Belle Gone Bad

by Sabine Starr

  “Maybe an outlaw gang?”

  “I wouldn’t rule it out.”

  “But we may be dealing with a lone man,” Mercy said.

  “We won’t know till I find the trail. Yet it makes sense for the kidnapper to have help. In Indian Territory, outlaws have systems of communicating with each other. If Deputy U.S. Marshals enter an area, the outlaws are warned ahead of time and disappear. It’s one of the reasons they’re so hard to catch.”

  “What kind of systems?”

  “Depends. They’ve got lookouts stationed at high spots across the land. When it’s daylight they might use mirrors to catch sunlight and send a message. Smoke signals from campfires work, too. At night, they can use fire for a light signal. They could also send a fast rider.”

  “I never felt watched when I was in Indian Territory.”

  “You were probably noticed, but not considered a threat.”

  He shook his head at the unwelcome thought.

  “You’re watched all the time in the country, and not just by folks. Cougars. Coyotes. Snakes. Raccoons. Every critter patrols his territory and knows exactly who or what enters and leaves.”

  “But we rarely see them.”

  “Most critters want to avoid people.”

  “Now I’ll always be looking over my shoulder.”

  “Just as well. Territory is critical to survival. You either defend it or you lose it.”

  “That’s your reality, but not everybody’s.”

  “True. Some folks believe in an unrealistic world where they are completely safe from harm. That’s truer in a town than in the country.”

  Mercy took a deep breath, considering her words. If he’d been more cautious back East, maybe he wouldn’t be in his current situation.

  “Wolves and sheep. Predators and prey,” Belle said. “I’d rather be a leader than part of a flock.”

  He glanced over at her. “Put that way, I realize now that I was once part of a trusting flock.”

  “And you got the short end of the stick?”

  “Got no stick at all.”

  “Yet you found a way to stay alive with your art. Maybe that’s your stick.”

  He nodded, realizing that still waters ran deep. She’d given life a lot of thought and come up with her own answers. In contrast, he’d taken the easy path. He’d never do it again.

  As they left Delaware Bend in their dust, Mercy felt uneasy. He’d been protected in the Bend. Diana had been helping him heal. He’d thought he was on his way to a full recovery. Not anymore. He’d been cast out among the wolves. But they’d find he was no longer a trusting lamb.

  “Keep a lookout for that pacer’s tracks,” Belle said.

  “I wouldn’t know a pacer’s track if I fell over it.”

  “Not that difficult. Their unusual gait leaves distinctive marks. Also, the dust goes to the front of the hoofprint. With most horses, the dust goes back.”

  He simply stared at her. “How am I supposed to see dust in a hoofprint from the back of a horse? I’m not sure I could see it if I had my nose pressed to the ground.”

  “You’ve got an artist’s eye, so you’re used to noticing detail. If you can’t pick up reading sign fast, I’d be surprised.”

  “You look for sign. I’ll look for rabid rabbits.”

  She chuckled. “What are you so grumpy about? Far as I can tell, you’ve gotten everything you wanted from the first moment I met you.”

  “Not everything.” He couldn’t resist giving her a look from head to toe to let her know there could be something between them if things were different.

  She simply shook her head, clicked to her horse, and rode ahead, leaving him in her dust.

  He watched her go, enjoying the fine view. She was as delectable as one of Mama Lou’s famous muffins.

  They were coming up on the Red River. Indian Territory lay on the north side. Maybe the river would be low enough to easily cross. If not, they’d have to ride along the high bank to locate a good crossing point. It all depended on Belle finding tracks and where they led.

  She’d stopped ahead, so he urged Kirby to catch up. When he rode up beside her, she slipped out of her saddle and knelt on the ground.

  “Find our pacer?” He watched as she gently touched several hoofprints and then glanced up at him with a smile on her face.

  “I believe so.” She stood and walked around the area, checking several more hoofprints. “Two horses. One is a pacer.”

