A Cowboy's Fate

by Gini Rifkin

  After hitching up the team, he handed her up onto the wagon, and her eyes widened in surprise. Using the extra cheesecloth he’d taken along, he’d fashioned a cushion for her—a glorious, heavenly soft cushion.

  With a sigh and a grateful smile, she settled into place. “First tea and now this. Thank you again. No silken pillow of royal splendor could feel more wonderful—or be more appreciated.

  “You’re welcome. To see your smile made it all worthwhile.”

  At present, she couldn’t stop smiling. “Whatever did you make it from?”

  “Cattail fluff and duck down,” he explained. “I spotted the plants while fishing yesterday, and went back for them this morning after I got the ducks.”

  “Brilliant,” she said, bouncing up and down a time or two.

  As he stared up at her, he ran his hand across the front of the clean shirt.

  “Thanks for mending the tear,” he said quietly. The words did not seem to come easily, and the expression he wore as he searched her face, seemed to indicate he wanted to say more. Instead, he went to check the traces on the harnesses. Then he climbed aboard on his side of the wagon, and clucked the horses into motion. She wondered how long he’d worked at building the stone wall around his heart.

  Chapter Six

  The day grew older and the land more rocky, the slant of the trail steeper, even precarious in some spots. At least, the wind had calmed, and conversation would have been easy, yet their talk remained intermittent and trivial, nothing personal, no shared thoughts.

  She shouldn’t expect more, not really. And what did it matter? Being on her own, that’s what she knew. It felt comfortable and familiar. No use pretending a new country would change her condition. Besides, she better stop thinking of Cody as something other than her guide, or at best a casual acquaintance. Anything more would be senseless and asking for trouble, serving no purpose.

  She knew nothing about the man. He’d been respectful, even thoughtful. So what? They had only been together a few days. Anyone could be nice for a brief period of time; it didn’t necessarily exemplify a person’s true character. Like the future, emotions were illusive, and they sure didn’t pay the rent. And his being kind and thoughtful one minute and standoffish the next drove her to distraction. Regardless of what her heart might dictate, she must keep these things in mind.

  Throttling fanciful thoughts and burying them deep, she stared straight ahead at the horses’ backsides. They jogged along so peacefully she nearly nodded off to sleep until instinct warned the animals were not acting properly. Unfamiliar as she might be with horses, she knew something had them worried. They began to dance and skitter about, throwing up their heads, and rolling their eyes. Cody leaned forward, his shirt straining against the muscles of his shoulders and back, the cords in his forearms taut as he wrestled with the team to keep them in line.

  She turned toward him, placing one hand on his thigh. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not sure. We could be heading for trouble. Get in the back of the wagon.”

  Rebellious by nature, she first thought to protest his telling her what to do, but by the sound of his voice, she decided following orders, no questions asked, would be the better choice.

  “Here, take this with you.”

  He handed her his pistol. It weighed so much she could barely hold it in one hand. Dragging it and her precious cushion along, she scrambled over the back of the seat. They bounced over the rock-strewn trail—one large pothole sending her sprawling onto the foodstuffs and trunks. At the sound of her fall, Cody glanced back.

  “You all right?” he asked, quickly returning his attention to the spooked team.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she reassured, pushing her skirts and petticoats down so she could see beyond her nose.

  Securing a position between the tumbled supplies, and hanging on for dear life, she peered at the countryside, not even wanting to guess how many new bruises she’d just acquired. The pine forest, more dense here, limited visibility into them to a mere few yards. She saw nothing obvious, but again basic instinct sent out a warning. You could feel it in the air—even the trees seemed to be holding their breath.

  As their pace slowed, she twisted around trying to see what might be happening up ahead. A hairpin turn forced Cody to bring the team to a crawl as they negotiated the sharp curve. Then an ungodly roar filled the air. When she turned back to find its source, she froze, eyes wide, mouth open in a silent scream.

  A monstrous bear reared up on the road behind them, a creature beyond her imagining. Huge, horrible, a nightmare come to life.

