by Chloe Carley
Everything was ready for her plan, all except one thing. She had to find Peter and impress upon him the virtues of good behavior and obedience. A task she’d been failing at these last eight days.
The young boy was a menace and seemed to look for trouble from the time he opened his eyes in the morning, until he closed them again at the end of the day. Riley was quickly running out of patience with his antics and was relieved that she wouldn’t be responsible for him after today. His mother would have to see to that task herself.
This morning’s actions were a prime example of the antics she’d been having to deal with. Peter had argued with her fiercely when she’d told him they needed to stay within the safety of the circled wagons.
She hadn’t given him that order to make his life miserable, it had come straight from his father. As they traveled north and west, the chances of encountering Indians grew greater. A group of wagons stopped and with their horses corralled was asking for trouble.
Mr. Young had specifically asked that all of the women and children remain inside the circle of the wagons.
The men had ridden out just after sunrise and retrieved enough water to refill everyone’s barrels and had also ensured that everyone had plenty of firewood to take with them on the next leg of their journey. They’d seen evidence of tribal activity in the hoof prints by the river, as well as several broken arrows lying on the ground where it looked like some sort of skirmish had occurred.
No one had seen any live Indians, but Mr. Young wasn’t willing to take anything for granted.
While they gave the new mother a few extra hours to recuperate from giving birth, the men were taking turns patrolling the perimeter of the wagons and keeping an eye out for any threats that might be approaching. Riley had tried to explain the threat to Peter, but he’d not been in the most cooperative mood this day.
“I don’t have to stay here. I can protect myself.” Peter had brandished the small knife his father had given him to use.
“With that?” Riley had laughed. “That wouldn’t cut an apple in half, let alone help you fend off, say … a bear or a coyote.” Riley wasn’t sure if there were bears or coyotes in the area either, but she was grasping for anything that might ensure Peter was going to obey his father’s dictates. She didn’t care if she scared him unnecessarily or not.
“There aren’t any bears around here.” Peter shot her a smug look.
“There are Indians,” she fired back. “Stay inside the circle. Your father’s order. After I take Mrs. Baker’s girls back to her, you and I can find something to do together.” Thankfully the wagon train would be breaking camp within a few hours and moving out, and then she wouldn’t have to entertain Peter. “I’ll be right back.”
Peter gave the two little girls a dark look and pouted. “Fine. Babies.”
Riley didn’t jump at the bait and instead gave him a reproving look. “Maybe we should spend the morning working on your reading skills by tackling Psalms one hundred and nineteen.”
Peter narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms angrily. “You can’t do that.”
“Disobey your father’s dictates to stay inside the circle of wagons and I not only will, I’ll enjoy watching you struggle over the words,” Riley fired back. Reading wasn’t one of Peter’s favorite activities and while she didn’t like using it as a threat, this morning she just needed him to cooperate.
“Fine.” Peter rolled his eyes and turned his back on her.
Feeling relieved that Peter meant to mind her, Riley collected the Baker girls and headed for their wagon.
She delivered them to their proud father, cooed over the new baby for a moment and checked on the mother, and then headed back to find Peter. She kept her eyes open as she crossed the open space between the wagons for Peter. She’d decided they could take a short walk after speaking with Mr. Baker, but only if Mr.
Young said it was okay and one of the men or older teenagers would accompany them. She had no intention of courting trouble this close to her objective. This time tomorrow she planned on being at her destination, and then she could begin to figure out a way to save her brother.
She reached the Young’s wagon. When she didn’t see Peter, she whispered for him to come out of the wagon. Mrs.
Young had announced that she was going to rest and didn’t want to be disturbed until it was time for the wagons to move. Riley had no intention of allowing the woman to berate her again today, so she carefully walked around the wagon, looking for some way of getting Peter to come out and join her.
It was when she reached the far side of the wagon that she realized Peter had disobeyed her. His father’s extra rifle was missing, as well as the gunny sack that Peter liked to take with him whenever he went exploring.
“I’m going to tan his hide if his parents don’t,” Riley muttered to herself. She left the safety of the wagons and looked at the landscape, trying to decide which way the young man was likely to have gone. She wasn’t truly surprised when he came up missing. Peter was very strong willed, and he had a tendency to do whatever he wanted, regardless of the consequences.
A line trees in the far distance, continuing in both directions, must mark the location of the river the men had visited earlier that morning.