  “Diana and her kidnapper?”

  She nodded. “I’d say the rider on the pacer holds the reins of the second horse.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “If he’s in a hurry, that’s a slow way to travel.”

  “Maybe he thought he had enough of a head start.”

  She shrugged as she walked toward the river.

  “Did they cross over here?” he called.

  She nodded, as if confirming something to herself, and then came back. “Looks like it.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that the kidnapper made no attempt to cover his tracks, or take a more indirect route?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I see a couple of possibilities. One, he’s completely sure of his getaway. Two, he wants us to follow him.”

  “Why would he want us to follow? And how would he know it’d be us?”

  “Remember what I said about a partner in the Bend?”

  “Yes.”

  “What if somebody knew Diana was working with you? What if somebody knew I was on my way to Delaware Bend?”

  “What if it didn’t matter who went after Diana?”

  “I think it does.”

  He looked back toward the Bend, expecting to see the dust of a rider gaining on them. He saw nothing.

  “Might be a trap,” Belle said.

  “We don’t know anything for sure.”

  “I don’t like the feel of this, from Diana to the pacer. It’s too obvious. Outlaws don’t stay one step ahead of the law by being dumb.”

  “Let’s say you’re right. What do you think is going on?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “You aren’t trying to get me to turn back, are you?”

  Belle shook her head and gestured at the Red River. “Let’s assume somebody is watching us, or at least knows our whereabouts.”

  “But it won’t stop us.”

  “No, it won’t. We follow the trail laid out for us, but we stay alert. Somewhere down the line we’ll turn the tables.”

  “Do you suppose this is how the bushwhacker got Tex and Hackett?”

  “Laid a trap and sprang it?”

  “Yes.”

  She cocked her head to one side as she looked at him. “I do believe we’ll make a tracker out of you yet.”

  Chapter 12

  Bell picked up the pacer’s tracks on the north side of the Red River. It was too easy. She glanced around at Indian Territory, then back across the river at Texas. She didn’t feel any danger. She depended on her senses to give her warning, but they were quiet now. She rubbed the skin over her heart, feeling a little itchy with expectation.

  “You’ve got that look again,” Mercy said. “Trouble?”

  “No. And that’s the problem.”

  “Can’t we make this simple?”

  “I’d like nothing better. For now, let’s just follow the tracks and see where they lead us.”

  As they rode side by side, she checked her surroundings. Fluffy white clouds rode high in the blue sky. Tall prairie grass rustled in a warm breeze. Summer declined as fall pressed closer. With shorter days, birdsong came less often. Cooler nights were gaining ground. She could almost smell the tantalizing aromas of autumn. Folks would soon turn their calendars from September to October.

  She couldn’t let the search go on too long. This time of year the weather was changeable. They might get a blue norther raging down to blanket the land with wild winds and freezing rain, or a hot wind coul
d blow storm clouds up from the south and drench them with warm rain. If the weather turned bad or even rained hard, the pacer’s tracks would be wiped out. She didn’t want to consider that possibility, but she must. Time wasn’t on their side in so many ways.

  Yet she said nothing of her fears and concerns to Mercy. He looked paler now that they’d crossed the Red River. If he got too sick to travel, she would need to find a safe place for him and go on alone. Though she couldn’t imagine leaving him behind. Maybe she’d already gotten used to his presence, or perhaps she’d worry if he was left to fend for himself. Either way, she hoped he found the stamina to keep up with her.

  When they came to Hickory Creek, she felt a chill run up her spine. She glanced around in concern and then rode over to the water. She studied the tracks in the mud on the bank. She recognized two sets of hoofprints. Diana and her kidnapper had dismounted and let their horses drink. Belle eased out of her saddle and knelt to get a closer look as she walked around the area. She grew more concerned by the moment.

  She glanced up at Mercy. “We’ve got bigger trouble.”

  “What?”

