“How long is the trip ahead of us?” Carrie tried the coffee and shuddered, then took another drink.
“I figure to ride hard every day. The only thing we’ll slow down for is to rest the horses. My stallion is a tough animal that saved my life once. He’s strong, but I’m a big man and a heavy load for him. We can’t ride him double all the way there, at least not and make good time.”
Nellie came out, his boots clomping, three plates in hand. He set them on the table with a clatter.
“Nellie?” John knew a gruff attitude didn’t make a man bad.
“Yep?”
“I’ll pay for a fourth cup of coffee if you join us. I need a strong horse, and you look like a man who knows where I can find one.”
“Yep.” Nellie grabbed the coffeepot and another cup and sat down in the empty chair between Isaac and John, straight across from Carrie. “Best place ain’t the livery. Only toothless nags in that place. Old Man Jacobs is a horse trader and as honest as any of his kind.”
John knew that wasn’t the highest compliment in the world, but it must beat the livery.
“Jacobs lives right behind my diner here. Last house on the east side of town. Tell him I sent you and he probably won’t steal you blind.”
“I’m a Texas Ranger, Nellie. I’ve been lied to by the best, and any man who steals from me usually ends up on the wrong side of a cell door.”
“You’ve got the look of a lawman. This your family?” He eyed Carrie and Isaac.
Carrie opened her mouth, no doubt to give some long, torturous explanation, but then John answered, “Yep,” before she could speak. No sense making things complicated. “I’ll need leather, too. Can I get that from Jacobs?”
“Nope, but the livery has that. There’s an old outfit in there that paid a debt. He’ll be glad to sell it. It’s been hanging there for years.”
John nodded, then dug into his stew. He noticed Carrie and Isaac were half-done with theirs already. He’d done too much jawing. Nellie wouldn’t respect a man who talked too much.
Chapter Three
John was in the livery stable, tightening the cinch on the horse he’d just bought, when he heard the cocking of a gun.
John reacted. He dove at Carrie and Isaac, dragged them to the ground, and shoved them into a stall. He twisted so that his back was between them and the gun. The gun fired before they quit sliding. Three shots splintered the wood in a row right above their heads.
Whirling on his knees, gun drawn, John fired back. The shooter ducked, then went flat on his belly.
In a crisis, the world slowed down. John heard every sound, judged shadows and smells, made plans, changed them, all while moving, firing, and all without conscious thought. He made split-second decisions that weighed all he knew.
Every detail of the livery became sharp, every movement of the shooter noted and analyzed as if minutes passed and not seconds.
Horses reared and slammed their hooves into their stalls, whistling and snorting. His own horse, outside, whinnied, wanting into the fight.
The hostler who’d sold him a saddle rushed out the side door, no help there, but then John expected none. This was John’s fight.
Their attacker clawed his way outside, still flat on his stomach. John fired twice and heard the man howl in pain just as he vanished through the door.
“Stay down.” John drew a hideout gun from his boot and slapped it into Isaac’s hands. He saw the boy’s wide-eyed shock as he stared at the weapon.
“I’ve never shot a gun before.”
A woeful gap in any man’s education, in John’s opinion.
“Only use it if someone gets close.” John turned and took one step, then swung back and said, “And try real hard not to shoot me.”
Charging forward, John rushed toward the door. He had his back flat against it when an arm wielding a six-shooter appeared around the corner of the doorway and fired blind. John grabbed the arm after one wild shot. Reckless fool, firing like that.
John yanked the man into the livery barn and slammed a fist into his face. The man hit the ground like a feed sack. John ripped the gun out of his hand and did a quick but thorough search for more weapons. This wasn’t his first time wrestling with an outlaw.
He also knew they often traveled in packs, so he dragged the varmint outside and knelt on his chest. “How many of you are there?” he shouted.
His prisoner was slim and writhing in pain. He’d been shot in the leg, his nose was bleeding, and he looked like a man who just wanted the crushing weight off his chest so he could go ahead and pass out.
