Nissa (The Widows of Wildcat Ridge Book 3)

by Zina Abbott

  “Yes, sir, I know the bank takes every precaution to keep their customers’ accounts safe. It is just with people leaving, and buildings being moved to the new mine, especially since Mr. Crane has made it clear to the widows that if they do not remarry so men can carry on their businesses, he will not renew their leases…” Birdie paused and drew a breath. “Well, sir, I can see where there would eventually be fewer accounts. Sir, if…and I do understand there is no plan to do so at this time, but if the unforeseen happens and Mr. Crane should decide to close this bank and move the accounts, do you think he would take all his employees…I guess what I am asking is, would he offer me a job at the other bank if there is no longer a position for me here?”

  Birdie once again glanced at Mr. Humphries. She fought down a surge of panic when she realized he studied her far too closely for comfort.

  William Humphries looked away and sat straighter in his chair. “Miss Templeton, your job in this branch is secure, as are the accounts. However, if the scenario you suggested might happen, I foresee that Mr. Crane would probably not take all three of us with him. Since you were hired most recently, I imagine you would be the one who would not be retained.”

  Birdie did not know whether to be relieved or insulted. The man not only denied that such a discussion about moving the accounts and closing the bank had taken place, but he ignored the common knowledge that Mr. Crane did not approve of women bank employees. “I see. I appreciate the assurance that my job here is secure, Mr. Humphries. However, in the remote possibility that the situation might change and I find myself unemployed because Mr. Crane no longer needs my services, will you please write out a letter of recommendation for me? I greatly enjoy working here, and should the unplanned happen, I would wish to seek another position as a teller. Your recommendation as the long-time successful manager of the bank would be most helpful and appreciated.” Her expression full of hope, she dared to look him full in the face.

  William Humphries held her gaze several seconds, then looked down. “The Crane Bank and its accounts are not going anywhere, Miss Templeton. You are worrying needlessly.” The man sighed and shook his head. “However, to ease your concerns, I will write out a letter of recommendation for you and put it in with your pay draft.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Road to Curdy’s Crossing, Utah

  June 28, 1884

  W

  orking his horse on the right side of the herd, Dallin focused on the stallion he considered his best buy from the previous day’s horse auction. His original intent had been to purchase no more than four or five animals. He ended up with eight. Once he knew Nissa and the children planned to come with him, his thoughts had turned to what he needed to accommodate them.

  One mellow-tempered mare, a little on the small side, did not interest most buyers. Dallin decided it might make a good horse for Jamie and later Molly. The difference in lifestyles between mining families and ranching families had been driven home when Jamie, anxious to learn how to ride mustangs, admitted he had never been on the back of a horse. Dallin intended to rectify that situation. Not only would he teach Jamie to ride as soon as time allowed, he intended to get Molly up in the saddle in front of him so she could get used to being that far off the ground.

  As for Nissa, she assured him she knew how to drive a wagon—single horse drawn or a team—but she had not been on the back of a horse since her youth—and seldom then. Dallin glanced over at the mare he had picked out for her.

  Dallin heaved a sigh of resignation, but he determined to be patient. Nissa had captured his heart and made it clear marriage did not interest her. How much grief over her first husband played a part, and how the prospect of ending up with another man like the children’s father frightened her, he did not know. He would allow her time to work things through in hopes her heart would eventually soften and she would agree to marriage.

  The darker buckskin gelding had been an impulse purchase. For some reason, its form had reminded him of Mabel, his chestnut mare not yet ready to be put out to pasture, but getting a little long in the tooth. She still pulled a wagon well—especially paired with Charley, his brownish-gray mule. The more he thought about it, the more Dallin realized the buckskin might not have been his wisest purchase to replace Mabel. Charley was an ornery cuss who did not take to just any horse. Only by dumb luck had Buck figured out Charley teamed well with Mabel.

