Wilda's Outlaw

by Velda Brotherton

  When next she awoke, he knelt at her side, his features solemn with concern. She hadn’t imagined him.

  “How are you?”

  “Sore.” She moved one arm, then the other.

  “Can you sit up?”

  “I hope so. I have to, you know…I need to…” She could not speak of bodily functions to him, and was too embarrassed to bring up the corset’s absence.

  Obviously he understood, and slipped an arm under her shoulders. “I’ll help you.”

  Pain slithered through her, not as bad as she had expected, but sitting up made her dizzy.

  “Put your arms around my neck,” he said, “and we’ll move real slow and easy. You yell if I hurt you.”

  Nodding, she did as he asked. Circled the warmth of him with both arms, brushed against the soft down along his neck. Hands spread at her waist, he lifted her easily. She swayed to her feet, still locked in his embrace.

  His grin, a mixture of relief and concern, served to relax her. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?” Then his features darkened once more. “I find out who did this, I’ll break every bone in his body. He won’t soon be on his feet, if he lives through it.”

  Remembering how he had ridden away the previous day at Rachel’s, she let her arms slip from around his neck. This never would have happened to her if he had stayed. “I think I can walk.”

  The sharp tone brought a sideways glance, but he didn’t move away. “Well, just in case, I’m gonna keep a hold on you.”

  And he did, one arm curved firmly around her waist, as she took mincing steps out onto the porch. The real pain was in the hip Baron had kicked…and her head. Other muscles were only tender. And she felt nothing to indicate that Baron had done anything out of the way, as she had feared.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Calder said. “I guess you missed something when you woke up. I took that stiff-looking thing off last night. You seemed so uncomfortable and I kept thinking of being trussed up like that. I hope…I mean, I didn’t look, or touch you that way, or anything.”

  His boyish reserve tempered her reaction only a little. “You did what? How could you undress me when I wa…? What did you do with it?”

  One arm around her, he leaned back to get a good look, and flashed another of those grins, this time accompanied by winking dimples and sparkling eyes. “Well, I believe you are feeling better. Got your yell back. And what do you care what I did with it? I ought to’ve burned it. You couldn’t put it back on by yourself, and since I’m not allowed to touch you or look at you, I couldn’t help. Maybe Baron…?”

  “Don’t suggest such a thing. He is a foul and ugly man. How can you be friends with such a-a…?” She dare not go on, lest he become suspicious.

  Calder regarded her in thoughtful silence, striking fear in her heart. Say something, do something. Don’t let him guess the truth and endanger not only his life but that of Rachel and her children.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to criticize your friend. Please, take me to the, uh…” She pointed at the privy.

  Sunlight dappled across her outstretched arm, lit ugly bruises that marked where Baron had grabbed her and flung her across the room.

  Calder stared at the purple splotches. “I’m so sorry, sorry this happened to you. I didn’t mean any harm to come to you. I hope you know that.” He continued to support her to the outhouse, then waited outside, though she begged him not to. He was bound to hear the sounds of her relieving herself.

  Head swimming, she perched delicately on the wooden seat, trying not to breathe of the distasteful odor. Imagined passing out while sitting here in such a state and requiring assistance from Calder.

  “Wilda, you okay?” he called.

  “Fine, I’m okay.” Straightening her dress, she opened the door and, without meeting his gaze, allowed him to support her on the slow route back to the cabin.

  “Calder?”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Do most women out here in your west go without uh, unmentionables?”

  He chuckled, halted in their progress across the yard. “You mean like those mule trappings I took off you? Worse’n halter and bridle, if you ask me.”

  “Yes, like that.”

  “Hard to get much work done trussed up like that. So, yeah, most women out here have discarded such folderol. And some don’t even wear their…” He stopped, blushed and urged her forward.

  “Their what?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Calder, how am I to learn to be a western woman without all the facts?”

  “Well I…uh, you understand, I’ve only been told this. I don’t know it for a fact.”

