Cheyenne Reckoning

by Vivi Holt

  When she looked up, the man in black had pulled Sam over by Bolt and was tying up Gracie’s leg with a bandana. He looked back with an amused gleam in his eyes. “Seems like I found y’all just in time. Ya should be grateful – I saved your lives.”

  “Thank you,” Claudine replied stiffly.

  He smiled again. “That’s good to hear.”

  “What do you want?”

  Now he frowned, his eyebrows low. “I am Angus O’Leary, and I want Gracie here to come home.” He addressed Gracie. “Mrs. Tilly’s real worried about ya, girl. Ya come back with me now, and she promises she’ll forget all about it.”

  Gracie’s eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t say a word.

  Claudine’s hand shook as she patted her daughter’s leg. “We’re not going back to Mr. Kellogg’s ranch. Gracie is my daughter and she’s coming with me.”

  Angus’ eyes widened. “Daughter? Well, how ‘bout that? Mrs. Tilly will be very interested to hear ‘bout it, I’m sure. Be that as it may, Gracie’s comin’ with me. It’s up to ya whether ya come along or not. It makes no difference to me – I’d as soon shoot both of ya as anything – but Mrs. Tilly has her heart set on keeping Gracie around, and since Kellogg sets quite a store by what Mrs. Tilly wants, I’m afraid I’ll have to insist upon it.” He turned a pistol on Claudine to emphasize the point. Gracie cried out, covering her mouth with her hand.

  Claudine pushed out her chin. “Fine, we’ll come with you. Both of us.”

  He nodded. “Good choice, Mrs. …”

  “Miss Claudine Hopkins.”

  He smirked. “A pleasure, Miss Hopkins. Now if the two of ya’ll hop down, I’d sure ‘preciate it.”

  Claudine dismounted and helped Gracie down, and they held hands as they approached the scoundrel. Angus took a rope from his saddle, tied one end around their wrists and the other to the saddle horn. Gracie whimpered as it tightened around her wrists.

  When he was done, he took his time building a new fire in the same place they’d just stamped it out an hour earlier and set a coffee pot to boil. While it heated, he lugged the wolf carcasses close to the fire, pulled out a long knife and began to skin them. He whistled while he worked, stopping only to wipe his hands on his pants and pour himself a cup of coffee.

  A warm Chinook breeze blew down from the Rocky Mountains. Claudine felt it brush her cheeks and glanced up at the distant peaks, letting it warm her dry skin. She knew it wouldn’t be long before it melted any last remaining pockets of snow. Warm winds generally brought a smile to her face in the midst of a cold winter, but not today.

  She and Gracie watched him butcher the meat and stuff it into a canvas bag attached to his saddle. He slung the wolfskins over the back of the horse behind the saddle and tied them down. He ate the heart and liver from one of the wolves raw, and Claudine shuddered and looked away as blood dripped from his mouth and the tips of his mustache. He washed his knife, hands and face in the creek before finally untying her and her daughter. Only then did he speak. “Mount up,” he commanded, waving toward the horses he’d tethered close by.

  Claudine and Gracie hurried to comply. Claudine rubbed her wrists as she walked, then put her hand in Gracie’s. “We’ll get through this,” she whispered. “Everything will be just fine.”

  Gracie nodded silently, her eyes glimmering as they mounted up. Angus tied their reins to his saddle horn and led them across the prairie, occasionally squinting over his shoulder at them.

  Claudine’s throat tightened, anger boiling in her chest – they’d been so close to escaping, to finally living together as a family. If only Dan hadn’t left them behind. If only she hadn’t waited so long for him to return and had headed north instead. She wondered what would become of her once they made it back to Kellogg’s. Would Mrs. Tilly allow her to stay at the ranch house with Gracie once she discovered Claudine wasn’t a long-lost cousin, but Gracie’s mother?

  She sighed and tightened the strings on her bonnet to keep the breeze from blowing it free. She wondered where Dan was, and if he’d spared her and Gracie a thought since he left them alone by the creek.

  9

  Dan pushed the pitchfork into the soiled hay, tossed another forkful into the growing pile behind him and paused to wipe the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. He heard voices and peered out through the open doorway into the yard beyond. He’d been on the lookout for Kellogg all day, but so far hadn’t seen him once. In the meantime he’d curried the horses, fed the hogs and was now mucking out the stalls.