  The safety in numbers promised success with taking the horses up to Curdy’s Crossing. Dallin and his men had joined with two other buyers intending to travel north to the Union Pacific. He hoped there would be no problems on this wagon road that meandered through mountain meadows but often narrowed to barely wide enough for a wagon to pass through the dense stands of trees and brush on either side. There were too many places those up to no good could hide then catch them unawares.

  Dallin grimaced as he recalled the three men he first saw the day he met Nissa and the children. They had shown up at the horse auction. A few times, the one with the rattlesnake hatband offered a low starting bid on a horse of obvious quality. Other than to illicit a high-pitched laugh from the brother, who continued to behave like his brains were scrambled, the man never followed through, but he kept silent while others upped the bids. Dallin still suspected they attended to look over the available stock and buyers to discover where the horses ended up, and which new owners might be an easy target for rustling.

  At least Dallin knew if he and the others ran into trouble while moving the horses, he need not worry about Nissa and the children being caught up in it. By the time all three buyers settled up and got the horses moving, the Wells Fargo stagecoach had arrived in Wildcat Ridge. Nissa and family would board it. Dallin still expected to arrive in Curdy’s Crossing and settle the horses in the livery corral before the stagecoach rolled in.

  Hearing a ruckus and Buck’s shout behind him, Dallin twisted in his saddle. Three men, not part of their crew, rode into the middle of the horses and appeared to be driving several off. Not wishing to stampede the horses, Dallin issued a sharp whistle rather than shoot his pistol in the air.

  The men in front turned at the commotion, and Dallin waved them forward. They seemed to understand as one of them fell back to Dallin’s position to keep the horses from scattering. Dallin, his loop now removed from his pistol hammer, galloped to the rear to help Buck.

  Hal, who had been riding on the other side of the small herd, also turned to the rear to drive off the horse thieves.

  As he drew closer, Dallin narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth. In spite of the bandannas each wore to hide their faces, when one rustler turned his head sideways, he recognized the rattlesnake hatband.

  As Dallin rode closer to Buck, who struggled to keep the horses on the road and moving forward, he shouted orders to his young wrangler. He trusted Buck heard enough to understand his intent. Buck continued to push the horses he controlled ahead while Dallin and Hal, both with drawn weapons, opened fire on the two men who had cut out five horses and now drove them downhill through the trees.

  Dallin intentionally aimed over their heads, but he knew one of his bullets caught flesh when Snake yelped and clutched his shoulder. His next two bullets sent bark flying. He figured he only had two more shots left and holstered his pistol. He glanced at Hal, who now rode hard to get ahead of them and cut them off. Dallin grinned with pride. The man had learned well. Dallin rode on the other edge in an effort to close the circle. A third man, part of another buyer’s crew, continued to bring up the rear.

  The three rustlers must have realized they would soon be surrounded. Snake, blood soaking his shoulder red, hollered to the other two. They turned and rode downhill, abandoning the horses.

  Dallin, Hal and the third wrangler worked as a unit to gather the excited horses and slow them to a walk. Each softly called out comforting words in an effort to calm them and circle them around to the main road they had brought the horses up less than an hour earlier
.

  Hal, the first to reach the rode, stopped and studied the ground. “Boss! Come look at this.”

  After Hal waved him over and pointed at the fresh hoof prints, Dallin quickly made out three horses traveling back towards Wildcat Ridge. He turned to Hal. “You think they’ll go all the way back to town?”

  “Don’t know.” Hal pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. “The Wells Fargo has already left out of Wildcat Ridge by now. If those rustlers stay on the road, they’ll run into the stage.”

  Both men stared at each other with understanding.

  Dallin pointed to the other wrangler, who still worked the five horses they recovered. “Hal, go with this man and get these horses back with the main herd. I’m going to check on the stage.” The way Hal stiffened and stared at Dallin caused Dallin to wonder if Hal intended to refuse his order. “I’ll rejoin you as soon as I can.”

  Hal turned his gelding. “Got it, Boss.”

