River 0f Death: Cassandra Wilde Adult Western (Half Breed Haven Book 13)

by A. M. Van Dorn

Tragedy, of course, wasn't done with the man just yet. Things had started off promising. He had purchased one hundred square miles of pristine land from a family in Mexico and in doing so, wed the young woman of the family. Her dream had been a grand ranch, and they had set about building it. Before Mercedes Corderro could fully live her dream, she had been killed … no … slaughtered, Cassandra thought bitterly. The only consolation was that she had left behind her youngest sister, Catalina. In time the family managed to overcome the horrors of the past, and Cedar Ledge thrived expanding to five hundred square miles.

  Though she never had the love for the ranch that Whip, Catalina, and Lijuan all showed, it was her home, and it was important to her. Fencing off the West signaled the end of a way of life she knew. Sure, the fence Lijuan had bought following their adventure in Parish was one thing. It was a necessity to separate their ranch from Rooster McCarthy's but now thanks to men like Renaud peddling their fences across the West, the vast open lands were slowly becoming fenced in, making the cattle drives that Catalina headed up increasingly more difficult. Cassandra didn't need to be a fortune teller to know that in the decades ahead the West as she knew it could become a thing of the past. How much longer would it be before the day would come when someone, somewhere would declare that the closing of the frontier was at hand? She didn't know and could only hope that day would be a long time and coming … but it was men like Renaud that were hastening that day.

  Tabling thoughts of a hazy future yet to come, Cassandra decided it was time to be the take-charge woman that had gotten the Daughters of Half Breed Haven through many a scrape. Without asking, she climbed up and sat right down next to an amused looking Montana.

  “Any objections?”

  "Not a one, Cassandra. As those muckety-muck, English fellers would say, I bid thee welcome, fair maiden!"

  The flirty laughter that passed between the two continued as Montana cracked his whip in the air over the team's back, and the coach lurched forward down the road, a cloud of dust marking their passage. They had no way of knowing they were charging headlong into great danger.

  CHAPTER 15

  Riding side by side, the pair of new acquaintances learned a great deal about each other amidst healthy doses of laughter and moments of genuine surprise. Among such revelations was Cassandra learning that Montana was no native of the West and was not even originally from Montana. The man whom she was sure was around forty had twenty years ago been become a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police! Montana had been a fellow lawman, and that had only served to increase her attraction to him. Their laughter had faded on the wind after she had asked him how he came to be driving stagecoaches out of Sierra Bluff. He had paused for a long moment, and she had regretted asking him, but suddenly he spoke, and it seemed as if he was unburdening himself.

  Ten years prior, some nasty stuff had gone down in Manitoba. He and his partner had pursued a mad killer who seemed to have racked up more victims than there were face cards in a deck of playing cards. The pursuit had ended in tragedy when the fugitive attempted an escape across a frozen lake. Montana and his partner had thrown common sense to the wind and charged out onto the ice after him. Unfortunately, the ice proved not to be as frozen as it appeared. Three men had gone into the water that day, and only one had emerged. Montana grimly spoke of how he had stripped off all his sodden clothes that were going to pull him down and somehow managed to climb back onto the crumbling ice. Had a trapper not been passing by along the shore and spotted him, he would have died of exposure anyway.

  “Lost my taste for the law after that, I’m sorry to say. My superiors blamed me, my partner’s wife blamed me … it was a mess like you never could imagine, Cassandra.” She could almost see some of his positive energy evaporate as he spoke. Though she could not have known all this, she was still sorry she had asked him and dredged this all up.

  “That wasn’t fair, Montana.”

  "No, ma'am … sorry, no, Cassandra, it wasn't but I turned my back on it all just the same. Went to Montana, hired out on a ranch. Lord, I was there for a spell. But five years back, I up and moved on. Came to California and tried my hand at coach driving. It agrees with me. When I'm out here, the wind on my face, the sun shining on down on me, well, there are times I feel that man that pulled himself out of that icy lake was someone else."

