Apache Runaway

by Madeline Baker

  For a moment, the deer looked directly toward Fallon’s hiding place, its liquid brown eyes probing the shadows, its flared nostrils testing the breeze.

  For a stretched second of eternity, Fallon and the deer stood frozen in time. Then, with a sigh, Ryder lowered the bow and sheathed the arrow. They didn’t really need the meat, and it was too lovely a day to kill just for the sake of killing.

  “Perhaps another time,” he muttered aloud, and the sound of his voice sent the buck leaping gracefully out of sight.

  Ryder spent the rest of the day in a shady thicket, stretched out beside a shallow pool, content to be a part of the tranquil atmosphere of the forest.

  It was early evening when he returned home.

  Hanging his bow in the shed beside the corral, he slipped the bridle from the buckskin and forked it some hay.

  A lamp burned cheerfully in the front window of the cabin and he experienced an overwhelming sense of peace as he pictured Jenny inside, humming to herself as she stirred up something good for supper.

  He was whistling softly when he opened the door and stepped inside.

  Jenny was standing near the hearth, her face pale. She shook her head, her eyes wide with alarm.

  His hand moved instinctively toward his right hip, only to close on empty air, and he mouthed a silent oath as he visualized his Colt hanging useless and out of reach on the back of the bedroom door.

  “What is it?” he asked. Too late, he sensed someone behind him.

  Jenny took a step forward, then froze as a deep voice spoke out of the shadows between the hearth and the bedroom door.

  “Stay where you are, ma’am,” the voice warned. “Fallon, you make one wrong move and she’s liable to get hurt in the crossfire.”

  Ryder stayed where he was, his hands balled into tight fists, his gaze on Jenny’s face.

  “I see we understand each other,” the voice remarked. “Put your hands up, nice and slow.”

  Without hesitation, Fallon did as he was told.

  Immediately, someone stepped up behind him and lashed his hands together.

  “Search him, Vince.”

  “What’s this all about?” Ryder spoke through clenched teeth as the man called Vince relieved him of the knife sheathed on his belt.

  “It’s okay, Jed. He’s clean,” Vince announced confidently.

  Only then did the other man step out of the shadows.

  “Ryder…”

  “It’s all right, Jenny.”

  Fallon studied the face of the man who had stepped out of the shadows. Jed was a big man, his skin weathered from years in the sun, his eyes deep set in a tanned face. He wore a pair of canvas pants, a buckskin shirt and boots that had seen better days.

  “I asked you a question, mister,” Ryder said curtly. “I’d like an answer.”

  “It’s about this,” the man called Jed replied. He pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his pants pocket and tossed it at Fallon.

  The handbill was creased and torn, but the message was still clear.

  WANTED

  RYDER FALLON

  FOR THE MURDER OF ROY TRAHERNE

  $200 REWARD DEAD OR ALIVE

  There was also a physical description and a fair pen-and-ink sketch of his face.

  “What’s going on?” Jenny asked. “I don’t understand.”

  “I killed a man awhile back,” Ryder said, his gaze still on the bounty hunter.

  “Ain’t much of a reward,” Jed remarked with a shake of his head.

  “He wasn’t much of a man,” Fallon retorted.

  Jed shrugged. “Times being what they are, we can’t afford to pass it up.”

  “Ryder, what’s this all about? What man?” Jenny frowned. “You’re not talking about the man you shot in Broken Fork, are you? They said that was self-defense.”

  Ryder shook his head. The shooting in Clearwell had been self-defense too, he mused.

  “Ryder?”

  “It’s a long story, Jenny.”

  “Well, we ain’t got no time for any long stories now,” Vince said, dragging a tobacco-stained hand through his hair.

  “That’s right, lady,” Jed agreed. “So how about fixin’ us some grub so we can be on our way?”

  “Fix it yourself,” Ryder said curtly.

  “We can do this easy, or we can make it hard,” Jed remarked affably. “I don’t cotton to hittin’ women as a rule, but I can make an exception. It’s up to you.”

