by Vivi Holt
Miller glared at him. “Took ya long enough.”
Dan walked back to the rest of the group. Claudine and Gracie had a pot of beans ready to heat over the fire, and Claudine was slicing salt pork to go with it while Gracie mixed flour and water from the canteen for some kind of bread to go with it. They both seemed to be taking as long as they could, if only to prolong the inevitable. Sheriff Fisher hadn’t arrested Dan, and he’d led them out onto the dark, deserted prairie. If he killed them here, there’d be no witnesses save his own men. But what – or who – was he was waiting for? Dan couldn’t say.
Still, now he had a weapon, and they didn’t know it. He just had to find the right time to use it. Even as the thought crossed his mind, his gut churned – what about Gracie? If he engaged the sheriff and deputies in some kind of skirmish, she might be hurt or worse. And Claudine as well – what could she do against a man like Deputy Miller?
He stacked the kindling carefully to make a fire and took his time finding a match to strike. When the fire took, he stole a look at Claudine. She squatted nearby, stirring beans in the pot. She glanced his way, and he arched an eyebrow and pressed a hand to the gun beneath his shirt. He didn’t dare reveal it with Miller so close, but she seemed to understand and nodded.
Claudine set the pot of beans on the edge of the fire, then held the frying pan over the flames. It wasn’t a large fire, just big enough to heat a meal, and it didn’t dispel the cold leeching into Dan’s coat and boots. The warm breeze was gone, and winter had returned in force. The chill made his bones ache. He raised his hands toward the fire, glad he hadn’t thought to don gloves – it would make drawing and firing his weapon a whole lot easier without them.
He felt Claudine beside him as she flipped the salt pork over in the pan with a fork. It sizzled and spat, and the scent wafted over him, making his stomach growl. His whole body hummed with energy. And she seemed just as heightened as him. He heard a prairie dog’s yap and the hoot of an owl circling overhead. Miller and Fisher kept pacing, the rhythmic thud of their boots on the hard ground keeping time with Dan’s heart.
Dan was ready. Waiting. He just needed the right moment to strike.
Ost kicked a booted toe into the snow and scuffed at it until the dark mud beneath showed through. He tugged his coat tighter around his thin frame and hugged himself. His breath hung in the air in front of him like steam from a boiling kettle.
Thomas O’Reilly shoved the swinging doors of the Bozeman sheriff’s office open and strode out into the twilight. “Thanks, Sheriff Stanton, we appreciate it,” he called over his shoulder. “And please let me know if ya find out anything about those rustlers.”
The sheriff’s voice followed him out into the night. “Will do, Mr. O’Reilly.”
Tom joined Ost with a grin. “It’s a bit late to head back to the ranch now. Let’s rent a couple of rooms at the hotel – what do ya think?”
Ost nodded happily. “Yes, boss.” He’d never stayed at the hotel in Bozeman before – he was always at Paradise Ranch. Since he was the youngest cowpuncher – or had been until Adam showed up with Antonio some months earlier – even when the others came to town for supplies, he’d usually get left behind. He hurried to keep up with Thomas’ long stride as they walked down the street.
Bozeman was growing at an amazing rate, and since he rarely ever saw it, the change was remarkable. There were fresh new buildings of yellow wood and adobe, some fully built and others just beginning to rise from the dirt. They passed a new general store, two saloons, a bank and a barber’s before they reached the hotel. The place had a saloon of its own, and piano music floated out to the street to greet them.
Tom led Ost inside, took a seat at the bar and patted the stool beside him. “Let’s get a drink and some dinner before we go up.”
Ost sat beside him and they each ordered a whiskey, straight up. Ost very rarely drank, and the liquor scorched his throat on the way down. He coughed, and Tom slapped him on the back with a chuckle. Ost’s face burned – he often lamented how he couldn’t hold his liquor. It seemed an important faculty to have when you lived and worked with a bunch of hardened cowboys.
“Don’t ever feel bad for the burn as it goes down,” said Tom, as if reading his thoughts. He sipped his own drink slowly. “That’s how you know it ain’t got a hold on yer life. And there aren’t too many things worse than when a man lets liquor take him over. Don’t ya forget that.”
