by Nathan Jones
There were over a hundred of those, many of them volunteers from the slaves they'd rescued from Emery, the rest stepping forward from the Grand Junction refugees or drawn from the pool of Camptown defenders. All of whom wanted to take a more active role in defending their families and new home, once they were informed of the increased Sangue threat.
Between them, the volunteers, and Gray's militia all needing to train whenever they had a spare moment, finding an opening when the range wasn't in use was actually more difficult than he would've expected. He had to wait until the lunch break, when everyone had gone back to Camptown or the new Grand Junction settlement going up farther south in the valley.
There was no guarantee he'd even have the full lunch break to train, since people would probably be coming back to sneak in more practice time, so he had to work fast. He wasted no time tying Sulky's reins to one of the shooting benches, climbing up into the saddle, and unslinging his rifle.
“Fair warning, girl,” he told the mare, “this is going to scare the blazes out of you. Just don't buck me into tomorrow until you've had a chance to get used to it.”
Sulky nickered, somehow making it sound sullen. Well, she was Surly's sister; hopefully in spite of her personality quirks, she'd prove to be just as faithful once properly trained. Starting with seeing how she did with having a gun go off just a few feet from her head.
Skyler grit his teeth, clamped his legs as tight as he could to the saddle, and raised his rifle towards one of the distant targets.
He hit it a hair short of dead center. No sense doing anything other than his best, even if the purpose of this training was mostly for Sulky's sake. After all, he could always stand to get more training firing from the saddle, too.
Or, for that matter, staying in the saddle of a wildly dancing horse.
Sulky snorted and leapt sideways, all the way to the end of her tether, which jerked her to a stop so suddenly Skyler nearly lost his grip on his rifle. He bit back a curse and fumbled one hand free to grip the saddle horn, crouching as low as possible over his mount's neck as she continued to dance and paw the ground within the confines of the tether, nearly smashing the shooting bench to splinters in the process.
“Whoa!” he called. “Easy, girl! It's just a gunshot, you've heard them before. Plenty from almost this close.”
The mare's responding whinny sounded less than complimentary.
Skyler waited a few seconds for her to calm down, but not completely. This was probably going to suck, but as long as Sulky wasn't out and out panicking he needed to keep going. So he clenched his jaw and raised his rifle again, struggling to hold the target as his mount skittered beneath him. Using a lot of the same techniques Trapper had shown him for firing while running, or while riding a moving horse for that matter, he struggled to catch a moment of stillness before squeezing off a shot.
He wasn't sure if he hit the target, because almost as soon as the shot went off Sulky really went nuts. The next thing he knew he was headed for the ground.
Falling off a horse is no joke. People had broken their necks or other parts of their body doing it. And it was even less of a joke when the horse was still dancing in a near panic, hooves flashing just inches from Skyler's head.
He'd fallen off a horse before, and he'd also practiced for how to land if it happened. That only helped so much in the heat of the moment, and he nearly bit off his tongue as he slammed into the ground on his side, only halfway getting his leg under him to absorb the landing. His shoulder hit next, and he had to desperately push off in a sideways roll, not only to bleed force away from the hard landing but to get him farther from the mare's stomping hooves. He didn't stop until he was well out of range of Sulky on her lead.
From somewhere nearby he heard a distinctly feminine gasp of worry and alarm. Then, after a few seconds as Skyler recovered from his surprise and struggled to a sitting position, he heard a familiar voice break out into peals of laughter.
Trying not to glower, he pushed to his feet and started brushing himself off with one hand, while he checked the rifle he'd somehow managed to keep his grip on with the other to make sure it wasn't damaged.
His friend Tabby Knudsen was standing ten feet away, doubled over in laughter, with her long golden hair nearly obscuring a round, friendly face swiftly reddening with mirth. “I shouldn't laugh!” she gasped in halfhearted apology. “But that was just too . . . holy crap, Sky, are you okay?”