  Fallon’s gaze locked with the bounty hunter’s cold gray eyes. The man wasn’t bluffing. Fallon knew it without a doubt.

  “Do what he says, Jenny.”

  “Vince, you go along and keep the little lady company. Make sure she doesn’t get a sudden yearning to hightail it into town.” Jed jerked his head toward the sofa. “Fallon, why don’t you sit down? We’ll all have something to eat, and then we’ll be on our way.”

  Ryder sat down on the edge of the sofa, his hands testing the rope that bound his wrists. There was no slack, no way he was going to slip free.

  “Where are you taking me?” he asked.

  Jed lifted one big shoulder and let it drop. “El Paso, I reckon.”

  “And my wife?”

  “She stays here.” Jed grinned, exposing a mouthful of crooked teeth. “Don’t worry, we ain’t gonna hurt her none. I don’t hold with abusin’ them that’s weak or helpless.”

  Ryder glanced toward the kitchen. “And your partner?”

  “Don’t worry none about Vince. He won’t touch her.”

  Only partly mollified, Ryder stared at the floor, wondering if the bounty hunter was as easygoing as he appeared, or if he could expect a bullet in the back once they were out of the valley. The wanted poster said dead or alive, and he had a feeling Jed and his partner would rather take him in tied face down across the back of his horse than have to worry about his trying to escape along the way. He wasn’t afraid of death. It was an unknown shadow that awaited every man, but prison…

  The very word left a bad taste in his mouth, calling to mind memories of long ago, of the six months he’d spent in a Mexican jail.

  He shuddered with the memory. All his life, he had been free, like the buffalo and the hawk, free to cross the endless prairie or ride alone in the high country. Free to come and go like the wind, tied to nothing, neither land nor home nor clocks. Free as only an Indian is free—until the Federates caught up with him.

  Six months. He no longer remembered why they had arrested him, but he vividly recalled the horrors of life behind bars, the constant stink of sweat and excrement, the vile odor of stale air and unwashed bodies, of vomit and death.

  The unending clink of chains. The dismal, never-ending groans of the sick and the dying; the nightmare cries of men locked in solitary confinement, the tortured screams of men writhing under the lash.

  Six months of seeing little more than dull gray walls and thick iron bars, emaciated bodies and gaunt faces wiped clean of hope.

  Six months of cold worm-ridden food, slimy green water and lice-infested blankets.

  Six months of being hungry, not just for a decent meal but for a hot bath, clean clothes, the feel of a gun in his hand, the sight of buffalo stampeding across the plains, for the sight and scent of trees and grass and dirt. For the touch of a woman.

  Jenny…but it wasn’t Jenny he was worried about. He knew that the people in the valley would look after her in his absence, knew that she would wait for him, no matter how long he was gone. No, he didn’t have to worry about how Jenny would get along without him. But what would he do without her?

  He swallowed hard, remembering the long days behind bars. It had been sheer hell. The men were chained together in groups of four during the day. Nights, they were confined to individual cells so small that he could sit in the middle of the floor and touch all four walls.

  When he couldn’t take any more, when even the prospect of death under the lash became preferable to another day behind bars, he had plotted an escape with the
three men who shared his chain. It had been ridiculously easy, so easy he wondered why they hadn’t thought of it sooner.

  They had been working on the side of a hill outside the prison walls, clearing it of boulders and weeds so the warden’s puta could plant flowers. At a prearranged signal, the man nearest the edge of the rocky slope keeled over in a mock faint. When he fell, he rolled down the incline, dragging Fallon and the other two prisoners with him.

  When the guard came down the hill to check on the “unconscious” man, one of the other prisoners strangled him with his bare hands. Fallon dug the key out of the dead man’s pocket, removed his irons and ran like hell. He never knew, or cared, what happened to the other three men.

  And now it looked like he’d be going back…

  He glanced up as Jenny entered the room. “Dinner’s ready,” she announced.

  “Vince, you go ahead and eat while I keep an eye on Fallon and the woman.”

  “Right, Jed.”

