Passions Wild And Free

by Janelle Taylor

  “Thank you, Marsh,” she told him softly. Nearly always, most men didn’t like a woman being as good as or better than them at such skills. Yet, she had to be honest with him to prove she was capable of taking care of herself and any trouble they ran into. Just in case his masculine ego was stinging, she entreated, “Please teach me all you’ve learned. I know so little about tracking, and nothing about stealth. I don’t want my ignorance to get us into trouble. I said I would be your partner in all things, so you’ll have to help me keep that promise.”

  Marsh playfully cuffed her chin and said, “I’m glad you didn’t pretend to be a helpless female just to keep from stomping on my toes. I appreciate a talented person who isn’t cocky about his or her skills. You have confidence, Randee, and that’s as vital to survival as prowess.”

  “So is knowing one’s limits,” she remarked.

  As she turned to put away her weapons, Marsh inquired, “What are our limits, Randee?”

  Without looking back at him, she replied, “Knowing how far and how hard to press, and knowing when to back away. Despite what I said earlier and no matter how badly I want to defeat this gang, I don’t want us getting killed. Patience is hard and defeat can be bitter, but a person has to learn when to retreat, or to hold off, until he has the advantage over an enemy or a nasty situation. To enter a battle without at least having equal odds is foolish.”

  Marsh realized there was more behind her words than she revealed, just as there had rashly been more behind his question. Mercy, this woman had a quick and easy way of getting to him. If he didn’t practice patience and retreat, they could both be in deep trouble real soon! He ventured truthfully, “Sometimes there’s no getting around death, but I’ll protect us as best I can.”

  She faced him and replied, “I know you will; that’s why I chose you as my partner. I would like to make one request. If a moment arises when you can’t protect me without endangering your life, please don’t take any reckless chances to save me. I need you to finish this mission, or come as close to victory as possible.”

  “I’ll make that promise only if you’ll do the same.”

  Their gazes met in a searching, mutual appraisal. “That sounds fair and reasonable,” she answered hazily.

  “I want another promise,” he added. “Promise you won’t go after this gang if I get killed along the way. I don’t want you hiring another partner and taking more risks. Promise you’ll give it up.”

  “Would you give it up if I’m slain?” she questioned gravely.

  Marsh scowled, and Randee remarked, “Nor can I, Marsh, even if we both know you’re irreplaceable as a partner.”

  The ebony-haired man considered what that gang. would do to this woman if they were caught, and he frowned again. No, Randee, he thought, I won’t let you get killed or injured. If it gets too bad, I’ll have you jailed for your protection before I let them capture and harm you.

  Marsh grinned as he realized that was the same threat Brody Wade had used. Noting Randee’s inquisitive look, he chuckled and said, “Well, woman, it looks like we’re stuck with each other, so let’s make the best of it.”

  They packed their things, mounted, and rode away from the lovely place. Near Jacksboro, Marsh asked her to conceal herself while he rode into town to ask a few questions.

  “Why do I have to wait here? We’re partners, remember?”

  “I’m known around here. People will notice and remember a beautiful woman riding with the Durango Kid. If we’re seen together, word might spread and endanger our secret mission. You did say I could make cautious decisions like this one. I’ll be back soon.”

  “You’re right, this time,” she conceded. “Be careful, Marsh. Don’t let the Durango Kid get talked into a gunfight.”

  He smiled and nodded, then rode off into town.

  Randee dismounted and tied Rojo’s reins to a bush. She leaned against a small tree and waited apprehensively for Marsh’s return. She couldn’t help worrying about his legendary reputation, a challenge to other gunfighters. What if something happened to him? What if he confronted a faster draw? What if he was … slain?

  “I’ll kill you, Marsh Logan, if you get into any danger! You and I have some reckoning to do. I have to learn more about you. I have to have more time with you. Damn you, be extra careful.”

  Marsh was back in less than an hour. “What’s wrong?” she asked anxiously as she saw his dark expression.