  Two men walked past the stables, deep in conversation. Neither one was Kellogg. He sighed and got back to work.

  Thaddeus Smith stalked into the stables and spit a stream of tobacco juice across the floor. “You ‘bout done with that yet, cowpoke?”

  Dan nodded. “Almost.”

  “Good, ‘cause I need ya to come with me into town. We got a job to do. Saddle up and meet me outside – and bring yer rifle.”

  Dan set the pitchfork against the wall and hurried to find Goldy. The horse had pieces of hay stuck all over his mussed hide and was currently enjoying a fresh bale of hay. Dan saddled him, moving fast. This could be his chance – if he was headed into town with Thaddeus, more than likely they’d meet up with Kellogg, since Thaddeus appeared to be the man’s second-in-command.

  He put his Henry rifle into the saddle scabbard and the six shooters into his hip holsters. He’d cleaned and loaded the weapons the previous evening before heading to bed. He hated to go any period of time without loaded weapons close by – you never knew when you might need them.

  Thaddeus was waiting for him in the yard, seated on a lanky roan. He waited for Dan to mount, then steered the roan around the outside of the house without a backward glance. He was already trotting down the long drive when Dan set off behind him. He pushed Goldy into a canter to catch up with the outlaw.

  “Where ya from, anyhow?” asked Thaddeus, chewing slowly on a wad of tobacco.

  “Montana Territory these days. Upstate New York, originally.”

  Thaddeus arched an eyebrow. “City folk, huh?”

  “Nah – a small town called Schenectady. But that was a long time ago. How ‘bout you?”

  Thaddeus shrugged. “Nowhere, really. Wyoming Territory’s been home for nigh on twenty years now.”

  “How’d you get to workin’ for Kellogg?”

  Thaddeus frowned. “He does favors sometimes, when he thinks someone might live to deserve them. I was in trouble some years back and he helped me out of it, gave me a chance to earn my way. Ain’t never looked back.”

  When they reached Cheyenne, they rode right down the main street. Dan watched folks scurry away, ushering children into businesses or down alleyways with furtive glances as they passed. “Don’t we have to check our weapons first?” he asked, pointing back over his shoulder at the doors of the Laramie County sheriff’s office.

  Thaddeus squinted at him. “Nope.”

  That was all the explanation Dan got. Or needed. It was clear the rules didn’t apply to Kellogg’s men, just as he’d thought.

  “You owe Kellogg for the last three months,” stated Thaddeus quietly.

  The hotel owner’s voice quavered. “I never agreed to pay Kellogg a cent.”

  Thaddeus grinned. “See, friend, that’s where yer wrong. Ya opened this establishment …”

  “Five years ago!”

  “Still, Kellogg spends his valuable time makin’ sure ya and yer business are safe. And there’s a fee for that service …”

  “A service I never asked for.” The man’s nostrils flared and he brushed the gray hair out of his eyes.

  Thaddeus leaned against the reception desk, his eyes glinting. “Mr. Small, I won’t be so patient next time I come by. I expect ya to have Mr. Kellogg’s money on ya. Else …” His voice trailed away, and he sighed and shook his head. “Be seein’ ya.”

  Dan followed Thaddeus from the hotel, his stomach clenched. He’d followed the thug all over town, into brothels,
saloons, gambling halls, dance halls and now this hotel. Each time, Thaddeus extracted a fee, and had Dan carry the money in a satchel. Some of the businesses belonged to Kellogg, so they gave the men the day’s takings. Others didn’t but still paid a tax for Kellogg’s “protection,” though it seemed he was only protecting them from his own men.

  They reached their horses and mounted up, Dan slung the satchel strap across his chest, leaving his hands free to grasp the reins. “Now where?”

  “Home,” came the gruff reply.

  They rode north through town and were in the country within minutes. Dan’s thoughts whirled. When would he get time alone with Kellogg? He’d spent the day thinking about what he’d say to the man before he killed him, how Kellogg’s face might look when he understood the fate that lay before him. He was anxious to get the task done – he’d come all this way for revenge. Now he struggled to keep his mind on the task at hand, as images of Claudine’s earnest face filled his thoughts.

