Courage To Follow (Cowboys of Courage 1)

by Charlene Bright

  “I’ve known Solid Fist since I was ten years old.”

  Shakota stared at him in shock. “Are you serious? How did that happen?” She didn’t mean to be rude, but she had trouble imagining her Chief befriending a ten-year-old boy from the world outside the reservation.

  “Don’t sound so enthusiastic,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “We had a school history assignment where we each had to research the history of a tribe in the state of Montana. I picked your people out of the hat. I thought it was a dumb assignment because I knew I wasn’t going to find a resource in the entire library that wasn’t tainted by point of view. You know, the sense of entitlement settlers had made it all right to make your people sound like you lived in the ice ages and were hateful and spiteful. I told my father I wasn’t going to do the assignment, and he had a better idea.”

  Shakota had become so interested in the tale she’d nearly missed the turn of the hoof marks, already barely visible in the thick foliage. She tried not to turn abruptly, not wanting to throw him off his story. He must’ve been reliving it in his head because he barely noticed the change in direction as he continued, “He had an old friend he called Leather Foot, who lived in town, and he drove me to the guy’s house. As it turned out, Leather Foot was a member of your tribe, and he’d moved off the reservation to marry a white woman. Anyway, my father asked him to share the true history of his people with me.”

  That was actually a pretty great thing to do for Garrett, and hearing things like that about his family explained a lot about the man he was and why losing them so suddenly and violently had affected him as strongly as it had. “So, you got the real story. I’m impressed.” Of course, that still didn’t explain how he came to know her Chief.

  “Well, Leather Foot said he didn’t know the old tales well enough, but he had something special he could offer. He asked my dad if he could take me for a little weekend trip somewhere, and my father said that was fine. So, Friday after school, I packed an overnight bag, and my dad dropped me off with Leather Foot first thing Saturday morning. He took me to the reservation, introduced me to Solid Fist, speaking to him in a language I didn’t understand. Your chief knelt in front of me, and I’ll never forget what he said. Word for word, he told me, ‘Son, you are the light of your people and the connection between ours. I’ll share with you our history and our culture, and if you are ever in need, you can call upon me for help.’ ”

  Shakota was shocked. Chief wasn’t fond of the outside world. He lived on the reservation, for the reservation, and he felt like he was part of the reservation. To offer that sort of pledge to Garrett could only mean he saw something incredibly special in the boy. It likely stemmed from his innocent interest in the truth rather than the naïve way of buying into the lies and half-truths in the history books. Whatever the reason, he’d taken Garrett under his wing that day, which meant he’d been a presence in Garrett’s life ever since. “You are a very lucky man, Garrett Woodward.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I have been, up till now. You know, I ran away after my parents’ funeral and hitchhiked down to the reservation. Solid Fist let me stay with him for a week before he told me I had to face reality and sent me home. I rode with Standing Wolf, who made sure I was settled before he left.” He looked sad all of a sudden. “For a long time, once I had my license, I drove down to visit about once a month. Then, I got busy building the ranch and it became once every two or three months, and then six months. When I came down yesterday, it had been almost two years since I’d seen him, and I almost couldn’t ask for help because I felt like I’d neglected our friendship for too long.”

  Shakota shook her head. “My Chief is loyal to the end, and he never turns his back on people he makes such promises to. As I said, you’re a very lucky man, even now, because you have the resources Chief Solid Fist is willing to provide.”

  He gave her a mischievous smile. “I guess so. I mean, he loaned you to me, right? I’d count myself pretty lucky to have you around.”

  This time, Shakota couldn’t help blushing and smiling. Testing the waters, she quipped, “I must be a fresh, cold drink of water for you, since I’m not needy or clingy or controlling or jealous. And since I trust you and don’t demand to know every detail of every minute of your life, you can’t possibly consider me a nag.”

  He stuttered for a moment and then just shook his head. “I’ll admit you are a rare breed, Shakota. You give me almost nothing to complain about.”