  “Let’s ride, woman. Those bastards attacked nearby yesterday morning. They were right in this area, nearly under my nose! Dammit, I should have been there!”

  Randee mounted and said, “Even if you hadn’t been retrieving me, you probably wouldn’t have been in this area. Calm down and think.”

  Marsh glanced at her. “I’m not blaming you.”

  “And you shouldn’t blame yourself,” she chided softly.

  “I know, but they were so close for once!”

  They hurriedly rode to the ranch and studied the destruction left in the wake of another merciless attack. Townsfolk had been here to handle numerous burials and soldiers had been summoned to look for clues. Unfortunately, their inexperienced trampling over the area had destroyed any leads that might have existed. The odor of burned wood from a home and several barns still lingered in the air. Wisps of dying smoke could be seen heading skyward here and there. Fresh graves of various sizes were in sight. Savage death and wanton destruction were undeniable.

  Randee walked away from the horrid scene, one similar to what had occurred at the Carson Ranch. Tears dampened her eyes and she tried not to cry. She imagined the terror and anguish these people must have faced early Monday morning. When Marsh joined her, she murmured, “How can anyone be so cruel? We have to stop them, Marsh.”

  Randee was glad the man didn’t pull her into his arms for comfort. If he had, she would have burst into tears. Then, he would have thought her too fragile and vulnerable to. continue their task.

  Marsh wanted to comfort Randee, and to draw comfort from her. It had been weeks after the raid on his home before he had viewed the damage. This was the freshest site he had examined, and it impressed on him how terrible the attacks were. Yet, he couldn’t embrace Randee, because it was too dangerous.

  “Let’s ride to Fort Richardson and see what we can learn there.” He headed for his horse. When Randee didn’t move, he walked back to her and asked, “Are you all right?”

  “Yes and no,” she responded honestly. “But don’t worry. It only makes me more determined to carry out our mission.”

  They rode for Fort Richardson, arriving near the post in a short time. “I know,” she muttered, “wait here, Randee.”

  Marsh smiled and said, “Getting smarter by the hour, woman— if that’s possible. Hide over there, and try to get some rest.”

  “How can I relax when you’re taking all the risks?”

  “You’ll get your share of them soon enough, partner. We just need to be extra cautious in this area.”

  Inside the fort, Marsh met with a soldier whom he had known for years. The major asked, “What brings you here, old friend?”

  Marsh took a seat before the officer’s desk. “Just passing through, Jim, and heard about the attack. Any clues this time?”

  “Sorry, Marsh, but there weren’t any this time either. To tell you the truth, I’ve been seeking orders allowing us to go after that gang, but permission hasn’t come yet and I can’t explain why. Really wouldn’t matter; I don’t know where to look or even where to begin,” the officer admitted wryly. “Nobody knew a thing until noon yesterday, when a neighboring rancher went to pick up a breeding bull. It happened at dawn, so they couldn’t have put up much of a fight. I rode out there early this morning. Just got back, or I would have missed your visit. A terrible sight, Marsh, worse than at your parents’ ranch. Some of the bodies were burned with the house. Lordy, man, they shot down children and women, and butchered some of those folks. That gang comes and goes like ghosts, Marsh. I don’t have
any idea how to locate or stop them. What are you planning to do with your ranch?”

  Marsh knew the man was trying to get off the gory subject, so he let it pass for a time. “I haven’t decided yet. It’s a good spread, but I’m not a rancher.” Marsh knew he would never sell that land, but he didn’t want anyone to know that fact, in case someone suspicious came around asking to buy him out. So far, no one had.

  The officer asked, “Why don’t you come back to work for us, Marsh? We can always use scouts and guides and good soldiers, especially with those Indians acting up again. The Army knows what a good job you did with those Galvanized Yankees during the war, so they’d hire you without a second request.”