  Cassandra had taken her turn surprising him when she revealed that she too was a lawman handling special assignments for her uncle Nathanial Duvalier who ran Arizona from Tucson and that she had once been one of the "Lady Pinks." Trumping all, of course, as it always did, was her revelations that in addition to her brother, she had a mulatto sister, another that had been born off the coast of China, and a third sister who was one-half fiery Mexican. Thrown in for good measure was her youngest brother, a half-breed Yavapai. Montana had whistled at the revelation and had good-naturally said he would pay money to see that, and this only endeared him to her more. Some people she had found simply couldn't handle the notion that such a family could live side by side as equals.

  By and by, their conversation had turned to what exactly Cassandra was doing so far from Cedar Ledge in distant Alamieda. She relayed how she had been called to testify at a trial concerning a man she had captured who had been part of a gang that had stolen money from the US Mint. Now she was on her way home, but instead of going directly back to Cedar Ledge, she was going to stop by Fort Bessette. Her brother, Dutch, who was officially posted at Fort McCallister, had temporarily been on assignment at Bessette. The troops under his command had arrived to help deal with recent attacks committed by the most fearsome band of renegades in the territory, the Omegas. This led to the pair discussing how deadly the warriors were to all who lived in Arizona.

  Long ago, a fiery renegade named Black Hawk had left his peaceful tribe to carry out a war against the white man. Over the years his ranks had grown beyond just his Yavapai loyalists to include many diverse groups of Indians all with one thing in common, and that was their hatred of the white eyes and their desire to drive them all out of Arizona. Their vows were one of absolutes, promising they would fight until the last man if they had to if it meant cleansing the white scourge from Arizona and returning it into the hands of their brothers and sisters the martyrs would leave behind. Their willingness to go to battle to the last man to drive or kill the last of the whites had led to someone dubbing them the Omegas after the final letter of the Greek alphabet. Finality was Black Hawk's endgame, and he would see it through.

  Cassandra spoke nothing to Montana of the fact the Wilde family had a profound connection with the Omegas. The trigger for Black Hawk's hatred of the white man had been when he lost the woman he loved to Whip Wilde, and she had born him his half-Yavapai son Blue River. After that, the Hala tribe fractured as Black Hawk revolted and took his cronies with him to start their war on the white man. To try and explain this all to Montana would have been exhausting. She longed for the day Black Hawk would fall in battle, and hopefully, without him whipping his legion of braves into a furor, they would abandon their enthusiasm to fight to the last man. In her heart, she doubted this would be the case, but if there was some slender thread of hope, she held onto it. It would surely be the best thing for everyone in Arizona, white and red, and everything in between.

  Moving off the Omegas, she finished her story by saying she had telegrammed Dutch at the fort to see if he still wished to meet up. Though he had reported that they had driven away the Omegas several days ago, even managing to capture a couple, which was extremely rare, he and his troops were going to be kept on another week or longer just to be certain the danger had passed. Before he had left for this mission, he had been aware Cassandra would be in San Francisco at this time, and depending on how long she would be gone, he hoped she might be able to stop by Fort Bessette on the way back. As was his custom when he went to new places without Bright Feather, he would pick up small gifts for her. It was his wish that Cassandra bring them back for her.

  The
fact that Bright Feather was not along on this mission with him was a sore spot, she had told Montana. He listened as she told him how the Indian woman served as a scout and interpreter back at Fort McCallister. To Dutch's anger and that of his superior Col. Caine, the commander of Fort Bessette had forbidden Bright Feather from being allowed to accompany Dutch and his men to the fort. According to this officer, the only good Indian was a dead Indian. The fact that Bright Feather had recently been awarded a prestigious medal for her service with the cavalry the past few years had meant nothing to the fort's commander. Cassandra had shaken her head at hearing this. It seemed to her that both this commander and Black Hawk should sit down for a drink together and raise a toast to their shared ignorance about each other's people.