  No sooner did Hal ride off to help guide the horses back up the road than Dallin pushed his mount into a gallop towards Wildcat Ridge.

  g

  Full of anticipation at the prospect of joining Dallin in Curdy’s Crossing, Nissa smiled at the older woman from Coalville who shared with Nissa her travel plans for a visit with her daughter’s family in Cranesville. Another two men said they had boarded in Evanston and were also headed to Cranesville. The adults sat on the front and back seats while Nissa’s children sat on the center bench. Realizing what her son planned to do, Nissa grabbed the back of his shirt. “Jamie, you cannot hang your head out the window. Sit up straight to look.”

  Jamie pouted as he settled back on his seat. “But I can see better leaning out the window.”

  In spite of her sympathy for his perspective, Nissa held back her laugh. The experience of riding a stagecoach was as new to her as it was for her children. Her excitement dimmed, though, as the bumping and jarring of the wheels striking rocks and bouncing down into potholes already left her feeling like the laundry she often agitated with her big wooden paddle.

  Nissa’s smile faded with the realization she already missed her friend and confidante, Diantha Ames. That morning, as Nissa settled up with Diantha and said goodbye, both women shed tears as they parted. Nissa blinked back tears at the memory and turned to stare out the window. By her own choice and request—almost begging, if the truth be known—she now headed to a life of isolation with only men for company. She could no longer enjoy frequent visits with understanding and sympathetic female friends. Nissa hoped she had not made a mistake.

  The first shout alerted Nissa to the presence of trouble. The first gunshot startled her and sent her pushing Molly and Jamie to the floor next to her feet with a stern order to stay down.

  She tensed at the cacophony of male voices from the front of the stage, followed by a rifle shot and the cry of pain from either the driver or the guard ended with the stagecoach pulling to a stop. Breathing heavily, Nissa closed her eyes and fought down the panic welling inside her. She prayed the road agents would only take the strongbox that Wells Fargo often transported and not rob the passengers. She wore no jewelry, and only a few coins jingled in her reticule. She feared for Jamie and Molly, huddled at her feet, and prayed they would not be injured, or worse.

  Nissa jumped in her seat when the door to the stage flew open. Her eyes widened as, atop the bandanna, she recognized the crazed look of the scoundrel who had followed and taunted her the day she and the children went to the creek to float Jamie’s “boat.”

  The man reached in and grabbed Nissa’s arm. “I found you, pretty lady. You’re mine.”

  Jamie scrambled to his feet and pushed against the intruder. “No! She’s my mama. You can’t take her.”

  The man used his free hand to cuff Jamie, sending him stumbling to the other side of the coach.

  Nissa struggled to free her arm as she beat the miscreant about his head. “Don’t hurt my children!”

  The man jerked her towards his face to the point his putrid breath wafting over her sent her gagging. “I don’t want your whelps, pretty lady, only you. You want nothing to happen to them, you’ll come to me peaceable.”

  A voice from outside called out. “Skelly, we got what we came for. Let’s get out of here. I’ve started bleeding again.”

  His eyes widening with the craziness within his brain and releasing a maniacal laugh, the man named Skelly jerked Nissa out of the coach. He ignored her stumbling as he dragged her towards his horse. Picking her up and tossing her over the front of his saddle, he kept hold of her as he mounted and spun his horse to face the two other men. “I got what I came for. Let’s ride.”

  “Leave her be, Skelly. She’ll slow us down.”

  “She’s mine!”

  As the horse took off at a gallop, Nissa groaned in pain. She stretched to adjust her position but still the pommel dug against her ribcage. She wriggled in an effort to free herself and drop to the ground. She cried out when her captor backhanded her at the base of her skull, sending her hairpins flying.

  “Stop it, or you’ll get worse.”

  Nissa knew nothing could be worse than being trapped with his man. She reached over and bit him above the knee then struggled against him with every shred of strength she possessed.

  Skelly shouted a string of profanity as he beat against her while struggling to control his mount. A pistol shot set him spinning his horse in circles. Fighting dizziness, Nissa glanced up long enough to realize an armed man raced towards them.

