Flint Hills Bride

by Cassandra Austin

  “Jake?” she breathed.

  When she crested the rise, she realized the horse was coming toward her at a run. Alarm cut through her. What would make Jake push his mount that way? She drew up, looking around for someplace for her and Jake to take a stand against whatever hounds of hell were after him.

  It wasn’t until the horse was almost upon her that she studied the rider. She had been so sure she recognized the horse that she hadn’t noticed that the coat and hat were too pale to be Jake’s. She recognized the rider only a moment before he pulled up beside her.

  “Emily.” He was breathing hard and it took him a moment to say anything more. “This is quite a surprise.”

  To be confronted with Anson now when she was expecting Jake nearly knocked the wind out of her lungs. Truth to tell, he was the last person she wanted to meet. And he was riding Jake’s horse! Terror washed over her. Where was Jake?

  She tried to get the question past her clogged throat Anson’s presence was of course the reason Jake had left her. How could she have thought he had abandoned her? Jake had always been there for her, even when she was a little girl. And now he might be dead!

  Anson glanced over his shoulder, and Emily realized the drumming she had taken to be her pounding heart was really an approaching horse. Anson grabbed Emily’s reins out of her hands. He drew her horse close to his and wrapped the reins around his saddle horn.

  “Do exactly what I tell you,” he said, closing his fingers tightly around her arm. “You can explain how you got here, later.”

  Jake came to an earth-plowing halt several feet away.

  “Damned if it isn’t the deputy from the train.” Emily could see Anson had a pistol drawn, half-concealed in his coat.

  “Let her go, Berkeley.”

  Berkeley laughed. “You don’t understand. She may be an old friend of yours, but she’s my woman. I left her behind to delay you. Not that I think much of the job she did.”

  She wanted to warn Jake that Berkeley had a gun. The warning might be enough to make Berkeley fire it, though. Not knowing what would be the best thing to do, she sat still, nearly frozen in terror as Anson’s fingers dug into her arm.

  “Get off the horse, Deputy,” Anson said. When Jake hesitated, he brought the gun up into view. Jake dismounted. “Now show me how far you can throw your gun.”

  Emily saw Jake hesitate again. Slowly he withdrew his pistol and tossed it aside.

  “Emily,” Anson said, releasing her arm to return her reins. “Ride over and bring his horse back.”

  Emily kneed the gelding forward, wondering if there was some way she could help Jake, something she wasn’t seeing. Her eyes met Jake’s, but if he gave her any kind of signal, she didn’t understand it. Please God, don’t let Anson shoot him.

  She rode back to Anson, the horse in tow, and he motioned her to keep going. She didn’t want to leave Jake, but anything she might do could make matters worse. She didn’t go but a few feet before she turned in the saddle. “Come on, Anson,” she called. “Just leave him out here.”

  Anson glanced toward her, grinning. He wheeled his horse, his pistol still in hand, and rode toward her. She kicked her mount forward, hoping he would fall in beside her. To her relief, he did. After a few yards, she let the reins to Jake’s mount slip from her grasp.

  Anson saw it immediately and turned back, catching the horse easily. Foolish animal should have run back the way it had come, she thought.

  It was probably better that Anson thought she was glad to be with him again, though that would take considerable acting. She couldn’t even remember what she had ever seen in him.

  She was afraid to turn and look back at Jake for fear she’d give herself away to Anson. Leaving Jake afoot, in the cold, in the middle of nowhere was horrible. But not so horrible as leaving him dead.

  Jake watched them ride away, frustration nearly overwhelming him. In spite of what she had said, he knew Emily didn’t want to go with Berkeley. It didn’t matter if she did, he realized. He would go after them anyway. She was his wife, and he felt a surprising wave of possessiveness.

  They had started off in the general direction of Council Grove, though he doubted if that was where they were actually headed. After he retrieved his pistol from the ground and wiped it carefully with his handkerchief, he started after them.