  She gaped at him. “What do you mean, almost nothing?”

  “Well, you keep telling me I have to focus on this task, right?” He pushed the brim of his hat up, and it revealed more of his face. Shakota’s mouth went dry, and she couldn’t respond as she stared into those glistening translucent jade eyes of his. His smile curved wider, and he said, “I’m having a little trouble concentrating on our little manhunt because you keep distracting me.”

  How could he say something like that? She’d just been making conversation, and she was the damn tracker, which meant she was the one who really needed to focus. What had she really done to distract him? Hadn’t she given him advice and everything? “How could I possibly be distracting you?”

  He made a broad motion with his arm. “By being here. I’m not so used to spending time with anyone, much less a woman I can’t take my eyes off. I have no idea if you’re even on the trail at this point because I’ve been too distracted by you and that body of yours. Your face is even more distracting. When you smile, I get even worse because I just want to make you laugh or smile some more, and I get caught off guard again trying to think of things I can say to do that, all the while still staring at you, almost without blinking.”

  Shakota sat straighter in the saddle, a little overwhelmed at his compliments and feeling sheepish for thinking he was really angry with her. But her tongue was tied, and she couldn’t answer him right away. What was she supposed to say anyway? Was she supposed to tell him that the only reason she hadn’t been watching him just as closely was because she had no choice but to stay focused? Should she admit she was finding that incredibly difficult with a man attractive in looks and spirit right beside her?

  No, that wouldn’t be advisable at all. Instead, she told him, “I’ll try to tone it down tomorrow. I’ll rat my hair and paint a giant mole on my nose. And if you like, I’ll put on your dirty clothes from today. That should do the trick.”

  He laughed, and the sound was deep and rich. It sent shivers down her spine and curled her toes. “I do like you, Shakota Clearwater. You amuse me, and I don’t feel so much like this hunt is a chore. Which reminds me, where are we headed?”

  She pointed toward the edge of the woods, where the trees became sparser and the terrain grew rocky. “It would have been too difficult to ride down that outcropping. I wouldn’t even try to lead a horse down that way. I’m betting the trail turns one way or the other out there.” It was only about another half mile, and her stomach was growling. “I say we get there and take a break to eat.”

  “Now you’re speaking my language,” he replied happily. “A woman after my own heart, thinking about food like I do.”

  For a man who didn’t have time for a woman, he sure did flirt a lot. Not that Shakota minded; she flirted right back, and she had every intention of seeing how far it would go. She’d come on this journey to gain experience outside her sheltered life, and she had a very good idea of what experience she was looking for. It revolved very much around Garrett Woodward and a very close encounter.

  Chapter 9

  Garrett couldn’t remember ever being so amused just watching someone eat. He’d noticed Shakota’s little habits earlier, at breakfast, but they were far more pronounced now. She nibbled at her food, barely touching it with her lips, and while it might have annoyed him should he have seen anyone else doing it, he found it endearing from her.

  She kept her nails cropped short, but she held her sandwich and chips as though afraid to get something under her imaginary nails. S
he seemed to savor every bite, and still, she didn’t eat so slowly he was left sitting and waiting for her to finish. When she had wiped her hands and started to pick up trash, he helped and asked, “So, are we back on the road again?”

  “That’s the plan. We need to get as far as we can today so that, hopefully, we catch up tonight or early tomorrow. I told you, it’s a bad idea to be out here too long with the storm coming.”

  He still couldn’t figure out how she knew about a storm that wasn’t in the forecast at all. Then again, as he’d said before and been so quickly corrected on, her people wielded a special sort of magic, and she was full of that same energy he felt every time he walked into Chief Solid Fist’s house. He wanted to feel that energy under him, writhing and crying out in delight, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get over it.

  He’d even gone so far as to admit to his attraction to her, albeit in the most lighthearted way he could find. He didn’t want to sound pathetic or anything. But she’d practically blown him off. Maybe he’d read the signals wrong, or maybe he wasn’t her type. If he knew what her type was, he would morph into that, at least temporarily, just to get a taste of her.