  “Looks like three riders joined them here.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  She followed the trail out to the road and studied the hoofprints of five horses. They’d ridden east together several hours ago. She turned and walked back to Mercy. He didn’t look well.

  “Why don’t we take a break?”

  “We haven’t come far.” He pushed back the brim of his hat. “Shouldn’t we hurry to catch up with them?”

  “Let’s water the horses first.”

  He nodded, rode over to the creek, got down, and let his horse drink from the sparkling water.

  While Juniper drank his fill, Belle looked around more but didn’t change her mind about the newcomers. She joined Mercy where he sat leaning back against the broad trunk of an ancient oak tree. She removed her hat and fanned her face.

  “Diana and her kidnapper waited here for others to join them.”

  “That’s good news, isn’t it? Now we’re not as far behind them.”

  “Yes. But we’re up against four outlaws instead of one.”

  “That’s not so good.” He took off his hat and wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

  “How are you feeling?” She didn’t like the way he was sweating on a day that wasn’t too hot.

  “I’ll make it.”

  “Looks like they’re headed east.”

  “Why go there?”

  “They could catch the Katy train at Durant and travel north.”

  “Then we’d lose them.”

  “No. Travelers would see them.”

  “What if they go deeper into Indian Territory?”

  “That’s what I expect, but we can’t be sure.”

  “What if they’ve got a friend trailing us?”

  “We stay one step ahead.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Neither do I.” She stood up. “We’d better get back on the trail.”

  He eased up and leaned toward her. “I’ll keep up.”

  “We’ll camp early.”

  “Not on my account.” He set his hat on his head, a crooked smile on his lips. “Shouldn’t we make up time?”

  “If we had a relay of horses, it’d be possible. As it is, we can’t wind our mounts trying to catch up.”

  “But what about Diana?”

  “Come here.” Belle grabbed his hand, felt the sudden heat that spun between them, and tugged him over to the creek bank. She pointed at several footprints. “Someone with small feet walked here. It’s the first real indication that Diana is still alive.”

  “What about the kidnapper?”

  She gestured at other prints. “Big boots. Big man. That’s our kidnapper.”

  “I never doubted that she was still alive.”

  “He’s gone to a lot of trouble, so I doubt he’ll harm her. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Let’s get after her.”

  She hesitated as he mounted, noticing the extra effort he had to expend to get on his horse’s back. He was getting weaker. She didn’t know how long he could stay upright.

  She quickly put a foot in Juniper’s stirrup and threw a leg over the saddle. She headed east, casting about in her mind for a place to leave Mercy where he’d be safe and could get help. A lot of open country spread out before them. Not too much of it was safe, especially for a sick tenderfoot.

  Mercy had friends at Burnt Boggy Saloon where he’d sculpted the bar till the tent burned down. If she could get him that far, she’d trust him with Red Dog and Slim. But what if Diana’s trail led in a different direction? She’d been leery of bringing Mercy with her from the first, but he’d appeared stronger in the Bend. Now she wasn’t sure which one needed her help the most, Mercy or Diana.

  He caught up with her. “I can tell you’re worrying about me.”

  She nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “Don’t. Diana comes first.”

  “Do you think you can make it to Burnt Boggy?”

  “We don’t even know where it is. I left after it burned down.”

  “Manny told me they had a new building south of the old place.”

  “We’re going wherever that pacer’s tracks lead us.”

  “There are doctors in Denison.”

  “I don’t need a doctor.”

  “You look like you’ve got a fever.”

  “I probably do.”

  “What was Diana doing that a doctor couldn’t do?”

  “Everything.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He rode closer. “You can’t leave me at Burnt Boggy. You’ve got to get me to Diana as quickly as possible.”

  She reached out and squeezed the hand grasping his saddle horn. Heat leaped between them again. She jerked away, feeling singed through her glove. “You’re too hot. We should have stayed at the creek. You could’ve cooled down there.”

  “That won’t cure me.”

  “But it’ll help.”

  “For a bit, maybe.”

  “What kind of sickness is this?”