  He had gone only a short ways when he heard pounding hooves behind him. In a moment the sheriff pulled a huge mule to a halt beside him.

  “Where in the hell’s my horse?” the sheriff demanded.

  “Berkeley took it.”

  “You let him have my horse?” The sheriff threw himself off the mule and stepped toward Jake, one fist raised.

  Jake took an involuntary step backward. “He had Emily,” he said.

  The sheriff let his fist drop. “Ah, hell,” he muttered. After a deep sigh, he suggested, “Let me give you a lift back to town, and we can raise a posse.”

  Jake shook his head. “I’ll accept the ride but no posse. I’m going after them alone.”

  Emily and Anson rode for several minutes before Anson veered to the north. In the shelter of a few trees along a creek, he dismounted. “You gotta give me a hand,” he said, tying the mare and Jake’s borrowed horse to a tree branch. He sat down near the bank of the little stream.

  Emily dismounted and tied the gelding. “What’s wrong?” she asked as she joined him.

  Anson opened his coat to reveal his bloodied shirt beneath.

  Emily took one look and felt the bile rise to her throat.

  “Tie this up a little better,” he said. His voice sounded as if it came from a great distance. Emily turned and staggered away a few steps and retched. She stood, doubled over, waiting for her head to stop spinning.

  “Damn it, baby. I need your help!”

  “Yes,” she managed to say. “Yes, I’m sorry. Give me a minute.”

  She heard his muttered curse and slowly straightened. She tossed the hood off her cloak, letting the cold air hit her clammy brow. Her head seemed to have cleared, but her stomach still churned. She tried to imagine touching Anson’s bloody shirt and doubled over, retching again.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” grumbled Anson. “You’re useless.”

  She heard him return to the horses. She wondered if he would leave her if she simply remained standing where she was.

  “Get on your horse,” he demanded. “We’ll find someone who can help me.”

  Emily stumbled toward the gelding, casting Anson the quickest of glances. She was glad to see that he had closed his coat. In a moment they were riding off across the prairie again.

  Emily wasn’t usually squeamish about blood. Of course she had never been confronted with so much of it. She felt faint just thinking about it. She tried to turn her thoughts to other things. Like worry over Jake.

  “The old lady put a bandage on me while her husband held me at gunpoint,” Anson said. “Crazy old fools. I was bleeding like a fountain, and they told the boy to get the sheriff. Sheriff! Hell, you’d think they’d be going after a doctor.”

  Emily felt her head spin. She doubted if there was anything left in her stomach to lose. She wanted to tell him to talk about something else, but she didn’t want to talk to him at all.

  “A man would think his woman would ask how he came to be bleeding like this.”

  “Please, Anson.” There was a real danger of her fainting and falling off her horse. She put her head down to the gelding’s mane and closed her eyes.

  He laughed. “It really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

  She turned her head enough to glare at him.

  “I’m sorry, baby.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. “It’s not really that bad. I’ll pull through. The old lady did wrap me up, and I think it’s mostly stopped bleeding. Here, see?”

  She turned her head away, fighting nausea.

  He laughed then turned his attention elsewhere, in a lighthearted mood now that he had ridiculed her weakness. She didn’t care. Just
as long as he left her alone.

  The day was warming considerably, and Emily realized that the snow that had made tracking so easy for her was in danger of melting. Jake might be afoot now, but he wouldn’t stay that way for long. As soon as he could, he would come after her. But first he would have to get a horse, and by then, the trail through the snow would be gone.

  She hung back as much as she felt was safe without rousing Anson’s suspicions and, remaining hunched over the horse’s neck, she tugged at the hem of her riding skirt. The darned thing wouldn’t tear.

  There were no petticoats under it. Her drawers were short enough she couldn’t reach them. Her blouse would surely tear easily, but she might have trouble explaining how it came to be torn. Deciding on her reticule, she reached inside her cloak and untied it from her waist.