Ost nodded. “What did the sheriff say?”
Tom grunted, took another sip and set his Stetson on the bar. Ost did the same. “He said there’s been a gang of cattle rustlers riding all over the county for months now, but he still doesn’t know who they are. There’ve been a few ranchers and farmers who’ve seen ‘em, but he said yer description tonight gave him the best lead he’s had so far.”
Ost took a quick breath. “That’s good. Glad I could help.”
“You know, you shouldn’t have chased them, though. I didn’t ask you to do that …”
“But they would’ve gotten away – and with our cattle!” Ost objected.
“Better than losing a good cowpoke,” said Tom gruffly. “Don’t risk your life like that again, you got it?”
“Yes, boss.”
“That being said, it was a brave thing you did. You’ve grown into a real man, Ost. I know your folks would’ve been proud to call you their son. I just wished they’d lived to see the man you’ve become.”
Ost’s throat tightened and he stared at the bar, twirling the whiskey glass in his fingers. “Thanks, boss.”
“One more thing – the sheriff asked me to tell you he’s in need of a good deputy. So if you’re thinking of a career change anytime, go on in and let him know. He reckons you’ve got good instincts.”
Ost’s eyes widened and he frowned. “I’m not thinking of a change.”
“That’s good to know, son. But if you were … you’d have my blessing. I hope you know that.”
Ost nodded.
“It can’t be easy for a young fella of twenty-two like yourself to be stuck out on the ranch with all us old married folks and cowpunchers. You’re missing out on a lot of the fun of being young.”
“Like what?” asked Ost, sipping his whiskey cautiously.
“Girls, for one,” said Tom with a laugh. “Though there aren’t many of those ‘round these parts, even if you’re not hidden away on a ranch.”
Ost considered his words. It was true, he hadn’t visited a girl since … well, he couldn’t rightly remember. Likely back in Fort Worth. He’d noticed a couple of young women on Bozeman’s streets, walking with their folks, but he’d never had opportunity to speak with one. “I guess it’d be nice to court a girl sometime. Though I don’t know what I’d say, since I’ve hardly had the opportunity.”
“You talk to the women at the ranch just fine.”
Ost grimaced. “Yeah, but they’re … you know, married. And they’re nice to me.”
Tom laughed. “It don’t matter one jot. A woman’s a woman, and if ya speak to them the same way you do Genny or Sarah, you’ll do just fine.”
Ost nodded and chewed the inside of his cheek, staring out the window at the street. There was a group of folks about his age hurrying by, laughing and talking. One of them, a young woman, caught his gaze, ducked her head and smiled – and it made his heart wrench. Then she was gone, and he fought the urge to chase after her.
Tom watched him with a half-smile. “She’s pretty.” He returned his attention to the glass of whiskey. “You should go out there and ask to court her.”
Ost shook his head, his cheeks flaming. “No, I couldn’t do that. I don’t know her name or anything about her. She’d probably laugh at me, or I’d scare her.”
Tom frowned. “Son, have you seen a lookin’ glass before? You’re far too good-lookin’ to scare anyone, let alone a pretty young thing like her.”
Ost squirmed on his stool, but remained silent.
“Well, your loss. But I think
you should consider comin’ to town a bit more often so perhaps you can get to know her name. Maybe then you’ll be able to talk to her.”
He nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”
“’Course I’m right. I got married and now we have two little un’s and it’s the best thing I ever did. You’re still young, and you have plenty of time to do whatever ya want with your life. But if your feelin’ lonesome and wanna do some courtin’, you should give it a try. What have you got to lose?”
“I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”
“You do that.” Thomas finished his whiskey and set the empty glass on the bar.
“I’d miss y’all. And I’d miss the ranch.”
“We’d miss you too.”
“So I’ll think on it.”
Tom nodded slowly. “Well, since that’s settled, let’s see about some supper.”
13
Dan watched Deputy Miller eat the last bite of beans. The sheriff sucked on a piece of pork rind and gazed in the same direction he had for the past hour. What was he waiting for – or more likely, who? Dan didn’t know, but he could hazard a guess.