  “Yes?”

  They paused at the bottom of the steps, and she gazed at him, honestly wanting an answer to her question.

  “Well…” His face flushed again and he wouldn’t look at her. “I’ve been told that women have taken to…to not wearing their underdrawers, especially in the summer.”

  She gasped. “Calder Raines, I don’t believe that for one minute. How could you speak of—”

  “You asked,” he mumbled, lifted her into his arms and carried her up the steps and back into the cabin.

  Being held so close, her head on his shoulder so her cheek rested against the stubble of his jaw, his hair feathered against her face, she forgot her vow to ignore this man. He fussed about with her, seating her delicately in one of the rickety chairs. His hands brushed her hair back like a lover’s touch—or what she imagined to be such—even as his finger lingered softly on the bruises marking the pale flesh of her arms.

  “I want to take you back to Rachel’s as soon as you can ride.”

  “I can’t go back there.” She struggled with the dilemma of what to do about the bank robbery and her lie.

  Baron was nowhere in sight, all she had to do was tell Calder the truth, let him handle it. But she could not. Suppose he didn’t believe her? Or worse, cared only for robbing that bank. He’d indicated as much. Fear for Rachel and those sweet children of hers overpowered any other consideration. While Calder could probably protect himself from this monster, they could not.

  “Why not? I thought you and her hit it off.”

  She grabbed his wrist, grimaced with pain. “Listen to me. The only way I can help her…we can help her, is get her the money to take those children to St. Louis. Get them away from here.”

  “I already told you, Wilda. You aren’t helping us rob that bank. We can do it, and she’ll get the money she needs. You should be safe with her, not here. In this place.” He gestured around the hovel, a look of disgust on his face. “I never really saw how bad it is until I brought you here.”

  Baron had obviously approached while they talked, for he spoke from the doorway.

  “She’s going with us. It’s settled. She knows the layout, where the safe is, and the guard…something you were supposed to find out. Well, I ain’t waiting any longer. I want to hit that bank, collect my share and be off. I’m done with you and your rules. You come or not, but she does.” He aimed his black stare at her. “Ain’t that right, Missy?”

  “Yes, yes, that’s right.” But oh, how she hoped Calder would agree to go with them. If he didn’t, Baron might kill him, and when this was over would certainly kill her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rowena’s Diary

  Sunday, June 6, 1875

  We have only been here at Fairhaven a few days, but when I think back on all that has occurred, it seems forever. There is still no sign of Wilda since that horrid outlaw grabbed her, nor word from any of the parties that have ridden out in search of her. We can only conclude the worst, that she has been ravaged and perhaps killed by the outlaw who rode so brazenly in under cover of darkness and took her away. Why anyone would do such a thing is beyond all our reasoning powers. I must admit that it has occurred to me that she flirted outrageously with that outlaw on the train. Perhaps he took that to mean more than it did. Or perhaps it did mean more than I might suppose. I have not mentioned that to
Blair. He has enough on his mind.

  He is beside himself with concern. More than once I have found him sitting alone in the dark of the library, drinking whiskey and staring out the window across the plains. He no longer allows me to come near him, as if he were afraid of us getting too close. I could comfort him in his time of sorrow, but he does not wish it. It is as if he covets her even more now that she is gone and he cannot have her.

  Though Blair is an accomplished horseman, he has not ridden out with the posses or search parties. I would like to ask him why, but do not dare. I overheard him telling Marguerite, whom he seems to prefer as a confidante, that he is thinking of offering a reward for the outlaw, dead or alive, as is the custom in this savage place. He thinks perhaps he can get the soldiers at Fort Hays involved in bringing this coward to justice.

  As for my cousin Tyra, I know she secretly spends many hours away from Fairhaven, and she does not seem to grieve Wilda’s loss as do the rest of us. The groom is teaching her to ride, I’ve seen them return when they think no one is about. Perhaps I should tell Blair, but this is something else he need not worry about. Besides, what does it hurt? She needs some diversion, and is hard headed enough to find some, no matter what Blair might do. I only hope she does not get herself in trouble with no one to look after her.