  He hadn’t intended to spend so long away from her and Gracie. The entire day had passed while he and Thaddeus robbed various business owners in Cheyenne, and he’d grown more and more concerned for the mother and daughter. Now the sun was setting across the prairie and another night would soon fall. They’d likely run out of food soon.

  He pulled Goldy to a stop. Thaddeus stopped as well a little ahead of him, with a frown on his weather-worn face. “What?”

  Dan pulled the satchel strap over his head and trotted Goldy over to Thaddeus to hand him the bag. “I just forgot somethin’. Do ya think ya could take the money back on your own? There’s somethin’ I gotta do …”

  Thaddeus’ frown deepened. “I guess … what is it ya gotta do?”

  “There’s a woman back in town. I told her I’d stop in and see her, and you know how women get if you don’t keep your promise …”

  Thaddeus chuckled and took the satchel. “Then don’t keep her waitin’, loverboy.” He spurred his horse forward and waved farewell.

  Dan sighed, waited a few moments, then turned Goldy back toward Cheyenne in case Thaddeus looked back. He didn’t – within a minute he’d disappeared behind tall grasses in the falling darkness. Dan changed direction and kicked Goldy into a gallop, heading west across the plain. Had they stayed where he left them?

  Two hours later, he came to the campsite, and his heart fell as he saw it had been abandoned. He dismounted and stared at the creek bank, his hands on his hips, then squatted and ran a hand over the dirt around the cold campfire. The dust looked disturbed, as if by a scuffle. He straightened and crept forward, his gaze on the large paw prints galloping through the site.

  The wolf-pack had been there. He squeezed his eyes shut a moment, then started looking for anything else that might tell him what had happened to Claudine and Gracie. Had the wolves come while they were there, or after they’d packed up and left? A few droplets of blood … hoof-prints … there! Boot prints, about Claudine’s size, near a section of grass soaked in blood. Nearby were tufts of wolf hair and even a piece of pelt. Someone had skinned a wolf there.

  He frowned, his mind unable to put together what had transpired. He hurried back to Goldy and vaulted onto the waiting horse’s back. He had to find them. The hoof-prints led onto the prairie but disappeared in the tall grass, and he found it difficult to track them - just a hoof mark in some soft dirt here, a depressed section of grass there.

  Before long Dan lost their trail, but what he’d discovered made it seem as though they were headed back northeast, the way they’d come. He supposed that made sense if they’d headed for Canada. And from the looks of it, they’d left early that morning – if he hurried he could catch up with them. But first he had to finish what he came to Wyoming to do.

  He rode until he reached the long drive of Kellogg’s ranch house. The house was bathed in darkness and only the eerie glow of the full moon lit his way. The clip-clop of Goldy’s hooves echoed in the pre-dawn quiet. He yawned and shook his head to clear his thoughts – he was exhausted after a day shadowing Thaddeus in bars and brothels, collecting Kellogg’s ill-gotten money, then riding the prairies all night in search of Claudine and Gracie.

  He hadn’t found any trace of the wolves either. If the pack had attacked and killed or injured them, surely he’d have spotted something – a piece of clothing, their horses, some remnant of the camp. They must have gotten away. So that was good.

  He dismounted behind the house and led Goldy into the stables, rubbed him down and settled him in a stall with fresh water and hay before heading for the bunkhouse. It was almost time to rise for a new day’s work, but perhaps he’d manage a few minutes’ sleep before the noise of the day roused him again.

  As he passed by the ranch house’s kitchen door, he heard a shout and a woman’s voice raised in protest. He frowned, stopped outside the door and listened. There was no sound now, and he debated whether to investigate. He couldn’t be sure what he’d heard, since it had been so faint. But he could’ve sworn it sounded like a disagreement, and the only woman in the house he knew of was Mrs. Tilly.

  Then he heard a child crying. His eyes widened and he pushed the door ajar, peering through the crack into the large kitchen. There was a table beside the door, and beyond it a sturdy cast-iron stove with a fire glowing in its belly. Next to the stove was … Claudine! His heart leaped, and he bit his lower lip to keep from crying out in shock. What was Claudine doing back at Kellogg’s? He took a quick breath – she was here and she was fine. His pulse raced and he fought the urge to go to her.