  Jenny stared at the bounty hunter for a moment, then crossed the room and sat down on the sofa beside Ryder. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “No.” Right now, food was the last thing on his mind.

  “What are we going to do?”

  Fallon shook his head. “Looks like I’m going to jail.” Damn!

  He felt his heart turn over as Jenny placed her hand on his thigh. “I’m going to El Paso with you.”

  “No, Jenny.”

  “I want to.”

  He shook his head. “Somebody’s got to stay here and take care of the place.”

  “The Howards will keep an eye on things while we’re gone.”

  “Jenny, if they don’t hang me, I could be facing a long prison sentence. What are you going to do in El Paso while I’m locked up? Take in laundry?”

  “I’ll do whatever I have to.”

  “No, Jenny.”

  She didn’t say anything, but he saw the stubborn look in her eye and feared he was wasting his breath.

  Ten minutes later, Jed went into the kitchen to eat. Vince stood near the door, a shotgun cradled in the crook of his arm.

  “You might want to pack your husband a change of clothes,” Vince suggested. “And maybe some grub for the trail.”

  Jenny looked at Fallon, and he nodded. In spite of himself, Ryder felt a slim ray of hope. Maybe he would make it to El Paso alive.

  Vince stood at the bedroom door where he could keep an eye on the two of them.

  Ryder studied the other man. Vince was maybe five years younger than his partner, but his face wore the same hard, lean expression. They were men down on hard times, Ryder thought, and that made them dangerous.

  Jenny returned to the parlor a few minutes later, one of Ryder’s saddlebags draped over her arm.

  A little later, Jed sauntered into the parlor. “Good cook, your wife,” he remarked.

  “Yeah. How’d you find me?”

  Jed chuckled. “Just luck. Saw you in Carson’s store yesterday.” He shrugged. “I got a good memory for faces, and I recollected I’d seen yours. Me and Vince took a look through the wanteds, and sure enough, yours was there.”

  Ryder swore softly. Luck, he thought bitterly. That’s not what he called it.

  Jed scratched his armpit. “You about ready to go?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “’Fraid not.”

  Ryder stood up. “Mind if I say goodbye to my wife?”

  Jed shook his head. “Make it quick.”

  Jenny thrust Fallon’s saddlebags into Jed’s hand, then hurried across the room to throw her arms around Ryder. She pressed her face against his chest, breathing in his scent as she fought back her tears. She couldn’t imagine Ryder locked behind bars. He’d hate being locked up, hate the loss of his freedom.

  “I love you,” she murmured.

  “I know.” He kissed the top of her head. “I love you too, Jenny girl. Stay well. I’ll write as soon as I can.”

  It hit her then, really hit her for the first time. He was leaving. She might not see him again for years. “Please let me come with you.”

  “No.”

  “Please, Ryder.”

  “No. Dammit, Jenny, I want to know you’re here, safe. Please.”

  She heard the concern beneath the rough tone of his voice and knew he didn’t want her to be at the mercy of Jed and Vince. They didn’t seem like the types to abuse a woman, but if she was wrong, Ryder wouldn’t be able to do anything to protect her.

  “Please, Jenny?”

  How could she refuse him? “All right.”

  She rose on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to his, her hands moving restlessly over his back and shoulders. “You’ll write as soon as you get there, promise me?”

  “I promise.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I’ll write every day.”

  “Jenny, I…damn!” He blinked hard against the tears that burned his eyes.

  “I know,” she murmured, her hand stroking his cheek with infinite tenderness and understanding. “I know.”

  Jenny turned to face the bounty hunter, her hand going out in a gesture of pleading. “Please don’t do this.”

  Jed cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but times is hard. I got a family of my own to feed.” He looked at Fallon and jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  One last kiss, and he was gone. Jenny stood in the doorway, her throat aching with unshed tears as she watched Jed and Vince boost Ryder into the saddle, and then he was riding away, flanked by the two bounty hunters.

  He turned back for one last look and Jenny forced a smile, knowing he wouldn’t want to see her tears. She’d have plenty of time to cry later.