Miller glared at Dan. “Whatcha lookin’ at, cowpoke?”
“What are y’all waitin’ for? Why are we out here in the middle of nowhere? If I’m under arrest, why ain’t you thrown me in a cell yet?”
Miller smirked. “You ain’t under arrest, cowpoke. We got other plans for ya.”
“What? You gonna let me join your little crooked deputies’ club, so I can rip off the good people of Cheyenne?”
Miller dropped his bowl on the ground and lunged at Dan, looking ready to throw him into the fire.
The deputy was big, but Dan was faster and skittered out of reach. “What’s wrong, Miller? Don’t want anyone to hear you’re owned by Augustine Kellogg and his crew? Or should I say, were owned. Kellogg’s dead – ain’t ya heard?”
Miller roared and charged Dan, swinging a fist toward his chin. Dan backpedaled and sidestepped the punch, throwing the deputy off balance, then tugged the six-shooter from his waistband. Miller spotted it and reached for his own revolver, but he was too late. Dan fired at point-blank range, and Miller stopped, then landed on his rear in the hard dirt before slumping over, a bleeding hole in his forehead.
“What was that?” cried Sheriff Fisher, drawing his own piece and running toward the fire. “Miller? Where are ya?”
Miller’s charge had pushed them away from the campfire’s light and into the darkness of the prairie. But with a full moon overhead, Dan knew it wouldn’t be long before they discovered him standing beside Miller’s body. He saw Claudine and Gracie by the fire, wrapped in each other’s arms, their faces frozen in fear, and his heart fell. He ran for cover – and for the Henry.
Claudine held Gracie close, the girl trembling in her arms. “Shhh … it’s going to be all right.” She didn’t know that – she only spoke her hopes into the world. Words mattered – Valentina, the Williams’ housekeeper, had taught her that. What you said had an impact on the world. Speak out hope, speak out truth … “It’s going to be all right. Dan will be fine.” She closed her eyes.
“Did that mean deputy shoot him?” whispered Gracie.
“I don’t think so. If he did, the deputy’d be here. The others are out there looking for him, so Dan must’ve gotten away.”
Gracie nodded, seeming satisfied with her mother’s explanation. “I hope he escapes.”
Claudine nodded, but wondered what would become of them if he did. She knew Angus would have no patience with her or Gracie now that Kellogg was dead. Since they’d attempted an escape he’d warned them against, he’d likely kill them both. She’d seen the look in his eyes when he’d shot the wolves – she knew he had it in him to kill them, without a moment’s hesitation – and Dan told her what he’d done to Dolly.
She shuddered and closed her eyes to say a prayer. Where was Dan? Was he close by, or had he high-tailed it across the prairie, leaving them behind again?
The other deputy, Schroder, a slender man with an oily mustache, dragged a body into the circle of light beside them. Gracie gasped and buried her head in Claudine’s coat. Claudine forced herself to look at the body, her heart in her throat … and sighed with relief. It wasn’t Dan – the dead man was Deputy Miller. “Where’s Dan?”
Deputy Schroder glared at her. “How should I know? Now hush, unless you’ve got something useful to say.”
She nodded silently, then let her eyes wander the darkened landscape looking for signs of movement. She could hear the sheriff blundering through the tall grasses. Every now and then he’d call Dan’s name, followed by a stream of curses. “Come out, ya dang yellow dog! Just wait ‘til I find ya – I’m gonna tear yer head from yer shoulders! I’ll pull out ya liver and feed it to a coyote! I’ll …”
“Boss?” Schroder called, his voice carrying across the prairie.
“What?” demand the sheriff, stomping over to him.
“If you tell him you’ll do all the things to him, I don’t think he’ll come back.”
Fisher stared at Schroder in puzzlement, then slapped him on the side of his head. “Shut up, Gustav, ya dingbat.” He shook his head, seemed about to continue his tirade, but froze, listening.
They all heard it then, the sound of hooves thundering down the trail toward them. Someone was coming from the north. Sheriff Fisher smiled and set his hands on his hips as the travelers pulled up outside the light of the fire. Three men dismounted and walked into the circle to greet Sheriff Fisher. And Claudine wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“Sheriff,” grumbled Angus O’Leary with a frown. “Good to see ya.”