  If Wilda were here she would see that nothing untoward happened, but I have never enjoyed the rapport with our cousin that she has. I suppose I am too old maid prudish for their ways. Both are so much like their own mothers, rebellious and daring. Reactions I have never been able to embrace. I fear the consequences too much, I suppose.

  I cannot help but wonder what will happen if Wilda never returns. I would gladly take her place as Lady of Fairhaven, if Blair would permit. What a foolish, sinful girl I am to think thus when my poor dear sister may be in the hands of the worst of men and suffering unspeakable tortures.

  Today Blair sent out another group of young men from the village who were willing to join the futile search. They have found nothing, no clue to the whereabouts of Wilda and that outlaw.

  Most believe they have probably ridden south toward Indian Territory where they can become lost forever.

  I shudder to think of what Wilda is enduring, and wonder if perhaps she might be better off dead than in the hands of such dastardly cowards.

  Blair says he will never give up hope for her return. I fear it gives him cause to exist, for he had little prior to this great tragedy. Whatever demons lurk in his soul, I fear will surface if this outlaw is ever caught.

  Tyra knows something she is not telling, I am sure. She and Wilda were always so close. When all in the house retire later tonight, I plan to go to her room and find out what she knows.

  ****

  “Damn you, Baron.” Calder leaped to his feet, jarring the rickety table where they sat. “I’m not getting her killed robbing a bank, and that’s that.”

  Baron anticipated his move and, without rising, pointed a big pistol at him.

  “No, don’t shoot him,” Wilda cried. “Please don’t hurt him.”

  Calder chuckled, but not in any way she had ever heard. The cruel sound sent a fresh wave of fear through her.

  He didn’t even spare her a glance, but continued to hold his friend’s gaze. “He’s not going to hurt me. Are you? He just does this once in a while. Don’t worry, we go back a long way. No fight over some woman will come between us. Put that danged gun away. We’ll do it your way. You’re right, it’s time we got this thing done and done right. I’ve had my eye on a bigger bank, over in Topeka, soon as we finish here, huh, Baron? We have to do this right, and if she can help, well, then we’ll let her.”

  He turned toward her, but she dropped her gaze, unable to believe the stern expression on his face. How he’d called her “some woman” as if she meant nothing to him.

  “When do we go?” Baron asked with a smirk sent in her direction.

  “Not till she’s feeling better. Can’t do us any good her swooning right there in the bank, now can it?”

  “I guess not.” Baron clearly wasn’t happy at this delay. “So what do we do while we’re waiting?”

  “You could clean up this place,” Wilda said. When she turned her head, the room swam and she nearly fell off the chair.

  “You need to lay down,” Calder said in a sharp tone.

  How could she even look at him? This man whose demeanor toward her had so quickly changed. “I’m fine. All I need is a little rest. And then we can get this done. I hope you have something for me to wear besides this dress. Pants, a shirt. Do I carry a gun as well?”

  But she was not fine, even as she aimed a forced smile at him. This man she loved had become something vicious and cruel. The man who wished to marry her she could never love. And if she helped these two rob the bank, she could go to prison, or worse. What a predicament. If she managed to free herself, she would have no choice but to return to Fairhaven and Lord Prescott. All the brave chatter in the world wouldn’t change that. The choices were not good. She was ill prepared for life in this wild west country. Surely she would not survive should she have to attempt it on her own.

  “Oh, indeed, yes, we’ll rob the bank.” Calder eyed her with a questioning look. “What happened to that proper English girl I met on the train? You’re sounding more and more like you belong here.”

  “Well, there’s no sense in clinging to the proper ways when they’ve done me so little good. You aren’t about to change, so I will.”

  “Proper? Like those English fops riding their bob tail ponies around looking for us like we were the foxes they set their hounds on? What kind of sport is that? You call that proper? Maybe I could change into someone like that?” He lifted one wrist and batted his eyes, then touched her shoulder as if to make amends.