“I-I’m alone.”
John didn’t take his word for it, but minutes passed and no one else came running. He searched the man for things other than weapons and pulled a piece of paper out of his breast pocket.
Written on the paper was a description of Carrie and Isaac, a mighty accurate one. She was wanted alive, and there was a reward. Kearse was after her, all right, as if she were a horse thief instead of a reluctant bride. Well, he didn’t blame her for running.
Enough time had passed that even a patient man would have been here by now. “Carrie, Isaac, get over here,” John called.
They ran toward him and were behind the door almost instantly. He wondered how two youngsters had learned to be so cautious. He was sure he wouldn’t like the answer to that.
John held up the poster. Carrie reached for it, read it, gasped, and snatched her hand back.
Isaac took it and ripped it into a dozen pieces, then turned to the forge burning behind them and cast the pieces into the fire.
“So Damian Kearse sent you,” John said to the skinny man on the ground. He wasn’t asking a question. “How’d he know where we went?”
The man shook his head. “He didn’t. He sent a dozen men, all with that poster so we’d recognize her. We rode in different directions, all aimed at the nearest town. We were to bring her back. She’s supposed to marry him today. If she don’t show, it’ll be an embarrassment. And the boss don’t let no one embarrass him.”
John wondered if a fist to the face would embarrass Kearse. It’d be nice to find out.
Two more men charged into the livery, one with a tin star on his chest. John wasn’t wearing his Texas Ranger badge at the moment, but a Ranger was never off duty. He whipped the badge out of his breast pocket before the sheriff took the wrong side.
“This man fired his gun at us.”
The hostler came in just as John spoke. “That’s the absolute truth, Sheriff. These folks bought a saddle from me and were gettin’ ready to ride out of town when this skunk opened fire with no warning.”
“I want him locked up,” John demanded. “I can’t stay for a trial, because we’ve got a long way to ride to reach California.” John felt Carrie and Isaac tense up, but they didn’t correct him. It was only a matter of time before Kearse found his man in jail. He was a powerful enough man to get him released, or at least get his story. “If the hostler testifies, you won’t need me.”
They’d been riding mostly west, so the story of California might hold. If it didn’t, they’d know about Audra. And if Kearse was determined, he’d ride for Colorado and California both, or send men to do his dirty work. Either way, John knew he needed help.
And help meant Palo Duro Canyon. Broken Wheel, Texas.
The Regulators.
Carrie was surprised that John, such a big man, could move so fast. He’d captured the skinny man who was shooting at them, dealt with the town sheriff, and had the three of them on the trail heading west—all within minutes. She wondered how far they’d ride before he decided it was time to turn any direction other than west.
Running felt right to Carrie, yet there was something in John’s eyes. He was running toward something, not away.
That was about the only thing that kept her from screaming.
The horses moved along at a fast clip. Carrie was no rider and neither was Isaac. So after a pounding start, John recognized the problem and p
atiently explained trotting to them.
Things were going well for about an hour when John found a wide, well-used trail pointed north. Carrie hadn’t known which direction he’d go, but north, south, east or west, she’d have followed him anywhere.
“Come up beside me,” John said. “We need to talk.” He looked back and smiled at her as she went right and Isaac drew even on the left. “You two handled yourselves well back in that stable.”
“We hid,” Carrie said. “We were no help at all.”
John smirked. “I didn’t need much help with a man like that, but I did need you both to keep your heads down so I wouldn’t have to protect you while I was after that varmint. Believe me, I’ve had folks who ran around like chickens with their heads cut off when I asked them to stay down. I sure enough wouldn’t have trusted nary a one of them with my gun.” He gave Isaac a man-to-man look. “Thank you.”
Carrie saw her brother change right before her eyes. She saw his shoulders square, his chin rise, his eyes grow older . . . wiser.