“Howdy, Angus – good to see ya too,” the sheriff groveled.
“So. Where’s Dan Graham?” asked Angus, looking around.
“He, uh … he ran off …”
“He what?” Angus bellowed, advancing on the lawman with clenched fists.
Sheriff Fisher began babbling, scrambling backward to get out of Angus’ way. “He shot Miller! Shot him in cold blood! Then he ran –”
“How did he shoot Miller? With the man’s own gun?”
The sheriff frowned and scratched his head beneath his hat. “Well, I don’t rightly know …”
Angus sighed and marched over to Miller’s body. The deputy’s revolver was still in its holster. “Nope. Not with his own gun, since the stupid varmint never drew it. So Graham must have had another gun. Didn’t you search him?”
“’Course we did, Angus. He didn’t have a gun on him. He checked it into the office when he arrived in town.”
“Then how in tarnation did he shoot this man?!” screamed Angus, the veins in his neck standing out like roots on an oak.
“I don’t … I just … but …”
Angus rolled his eyes, then punched the sheriff soundly in the gut, making him keel over with a grunt. “Do I have to do everythin’ myself? Tell me that! I pay ya good money, Willie, and for what? Ya arrest a man, search him, then let him shoot yer deputy down right in front of yer nose with a gun he didn’t have, and ya can’t provide an explanation for! Now does that make sense to ya?”
The sheriff couldn’t speak, being too busy stumbling around the campsite clutching his stomach.
Deputy Schroder wrung his hands as he watched. “You’ve a right to be upset, Angus, no doubt about that. But while we argue, Dan Graham is getting away. The sun will be rising soon, and we have no idea which direction the man took. Maybe one of us could stay here and watch the women while the rest could go out after …?”
Angus ignored the deputy, walked over to Claudine, grabbed the hair on the back of her head and pulled her to her feet, making her screech with pain. He yanked out his own pistol and held it to her head. “Dan Graham!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “C’mon out and see me! I got somethin’ ya want – but not for long, I’m afraid. This colored woman’s gonna have to die, her and her pickaninny too. I know – sad, ain’t it? But I don’t need ’em no more,
and you don’t seem to want ’em either, so what else is a man to do?”
Claudine whimpered, pain searing through her scalp. Angus slapped her hard across the cheek. Lights flashed before her eyes at the impact and she cried out again. She could hear Gracie sobbing on the ground close by. She wanted so badly to hold her child in her arms and tell her not to fret.
Why had she come to Cheyenne? All she’d wanted was to know her child, to hold her in her arms and love her. But all she’d done was bring more pain into Gracie’s life. They might die tonight, and if Angus took pity on Gracie, he’d make it quick. The thought of Gracie suffering filled her eyes with tears, and she shut them tight to block out the sight of Angus’ red face.
“Ya know I’ll do it, Dan! Of all people, ya know just what I’m capable of. Come on, Dan, don’t ya remember? Dolly sure was pretty, weren’t she? Ya gonna run out on this one here the way you done with Dolly? Poor little Dolly and her little baby … ya shouldn’t have left her there all alone, Danny boy …”
Dan burst into the campsite at a sprint and rammed his shoulder into Angus, knocking him and Claudine to the ground. Angus’ gun went flying into the dark. Claudine ran to Gracie and scooped her up in her arms.
Dan scanned the group, noting the sheriff doubled over on the ground groaning. Deputy Schroder gaped at Dan a single moment, then reached for his holstered gun. Dan shook his head at the deputy, clucking his tongue. “Don’t do it, Deputy. I’d hate to have to …”
Schroder ignored him and began to draw, his hand trembling. Dan shot him between the eyes, and he fell to the ground, his gun landing in the grass at his feet.
Dan felt an arm tighten around his neck and ran backward, slamming his assailant into the side of one of the horses. There was a grunt as the man released his hold, and Dan spun to face him, raising his gun as he did. He heard the click of the hammer on Thaddeus’ weapon just as his eyes found the man’s face.