The other direction was from whence they had just come, and Riley knew Peter wouldn’t have gone that direction. She headed for the trees, picking her skirts up and once again wishing she was wearing a pair of trousers.
She’d tried fitting into a pair of Peter’s, figuring he had enough clothing he wouldn’t even miss one pair of pants. The young boy was too small, and Riley hadn’t been able to get them buttoned up.
She found him some twenty minutes later, swimming in a secluded part of the river, a fair distance from their camp.
“Peter Young, what do you think you’re doing?” she demanded from the shores. She planted her hands on her hips and did her best impression of her late mother. The woman had been able to strike fear in Riley’s heart just by her posture. Riley was secretly hoping it might work as well on Peter.
“Swimming,” Peter fired back. She spied his shirt and trousers hung over a nearby bush.
“Come out of there and get dressed. Right. Now. If your father finds out you’ve left camp …”
“… he’ll blame you because you were supposed to be watching me,” Peter taunted her from the middle of the river.
“Come out of there. Now!” Riley was so irritated she even stamped her foot for effect, coming down on a sharp pebble and crying out in pain while Peter laughed and swam further into the water.
“Peter, I’m warning you.”
“Come in and get me if you think you can,” he challenged her.
Riley crossed her arms over her chest. “No. Come out of there right now. We’ve been gone far too long. At this rate, it will be lunch time, and everyone is going to notice we’ve left. Your father will be furious.”
Peter seemed to think about that for a moment and then realized he was going to be in trouble with more than just her if they didn’t return to the safety of the circled wagons right away. “Okay.”
Riley breathed a sigh of relief that Peter was finally going to be compliant. She watched as he started to make his way toward the shore, frowning when he reached the very center of the river and appeared to struggle to move any closer.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“My foot’s stuck,” Peter groused at her.
“What do you mean, your foot’s stuck?”
“The rocks moved, and I can’t get it loose.”
Riley watched him struggle for another moment and sighed. She believed him, and that left only one thing she could think of to help remedy the situation. She removed her shoes, hiked up her skirts, and waded out to rescue him.
The water was freezing cold and moving much faster than it appeared to be. “I can’t believe you did this,” she called to Peter as she neared his location.
“Riley, I’m scared,” Peter whi
ned.
“No need to be. We’ll get your foot free and be back in camp before anyone is the wiser,” she assured him. Although how I’m going to explain being all wet, I’m not quite sure.
When she’d reached the middle of the river, miraculously Peter’s foot became unstuck and he swam for shore. He got there before she did and immediately tossed her shoes in the river.
“Peter!”
“Catch me now, Riley,” Peter told her, yanking on his clothing and his own boots and bolting for the wagons in the distance.
Riley was furious as she struggled to catch her shoes. The current carried them downstream and Riley went after them.
It was the only pair of shoes she had, and she knew she would never reach Rio Arriba if she had to do so barefoot. She caught one shoe, but the other was proving elusive. By this time, Peter had long since disappeared and Riley lost track of time as she chased her shoe down the river.
She’d mentioned to the girls’ mother her intention to leave the wagon train and head for Rio Arriba, not wanting to worry the woman when she disappeared later tonight. She would talk to Peter’s father when she returned … if she returned. Her shoe bobbed just out of her reach on the current.
She wasn’t sure how far away she was from Rio Arriba, but just this morning Mr. Young had surmised they were only twenty miles or so from the small town. Twenty miles didn’t sound that daunting. If she could reach Santa Fe, she was hoping she could find someone traveling to the smaller town and hitch a ride with them.
She continued to chase her shoe, losing track of how far she’d actually waded. There was no way she could do any amount of walking barefoot. Not with all of the sharp rocks and even sharper weeds growing along the ground.
She was about to grab her second shoe when she heard the unmistakable sound of wagon wheels turning. Because of Peter’s little stunt, she now found herself standing in the river as the sound of the wagons continuing down the trail echoed in her ears.
“Great! I planned on leaving, but I sure wish it had been under my terms.” Luckily, she’d not been able to take anything with her when she’d fled the train, so she wouldn’t be leaving anything behind for Mrs. Young to complain about. She’d felt alone when both of her parents died, and that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach now resurfaced, reminding her that unless she could convince her brother of the error of his ways, she would be truly alone from now on as he would be dead.
She waded on, slipping now and again on the slimy rocks that coated the bottom of the river, pursuing her other shoe and generally feeling sorry for herself.