  “What’s keeping you?”

  Anson was turned in the saddle, glaring at her. She hadn’t realized how far she had lagged behind. She sneezed noisily, then quickly searched her bag for her handkerchief. He turned away in disgust.

  Keeping the handkerchief handy in case he turned again, Emily fingered the items in her bag. What should be the first to mark the trail?

  Her choice had barely left her fingers before Anson reined in beside her. “You should be in Denver by now,” he said. “Tell me why you’re out here instead.”

  “Well,” she began, thinking fast. “I couldn’t keep Jake on the train.”

  “Yes. Jake, your old friend.”

  She ignored the sarcasm in his tone. “He got the engineer to stop the train and walked back to Americus. Well, we walked back. I got off, too.”

  “And why did you do that?” There was a definite ring of suspicion in his voice.

  “He was going after you, Anson. I went along to slow him down.”

  “And how did you accomplish this?”

  “Let’s see. I got a blister on my foot. But that wasn’t intentional. He kept trying to send me back, but I always went after him.” She hoped a note of fondness hadn’t slipped into her voice at the last. It was going to be hard to deceive Anson when her love for Jake was so new.

  But her life and Jake’s might depend on Anson trusting her. She had to make it real. “It’s been a horrible few days, Anson. I don’t know why he took off this morning. I thought he had finally given me the slip. I was afraid of what would happen if he found you.” The last was true, at least, though not the way she wanted Anson to think.

  Anson was quiet for several minutes, during which time Emily wanted to drop something else on the trail but didn’t dare.

  Finally Anson spoke. “I appreciate you keeping the deputy busy.” She tried to ignore the insinuation in his voice. The bastard actually thought she had slept with Jake to save him. “But it occurs to me. Now, you’re slowing me down.”

  He kicked the mare to a faster pace, drawing a snort of protest from the horse he was leading. Emily dropped a coin before catching up.

  The sheriff arranged for a horse while Jake bought a few supplies. Before noon, he rode out, heading somewhat west of the southwest route to Reeveses’ farm. On their way into town, Jake and the sheriff had seen where the three horses had turned north. Now, he hoped to find Anson’s trail without backtracking all the way to where the two trails diverged.

  By the time he had been two hours on the open prairie, he began to wonder if it had been a poor gamble. The snow, which had left such a clear trail earlier, was gone and the ground, though soft now, might still have been frozen when the pair passed.

  Jake was considering the possibility of heading back toward familiar ground to pick up their trail where they had parted, when he saw the sun glint off something in the distance. He rode toward it, losing it for a moment when the sun went behind a cloud.

  He dismounted at the spot and picked up the picture of Anson Berkeley. He nearly laughed aloud as he tucked the picture into a pocket.

  “Thanks, Emily,” he said, searching the ground for other indications that they had passed. When he was sure of their direction, he swung into the saddle, following confidently behind.

  Chapter Fifteen

  By noon Emily was longing to stop. She had had only water from the canteen since her wedding dinner the evening before. She knew in another couple hours fatigue would make it difficult to stay in the saddle even if she weren’t starving.

  She wished, besides, that she had spread her coins a little more thinly. Soon she might have to drop the reticule itself. If she could have a moment of privacy, she could tear some undergarment to ribbons and hide the pieces in her reticule for future distribution.

  Perhaps she could simply stop. Would he leave her? Or come looking for her at an inopportune time? It was worth a try. She pulled the gelding to a stop and dismounted. She wished she had food in the bag but knew there wasn’t so much as a crumb.

  She watched Anson, hoping he would drop out of sight over the next hill. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder and turned the mare back.

  “What is the problem now?”

  “I need to stop,” she said, searching for an excuse.

  “There’s nothing here. Why would we want to stop?”

  “I have to…take care of nature.”

  “I should leave you behind. Let you slow that deputy down if he’s following.”

  She watched him for a moment, wondering if he was serious. She didn’t want him to know how much she would welcome the prospect.

