Blaze of Lightning Roar of Thunder

by Helen A Rosburg

  Gathering up the reins, he swung back into the saddle and kicked her into a lope. A quick look back over his shoulder assured him he’d turned out another expertly trained mount. The gelding remained where he was, only his erect and expressive ears indicating his interest in their departure. Otherwise, he didn’t move a muscle. Ring turned his attention back to the little farmstead.

  Carrie looked up from the horse she was grooming when she heard the sound of hoofbeats. The shadow of a smile touched the corners of her mouth and her heart lightened a little, recognizing the familiar lean and lanky form occupying the saddle. She untied the gelding she’d been working on, removed his halter, and let the horse rejoin his corralmates. She went out through the gate and awaited her company, halter and lead rope hung on her left arm.

  Ring slowed when he watched Carrie leave the corral, mindful of the dust cloud he brought with him. He removed his hat, holding it to his chest, as he walked Duchess in her direction. His heart did that funny little squeeze thing when he saw the faint but pretty smile on her lips. But his spirits fell when he remembered what he had to tell her.

  “Hello, Ring,” Carrie said in greeting. “Any news?”

  His heart dropped to his feet. Repositioning his hat on his head, he climbed off of Duchess and stood in front of Carrie looking her directly in the eye. Slowly, he nodded. He kept his expression rigidly sober so she would not, even for an instant, get her hopes up. It saddened him when he watched the tiny smile fade away entirely.

  “They lost the trail, Carrie,” Ring said at last.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Her lower lip quivered, and she quickly brought a hand to her mouth to stifle it. She turned away.

  “No … no idea at all where he might have headed,” she managed at last.

  “North is all. At least, that’s where he was headed when they lost him. He could be anywhere now.”

  Still staring into the distance, Carrie nodded.

  “Someone’ll catch up with ’im sooner or later.” Ring tried to sound comforting, but his words sounded merely empty. “Sheriff made up a Wanted poster, dead or alive,” he tried again. “Raised a five-hundred-dollar bounty already. Your parents were … were real well liked, Carrie.”

  Another brief nod.

  “Sandy, Rowdy, and me, we … we, uh, put in a few dollars.”

  Carrie turned finally. Tears sparkled at the corners of her eyes. “Thank you, Ring,” she breathed.

  He firmed his lips, dipped his chin, and looked away himself. Why was this so hard?

  “Would you … would you like to come in? I could make some coffee.”

  Ring almost accepted before he caught himself. “Mebbe in awhile. Carrie, I … I got a surprise for you. Somethin’ I thought might cheer you up a mite.”

  Ring was rewarded with a return of her half smile and a slight widening of her eyes. Reddish brows arched.

  “A surprise? For me?”

  “Sure. Why not?” Ring felt his own smile trying to break out.

  “Well …” Carrie tried to look around behind him, as if he might be hiding something in his back pocket. A smile emerged full blown.

  “Nothin’s back there ’cept my sorry, skinny backside,” Ring teased.

  “Then where?”

  Her nose wrinkled when she smiled that wide. Ring put two fingers to his lips and whistled.

  Carrie’s piquant features molded into an expression of surprise. A fraction of a second later, she heard the familiar sound. Even more puzzled, she turned into the direction it seemed to come from. Her jaw dropped.

  The gelding cantered lazily, but steadily, lead rope dragging. Nearing the pair, he dropped into a trot, halting directly in front of Ring.

  “Oh, my … my gosh,” Carrie whispered. “He’s beautiful. I’ve never … never seen one like him before.”

  “He’s called a pelouse.” Ring patted the horse’s white neck, and ran his palm over the animal’s back to his spotted hindquarters. “The Nez Perce breed ’em, and I … I’ve taken a liking to them.”

  “I can see why.” Moving to the other side of the horse, Carrie ran her hands over his compact, muscular body. Suddenly, she looked up sharply. “This … this isn’t the surprise, is it?”

  “Sure is.” Ring grinned. “Like ’im?”

  Carrie’s mouth opened, but no words emerged. She was speechless.

  “Well? Do you?”