  Jaws wide, wicked teeth gleaming, he pawed the air and let loose with another great roar. Then he looked her straight in the eye, dropped down to all fours, and charged forward. For all his immense size, he covered the distance at a shockingly fast pace. Cody yelled at the team, hurrying them around the curve as fast as he dare. If they could get past the turn, they might have a chance. If they upended, they were done for.

  The brute kept gaining ground. Right behind them now, his ivory claws raked the back of the wagon as he tried to climb aboard. Snorting and grunting, he tossed his head in fury and frustration.

  “Holy hell, Britania. Shoot him”

  Shoot him? She’d been so scared she’d forgotten she held the sidearm. Although cowering away from the beast seemed more rational, she scrambled onto her knees, and bracing her body against the two trunks, faced the horrible creature full on. At least he offered a large target, albeit a terrifying one. Gripping the pistol with both hands, she raised it, closed her eyes, and pulled the trigger. The unanticipated recoil knocked her backward. She wacked her head on the side of the wagon and lost her grasp on the revolver. Senses spinning, she squinted open her eyes. The bullet had taken a big chunk out of one of the bear’s ears. He howled in pain, seeming more ferocious than ever.

  The horses rounded the curve, breaking into a faster pace, and as she reached to recover the pistol, the weapon slid across the floor of the wagon—farther from her and closer to the bear.

  Somehow, the beast kept up with them, hanging half-on and half-off the buckboard. Wooly neck extended, shiny black nose twitching, he sniffed in her direction as he grappled about trying to get onboard. There seemed no escape. Then it appeared he caught the scent of something else—the ducks. Stretching one massive forearm to its full length, he pawed at the fowl.

  Although afraid for her life, she snagged the ducks away from the monster, waved the cheesecloth covered morsel back and forth to gain his attention then heaved the birds off the side of the wagon. With a grunt, the bear veered away, crashing through the brush after the birds, choosing an easy meal on the ground, rather than a difficult one on the run.

  They raced on, and as the road evened out, Cody gave the team their head. Little encouragement for speed seemed necessary as the frightened horses sought to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the grizzly.

  Covering the ground at breakneck speed, the load in the wagon shifted back and forth, and Britania fought to avoid being crushed by the sliding trunks and supplies. Finally, Cody wrestled the foam-flecked horses to a slower pace, bringing them to a halt on a rise in a clearing. She collapsed back against the side of the wagon, peering over the edge as he set the brake, jumped down, and grabbed the harnesses. He petted and calmed the pair of geldings, and she admired his patience and concern for the terrified animals, especially in the midst of such chaos. Seemingly assured they wouldn’t bolt, he came around to the back of the wagon, shotgun in hand.

  She peeked at him from behind a big duffle. He just stood there laughing. Here she had nearly been eaten alive by a creature sure to give her nightmares for the rest of her life, and he found it humorous. Maybe he’d gone hysterical. She’d heard it could happen to men as well as women. She felt one step away from it herself.

  “Only you, Miss Rule,” he said, with a shake of his head, “would think to fight off a grizzly with a brace of dead ducks.”

&
nbsp; “I’m so pleased you found it amusing. Pray tell, what other forms of entertainment strike your fancy?”

  His gaze slipped past her taking in the rest of the buckboard. “Things like this I reckon.” Again, he burst out laughing, this time even harder.

  Glancing around the wagon, the reason became clear, and Britania gasped in alarm. One of her trunks had burst open, spewing lacy beribboned undergarments hither and yon. These were not items worn by the type of lady she pretended to be. They were outrageous dainties, a jezebel’s delight, couture de jour for a whore.

  “Oh, bloody ’ell.”

  She clamped a hand over her mouth wishing she could call back the words as her upper-class accent gave way to East End twang. On hands and knees, she scurried around gathering up the incriminating garments and stuffing them back into the trunk.