  The man called Snake cursed as he approached Skelly. Nissa felt a second set of hands jerk her free and shove her to the ground.

  “We got company, Skelly. Let her go! We got to get out of here.”

  Sprawled on the ground with her eyes closed, Nissa gulped for breath. She pressed her palm against her bruised ribs as she fought down her fear and tried to assess where she felt pain.

  “Nissa!”

  At the sound of her name shouted by a voice she recognized—and loved—Nissa opened her eyes and turned her head to watch Dallin pull his horse to a halt and dismount. She struggled to a sitting position just as Dallin grabbed her arms and helped her to her feet. He pulled her into his embrace. “Nissa, did they hurt you?”

  Nissa burst into tears as she buried her face in Dallin’s shoulder. “I’m a little banged up, but I’m fine.” Nissa realized she must have lost her hat in the scuffle when she felt Dallin stroke her hair.

  “I never was so scared in my life, Nissa, as when I caught up with the stage and they said the road agents had taken you with them. From how the driver described them, they were the same bunch that tried to steal some of our horses.”

  Nissa jerked her head up. “My children…”

  “They’re fine, Nissa. Frightened, of course, to see their mother stolen from the stage. A kindly older woman took charge of them until you return.” Dallin once again pressed her forehead to his shoulder. “I love you, Nissa. I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you.”

  Nissa’s shoulders once again shook with tears. This wonderful man, who had offered her marriage which she declined, just declared his love for her. It had taken her being dragged away from her children with the prospect of never seeing them or Dallin again for her to realize the truth she fought against from the night Dallin had asked for her hand. She loved him. No matter how much her unhappy marriage to James haunted her, she must accept as truth what Dallin had assured her—Dallin was not the same kind of man as James Stillwell. He had left his horses—his work—and come for her. She could trust him with her life and with her heart.

  Dallin tightened his embrace. “Go ahead and cry, sweetheart. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal.”

  Nissa sniffled and pulled back to gaze into Dallin’s eyes. “I don’t think I’m shedding tears as much as fears. I refused your offer of marriage a few nights ago, because I feared another marriage like my first one. I no longer feel the same. I thought that night you wanted to kiss me, but I was
n’t sure.”

  “I did, but I didn’t know how you’d take it since you refused me.”

  “I wouldn’t refuse you now, Dallin. I’d welcome your kiss.”

  “And marriage?”

  Her eyes full of longing, Nissa held his gaze with hers. “Yes. I’m ready, if you still want me.”

  Nissa groaned with relief and a mounting sense of ecstasy as Dallin clutched her to him. He kissed her firmly on the mouth. Every worry, every thought but the joy of being with this man, flew from her mind as she lost herself in his kiss. Only the sound of pounding hoofbeats pulled her back to reality, and the kiss ended.

  Hal rode up to them and reined his horse to a stop at the last minute. “Glad to see Dallin found you and you’re all right, Mrs. Stillwell. Your children said Birdie Templeton wasn’t on the stage with you, but I’m not sure they know who she is.”

  Nissa blinked in surprise. “No, she didn’t board with us. Was she supposed to?”

  His nostrils flared, Hal focused his gaze towards Wildcat Ridge. “Something went wrong.”

  “Are my children all right, Mr. Summers?”

  Hal jerked back and stared at Nissa as if it took him a few seconds to process her question. “They’re being taken care of, Mrs. Stillwell, but they’re pretty upset.” Hal turned to Dallin. “You need to get her to them, Boss. Buck and the others have the horses well in hand. I’ll be back to help as soon as I can.”

  Dallin grabbed for Hal’s reins. “Where do you think you’re going? We got a job to finish.”

  Hal jerked his reins free. “Sorry, Boss, I need to see to something first. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Nissa clutched Dallin’s arm as both of them watched Hal Summers turn his horse toward Wildcat Ridge and urge it into a run as if the devil were after him.