I played a dirty trick on you for sure. I let you ride away believing I am strong and can take care of whatever comes. In truth, I am scared you won’t return to me. That our child will never know his father. Yes, my love, I said his father.
Know that I will not let that fear control me either. I believe deep in my heart that you will return. I believe our love is stronger than the fear inside us, that is where I’ll draw my strength and courage from.
Never let my image out of your heart, as I will never let our last night together out of mine.
Return to me as I will be here waiting for you until my dying day. James and I wait for the sound of Spade carrying you home to us.
Your loving wife,
Abby
Swiping the tears from her eyes, Abby folded the paper in half then slipped it into an envelope to protect it. She closed her writing desk at the sound of a horse and rider approaching their porch.
Bass Reeves had come to take her husband away with him.
“Morning.”
Gabe looked up from putting the last bit of hay up for Abby. Bass stood in the lean-to door, reins in his hand, hat pulled down over his eyes. The morning sun was already making its heated rise into the eastern sky.
“Have you had breakfast yet?” Gabe asked ambling over to the marshal, Spade’s headstall in his hand.
“Coffee and a hard biscuit a few hours back,” Bass answered, dusting red dirt from his black hat.
“Where’d you spend the night? From the looks of it you didn’t get much sleep.” Gabe took note of the lines edging the marshal’s bloodshot dark eyes.
“A Creek camp for a bit, then moved out before day broke through the darkness,” Bass settled his big black hat over the saddle horn.
Gabe nodded then strolled back to his horse, slipping the bit into its mouth and the headstall over its ears. “You got a plan yet?”
“Thought maybe we could go over it while eatin’ your wife’s fine fried eggs and biscuits and gravy. I sure could use a damn good cup of coffee instead of the sludge I put in my gut.” Bass grinned, his eyes full of hope for some of Abby’s home cooking.
“It’s been a rough morning, not sure what kind of company my wife will be in.” Gabe lead his horse out the barn, tying it to the porch rail. As much as he trusted and liked Bass, family disputes between a man and his wife was nobody’s business but the husband’s. “Not even sure if she’s begun to think about putting food on the table, let alone set coffee to brewing.”
Bass smiled, slapping Gabe on the back. “Nothin’ a bit of sugar won’t fix. The nicer the bee, the sweeter the honey I always say.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Gabe said glancing toward the door, seeing the look on Abby’s face when she’d stormed away from him angry as a hornet’s nest. The darn woman, God love her, was going to defy him as sure as the sun rises in the morning and sets at night. He prayed she’d hold her tongue in front of the marshal.
Gabe proceeded with caution across the porch, pausing at the screen door and peered inside. Abby had changed into a day dress and stood over the stove with her apron tied around her waist. Cracking followed by the savory scent of bacon from the fry pan she stood over wafted in the air. Damn she was a beautiful sight angry or not.
“If you’re wanting to eat before y’all leave then you might wanna get yourself at the table before these bacon and eggs are cold,” she called out, not once turning to look at him.
He glanced over his shoulder in time to see the snicker leave Bass’s face. Pushing open the door, Gabe noticed the bulging flour sack slumped against the wall. Were his clothes or provisions in that bag? he wondered, picking up the sack and feeling the contents.
At least she’s not going to let me starve, he thought as a bit of relief seeped into his veins. It appeared there was a cease-fire administered for this battle, but what about the war he was sure would come eventually? Would it be worth the words said in anger they’d never be able to take back? Gabe thought not. In his mind, his wife had won this time—he just wasn’t going to let her know it.
“Mornin’, ma’am.” Bass nodded taking a seat at the table. “Mighty fine of you offerin’ up breakfast.”
“Morning, Bass, nice to see you again considering the circumstance.” Fry pan in hand, Abby smiled crossing over to the table then slid a fair share of bacon and eggs onto each plate. “I’ll not have you both ride out of here on empty stomachs. Coffee will be ready in a minute.”
Gabe looked up at his wife, noticing the red rims around her eyes and her pink nose. She’d been crying and it was because of him. Because of his bullheaded idea that she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself. When will he ever learn to keep his mouth shut? When it came to protecting his family, probably never.