“Fine,” he growled. As Trapper was fond of saying at times like this, nothing hurt but his pride. Although certainly plenty of injury to that, and in front of just about the last person he'd want to make a fool of himself in front of; Tabby had never really made much of a deal of the fact that she was almost a year older than him, but at times like this he certainly felt like a clumsy, foolish kid.
While his friend struggled to suppress her laughter, he made his way cautiously around to Sulky's head and began soothing her. By the time the horse had begun to calm down Tabby was mostly composed as well, self-consciously smoothing her clothes as she made her way over to join him.
She looked really nice today, although he didn't know what the occasion was; she was wearing her good shoes and the cornflower blue dress that matched her sparkling eyes. She only wore it to more important parties and holidays so he'd only seen her in it a few times. To go with her nice clothes her blond hair, normally in a ponytail or simple braid while she worked helping Skyler's family care for the livestock or doing chores, looked freshly washed and was carefully brushed and hanging loose in a golden waterfall down her back, although now it looked a bit tussled after her fit of laughter.
It looked cute that way, though.
In fact, all in all Tabby looked far too clean and pretty for this trampled field. Looking at her, Skyler was keenly aware of just how long it had been since he'd done more than the simple washing up his mom demanded for meals. Or the fact that his clothes were stained with sweat and dirt, and smelled like fire and gun smoke, horse, and unfortunately more than a bit of BO.
It was one of the very rare times that he felt self-conscious around his friend. Although he tried not to act like it as he finished calming Sulky and turned to her. “You, um, look great, Tabby. What's the occasion?”
Her fair skin, already scrubbed pink, went a bit pinker as she fidgeted slightly. “Oh, well, thanks. Mom decided it was past time for all the kids to properly wash up, ourselves and all our clothes, and this was my only clean outfit.” She plucked glumly at her pretty dress. “I think I'm outgrowing it, though, and it's going to be a long time before I can get a new one. If ever, with Sangue breathing down our necks.” Brow furrowed, she smoothed where she'd plucked the cloth earlier. “Maybe I can adjust the seams?”
Before Skyler could reply she abruptly brightened, raising the basket she held in one hand. “Anyway, I figured I'd bring your lunch out to you. Your mom mentioned you'd been skipping meals, and I wanted to make sure you weren't going hungry. I brought my lunch, too . . . we can have a picnic!” He doubtfully glanced at her clean dress, and she laughed lightly and added, “Maybe up on the hillside where there's still grass, although I also brought a saddle blanket to sit on.”
“Planned this out, huh?” he teased.
To his surprise she jumped slightly and began fussing with the basket, biting her lower lip. “Oh, well, as much as I needed to.”
The smell of fresh bread, cheese, and meat wafted up from the basket, and Skyler's stomach rumbled in response. He'd mostly been taking his meals to eat while he worked with Sulky, but his friend was right that he had skipped one here and there. Which the hollow hole gnawing its way through his gut was now sharply reminding him of.
He glanced at his horse and bit back a sigh. Maybe he'd resign himself to not being able to shoot at enemies from horseback for now. Seemed like a reckless thing to do anyway. So he tethered Sulky in a more comfortable spot, then graciously took the basket from Tabby and walked with her up the lower slope of the northern peak overlooki
ng the valley.
There was a good tussock a little way up, which offered them a view of the retreat, Camptown, and the new Grand Junction settlement below. Skyler shook out the blanket and Tabby helped him spread it across the grass, then she got to work digging out the food and setting it out in a nice arrangement.
For a few minutes they ate in comfortable silence. Or maybe not so comfortable; his friend kept fidgeting and glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, as if she wanted to say something. Or maybe wanted him to say something. But Skyler was only dimly aware of her attention, most of his focus on the food, and the rest on all the things he still needed to do before heading out in the morning.
“How you doing, Sky?” she finally asked. Then she coughed, and he saw her covering a smile with her hand. “I mean in general, not just how you're feeling after deliberately spooking your horse and getting thrown. What were you thinking, anyway?”
Skyler just grunted noncommittally. Usually he enjoyed talking to his friend, and honestly lately he'd been looking forward to spending time with her more and more. But all his focus was on skirmishing at the moment, and he didn't have time for distractions.