  After a moment, he dismounted. “Well, get on with it. I’ll hold your horse.”

  The tops of a couple of straggly bushes were just visible where the ground dropped away a little to her left. She hoped the ravine itself would offer more protection than the bushes promised. With a determined stride, she walked toward it.

  It wasn’t as deep as she had hoped. She removed her cloak and hung it on a bush, enhancing her screen. Working quickly in the cold, she ripped the ruffles off her drawers, and tore away the hem of her blouse. When she had them in six-inch lengths she stuffed them into her reticule. Deciding that Anson wouldn’t let her stop again, she quickly emptied her bladder.

  As soon as possible, she threw her cloak around her shoulders and climbed out of the ravine, shivering inside. She was now cold, and hungry and tired.

  Anson had been busy while she was gone. He had lowered the stirrups on her bay gelding to fit his longer legs and shortened them on the black he had taken from Jake. “Mount up,” he ordered, handing the black’s reins to her.

  “That’s my horse,” she said, pointing to the bay as he swung into the saddle.

  “Yeah? Well, I’m riding him.” He started away, leading the white mare.

  Emily struggled to mount the taller horse. She was forced to run him to catch up with Anson. There was no question about being left behind, now. She wanted her horse.

  “When are we stopping to eat?” she asked.

  “When we find some place to stop. How should I know when that’ll be?”

  “There.” She pointed to the right toward the horizon. “Smoke.”

  “So it is.” He reined his horse—her horse toward the column of smoke.

  As soon as he was well ahead of her, she drew one of the ruffle pieces from her reticule and let it flutter to the ground.

  As they came over the hill and got their first view of the ranch house below, Emily was struck by its familiarity. This was the Kinney ranch where Jake had gotten the map. The ranch with the four big sons.

  And Anson hadn’t been there.

  “I hope we’re not too late for dinner,” she said brightly. “I’m starved.”

  Anson pulled his horse to a stop and watched the house.

  “What are we waiting for?” she asked.

  He spared her barely a glance, his attention on the yard. The figure of a man left the house and walked toward the barn. He was followed in a moment by a second, then a third.

  As Emily watched Anson’s profile her heart sank. He was being too cautious. When he turned his mount away from the
ranch, she pretended not to understand. “Why aren’t we stopping? We need to eat and someone should look at your…wound.”

  She wished she hadn’t mentioned it. It brought the bloody image to her mind. She felt a little dizzy.

  “It’s because of the wound, I can’t stop. They could get too curious.”

  “But we have to stop someplace.”

  “Yeah. But not here. They’ve got a whole army working for them.”

  The “army” didn’t work there, they lived there. And most of them were only boys. But she wasn’t about to correct him. If he knew she had been there and was eager to return, he would be even more inclined to distrust her.

  It was midafternoon when the trail of coins and ruffles led Jake to the hill above the Kinney ranch. He could see where the horses stopped for a time and turned away, bypassing the ranch. After a moment of hesitation, Jake rode down the hill to talk to Kinney.

  Twenty minutes later he was back on the hillside, picking up their trail. He had a small sack of food tied to the saddle horn but little new information. Kinney and two of his boys had seen riders on the hilltop, but they hadn’t come in. The Kinneys had thought it seemed odd at the time, but had soon forgotten about them.

  The Kinneys had placed the sighting at shortly after the family had finished their noon meal. That put them about two hours ahead of Jake. He was definitely gaining on them.

  Berkeley was wounded, and Emily was no doubt exhausted by now. They were traveling more slowly than he was. But they also had a spare horse. His own was in danger of being pushed beyond its limits.

  But his worry for Emily made it difficult to pace the animal. He knew how tired she became in the afternoon. He remembered holding her in front of him while he rode, letting her sleep. Would Berkeley do the same for her? He didn’t know whether to be more upset at the thought that he would, or that he wouldn’t.