“My Nellie is of the same mind, Abby.” Bass dug his fork into the eggs slurping a slice of bacon into the bright yellow yolks, then popped the gooey mess into his mouth. “Damn good food, pardon the cussin’.”
“I’ve heard worse in my day, Bass, no need to apologize.” Abby chuckled pouring more coffee into the half-full cups. “I suspect I’ll hear darn near every cuss word there is before I’m laid in the ground. Might even say one or two myself when the baby decides to come out into the world.”
“You said you had a plan?” Gabe hated not knowing what he was riding into. No lawman should go chasing outlaws without an idea of what he’d planned to do. He’d always had a well thought out plan of attack even for the gunslingers that came through Dodge City. Granted, they were in uncivilized territory, but Gabe believed a plan of action had to be well thought out even if it changed mid-stream.
“Yes, sir. I reckon to catch up with that private stage afore it gets too far into Indian Territory.” Bass took a swig of the fresh coffee, a smile spreading across his face. “There’ll be two more passengers that Jesse Evans hadn’t counted on. Armed passengers.”
Gabe pushed back his empty plate and stared across the table. “And just how do you propose that?”
“Well, sir, with the grace of God and our wits.”
Gabe’s gaze sprung over to Abby’s face, registering the fear in her eyes. This was not going to have a good outcome. He could feel it in his bones.
10
Abby refused to allow the tears burning her eyes to fall. She stood planted on the porch as Gabe tied the flour sack full of provisions onto a saddlebag. Her heart and mind cried out to run to him and hold on for dear life, while her body refused to move an inch.
Gabe hopped onto the porch and pulled her into his arms. Tears burst over the dam and flowed down her cheeks unabated. She buried her face into his chest afraid if she embraced him, she’d all but beg him not to leave.
“Abby, I mean it. Do not go to the trading post while I’m gone.” He held her at arm’s length his eyes begging her to do as he asked. “Please stay at the cabin. I can’t be worrying about you while I’m out there any more than I’m gonna anyway.”
How could she defy her husband in front of the deputy U.S. marshal? She couldn’t. More to the point she wouldn’t embarrass him. Instead she wiped her eyes and nodded. “You just make sure you come home.”
Gabe crushed her against his chest, his mouth sought hers bruising her lips with a desperate kiss. “I promise,” his whispered pledge warm against her mouth.
“Hate to break up this tender moment, but daylight’s burnin’.” Bass urged his horse into a walk and headed northeast along the road.
Abby stepped out of Gabe’s arms, backing away from him a step at a time. “You go. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Gabe nodded then mounted his black. “There’s hay put down for ya. Walter will be by on his way home each night to see what you need the next day. I love you, Abigail Hawkins.”
“I love you too, Gabriel Hawkins.” She smiled, nervously wiping her hands down over her apron. Gabe tipped his hat then spurred his horse into a trot and moved out after Bass.
Abby watched from the porch until Ga
be disappeared from her sight. Taking a deep breath to calm her quivering nerves, she went into the house and began cleaning up the breakfast dishes. She had to do something to keep from breaking down into tears.
Over the next several hours she set about cleaning the cabin. Sweeping floors, making their bed, putting up the clean clothes from yesterday’s wash, all temporary distractions from the sorrow of Gabe’s leaving. The cabin seemed unusually quiet without Gabe coming in and out to check on her or bringing in water or eggs from the few chickens they had. The milk cow hadn’t arrived yet, or he’d have been toting in fresh milk as well. Abby had never noticed his absence before—even when he’d gone to the post for supplies it hadn’t seemed this quiet. Now it was nearly unbearable in the few hours since he rode away to face heaven knew what.
“If this is what it would be like without him for the rest of my life, I’d go plum crazy,” she remarked, sweeping the ever-present red dirt from the porch. The more she swept it away, the more the southern wind laid the red substance upon the planks.
“No sense wearing ourselves out for no reason at all,” Abby exhaustedly resolved, gliding a hand over her swollen belly, giggling when the baby kicked in agreement. “Ha, well then, it’s settled. A glass of sweet tea and the rocking chair for us, little one.”