  Using only thumb and forefinger, Cody carefully disengaged a pink rosebud-covered corset dangling off the back of the wagon. “Interesting choice of underclothing, Miss Rule. Can’t say as I’ve seen such pretties outside a bordello.” He offered up the garment, the garters taunting and swinging back and forth in front of her nose.

  “They were gifts, if you must know,” she said, wresting it from his grasp, “going away presents from my girlfriends. And since I nearly met my death a moment ago, I would think you would be more worried about me, rather than the contents of my wardrobe.”

  “Sorry,” he said, his tone indicating he wasn’t—his half-smile reinforcing the point.

  He rummaged around in another pack, and extracted a bottle of liquor. “I guess you being such a lady, it would be foolish of me to offer you a snort of whiskey. I know I could sure use one.” Uncorking it, he took a large swig.

  Her mouth watered. She had done her share of elbow bending, and right now, a drink sounded just the thing. Besides, with her illusion of lady-hood pretty much ruined, she might as well make the best of it. Snatching the bottle from his hand, she downed a healthy shot. Cody’s eyes widened as she smiled sweetly, and returned the whiskey.

  “You’d be surprised what we ladies are capable of,” she challenged.

  “Such as…” he prodded.

  “Such as saving your skin in a most ingenious manner. Although I am sorry about dinner, but it was me or the ducks.”

  “Good choice.” He nodded, taking another swig. “We can always get more birds, but I’m beginning to think you’re a one of a kind.”

  Chapter Seven

  Exhausted by the day’s terrifying event, and rendered thoughtful and guarded after the unexpected and erotically charged moments shared by the wagon, they spent a contemplative night in the woods, eating boiled potatoes and onions, sleeping like the dead, and waking early.

  The next morning, after hitting the trail, it started raining, and it just kept coming. Cody felt as if the whole world had been wrapped in soppy gray wool. With limited vision and dampened spirits, they huddled together on the seat wearing the oilskin dusters he’d had the foresight to pack. Still, the unrelenting water found a secret entrance through the drover-coats, and with the sun blotted out, and the elevation increasing, a bone-chilling cold soon set in.

  Rather than walking, the horses slid forward, the wagon skidding with each misstep. He glanced sideways at Britania. She sat shivering with her hands tucked up in the sleeves of the oversized coat. He searched for something encouraging to say, but try as he might nothing came to mind.

  “It wouldn’t do any good to stop,” he explained, letting her know he wished he could remedy their situation. “There’s no chance of starting a fire, we’d still be getting wet, and we might get stuck.”

  He waited for a response. Chin up, she nodded in acceptance, and he felt an unexpected surge of pride for her. Traveling to a foreign country and taking on this unsettled territory had to be difficult, even frightening, especially for a woman born in a big city like London. But look how far she’d come from pitching fits over whistle pigs and pikas. She’d fended off a grizzly. That had taken courage—and she’d done so without crying a single tear. Even now, she rode out their current situation, no complaint or criticism. He was proud of her indeed.

  With a grin, he recalled the underthings she toted in her trunk. He wouldn’t mind seeing her wearing some of those frills and frippery. Just the idea sent a surge of heat and desire to his groin. He shifted around to ease the discomfort, and tried thinking about Miss Rule’s other qualities, ones less likely to waylay his heart and wreak havoc with his body.

  He enjoyed listening to her talk. When she acted the highborn lady, he found her genteel accent alluring, its tender quality drawing him in. Heck, while explaining those fortune-telling cards she carried, he focused so hard on listening to her voice he almost missed what she said. She sure put a great deal of stock in them fancy pieces of cardboard. Of course, he put a lot of stock in his cards too, but they had more to do with the outcome of his immediate finances rather than predicting his long-range future.

  As they rambled along, tired and bedraggled, he wondered if they would reach Frisco before dark. The little town should be located about two-thirds along the way of their journey, and they were both sorely in need of a hot bath and a soft bed. Maybe he should tell her about the town and hotel—it would pick up her spirits. But if they didn’t make it that far, it would be a big disappointment.

  “If I get much wetter,” he joked, “I’m afraid I might sprout fins or drown sittin’ upright.”