  The tears reappeared. “You can’t mean it,” Carrie said, voice barely audible.

  “I sure as heck don’t know why not. I’m a horse trader, got plenty of ’em, and can do whatever I like with ’em, I guess.”

  Carrie shook her head slowly. “I … I don’t think I can accept a gift like this, Ring. I … it’s too much.”

  “Too much of what?” Ring’s expression abruptly sobered. Though he tried real hard not to, he couldn’t help remembering another girl, another spotted horse, and a part of him that still hurt. “Too much money? Too much friendliness?” He was sorry as soon as the words were out. But it was too late. He gazed down bleakly at Carrie.

  Carrie started to protest, but shut her mouth. Something in Ring’s eyes, a fleeting shadow perhaps, tugged at her heart. Then she saw the pain there, and the immediate attempt to cover it up. Barely aware of what she was doing, she laid a hand on his arm.

  “It’s just that no one’s ever been this nice to me before, Ring,” she said softly. “I guess I just don’t know what to say. Or what to do, for that matter.”

  Ring glanced at the slender hand touching his arm. Before she could pull away, he covered her long, slim fingers with his calloused palm.

  “My suggestion,” he said gently, “would be to take the horse. I put some time into him. For you, Carrie.”

  There. He’d said it. It was out. Cringing inwardly, he tried not to envision a girl with long, black hair. And tried not to imagine what it would feel like when Carrie pulled her hand away and firmly turned down his gift.

  She did neither. Rather, Carrie became hyperaware of the hard slope of muscle in Ring’s upper arm, and the clean man scent of him, saddle leather and soap. Feeling a little breathless, she dropped her hand and broke the contact only reluctantly. She took a step away from him, and smiled.

  “I think the first thing I should do is say ‘thank you.’ Then I can take the horse.”

  Ring let out the long exhalation of relief before he could stop himself. There was a moment of embarrassed silence, then both of them burst out laughing.

  “Say, you … you think you’d like to go for a ride? Try out your new horse?”

  “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”

  It was true. She couldn’t. Or, at least, she thought she couldn’t. Until Ring took her hand.

  “Come on. I’ll help you tack ’im up.”

  Side by side, still holding hands, they led their horses toward the corral.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  AFTERNOON SUNLIGHT SLANTING THROUGH THE DIRTY window warmed a spot on the wood-planked floor. Blaze thought she could see the faint, dusty imprint of a boot heel. She concentrated on it. Tried to find its form and shape and lose herself in it. Only for a moment. Only until her blood stopped boiling. She kept her eyes on the floor when the sheriff’s voice drilled into her head again.

  “Frankly, I’m reluctant to talk to you at all. Maybe it’d be best if you just kept on moving.”

  Blaze didn’t dare look at Bane. She shifted her gaze to the window. Heard him take a long, slow breath. Then the rustle of paper.

  “These men are wanted,” Bane said calmly. “Dead. Or alive.”

  Blaze’s eyes flickered. In the periphery of her vision she saw Bane holding the Wanted notice. The bottom half of it was crumpled in his white-knuckled fist.

  “And if you and your … squaw woman go after ’em, they’ll be dead fer sure.”

  The fury in Blaze uncoiled. She whipped around to face the short, portly sheriff with the ridiculous bald spot behind a short fringe of bangs.
If it weren’t for the heat of her anger, she might have laughed.

  “I’m Mexican, Sheriff,” she said tightly.

  He didn’t acknowledge her statement in the slightest way. Neither did Bane. But she saw a familiar tic jump.

  “If it is not acceptable to bring these men in dead, then you should not publicize it so widely,” Bane continued smoothly. He laid the notice carefully on the sheriff’s desktop and smoothed it flat again. “I found this posted almost sixty miles from here. It was one of many I have seen.”

  The sheriff looked away and nervously licked his lips. “All I’m sayin’ is … you got a reputation, y’know?”

  “Yes, we know.” Bane glanced briefly at Blaze. “A reputation for bringing to an end the crime sprees of some very bad men.”

  The sheriff cleared his throat. “Well, now, I’ll … I’ll admit that’s true.”