Abby set the hot water and tea to brewing then pulled down the sack of sugar from a pantry shelf when the sound of wagon wheels drew her attention. Walking over to the screen door, she smiled seeing Millie Cook in a small one-horse carriage with the reins in her hands.
“Millie! You’re in time for some tea. I hope you stay for some.” Abby pushed open the door, clasping her hands to her chest. “I’m so happy to see you. It’s been several days since you last came by. Please do stay, Millie. I could use a friend right about now.”
“Tea sounds absolutely delicious.” Millie lighted from the carriage, tying off the horse to the porch rail. “I’d love to stay for a bit. I’ve missed having another woman to talk to as well.”
Abby went back inside and prepared two servings of sweet tea. With a cup in each hand, she pushed the door open with her hip and joined Millie on the porch. Millie had settled nicely into one of the two rocking chairs, fanning herself with a handkerchief.
“How’s that baby of yours?” Millie smiled, taking a cup from Abby.
“Moving around more and more. Sometimes I think it will kick its way out.” Abby laughed sitting in the rocker next to Millie, sipping the cooling amber liquid, relishing its sweetness as it cooled her rising body temperature. “I think Gabe is right. I was hoping for a girl, but I think it is a boy after all.”
“Only the baby and the good Lord know for sure, Abby.” Millie said, experience edging her words. “Did you decide on a name yet?”
“Ha, James Gabriel Stewart Hawkins, if Gabe has his way.” Abby shook her head, clucking. “I’d prefer just plain ol’ Jimmy Hawkins, myself.”
“That is a truly a mouthful for any youngster. Jimmy seems much easier for a child to remember,” Millie agreed, rocking in a matching rhythm with Abby.
“It is Gabe’s idea to name our son after his father. Even after all his family has gone through, he wants to honor them this way.” Abby recited a bit of the Hawkins family history, leaving out the private sequence of events that had Gabe estranged from his parents. “I haven’t thought of a girl’s name yet.”
“You best try, in case little Jimmy is a Janey!” Millie laughed, fanning the summer heat from her face.
Abby smiled, looking over at her friend. “Where you off to anyway?”
“Walter told me Gabe was leaving this morning and would be gone for a piece.” Millie smiled, holding her cup of tea in her lap. “I was on my way to pick up Charlie and thought you might want to ride along in case there’s supplies you’ll be needing. Walter said he’d be stopping by every night, but if for nothing else it’ll get you away from the cabin for a spell.”
“Gabe was pretty stern on me staying here at the cabin. He doesn’t want me going into Fred while these outlaws are on the loose for anything.” Abby pondered her promise to her husband. She knew if he was going to be gone for an extended period of time she’d go absolutely crazy not seeing anyone. Plus, if something did happen and Gabe didn’t return home, she’d have to know how to take care of herself.
The decision made Abby jumped at the chance to leave the confines of the cabin. “It might take me a bit to take inventory of the pantry. Do you have time?” Anything was better than sitting around feeling sorry for herself and worried if Gabe was in danger or not.
“I even have time for lunch if you’d a mind to it.” Millie suggested.
“Then lunch it is before we go to the post.” Abby agreed grateful for the company.
The two friends sat on the porch sipping sweet tea as leisurely as a couple of southern plantation ladies on a hot summer day. Not a care in the world, and no place they immediately had to be.
The sun rose to its highest point in the clear blue sky. Gabe glanced over at Bass, amazed neither he nor his horse looked any worse for the wear. Gabe was cooking under the heat of the summer sun. They’d been riding steady for the past few hours at an easy pace since leaving Cook’s on their way out of Fred. While Bass had gathered a few items, Gabe took the opportunity in requesting Walter to look in on Abby.
“Mr. Cook gonna look in on the missus?” Bass asked keeping his head on the pivot he’d been doing for the past several hours. Between the two of them, there wasn’t much they could miss. Unless of course a rattlesnake slithered out from under a bush then they’d both be on the ground with no horse under either of them.