  She watched him out of sight, then, picking up her skirts, she ran down the road to the Howards’.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Took him?” William Howard said, frowning. “Who took him?”

  “Bounty hunters,” Jenny exclaimed, and dissolved into tears.

  “Here, now,” Howard admonished, awkwardly patting her shoulder. “This is no time for tears. Tell me what happened.”

  Sniffing back tears, Jenny quickly told William and Nell everything that had happened.

  “I need some money,” Jenny said. “A lot of money. At least two hundred dollars.”

  “Two hundred dollars! Crikey, girl, I haven’t seen that much money all at once in years.”

  “What do you need the money for?” Nell asked.

  “I’m going to try and buy Ryder from the bounty hunters,” Jenny replied, as if such a thing was done every day.

  Will Howard stared at her as if she’d suddenly grown two heads. He was a big bear of a man, with a mane of brown hair and a shaggy brown beard. His eyes were a mild shade of gray beneath heavy brows.

  “Buy him!” Howard exclaimed. “From bounty hunters! Have you gone plumb loco, girl?”

  “It’s worth a try,” Jenny insisted. “Will you help me?”

  “I ain’t never heard of such a thing,” Will muttered, shaking his head. “Where’d you ever get such a crazy notion?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ve got to do something!” Jenny cried. “I can’t just let them take him. He’d hate being locked up. And what if they hang him!” She groaned softly and clutched her stomach, the image of Ryder swinging from a rope making her physically ill. “Won’t you please help me, Will? Nell?”

  Will Howard looked over at his wife, and she nodded.

  “We’ve got to try, Will,” Nell said, her expression solemn.

  “You two stay here,” Howard said. “I’ll go see what I can do.”

  “Please hurry,” Jenny urged.

  At Nell’s insistence, Jenny sank down on a kitchen chair while Nell filled a pot with water for tea.

  Nell Howard was a tall, angular woman with long black hair and large dark eyes. Her heavy calico skirts swished softly as she moved around the kitchen, taking cups and saucers fr
om the cupboard and placing them on the small pine table.

  “I should have gone with Ryder,” Jenny murmured. “What if something happens? I might never see him again.”

  Nell Howard shook her head. “No. He was right to make you stay. El Paso is no place for a woman alone. He will have enough to worry about without worrying about you too.”

  “I know, but, oh Nell, what if they hang him?”

  “He will get a trial. Perhaps…”

  “He’s guilty, Nell. He did kill that man. He told me it was self-defense, but you know as well as I do that no jury is going to believe him.”

  Nell Howard nodded. Ryder Fallon was a half-breed. No jury this side of the Missouri was likely to find him innocent when they learned he had killed a white man.

  It was almost an hour later when William Howard burst into the kitchen. “Let’s go, Jenny,” he cried, waving a handful of greenbacks.

  “You got it!” she exclaimed.

  Howard grinned. “The folks in this town think a lot of you and that man of yours. They came up with over two hundred dollars.”

  Ryder sat with his back against a tree, his hands and feet tightly bound, his thoughts dismal. Though he knew he’d been right to insist that Jenny stay behind, he couldn’t help wishing she was here with him now. At the moment, she was the only constant in a world suddenly turned upside down.

  Jenny… The last few months in the valley had been the happiest, most rewarding, of his life. She had taken a crude cabin and made it a home. She had taught him to laugh again, to have hope. She’d even taught him to dance. And late at night, alone in the privacy of their bed, she cocooned him in a world of love.

  And now he might never see her again.

  He wasn’t fool enough to think he’d get a fair trial, if he got a trial at all. If he was lucky, they’d hang him. While he wasn’t crazy about the idea of swinging from a rope, it beat spending the rest of his life behind bars.

  He swore softly as he stared into the flames of the campfire. Why now? he thought bitterly. For the first time in years, he had roots, a home, a woman who loved him. A woman he loved. Doing time in prison would never have been a picnic, but now, knowing what he’d left behind, what his life could have been like, prison would be sheer hell.