  He didn’t know if he could handle sharing the tent with her. He had a feeling he’d end up sleeping outside, buried head and all in his sleeping bag, just to make sure he was in control of his body while he dreamt, especially since those dreams would likely be of the erotic variety and include fantasies of Shakota joining him in very intimate acts.

  “Uh, Garrett, I think there’s a little steam coming out of your ears,” she said as she closed up the saddlebag. He blinked at her, confused. “You’re thinking far too hard about something. Care to share the wealth?”

  He grunted. No way would he share his lewd thoughts with her. Maybe if she’d given him some hope when he’d practically thrown himself at her feet. “There’s no wealth in my head, sweetheart. It’s just full of rocks and dust and sewage.”

  “I see,” she said in a singsong voice. “You’ve had your mind in the gutter for the past several minutes. Well, if you won’t share, I guess I’ll have to use my own imagination to dream up whatever was on your mind.”

  That didn’t sound pleasant at all. Deciding it was best to give her something rather than have her believe he’d been thinking about her naked, he said the first thing that came to mind. “I was thinking about Jennifer Garner carrying a whip.”

  She turned and stared at him, her soulful eyes narrowed and filled with disbelief and accusation. “That’s fine, sunshine. Just know I won’t quit till I get it out of you.” She straddled her horse and made sure the line to the other horse was secure and then looked at Garrett expectantly. “Well, are you coming or not?”

  He gritted his teeth at a wayward thought about doing just that in a much more intimate setting and mounted his horse. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Sure enough, the tracks turned and led along the edge of the woods for another couple of miles, at least, and they rode in silence for a bit. He checked his compass, the sky too overcast to see where the sun was, and saw they were headed south. They’d gone another three or four miles when Shakota came to a halt and climbed off her horse, bending down and inspecting the ground.

  Alarms sounded in Garrett’s head, and he started to dismount, but she held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t disturb anything,” she said quietly, turning her head this way and that. He had no idea what she saw, since he couldn’t make out anything of consequence, but apparently, her tracker senses noticed something vital. She slipped lightly around the area, barely even touching her feet to the ground, and she came back to the horses with a scowl.

  “So, what is it?” Garrett asked impatiently.

  “It looks like he set up camp here for at least two nights. He did a good job of cleaning up the fire remains, but there are definitely two sets of ashes in the same spot, and the print of a sleeping bag that held a larger man near that tree.” She pointed to a large tree that, though bare from winter, had enough branches to provide some protection from the elements.

  Fascinated, Garrett shook his head. “I can’t believe you get all that from just walking around with your nose on the ground.”

  Shakota smiled. “You know what’s funny about most trackers being men?” she asked, and Garrett gave her an expectant look. “It’s scientifically proven that a woman’s sense of smell is more developed, she has greater instinctive intuition, and her eyesight, while not necessarily more developed, picks up more detail. You tell me which gender should make the better tracker.”

  Garrett had to hand it to her. She could play the battle of the sexes game without sounding like some feminist lobbyist or angry woman and get away with it. She presented things in a way that he could respect rather than wanting to deny the possibility. “I’ll keep that in mind. So, where do we go from here?”

  Shakota reached into one of the saddlebags and pulled out two bottles of water, tossing one to him while she opened hers and drank. She stared around, squinting against the evening sun low on the horizon. “I have an inclination your sheriff doubled back from here.”

  That didn’t make sense. “I thought you said there was only one set of tracks.”

  “He’s smarter than that. I have this hunch that, if we follow this along the edge of the woods for about a mile, we’ll find them turning back the way we came. Are there any cabins or rest areas or anything out that way?”

  Garrett tried to think. “There’s a gas station on the road halfway up the other side of the mountain from me. It would be about two miles that way,” he pointed the direction she said the tracks led from there, “and then maybe another five or six miles backtracking at an angle to the south.”