  Marsh recalled his days as the captain of a group of Southern prisoners who had spent their wartime captivity working out west for the Yankees: fighting Indians, protecting settlements and pioneers, building roads and forts, and defending the homes of other soldiers at war. He hadn’t been a Yankee, but he hadn’t wanted to fight against his country. Since he was a Southerner, the Army deal had suited him perfectly. That was only one of many jobs he had done since leaving home.

  As if Marsh was considering his offer, Jim eagerly continued, “The best place to look for work is in Indian Territory, probably at Fort Sill. They’ve been having big trouble there since those Comanches and Kiowas broke treaty. There was a bad incident Sunday morning just the other side of the Red River. The stage was attacked just a few miles inside the territory. Then, those redskins crossed into Texas and burned the home station. Far as we know, the men were killed and the women were taken captive. Some major from Fort Sill had a wife aboard; he’s in a rage. He’s got his men on their trail right now, but he can use a good scout and gunman. Most of the passengers and workers were from around Fort Worth and Wadesville. The Army’s already sent word to their kin through the sheriffs office.”

  That news struck Marsh Logan in two ways: relief in knowing Brody Wade would think Randee was gone forever, and sadness in knowing people had died because of differences between the Indians and the whites. At least this way, Brody wouldn’t be expecting to see or hear from Randee anytime soon. He decided not to share this news with his partner just yet; otherwise, she might want to contact Brody to relieve his worry.

  “I don’t want to get back into following orders and schedules again. I like moving around at will.” Meeting the officer’s gaze, Marsh asserted, “I’ve been considering the mounting rewards on the Epson Gang and might go after them, if I can round up some other men who can handle a gun and rough going. You heard of any other recent raids?”

  “Matter of fact, I have,” Jim revealed to his trusted friend. “A ranch near Wadesville on the eighteenth, owned by a man named Bill Sharp. We usually get all the reports, but we can’t do anything to halt the raids. I can give you the information I have in my drawer, but you might have competition for those rewards. A U.S. Marshal called Foley Timms was here Sunday before the raid, asking questions like you are. I saw him again early yesterday. He was heading south ‘cause somebody saw a large band of riders going that way. Don’t know who gave him the information, but he took off after them. He’s a fool to go alone. No reward is worth challenging that gang by yourself.”

  When Marsh finally rejoined Randee, she was pacing nervously. “What kept you so long, Marsh Logan? I’ve ‘ been worried like crazy. I was about to come looking for you. I thought you might need rescuing from their jail. I don’t like being left behind to worry.”

  Marsh grinned. “Would you really break a gunslinger out of jail?”

  “I would free my partner if at all possible. Did you learn anything?” she asked, eagerness shining brightly in her eyes.

  Marsh concealed the news about the stage and depot attacks, and what Brody must be thinking about now. He told her about the raid on Bill Sharp’s ranch, and she was stunned. He went on to relate news of Marshal Timm’s possible interference. “He’s heading south after them right this minute. If we hurry, we can catch up and pass him.”

  “If they attacked in Wadesville on the eighteenth and here on the twenty-first, that means they had to ride fast and hard and straight here. Sounds like a preplanned attack to me, not a random one.”

  “That’s my thinking too, Randee. Now, they’re heading back south because they know people will think they won’t return this soon.”

  “That’s exactly what I don’t believe, Marsh. That Marshal Foley Timms, he was in Wadesville on the seventeenth. He brought a prisoner to the jail while Brody and I were having our picnic.”

  “What does your romantic picnic have to do with the marshal and this mission?” he asked, jealousy briefly clouding his wits.

  “Not with Brody and the picnic, Marsh! Foley Timms was in Wadesville the night before Bill Sharp’s ranch was attacked. Now, he’s in Jacksboro the night before this attack. Don’t you see? A U.S. Marshal goes anywhere, everywhere, without suspicion. He knows the territory; he can learn about the people. He makes a perfect spy.”

  Marsh contemplated her speculations and said, “You could have something there, Randee. I’ve never heard of this marshal before, but he could be new on the job.”