Speaking of which . . . he tried not to flinch as Tabby abruptly reached out and gently touched his cheek, just below his left eye, where he'd been hit by a flying rock chip from a ricochet in that box canyon days ago, while saving Trapper and Gray and his people from the Sangue riders. Trapper had cleaned the cut, and it had scabbed over and was healing well without too much sign of inflammation.
“Think it'll leave a scar?” she asked quietly, lightly tracing just below the cut.
Skyler resisted the urge to pull away. It wasn't that it felt uncomfortable, actually it felt kind of soothing, but it made him feel self-conscious. “I dunno.”
His friend bit her lower lip, blue eyes darting up to his for a moment before returning to the cut. “It would look sexy if it did.” Now he did jerk away slightly in surprise, and she hastily pulled her hand back. He could swear her cheeks were flushing. “That is, you know girls dig scars, right?”
Okay, now this was definitely awkward. He wasn't a complete idiot, and knew that she was giving him a clear signal he should make a move, at least try to flirt a bit. And if his heart didn't already belong to Lisa, he would've been happy to; he liked Tabby and felt comfortable around her, and she was one of his closest friends. Not to mention she was really cute, on top of being one of the sweetest people he knew.
But his heart did belong to the girl who'd left him to go north with her family. It wasn't just that he'd known her since they were both little kids, his oldest friend in the world, although that was certainly a big part of it. They'd shared some of the best and worst times of their lives together. He'd been there for her as she struggled to move past the horrors she'd witnessed in Newpost.
That was a bond that touched more than the heart: it connected their souls, if that was a thing. He loved Lisa Hendrickson, and wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with her. Even if he had to search the entire Northwest to find her again.
If they all survived their current predicament, that is, and he ever had the chance. For now, though he faced the dilemma of gently letting Tabby down without hurting her feelings. Which was the last thing he'd ever want to do.
Well, when all else failed, there was always making use of the fact that girls thought guys were completely oblivious. So he forced a laugh and reached up to touch the scab. “Maybe you're right. Think it'll improve my chances with Lisa when she comes back?”
Maybe he really was oblivious, or at least hadn't been as tactful as he'd hoped, because he saw hurt flash across Tabby's round, friendly face. She leaned back, obviously forcing herself to smile. “Definitely.”
An even more uncomfortable silence settled, and Skyler wrestled with his guilt about how he'd handled that. Finally he decided he owed his friend something, to show her he really did care about her, even if it wasn't in that particular way. So, after glancing around warily even though they were obviously alone on the hillside, he lowered his voice and leaned closer to her. “I'm going skirmishing.”
Her big blue eyes got even bigger, and she stared at him in shock. “With Brandon? Your mom actually said yes?”
Skyler hesitated. “No, on my own.”
Tabby reached the obvious conclusion from that, surprise turning to alarm. “Skyler, no! Don't tell me you're running off against her wishes, and Trapper's. Again. You'll get yourself killed!”
He hunched his shoulders, hurt. “You really think that?”
It was her turn to hesitate. “Well no. I mean, you're amazing . . . you saved Jenny and Mer and the others from that camp, snuck right in and then snuck them out again. And you saved Trapper and Sheriff Gray Tucker himself on the way back from Emery. If anyone could sneak around in these mountains giving the bloodies headaches, it's you.”
Skyler felt his cheeks flush at the unexpected praise. “That's why I have to do it, Tabby. To protect Mom, and Molly, and the new baby, and-” he stumbled slightly, then continued, “and you.” At her surprised and pleased look he realized she might take that the wrong way, romantically that is, and hastily continued. “And everyone else in the valley. There are hundreds of bloodies out there looking for us, and I need to keep them from finding this place.”
Tabby nibbled her lower lip again, looking torn. “I don't know, Sky. I know your mom will probably never change her mind, but this just seems like a really, really bad idea. You'll be all alone, specifically avoiding all our own people so they don't make you come back. If something went wrong there'd be no one to help you.”