One of Carrie’s greatest fears had been that she would watch her brother grow up in the image of their father. A gambler and drinker, unkind, unloving, a selfish coward who would use his own children to settle his gambling debts.
Instead, Isaac was blooming under the guidance of a decent man, and Carrie realized then that Isaac was too fine a person to be bent by her father. Because he saw a good man and immediately recognized the right trail to follow.
She’d never been so proud of him.
“We’re headed north to a town called Broken Wheel, Texas. We’ll be eight or ten days on the trail, depending on how long and how hard we can ride.”
“Why Broken Wheel?” Carrie had never heard of it, but then she had little schooling and less exposure to the world. She hadn’t heard of hardly any other places.
“I’ve got friends there.”
“Damian Kearse is a man who can bring terrible trouble. Is it right to bring it to your friends?”
John smiled. “We faced Andersonville Prison together in the war. We faced starvation, danger, and death threats together . . . and we survived together. There’s no place I’d rather be than with my old prison mates if I run into trouble in Texas. Now, let’s pick up the pace.”
He then kicked his horse into a gallop, and Carrie was too busy hanging on to respond.
Chapter Four
John looked at Carrie’s face, white with exhaustion. Isaac was bent so low over his saddle, John was afraid he’d fallen asleep and would soon fall off.
He didn’t dare slow down the pace. He’d made the trip from Broken Wheel to Houston in six days. But he was left bone-weary from the brutal trip. Now he had two inexperienced riders, was making about half the time, and they still had a long way to go. And his food supply had about run out. He’d brought an adequate supply but hadn’t planned for three riders, and he hadn’t planned on needing to avoid towns.
Water was scarce, and Carrie and Isaac were at the end of their strength. He needed to pull off the trail for a few hours to hunt down some food, find a diner or general store. It was all slowing him down something fierce.
Yet despite how they held him back, he was impressed by their grit. After days on the trail, they hadn’t muttered a word of complaint. They moaned only in their sleep—what few hours he allowed them—and once he saw tears in Carrie’s eyes as she walked to her horse in the morning. Tears of pain and dread, he figured.
Still, she didn’t let the tears fall, and she climbed up on that horse, with plenty of boosting by John, and rode out. Isaac was just as tough. He looked like his jaw was locked shut to keep the least sound of discouragement from escaping.
He admired both of them more than he could say. To John it was just a nice ride in the country, if he didn’t count riding fast while most likely less than a day ahead of a powerful man who meant them all harm—and he did count it.
If he’d been alone, he’d have lain in wait for Kearse. But he couldn’t put Carrie and Isaac at risk like that.
Nothing but absolute necessity would have stopped him, and they’d reached that point and were probably long past it.
He saw the trail widen and become more heavily traveled and knew there was a town just ahead. John knew Texas real well, and the little town of Wilber City would offer them food and supplies and a few minutes off their horses. Wishing he could take the time to let everyone rest, John called them up to ride beside him again.
“We have to stock up on supplies. I could go hunting, but that might take a lot longer and I want to keep moving.”
Carrie nodded without speaking.
Isaac said, “We can go on, John. Showing up in town was trouble for us the last time.”
“Nope. We’ll stop, get ourselves a hot meal, let the horses have a breather and a bait of oats. I’ll swap Carrie’s horse. I won’t part with mine, and Isaac, you’re riding one of Luke’s best mares. But one fresh horse between us will help. Then we move on.” John admired the boy for offering, but a man needed to know when to let his horses rest, if not himself.
“All right,” Isaac said, perking up. A chance at hot food could do that to a man.
“Let’s ride in from the east and ride out toward the west. Then we’ll circle around after we leave and be on our way north again.” John guided his horse off the trail to find a route coming in from the east. He almost didn’t say more, but then decided these two were savvy enough to understand. “Fast-moving horses draw folks’ attention, and I’m hoping we can get in and out of town without drawing any. So we’ll go slow from here, let the horses cool down so it’s less obvious we’ve been pushing hard for a long time.”