  As the stage swayed to the left as they navigated a particularly sharp bend in the road, Cassandra was jolted into Montana’s side. They looked at each other for a second with broad grins on their faces. The lightness of the moment prompted Cassandra to want to steer their conversation away from darker matters like Montana’s past, the Omegas, and the discrimination against Bright Feather whom she loved dearly to the point she seemed like an additional sister.

  "You know, I heard you humming before. I kind of liked that. What was the tune?" The man's chest seemed to puff out slightly, and he waved his hand dismissively.

  “Aw, that was nothing, Cassandra. Just something I like to do in my head. Coming up with these little tunes helps pass the time on this fifty-mile run.”

  “Maybe I could come up with some lyrics for it,” she offered.

  "You a lawman and a songwriter? Now I know you're joshing me!"

  Again, as they had done so many times, the new friends laughed in unison until she finally shook her head.

  "I play the guitar and sing, yes. But I'm not a songwriter. However, I've had a few ideas about what might sound good. You want to give it a try, Montana?"

  Whatever his answer was going to be, the chance to hear it didn’t present itself when from within the cabin, directly behind them came the all too familiar thumping on the wall. Cassandra sighed and just looked straight ahead down the road that ran alongside the looming escarpment that rose beyond the scrub brush to the left of them. Montana, at the same time, lifted a watch he kept on a chain.

  “Not bad this time …. Renaud went almost a full two hours.”

  The scene repeated itself as it had on all the previous stops, but this time instead of grumbling, Endicott elected to join him as the man waddled off into the brush. Millie also exited the cab and walked a complete circle around it to stretch her legs before coming to a stop near the front where Cassandra and Montana sat. The driver was pointing up towards the towering cliffs of the escarpment they had been traveling alongside now for some time.

  "See now, I like the runs that take me through here later in the day. The entire road falls into the shadow of the Heidelberg making for a bit of relief from the heat, I'll tell you what." Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see Millie edging closer, accompanied by the clearing of her throat.

  "Excuse me. How much longer to the station?" Millie asked, trying to sound casual, but Cassandra was reasonably certain that it was an act to cover her urgency for the trip to end. Most folks didn't realize just how uncomfortable stage travel could be until they experienced it for long distance. At any rate, Cassandra thought she should have phrased the question as to how much longer to the station barring any more stops for Mister Renaud."

  “Don’t worry none, ma’am. I’d say it will be just another hour before we reach the way station. There’ll be a fresh team of horses waiting for us and some of the best food you will ever find. The station agent’s wife, Mrs. Halliday, makes the finest apple pie this side of the California border.”

  The relief in her voice was palpable, "That sounds delightful. I shall look forward to our time there. A slice of pie sounds like a wonder to look forward to." She turned away from them and smiled at the sight of her husband emerging from the brushy area off the trail. He strode up, dusting his elegant attire. Cassandra rolled her eyes as trying to keep the dust off you during stage travel was as fruitless as trying to plow the sea. She smiled at the expression thinking of her father back home. Cassandra had picked that up from him because, despite the many years in the West, he was still an old Navy man at heart.

  "I have wonderful news, Teddy. The driver says it's just an hour to the station where we can rest up and get some civilized food."

  “Dear, it’s Theodore when we are amongst company. How many times need I remind you of that?”

  Cassandra felt like slapping her forehead. This dandy was such an insufferably stuffy gentleman that she didn't know how his wife put up with him. Such thoughts though immediately left her mind as she became aware of something. Endicott and Renaud had entered the brush at the same time, so where was Renaud?

  “Mr. Endicott, where is Mr. Renaud?”

  He looked up at her, rather her breasts any way, and answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

  “He was right behind me once we finished our business.”

  Montana and Cassandra exchanged a worried look, and swiftly, she slipped down from the bench seat. Turning back, she looked to Montana.

  “I’ll check it out.”