  As the sheriff rubbed his chin, Bane stabbed his finger on the notice six times. “These six men have robbed white settlers.”

  The sheriff nodded once, wary.

  “And peaceful Sioux camped around Fort Laramie.”

  No response.

  “They’ve raped white women. And Indian women.” A brief half nod.

  “They’ve killed many men. They’ve killed some of the women they … tortured first.”

  Although he remained silent, the sheriff’s eyes were wide and round.

  “Some of the women whose breasts they cut off.”

  “Those were Inj—” The sheriff swallowed his word. A ripe, red blush crept up his neck all the way to the surrounded bald spot on the top of his head.

  Bane gave no indication he had heard, or could see, the short, fat man.

  “They even killed an entire family, including the children. A white family. And the little girl … they raped her, too.”

  The sheriff finally had the grace to look away, rubbing his chin vigorously.

  “And yet you care about the lives of these men. You do not wish us to kill them, if that is the only way we can bring them in.”

  “It ain’t that!” the sheriff exclaimed suddenly. “It’s just … it’s just … you—”

  “Have a reputation. Yes.” Bane rose, elegantly. He placed his palm flat on the notice and looked the sheriff straight in the eye. “Just one more thing.”

  Blaze watched the man’s Adam’s apple bob. She finally allowed the smile to creep onto her lips.

  “Has anyone ever given you a description of any of these men?”

  Blaze could see how intimidated the sheriff was with Bane now towering over him. He appeared a great deal more cooperative and eager to please.

  “General … uh, just general descriptions, you know. Big men. One has a belly.” He attempted a smile that quickly faded. “Dark. Unshaven. Dirty.”

  “Could be any male in this …” Blaze paused to look pointedly out the window, “this … town.”

  The sheriff’s features melted into an expression of derisive disdain even as he turned in Blaze’s direction. Bane slammed his palm down on the desktop. The little man’s head nearly swiveled off his neck.

  “Did one of them have a scar?”

  “A … a scar,” the sheriff stuttered, voice cracking.

  “No. No, not that I heard tell.”

  It was time to leave. Blaze rose, intentionally knocking her chair with the backs of her thighs. She enjoyed watching the sheriff jump when it clattered to the floor. She wheeled and strode toward the door, comforted and buoyed when she heard Bane’s familiar step right behind her. Throwing open the door, she walked out into the sunlight of the waning day.

  They untied their horses from the hitching rail and swung into the saddles almost simultaneously. It was with grim satisfaction Blaze noticed the stares as they passed along the street, headed out of town. If Bane noticed he gave no sign. He waited until the horses had been walked long enough to limber them up, then kicked his black into a lope. Lonesome was only a step behind, no signal from his rider necessary.

  Side by side, they left the town behind.

  A blazing sunset caught the rim of the world on fire, bringing sweet closure to the end of a long, but perfect day. Ring plopped down on the front porch steps and hung his arms loosely over his knees. Carrie sat down beside him, her hip just touching his. Normally, he would have glanced her way with a smile. But his gaze remained on the fading colors on the horizon. Nervousness edged into the pit of her stomach.

  “Thanks again for all your help today, Ring,” Carrie said, testing the temperature of the water that suddenly seemed to have changed.

  He looked her way at last. “Thanks for a mighty fine dinner.”

  “Want me to set the coffee on now?”

  “Uh …”

  As Ring pushed to his feet, Carrie’s stomach plummeted. She watched him scrape the stubble on his chin with the heel of his hand.

  “What is it, Ring?” she found the courage to ask at last. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s … wrong.” Ring took his hat off and fingered the brim. He looked off toward the horse corrals. “You got a few nice head. Oughta be able to sell ’em, no problem, when the buyers come around next.”

  Carrie nodded slowly. “Yeeeeesssss. But they’re nice mainly due to you. You have a way with them, Ring.”

  He shrugged, the gesture pure modesty. His fingers made another trip around his hat brim. Carrie pushed to her feet and walked to his side.

  “Ring,” she said softly. “I thought we were friends. Please tell me what’s wrong … what you’re thinking.”