He saw both of his saddle partners relax, sit up straighter. They were probably thinking of their looking weary and saddle-worn, which might earn them a second notice.
It was a small town, but not so small they didn’t at least have a chance of keeping their passing through quiet.
“Head for the livery stable, right there by Rosie’s Diner.” John braced himself for Rosie to be a grizzled old camp cook.
John swapped the one horse, a horse that hadn’t been as tough as John’s or Luke’s anyway, with the hostler. To save them time, the old-timer was paid for the care and feeding of the horses.
He didn’t let the Halseys stray from his side as he went straight to the general store and handed the woman behind the counter a list and said he’d be back to pick things up.
As they crossed the street toward the diner, John said to Carrie and Isaac, “I want our time in town to be short and unnoticed, or at least uninteresting.”
Carrie looked sideways at him as he held the door for her. She said dryly, “I’ll do my best to be uninteresting, I promise.”
He smiled as Isaac followed Carrie in. He signaled the cook, a pretty Mexican woman, who brought them thick slices of roast beef and mashed potatoes, all drowned in gravy.
It was so delicious, Carrie groaned and Isaac barely breathed as he shoveled it in. John felt like he was eating food fit for a king. Hunger was a seasoning that made most food tasty, but this was a fine meal all the same.
A half hour later they were back in their saddles, supplies loaded, their horses fed and watered, and their bellies full. John had half expected some complaints, a wish for one night in a soft bed instead of on the hard ground. He was tempted to offer it just to do them a kindness, but he noticed a man loitering in the street who was watching them with sharp eyes. John had seen the man before, though he wasn’t sure where. He suspected it was on a wanted poster. He would have run the man in if he had the time.
The man was leaning against the wall of the telegraph office. A telegraph line stretched away from Wilber City; they were crisscrossing the whole state of Texas these days. Kearse had spread the word about Carrie far and wide and offered a reward for any information as to her whereabouts. That wire meant he could know right where Carrie was already.
A chill slid down John’s spine and his instincts ki
cked in hard. He’d lived by them for a long time and saw no reason to change now. Kearse would be informed and he’d be coming. The only question was, how soon?
No way now to fool anyone into believing they were heading west when actually they were going north.
“Let’s ride,” John said to the others.
They didn’t go tearing out of town, just in case John was wrong about that man paying special attention, but the moment the town was out of sight, he spurred his horse.
Somehow Carrie and Isaac managed to keep up. They’d become more competent riders since the day they’d set out. He was struck again by how seriously the two of them took this escape. They knew Damian Kearse, and their instincts said to run, and fast, to get as far away from Kearse as possible. John took those instincts as seriously as he took his own.
When the town was miles behind them, John slowed his horse to a walk and his companions matched his pace.
“Usually my saddle partners are outlaws I’ve rounded up and am hauling back to jail.” John looked from Carrie to Isaac. “You two are a lot more cooperative than I’m used to.”
Isaac chuckled, and Carrie smiled a quiet, tired smile.
“Whatever direction you want to go, John, we will go.” Carrie jerked her chin to emphasize her point.
“I want to set a slower pace this afternoon.”
Carrie gave him a doubtful look. “Why slower?”
John didn’t like explaining himself, but for some reason he was eager to ease Carrie’s worries, which he saw etched in her expression. “If we ride slow and steady, the horses will last longer. A trot can go on all day if the horses are strong and well-fed. But two of our mounts are tired. We don’t dare use them up.”
John gave Carrie a concerned glance. “I think someone in town recognized us. They’ll know I was misleading them with my talk of California, and they’ll know this isn’t any trail a man would take to Colorado. They’ll call all their men to come this way. With a telegraph they could even find someone ahead of us and have them waiting. Besides, that man I saw could be on our trail. I want our horses strong enough to run if they have to.”
With This Ring? Page 16