“Yes, but he seemed pretty sure Abby will make her way to the trading post. Walter told his wife about our mission and that Abby would be home alone. He felt the two of them would come around sooner or later.” Gabe chuckled, shaking his head. “Regardless of my asking her to stay at the cabin while I’m gone, I know Abby will find a way to the post—even if she has to walk. Damn independent woman that she is.”
“Would you have it any other way? You don’t seem the type of man who’d want a submissive woman on your hands.”
“Damn right about that! Abby does challenge me, I’ll give you that.” Gabe puffed out his chest despite himself. He was proud, scared, worried all rolled into one emotion. Top that off with outlaws in the area he couldn’t see any reason for living if anything happened to her.
“We should reach Silver City before long,” Bass remarked, urging the gray into a trot. “The town sheriff there will keep an eye on that stage until we arrive. Once on board we’ll head back on the stage road. Hopefully draw out the Evans gang.”
Gabe nodded, unsure if that plan would work or not. Ideally the gang wouldn’t be expecting two extra passengers. He doubted them riding along could deter the gang from robbing the stage. He didn’t question Reeves’ authority even if it raised questions in his mind without a solution of his own.
As the hours slipped by and the sun began to shift to the west, they rode into Silver City. Gabe and Bass pulled up in front of the jail, greeted by a less than enthusiastic sheriff. It was all too clear he didn’t appreciate their presence.
“Marshal.” The sheriff tipped his hat, his face anything less than friendly. It was obvious he didn’t want a federal lawman, let alone two federal lawmen, walking the streets of his town.
“Sheriff Brown, this is Marshal Hawkins. He’s been reassigned from Dodge City to Fred by Judge Parker.” Bass introduced them and the sheriff reluctantly acknowledged Gabe.
“Humph, come on inside then, no sense standing out here discussin’ business.” Sheriff Brown turned on his heel, making no effort to wait on the lawmen who’d just ridden uninvited into his town. The mention of Judge Parker may have made the sheriff compliant. It didn’t make him any friendlier.
Gabe followed Bass into the small office that housed one empty cell, then kept watch on the street from the doorway.
“What’s this all about, Reeve
s? That stage could have been on its way with a fresh team of horses, now it’s held up at the blacksmith’s,” the sheriff spat with a total disregard to rank.
“The Jesse Evans Gang is believed to be in the area. We received a report that private stage is their target and I aim to bring the gang into Fort Smith.” Bass, to his credit, ignored the disrespect given a black man with a federal badge.
“I ain’t seen no trace of those boys.” Sheriff Brown sat down, swinging his feet on the desk. “They ain’t got no call to come here.”
“Listen sheriff, I understand how you feel,” Gabe interjected from his post, the nonchalance of the sheriff grated on his sense of duty. “I felt that same way every time a federal marshal rode into Dodge. I had to remind myself why I put this badge on. Why that federal marshal pinned one on. To serve and protect the citizens of my district. That’s the bottom line in my book.”
The sheriff nodded then turned to Bass. “The man on that stage goes by the name of Douglas Manchester. He’s got his wife and two youngin’s with him. They’re all dressed like dandies from the east. Have no business out here in my book.”
Bass glanced at Gabe. Neither of them had expected an entire family. This wasn’t what they’d planned for. It was enough to protect a wealthy East coast businessman, but his entire family?
“Who’s drivin’ the stage?” Gabe asked, hoping it was someone he knew from Dodge.
“A fellow by the name of Granger is riding shotgun, but he doesn’t look the part.” Sheriff Brown smirked, sliding his feet off the desk. “You’ll find the lot of them over at the hotel.”
“Thank you, sheriff. I’ll be sure to let the judge know how you cooperated.” Bass said, shaking the man’s hand. “Let’s go, Hawkins.”
“Granger? Isn’t that the Pinkerton from Dodge?” Bass asked as they untied their horses and walked across the street to the hotel.
“Yes, sir. I can’t imagine what the hell Logan is doing here, but I aim to find out.” Gabe handed off his reins to Bass, then stomped into the hotel lobby. Slapping the trail dust from his jeans and hat, he walked over to the hotel desk, ringing the bell. The clerk emerged from the back, chewing what Gabe presumed was his dinner.
Brides Along the Chisholm Trail Boxset Page 20