Her clothing was already completely soaked so it hadn’t made much sense to exit the river and have to drag her sodden skirts with her, as well as contend with the banks of the river with only one shoe on. She’d decided her best course of action was to stay in the river until she finally caught up with her missing shoe.
Knowing she was alone with just God to hear her and a few animals moving about, Riley gave way to her verbal tantrum, asking God to exact vengeance on her behalf and calling Peter all sorts of names.
“God, do you see this? I asked for a little help, but this wasn’t what I was talking about. Roy is in trouble and all I’m trying to do is help him. How can I do that if I can’t even get to the town? Can you answer me that?
“Oh, and that little devil of a boy needs a trip to the woodshed. I’ve never met such a rude or disrespectful young man. I actually thought he’d gotten his foot stuck. I can’t believe he lied to me and I fell for it. Maybe you could make sure his parents find out what he’s been up to.”
She started to shiver and looked up at the heavens. “A little help down here would be nice, God.”
It seemed that not only did Peter not want to listen to her, neither did God. Riley groaned despairingly. “I’m sorry for wishing Peter ill, but I can’t do anything with only one shoe!”
She clamped her mouth shut and continued moving down the river until her shoe bobbed up in the distance. “Got you,” she cried out and pushed onward. She would retrieve her shoe and be on her way. Rio Arriba couldn’t be very far, and that meant she was close to helping her brother leave behind his life of crime.
Chapter 8
Two days later…
Gideon was finally starting to feel like he belonged back at the ranch. His parents and sister had accepted him without too many questions, and his brother was …well, Shawn wasn’t exactly glad to see him.
It seemed the only time Shawn wasn’t muttering under his breath or eyeing Gideon strangely was when Gideon was performing some task or chore that Shawn didn’t have to do. His brother was harboring ill feelings toward him and Gideon was willing to give him a few more days to adjust and then the two of them were going to have a serious discussion.
Gideon understood his brother’s reluctance to accept him back with open arms. When he’d taken off, Gideon hadn’t been in the proper mindset.
He’d been dealing with the loss of a dream and it had seemed as if the entire world was against him. He hadn’t cared at all what kind of extra burden his leaving would put on Shawn or anyone else. Gideon had acted selfishly.
At the time, he’d taken refuge in the dime store novels and the adventures the Texas Rangers seemed to have. In the stories, rangers never had to muck stalls or mend fences.
They hunted outlaws, saved travelers in trouble, and skirmished with the Indians along the Texas frontier. At the time, he’d been looking for a diversion from his old life, and completely selfish in his pursuit of a balm for his battered spirit.
Looking back at what he’d accomplished now, he wished he’d never left.
Dear God, what did I do? I gave up all of this, a loving family, my honor… For what? Fame, adventure, and fortune? I’m a wanted man, and while I never killed anyone, my actions caused untold hardships and injury to so many. How can you ever forgive me? How will my family ever forgive me if I can’t forgive myself?
Gideon had been living with these tortured thoughts since that fateful day when his companions had all been killed.
He couldn’t sleep at night without jerking awake several times, drenched in sweat, tortured by vivid images of Lou and Hobbs swinging from the cottonwood tree on the banks of the river. He could still see Finn’s body lying lifeless at the bottom of the canyon. The images and guilt followed him everywhere he went, no matter what chore he doing.
He could tell his ma sensed something wasn’t quite right and she’d give him some time to get it sorted out, but that would end soon--and then she would be wanting some answers. He truly didn’t want to see the disappointment in her eyes when she heard what he’d done.
His horse whinnied, anxious to be moving once more, and Roy nudged him with his heels and slackened the reins, giving him the signal he’d been waiting for.
He headed for the far corner of the property, where the river that ran through their pastures veered from the mighty Santa Fe River. This time of year, the water level was starting to dwindle in the smaller streams, but the Lawson’s Lazy L ranch never noticed much difference.
They had one of the biggest spreads in the area, and his pa had a reputation for producing prime cattle and horses, a known fact that even some of the Texas ranches couldn’t dispute.
They had pastures dedicated to growing grasses and hay to feed the cattle and horses. Starting to ranch the land had been hard work, but his grandfather had persevered, and Gideon looked around and appreciated the result. This land was his birthright, his and Shawn’s, and Gideon was determined to make sure they both took care of it for the next generation.
Today, his job was to make sure the fence line was intact. Some of the folks that lived closer to town had seen strange tracks in the area and were even missing a few horses and a cow.