  “If you’re worried about catching it, don’t.”

  She absently rubbed the twinge over her heart. Something wasn’t right. She didn’t want to look at him more closely. It’d been a long time since she’d used those skills. Not only did his life appear to be on the line, but he was drawing her into his danger as well. And that was only her immediate concern. Beyond them was Diana, the kidnapper, and the outlaws. She had to know more or they might not come out alive. She’d already lost Tex and Hackett. She had no intention of being next on the list.

  “If you can stay in the saddle,” she said, “let’s ride to Buffalo Creek. They’ll probably spend the night at the Washita River or go on into Durant if they take the train.”

  “How much longer?”

  “Several hours. Can you make it?”

  “Yes.”

  “When we get near the creek, we’ll go north away from the road and the trail. In case they’re lying in wait, I don’t want us heading into a trap.”

  “What about somebody behind us?”

  “I know a defensible spot.”

  “I hate to rest, not knowing about Diana.”

  “The kidnapper lost time waiting for his friends. We’ll be up before dawn and back on the trail. If Diana is smart, she’ll delay them every step of the way, hoping somebody is coming to rescue her.”

  “That’s what she’ll do. She’s smart and she knows I . . . the Bend won’t let her down.”

  Belle felt another twinge over her heart. Only this time it felt like jealousy. If it’d been over Hackett, she could’ve understood the feeling. Her fiancé had been the perfect man. But Mercy preferred paint brushes to six-shooters. His skills lay in his creativity, not in his fists. He was weak, not strong. Yet she couldn’t forget his fingertip sensually playing with Lulu’s ring as if he played with her own
sensitive nub. That memory alone made her hot all over, especially in her deep, inner core. No, she didn’t like the fact that Mercy admired Diana and might be her lover. But she didn’t like to feel petty, either.

  What was it about this man that called to her at such a deep level? He felt it, too. He’d let her know with looks and words. She’d have to be careful. It wouldn’t take much for either of them to throw caution to the wind, create a wild storm, and set their senses on fire.

  She urged Juniper forward, wanting to get away from her thoughts, feelings, and Mercy.

  “Hey, wait up!” he called.

  She glanced back. She could run from him, but she couldn’t hide from herself.

  Chapter 13

  Nights were always the worst. Mercy dreaded trying to sleep with Belle around. She was too sharp. She noticed everything. But he owed Diana. Even more, he wanted to get her safely home. Yet he was sickening fast.

  As the Sun slowly sank in the west, Belle led him off the road. He followed her north on a trail that wound its way along Buffalo Creek. He hung on to the reins with one hand and the saddle horn with the other. If he could get his saddle blanket rolled out, he wanted nothing more than to collapse on it and rest his aching bones.

  “Looks like nobody’s been by here lately.” Belle glanced back at him. “There’s a rise up ahead and a big old sycamore to camp under.”

  “We can’t get there soon enough for me.”

  “I’ll scout the area to make sure we’re alone. You go ahead and start camp.”

  He watched her ride away, looking as fresh as if they hadn’t already had a long day. He remembered a time when he’d had stamina, too. If not for the curse, he might even now.

  A little later, he found the sycamore that rose majestically on a hill above a bend of the creek. Sunlight splashed through the limbs to turn the leaves silvery-gold as they spun in a breeze. He’d always admired the green of Earth juxtaposed with the blue of sky. Early evening shadows created so many shades of blue and green that he was tempted to try his hand at painting a bucolic scene. Maybe he’d even live to do it. For now, the place represented a safe cocoon. He was glad to be there for no other reason than to rest.

  He rode Kirby over to the stream, noticing the play of light across water, rock, and red dirt. Surprisingly, he’d like to capture such beauty, particularly if he could persuade Belle to pose in the water. He imagined her naked or with artfully draped fabric around her hips. Maybe she’d even have a seductive pout on her luscious lips. But that was so far-fetched that he immediately cast aside the thought.