  She looked displeased. “We’ll lose the horse track there and likely any foot trail.”

  Garrett didn’t like the sound of that. “You think that’s where he picked up a car and drove out?”

  She nodded. “Or he had someone meet him and drive him wherever he went from there.” She put the half-empty water bottle away and climbed back on the horse. “How much do you know about the people running that gas station?”

  Frowning, Garrett shook his head. He didn’t spend much time on that side of the mountain. He even went the long way around when he drove down to the reservation. The southern road down wasn’t well maintained, and even Garrett thought it was too treacherous for regular use. He’d come on the station a couple of times out riding, and he’d taken the road and stopped for gas maybe two more times. He thought back and told her, “The last time I went to that gas station had to be almost four years ago.”

  He watched her deflate. “At least tell me that, if someone was plotting and they overheard the conversation, they’d be more than willing to gossip about it.”

  Now, he laughed. “If you think the reservation is a small place, try living in a town like Courage, where the whole damn county has fewer people than most small cities. Everyone likes to gossip and be up in everyone’s business. If they heard anything at all, they’ll talk.”

  “Then our goal is to make it to the station before sundown. We’ll get whatever we can out of them, if I don’t by some miracle find the trail again, and then we’ll find a place to camp for the night.”

  “That sounds like a good plan. But what happens if we find out where Hoyt went? And what happens if we don’t?” He knew he sounded like a desperate child with all his questions, but he hated not knowing the next step. He was a plotter, and he liked to have a plan and a backup plan at all times.

  Shakota sighed. “If it turns out they know where he was going, we’ll follow him there as soon as possible. We’ll take the shortest route back to your property, ditch the horses, and take the car. If we don’t get anything, I want to go to his house and check things out.”

  Garrett was hesitant. “We already searched his house and didn’t find anything. Besides, I’m probably not allowed back on the property, since I’m suspect number one.”

  She sta
rted forward again and gave him a sinister smile. “Don’t worry, you won’t be on the property. You’ll just show me where it is, and I’ll do the rest.”

  What was she planning, he wondered. But he didn’t ask; ignorance was bliss, and he could plead ignorance if she got into trouble. Then, he could bail her out of her jam, be the gentleman who rescued her. Maybe then she wouldn’t be so ready to blow him off. Silently, he followed her lead, and they turned back into the woods right about two miles out.

  Again, Shakota stopped suddenly, gazing down to her left, and her expression grew dark. Whatever she saw, she didn’t like. “Who would have brought a horse out here without shoes?” Her tone expressed her anger clearly, and Garrett understood. It would be too easy for a barefoot horse to injure a foot out here, with rocks and roots and any manner of things sticking out of the ground threateningly. Garrett had never left a horse without shoes for more than a week, and that was only if they had an infection that needed to heal or the currier couldn’t make it out any sooner.

  But he knew several people too lazy and careless. Most of them didn’t ride often and didn’t take their horses from their land much at all. Still, there was just as much hazard on farming and ranching land as there was out in the wild. “I can think of a few people who don’t shod their horses. I’ve always thought that was a mistake, but no one would listen to me and spend the extra time and cash for maintenance.” He heard his own bitterness and realized just how testy he’d gotten over the last few hours.

  Reaching deeper for some peace and congeniality, he told her, “I’m sorry. Hearing about horses that could so easily be hurt pisses me off. It’s not that hard or costly to get a horse shoed.”

  “I feel the same way,” she told him. “I’ve campaigned for it on the reservation. It’s still the owner’s choice right now, and I’m trying to change that. We’ve actually lost horses with our hunters because of injuries caused by not having shoes.” She pointed to her left. “I didn’t mean for us to go off on a tangent, although I’m glad we’re in agreement on the subject. I asked because a second set of tracks, leading from over there and joining with the sheriff’s right here in front of us, and the horse wasn’t shoed.”