  There was another whimper, and he spotted Gracie beside Claudine, her small hand in her mother’s, tears staining her cheeks. Mrs. Tilly stood glowering at them, her hands on her hips. “Mother? You think you’re Gracie’s mother? That’s impossible! I’ve raised Gracie on my own for the past three years. She has no mother, and for you to fill the poor girl’s head with ideas of a family she lost long ago is just mean!”

  He saw Claudine’s chin jut forward as she replied – too low for him to hear, but he saw Mrs. Tilly’s cheeks redden at her words.

  “How dare you!” The cook reached forward and slapped Claudine resoundingly across the cheek, making her gasp and step back in alarm. Dan clenched his fists. He had to do something – he couldn’t let Claudine and Gracie stay in that place.

  A large hand closed around Mrs. Tilly’s wrist and held her in place. “Now, now, Mrs. Tilly, don’t lose yer temper. Ya’ll just end up gettin’ yerself into trouble that way. If ya wanna beat the lass, I’ll help ya, but don’t use yer hands. Kellogg will want to know why ya can’t fix his supper if yer injured …”

  Adrenaline surged through Dan’s veins and anger churned in his gut. It was Angus O’Leary, the man he’d shot dead only days earlier – or thought he had. Now he was very much alive, chuckling as he looked at Claudine.

  Dan stumbled back from the door, his thoughts misting over with rage. If Angus harmed a hair on Claudine’s or Gracie’s head, he’d make certain this time he killed the man. And he’d enjoy it.

  The next day, after Dan finished mucking out the stalls, he leaned against the wall of the stable to catch his breath, his eyes fixed on the kitchen door. He hadn’t seen anyone come or go from the kitchen in the two hours he’d been working. He’d readily agreed to this job to be close to the house so he would see if Claudine or Gracie emerged, but they hadn’t. He wondered where they were and what they were up to.

  He also thought about home. He missed Paradise Ranch – the soaring peaks, the lush green valleys now covered in a thick layer of snow, the work alongside friends he’d come to consider family. If he went through with his plan for revenge, would he be able to return there, or be forced to spend the rest of his life on the run?

  He took a long slow breath and rubbed his face. Whatever he did now, he couldn’t walk away with Claudine and Gracie inside that house. He’d left them behind on the prairie, and he wouldn’t do it again.

  Dan hung the pitchfork in its place, wiped the s
weat from his brow with his sleeve and walked deliberately toward the kitchen door. He turned the lever and headed inside, blinking in the dim light. The room was empty. He walked to the stove, opened its door and piled another log on the fire. He straightened, heard a sound behind him and spun around.

  “There you are,” said Claudine, her eyes red-rimmed and accusing. “We were wondering what happened to you – weren’t we, Gracie?” They both carried a bushel of potatoes in their arms. Both wore black gowns with white aprons and white bonnets, their hair neatly combed and faces clean – a great improvement on the last time he’d seen them, covered in dirt and grime at the campsite.

  Gracie nodded a silent welcome, smiling widely at him before setting the potatoes on the table. Claudine set her load on the table as well, watching him all the while.

  He could see the hurt and anger in her eyes, and it stirred his heart. “I’m sorry. I got caught up in town …”

  “Never mind. When the wolves came after us, Angus came to our rescue. In a manner of speaking.” Her voice was thick with anger.

  He frowned and looked at his shoes. “Like I said, I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna leave you …”

  “Then why did you?” asked Gracie, her voice wavering with emotion. She ran to him and threw her arms around his waist, catching him off-guard. “Why did you leave us?” she sobbed into his coat.

  His heart swelled with warmth, and he rested a hand on her back and patted it gently. “I’m sorry. What does Angus want with the two of you?”

  Claudine sniffed. “It seems Mrs. Tilly can’t do without Gracie, and since I won’t leave her I’ll be working here as well.”

  “They can’t keep Gracie here against her will – your her mother.”

  Claudine pulled away, her eyes flashing. “They can do whatever they have a notion to,” she replied with a sigh.

  He gritted his teeth, his thoughts in a whirl.

  She reached for a peeler and began to slice the dirt-encrusted skin from one of the potatoes. “We’ve got work to do.” She nodded to Gracie, who hurried to join her.