  She glanced over, a smile and a faint sound of amusement seemingly the most she could offer. Her face looked even prettier in the rain. Although she wore minimal paint, washed away, her skin glistened fresh and clean. And her hair, escaping beneath her bedraggled hat, turned playful and natural as if it’d been set free with a mind of its own. It softened her image, making him want her all the more. The storm had brought out the true woman behind the austere manners and perfectly styled clothes and hairdo. He liked this gal a lot better.

  She huddled a little closer, and damn if he didn’t wished he could hold her in his arms. But the inclement weather and skittish team required both hands on the reins, and the safeguarding of his free spirit required he keep his distance as well. Then he recalled the time she tried intimidating him with her derringer. The image of trim ankle and long leg remained vivid in his mind. It set him to wondering if the rest of her would be as desirable. It also sent his lofty good intentions crashing to the ground.

  He shook his head, trying to dislodge the vision. These were foolish notions. No matter what she said or pretended, he could tell her finances were more beggared than his. He needed a woman with money, not a woman he could love, if indeed he had any love left to give. And he sure had no intentions of changing his way of thinking or trying out some new theory with Miss Rule.

  “Looks like we’re coming up on a fairly good sized stream,” he said, concentrating on matters at hand. “I’d better take a look see. The water will be running high, and there’s always the danger of a flash flood.”

  He halted the team, set the brake, and eased down from the wagon. The mud sucked at his boots as he made his way to the river’s edge. Grabbing up a sturdy tree branch, he gingerly stepped into the rushing water, poking at the ground with the long stick to check the condition of the riverbed. Retracing the muddy path back to his side of the wagon, he tossed the stick aside, and climbed onboard.

  “There’s a good chance we can make it across. Even the smallest of streams are probably swollen torrents by now, and it’s likely to get worse. What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t understand. What are the choices? Try crossing or go back?”

  “Heck no, Miss Rule. Going back is not one of the options here. We can ford now, or run parallel in the hopes of finding a better place to cross. What will it be?”

  “How the bloody thunder should I know? You’re the guide. That’s what I pay you for.”

  “You’re the boss, and the one with the fortune-telling cards. Besides, it’s your sweet ass too if we do
n’t make it.”

  At his words, her eyes widened in surprise. He’d spoken more harshly than intended. What made him so angry with her? The uncooperative weather wasn’t her fault, or the flooded river, or the fact that he cared about her and wanted to make love to her right here in the pouring rain. She unsettled him, resurrecting feelings long dead and buried. He actually liked having her around, and it scared the daylights out of him. He couldn’t allow himself to start needing her….her or any woman, it never worked out. He didn’t care what her dang cards said.

  “What would you do if you were alone,” she asked. Her voice remained calm, but sparks of defiance glinted in her eyes as she cocked her head in that imperious way she could conjure.

  “I’d cross here. I’d pray the bedrock went all the way across, and I’d pray since this appears to be the main trail it would be the best place to try.” He gathered the reins and freed the brake, awaiting her decision.

  “It sounds relatively simple then. I don’t see what all the fuss is about. We cross here.”

  He tried to hide a smile generated by her burst of bravado. She seemed absolutely certain of her decision, but he noticed her hands were clasped so tightly in her lap, her knuckles showed white.

  “You heard the boss-lady, giddy-up.”

  He slapped the reins on the horses’ rumps sending them into a splashing trot. With considerable urging, and a total lack of enthusiasm, the animals plunged into the swirling tributary. From the corner of his eye, he saw Britania grab for the side of the wagon, but after her initial gasp of fear, she never uttered a sound.

  A gut-level unsettling feeling took hold as the wheels of the wooden wagon floated free of the riverbed. At least the horses were still grounded, but they were barely halfway across.

  He glanced over his shoulder, checking the load. A little rainwater sloshed about the bed, but nothing had shifted, and they hadn’t sprung any leaks. So far, so good. If they took on river water, they were goners. With relief, he faced forward. It could be worse, and soon it was.