  “If he’s involved, that means the gang headed north or east or west, but not south like he wants everyone to believe. But even if he’s not working with them, he wouldn’t give away their destination if he’s after those rewards or sheer glory. I say we put his name on our list of suspicious people near raids. If he keeps showing up …”

  “You’re a clever vixen, Randee Hollis. I’m glad I took up with you. Anything else, partner?” he said earnestly.

  “Not yet,” she commented reluctantly. She wanted to reveal the other information in her possession, but it was too soon. She needed more time with Marsh before sharing all with him. “I do have one question. If no one knows who’s in that band, why is it called the Epson Gang?” she queried.

  “My home was their first attack, but raids near the town of Epson were the first time that wild bunch was given a name for reports and identification. I’m afraid it doesn’t hold any clues for us.”

  “What about members of the gang, Marsh? I saw arms and hands before I was locked in the attic. One man is black, and at least two others are Indians. I would guess Apache from their garments.”

  “That’s a big help, Randee. But we shouldn’t reveal those facts to the authorities just yet. If those three men go into hiding, we won’t be able to use them to lead us to other gang members.”

  “I know. That’s why I haven’t mentioned it before to anyone. They’re our only leads, so we can’t alert them to their peril. I also remember horses, and mannerisms, and voices. That’s why I wanted to get started on this search quickly, because memories dull.”

  “You also have to be along to identify those men.”

  “That’s right. Only I can recognize those clues. When I hear those voices again, I’ll know those men. And I never forget a horse.”

  Marsh trusted her conclusions and skills. “I’m going to accept your instinct about Timms and the direction of those raiders. Since we don’t know where to head, let’s follow through with our initial plan from this morning. South westward, with stops along the way.”

  Randee smiled happily. “Thanks, Marsh, that means a lot to me. I’m glad we’re learning to trust each other and work together so easily— and to depend on each other.”

  They rode for hours, checking out any site that came across their path before dark. At each brief stop, Marsh instructed her on how to gather clues and on tracking skills. They were both tired and hungry when they made camp near the ruins of Fort Belknap, a post near the Brazos River, which had been abandoned in 1867. Before the war, it had been one of the largest posts in north Texas. A few of the structures still remained intact, but in disrepair.

  “We’ll spend the night here, Randee. I want to look around in the morning to see if the gang has used this old post for a hide-out or meeting point. But right now, let’s find the cookhouse and pr
epare us a real supper tonight.” He headed for the dilapidated building.

  Before long, he had a fire going in the stove left behind, and had freshly made biscuits cooking. He pulled a cloth-wrapped package from his saddlebag and grinned. “How does fried chicken sound? All we need to do is warm it. I bought it in town earlier today.” He waved it beneath her nose and chuckled when she rolled her eyes dreamily. He set it on the newly scrubbed table. “I was hoping I wouldn’t need my canteen, because it’s filled with peas flavored with tiny bits of ham. Then, we have these boiled potatoes, if they aren’t squashed.”

  Randee watched him pour the peas into a pot and set them on the rusting stove. She eyed the slightly damaged potatoes and laughed. “You are wonderful, Marsh Logan. How will I ever equal this?”

  “I hope you can’t. I need to stay ahead in some area. My damn pride demands it,” he jested. “Why don’t you make coffee, and later you can wash the dishes?”

  “Sounds more than fair to me,” she replied merrily.

  They devoured the entire meal with great delight. Afterwards, Randee cleared the table and did the dishes. Marsh made certain the fire was out, as the buildings were old and would burn rapidly if a spark ignited them.

  Marsh informed her, “If we were sneaking around, you’d need to remove anything on your clothing that makes noise, like jewelry or spurs or weapons. You even have to be careful of pants material rubbing together between your thighs, and your garments catching on nails and bushes. And you have to make certain your boots don’t scrape on floors or rocks. Even your breathing and scent can give you away. When you’re being stealthy, watch sudden or rapid moves from place to place; they’re noticed quickly by a lookout, especially an Indian scout.”

  “What do you do if you have to crawl on your belly over rough terrain?” she inquired to prolong their genial talk.