  The sparkle had returned to his eyes and they gleamed green as spring grass. How could he beckon that other self so quickly, especially considering what they were about to do? Maybe the excitement was what kept him alive. He’d been charming and devil-may-care on the train. Perhaps it took a robbery to bring out the best in him. How frightening.

  She nodded, then wished she hadn’t. The room swung to and fro, and she reached out to steady herself.

  “I think you ought to lay down and rest. You took a real knock to your noggin. Still got no notion of who done that to you?”

  She dare not let her glance roam toward Baron. “No,” she whispered, then let Calder help her to the bed on the floor, what Rachel had called a pallet.

  He bent over her as if to say something, but changed his mind.

  “Knock on the noggin. Does that mean I got hit in the head?”

  He chuckled, trailed fingers along her temple. “Yes, that’s what it means. Now close your eyes and rest.”

  She flinched at his touch. Though she remained cautious of him, Calder’s gentle chiding relieved some of the tension of being in the same room with Baron, who appeared to have calmed down considerably. Perhaps he too was only in his element when planning and executing a robbery. The bank robbery seemed far away, yet she could not forget the danger.

  Once settled on the pallet, she closed her eyes. Recalled her soft blue bed at Fairhaven and wondered what Rowena and Tyra were doing. She missed them both so much. The possibility that she might never see them again saddened her.

  How foolish to have set in motion events that led her to this. A Victorian lady no more, she was soon to become a gun toting member of the Calder Raines Gang. A bank robber. Nothing but thieves, no matter the rationalization.

  The two men clattered outside and down the porch steps, and she drifted off into a restless sleep where she imagined Calder slowly unlacing and removing her corset. As she turned naked to enter his embrace, press her throbbing breasts against his bare chest, Baron barged into the room, grabbed her by the throat and began to choke her.

  She awoke gasping for breath, as if the Baron of her dreams had actually tried to choke the life out of her. For a moment she lay there
gazing through the open door into the sunlit afternoon that smelled of dust and hot earth. Not once since she’d arrived had it rained, and she was lonesome for the feel of cool mist on her face, the aroma of wet soil and drenched grass. Yearned to see Manchester with its gleaming jade fields, thick green copses, massive trees.

  From outside came the low rumble of the men’s voices joined in earnest conversation. Friends they were, friends they would no doubt remain. Sadly, she realized that Calder probably wouldn’t believe her, even if she told him of Baron’s wicked subterfuge. Perhaps the evil threat was empty, even worse, perhaps he and Calder had hatched the idea together to get her to help. But she had offered initially, and Calder had said no. It didn’t make sense unless…

  Thinking made her head throb and she closed her eyes and lay very still until the ache dulled. Tomorrow or the next day, they would rob the bank in Victoria City. And from that day on she would be an outlaw on the run. What a dreadful set of circumstances her foolishness had wrought.

  ****

  “And the blamed fool just got huffy and rode off,” Baron said to Calder. “You know how Deke is. He never even said he was going, or good-bye or anything.” Baron chewed on a straw and stared at the rail fence of the corral, refused to look at Calder.

  “Even so, I can’t figure Deke for doing this to her,” Calder said, scuffing in the dust with a worn boot.

  Baron studied him with a flinty gaze, nodded but said nothing more.

  “No one knew she was at Rachel’s. I left her there. She couldn’t’ve walked over here.”

  Baron was surely sick of hearing this, but Calder wouldn’t leave it alone. Something bad had happened and he needed to know why and who and how. A dreadful possibility occurred to him. “You don’t suppose they harmed Rachel and her brood, do you? I never thought… Maybe I’d better ride on over there and make sure they’re all right.”

  Baron stiffened. “I don’t rightly think that’s a good idea. Suppose it was someone who’s been watching her place? And they’re just waiting for you to show up. No, I wouldn’t do that.”