  He seemed all at once to make up his mind.

  “Yeah, Carrie, we are friends. That’s the problem.”

  Ring turned on his heel and strode off to the nearest corral, leaning his arms on the top rail. Carrie hurried to join him.

  “What on earth do you mean, Ring Crossman?”

  He rubbed his chin again, then sighed, long and deeply.

  “I got t’get goin’, Carrie. It’s time to move on. My herd needs t’be in Laramie before the summer gets any older.”

  It was what she had feared. And it was what she had planned for. Carrie took a deep breath.

  “Is that really what you want to do, Ring?”

  “Do?” His brows arched, an expression of genuine puzzlement creasing his features. “Horses are what I do. What do you mean?”

  “There are lots of things you can do with horses, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Ring scratched his head, then pulled his shoulder-length hair back in a fist, as if he was going to tie it in a ponytail. “Buy ’em, trade ’em, train ’em, sell ’em.”

  Carrie rewarded him with only the faintest of smiles. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

  “It’s not?”

  He looked so honestly mystified Carrie’s smile widened in spite of her best intentions. “Oh, come on, Ring. Don’t make me have to do this.”

  Ring hooked a finger inside his shirt collar and tugged at it, as if it were too tight. “Uh, do what?”

  Carrie heaved a sigh of exasperation. “Do you always have to be on the road? Do you always have to move around to sell your horses?”

  His lips parted. Carrie could almost see the gears turning in his head.

  “We’ve been doing good work here together on the farm,” she barged on. “We make a good team, Ring. And we’re pretty close to Laramie. We could have a major stage depot.” High color stained Carrie’s cheeks, and her words increased in volume and tempo. “We could sell a lot of horses to the settlers passing through Laramie, not just the stage lines. Other deports, too. We could supply everyone ’round these parts. And, anyway, I’ve needed the help since … since I’m all alone here now.” Carrie gave him a moment to let that thought sink in, then hit him with her best shot. “Besides, what if … what if the man with the scar—”

  Ring grabbed her shoulders so abruptly and firmly it startled her.

  “Don’t even think it, Carrie. He’s a hundred miles from here by now.”<
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  “But what if he isn’t?” she breathed. An involuntary shiver took her by surprise. She watched the effect of the tremor work its way into Ring’s expression. Hope ignited in her breast.

  “Are you … are you scared, Carrie?”

  Scared? Yes. Scared Ring was going to leave.

  She nodded. Slowly. With his hands already on her shoulders, it was an easy thing to cup his face in her palms. She stood up on tiptoe and, heart racing, pressed her lips to his.

  When she felt his arms slide around her back and his lean, hard body mold to hers, she had a feeling he was considering her idea.

  Blaze lay back, head against her saddle, and chewed on a piece of jerky. There could be no fire tonight. Despite the sheriff’s reluctance to recognize them as legitimate bounty hunters, they were on the hunt.

  “Even if we bring them in,” Blaze began, playing the devil’s advocate, “the sheriff might refuse us the bounty.”

  “He won’t if we bring them in alive.”

  “What if we bring them in dead?”

  Bane shrugged. “They need killing. But we don’t need the bounty.” He purposely let his gaze linger on Blaze’s saddle. She shifted against it.

  “You have a plan, don’t you?”

  He turned away, silent. But Blaze knew him too well.

  In a moment, Bane stooped and picked up a fallen tree branch. He snapped it in half over one knee, then pulled his knife from its sheath and began whittling.

  He was good with a knife, Blaze mused. Damn good. But bad with answers. The one she awaited didn’t come ’til several long moments later.

  “I have a plan,” Bane admitted finally.

  The tension in his body was so subtle, no one else would have noticed. Blaze leaned up on one elbow, away from the saddle, and pushed to her feet. Bane continued to whittle.

  “Are you going to tell me what it is?”

  More minutes ticked away. Bane eventually quit whittling and dropped his hands to his sides. Though she heard no sound, Blaze saw the barely perceptible rise and fall of his shoulders as he drew a long breath and released it.