  She twisted around with her boots and began a quick stride towards the thick brush that lined the beaten stage road. A hot wind whipped her golden tresses about as she neared the edge when suddenly Renaud stepped out with a sheepish smile, causing Cassandra to halt in her tracks.

  “My apologies. I can see the look of concern on your face. I tarried a bit after Mister Endicott because I noticed this on the ground. It appears to be some sort of exotic animal pelt.” He swung up one of his arms that hung by his side and in his hands was his discovery.

  Cassandra's heart seemed to stop in her chest, and her breath left her body. The temperature was easily in the nineties, but a sudden coldness struck her to her core. Her lips parted, preparing to stun the man with the truth of what he was holding in his hand when suddenly Renaud's eyes bulged. A split second later an arrow burst through the man's throat, splattering her with his warm blood.

  CHAPTER 16

  The screams of Millie Endicott and the shouting from the two men back at the stagecoach might have been happening a world away. Cassandra didn't hear them. The survival instinct that had kept her alive her entire adult life kicked in. Even as the very much dead Renaud was pitching forward, she grabbed him and spun him around. Arrows were now flying around her, and she began to half run and half stumble backward, using the body as a shield. Several arrows pierced the dead man like he was an oversized pincushion.

  Behind her, Endicott was shoving his screaming wife unceremoniously through the door to the cabin and piling in after her he slammed the door shut and was shouting to Montana.

  “Go! Go! Go!”

  Close enough now to the coach, she shoved Renaud’s body forward, whipped out her twin Colts, and laid down blast after blast in the direction that the unseen archers were targeting her from. The arrows stopped long enough for her to leap up onto the bench next to Montana.

  “You all right?”

  "Don't worry about me! Just go, like the man said!"

  Montana's powerful arms brought the whip skyward and snapped it like the experienced stage man he was. The horses, already skittish from Cassandra's gunfire, reared up for a moment in the traces before their muscular legs launched into action jerking the stage forward into a wild gallop.

  Cassandra looked back, shocked to see a lone Indian emerge from the brush. She hated herself for respecting the speed at which he had launched his arrows, making her believe that it was more than one attacker. Bitterly, she watched as the Indian reached down and grabbed Renaud by his hair with one hand and with the other, he drew his blade. Rather than watch the horror, she could only think of how Renaud's scalp was about to join the other one the warrior must have lost when he was concealing himself. The very one that Renaud had p
icked up, believing it to be some sort of animal pelt. The delay had likely cost the fencing salesman his life.

  Facing forward into the hot wind, she asked Montana to repeat how long he thought it would be to the relief station. Grimly, he told her that if they pushed the horses to their breaking point, he could shave the trip down from the hour to forty-five minutes, maybe even forty.

  “It’s the only place along this route that offers any sort of shelter, correct?” she asked, hoping that she would be wrong in her assumption, but Montana nodded and then quietly asked her if she thought there were more braves about. Cassandra told him that he could put money on it.

  Montana's eyebrows drew together almost in a line., "I don't understand this! I've been driving this route for years, and there has never been any trouble with the Injuns along it. Never! This is one of the busiest routes around just because there is no trouble. Sure, it takes longer than going through Pecos Pass because you have to skirt the Heidelberg Escarpment, but the stages going through the pass run the risk of Injun trouble over that way. The tribes say the coaches pass through sacred land."

  "That's because these Indians aren't native to this area. They're the Omegas my brother came to fight. Their leader Black Hawk is cunning; he sends groups of warriors to different points all over the territory. You never know where he’s going to attack. Sometimes he will tell his forces to launch massacres when the sun is at the highest. The only thing is it could be two separate groups. One attacking down near the Mexican border and another up by the Utah line!" Her eyes were cold as she thought of the innocent men, women, and even children who had fallen to the Omega warriors throughout the years of their unending reign of terror.

  “Didn’t you say that your brother said they had been driven off?”

  "That was what appeared to be the case, but it would seem something is going on here the army doesn't know about. We can worry about that later; right now, I'm going to arm the Endicotts," she said as she reloaded the Colts.