for me?”