He looked away, trying to hide his frustration. The frustration he'd carried for a long time now, as his parents treated him like a child even when his help might be the only thing standing between them and the monsters coming for them. “I don't see what choice I have,” he growled.
They finished their food and packed up in silence. Skyler was keenly aware of his friend shooting troubled glances his way the entire time, and half expected her to try to keep changing his mind.
But she didn't. They headed back down to the shooting range, where recruits were back at target practice. Sulky seemed resigned to the nearby gunshots, barely flicking her ears at them by this point, which Skyler took as a good sign.
He climbed into the saddle, then offered Tabby his hand and pulled her up behind him. Although he hadn't considered her dress; she was forced to perch awkwardly, holding him tightly for balance. “This is why I hate wearing dresses,” she groused good-naturedly. “Mom asked if I wanted to learn to ride sidesaddle, and I told her I'd rather be tied across the back of the horse.”
Skyler snorted. “So basically, about how you're sitting now?”
She poked his back in response. “Let's see if you've trained this half-grown filly to walk smoothly on the way back to town.”
He did his best. Sulky even cooperated for the most part, too.
“When are you leaving?” Tabby asked halfway there, hair tickling his ear as she leaned closer.
“Tomorrow,” Skyler immediately answered. Which he supposed cemented the timing; his food situation was solved, at least as much as it was going to be, and although Sulky wasn't ready, she also wasn't going to get much benefit out of just a few more days of work. He could keep training her while he was out there, and eventually she'd be as good a mount as Surly had been.
Besides, Camptown didn't have any more time for him to twiddle his thumbs here; Gray had already had to send out two separate groups of fighters to divert Sangue scouts, neither of which had returned yet. The five hundred bloodies scouring these mountains for the people who'd raided their Emery outpost were getting closer by the day, and there were more enemy soldiers out there waiting to join the fight if they ever discovered Camptown's location.
Tabby sounded surprised by his answer. “That soon? I figured you'd spend longer preparing. Is Sulky even ready?”
“Maybe, maybe not. I don
't think I have any more time, though.” Skyler hesitated, then twisted in the saddle enough to meet his friend's gaze. “You won't tell my mom, will you?”
Her blue eyes flashed indignantly. “Of course I won't tell her! Not after you trusted me like this. Even if I think it's a bad idea, if it's what you have to do then she won't hear anything from me to make her stop you.” She squeezed his arm. “And I'll be here, praying for you to stay safe and keep us safe, too.”
Skyler felt a surge of relief. “Thanks, Tabby.”
He stopped outside of Camptown, dismounting to help his friend slide down too. Although she didn't really need the help, dress or no dress. For a few seconds they stood looking at each other uncomfortably, as he tried to think of how to say goodbye before going off to do something really dangerous.
Something he might not come back from, although he didn't like to think about that.
Tabby suddenly rushed forward and threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. He froze in shock, especially when he felt her soft lips brush his cheek. “Be careful out there, Skyler,” she whispered. “Please, please be careful.”
Skyler tentatively hugged her back. “I will. I promise.”
“Good.” She pulled back enough to give him a tremulous smile, and he just had time to see the tears glimmering in her big blue eyes before she abruptly turned and ran down Camptown's main street towards her family's cluster of cabins, her golden hair streaming behind her.
He stared after her, absently touching his cheek where she'd kissed him. Then he climbed back on Sulky and headed to the retreat to make his final preparations.
Chapter Two
Runaway
Tom was no stranger to running around these mountains. He'd been running around them for years, explored just about every peak, ridge, and valley from I-70 to Highway 6. And a fair bit of the area north and south of them, too.
Of course, there was a world of difference between running and running, and he'd been doing far too much of the latter lately. Most of it without sleep: late nights preparing for the raid on Emery, then of course the nighttime attack on the ranch and march to the town for the attack at dawn. Then moving right on to marching north up past the ranch, only to get pursued almost immediately and having to keep going without rest until they shook the pursuit.
