“You go on home and do your chores. We’ll see ya in a little while.” Pa started to turn the bay, probably thinking that without Nate as a distraction, he could now get some work out of his deputy.
“But I wanna go,” Nate blurted out, feeling gamy. He could do his stupid chores later.
Ma napped so much lately that she was probably asleep right now with Elizabeth, so he would be bored. Plus, he figured to ask her about Birch Creek when she was good and tired, at the end of the day when she was apt to say yes because she didn’t want to be bothered with his pestering.
“Why not let him come? It’s a homestead family … not exactly armed bank robbers.” Jesse was figuring no harm would befall Nate. That slouched manner in the saddle definitely conveyed a no-worry attitude.
Pa gave him one of those hard looks, eyes narrowed, and Jesse straightened. “I don’t need it explained to me.” He was absolutely in a bad mood. It wasn’t like him to just snap for no real reason.
Nate and Jesse exchanged that we-better-be-quiet look they gave one another when Pa was grouchy. He and Jesse had been working overtime lately. Word had come from a sheriff in another town that several young women in the area between had been stolen. That territory spread over four hundred miles across mountains, canyons, and grassy plateaus—too many hiding spots. Endless trails could be cut in any direction. Nate knew that from his days on the run with his father, who was in prison. No sign of those women, and Pa and Jesse had been looking from the time the sun came up until it fell asleep. Likely, that was another reason Pa wanted to check out these new folks—to warn them or see if they were involved.
Nate recalled those hellish days before he had become Nathanial Crosson, when he’d followed after Deegan Jones, a smuggler who had specialized in stealing woman. The man had killed Jenny, the sweet girl who had taken care of Nate long before Pa and Ma adopted him. Then Pa caught that bastard Jones. Still, none of those bad memories kept Nate from wanting to go.
His baby blues pleaded with Jesse to keep angling for him.
“I didn’t mean insult. Just be nice to hear my partner’s chatter.” What Jesse was saying in a nice way was that Pa indeed was a man of few words. It was a fairly long ride into the mountains until they would reach Bear Meadow. “My ears sure do git lonely.” He sadly shook his head.
Nate joined in with a desperate pout, a plea to escape the misery of chores.
“You boys are shysters. That act might work on Ma.” Pa let out a defeated sigh. Had they broken through? Was he going to bend this one time? “If I let him, could we git goin’ on our way?”
Nate answered by wasting no time turning Buck and falling into pace between Jesse and Pa. Jesse winked. They both knew they had gotten very lucky. Pa wasn’t one to give in.
“Race ya!” Jesse wildly spurred the gray he was riding.
“That’s not fair!” Nate hollered while madly kicking his mustang.
CHAPTER 2
Neck and neck, they rode up through the hills, the horses stretching their legs, running as though their tails were afire. Nate was holding on tight, his fists wrapped in the reins. The gray was snorting, falling back half a stride while giving chase as Jesse’s shirttail flapped in the wind. Pa wasn’t far behind, handling his rushing horse, having a little fun himself. Buck leaped a downed limb and kept flying. Were his hooves even touching the ground? They were splitting the air. Nate was positive Buck had never run faster. He threw a glance over his shoulder. The gray was fading. Jesse tugged on the reins, slowing the horse until it fell in next to the bay.
“Buck’s gotta be the fastest horse in the territory,” Jesse said to Pa. Dapple, an appaloosa Jesse had owned, had been a fast horse. Then it was killed. Now he was stuck with the old gray. It didn’t have near the same stamina as the mustang.
Pa nodded. “I know ya miss Dapple.”
Nate wheeled Buck, pulling up on the reins. “I won.” He threw down his bragging rights with a fat, satisfied smirk on his face, pumping his arms above his head. Nate congratulated Buck on a job well done with a hearty pat on his neck.
A quarter-mile later, they stopped at a stream and let the horses drink, then walked their mounts in a line along a path that was barely wide enough for a wagon. There were tracks from the wheels, and the tall grass was pushed over from the wagon bed rubbing against it. Nothing else could have done that. Nate was good—actually great—at reading sign. Pa had taught him everything. Too much, Pa had said at times when Nate got in the way while trying to help.
They were almost there when Pa looked over at Nate and Jesse. His face was without expression. Were they in trouble for something? Nate waited to hear it, his gut coiling.
“Why would anyone want to claim that old trapper shack as their home? If you recall, the place is mighty rundown.” Pa was silent then but still holding his gaze, waiting for one of them to answer.
Jesse snickered. “They’re idiots. Got no sense.”
Nate chuckled.
Pa’s face pinched tight, his lips pressed in a thin line. Nate slipped a boot out of the stirrup closest to Jesse and gave him a nudge. A hissing noise escaped between Pa’s gritted teeth. Jesse seemed to have taken notice, clearing this throat.
“Sorry, sir.” He held eye contact with Pa. “Does seem odd, unless you’re a trapper, but that don’t appear to be the case. Most trappers don’t have families. Typically, they’re loaners, but not all. Maybe a squaw.”
Pa nodded, his face relaxing. This was the logical thinking he wanted to produce in them, forever teaching what he knew, getting them to figure it out rather than just giving away the answer without any work. Nate liked learning, but sometimes he liked being silly with Jesse more.
This wasn’t the time to play around. Pa might not let him come along again.
“Doubt they’re sodbusters,” Nate said. “Mountain soil ain’t good for plantin’, and besides Bear Meadow, there’s no field to raise stock.”
“Very good.” Pa grinned. “What kind of people hide themselves far away?”
There was only one type Nate could think of—outlaws. He’d done that too many times with his old pa to forget.
Jesse must have had the same revelation. “But Mrs. Henderson said it was a man, woman, and thought she’d counted five youngsters, a baby for sure. Maybe they’re planning on fixin’ the place up, openin’ a trade post or something similar.”
“Could be.” Pa agreed. “Don’t rule out the possibility of criminal activity just because a man totes a woman and kids. Do I have to remind ya of Nathanial’s early upbringing? What looks normal, peaceable, can be a great cover.”
Nate didn’t need any reminding. His old pa had used his innocence to cheat folks more times than he could count.
“Reckon you’re right,” Jesse said. He no longer slouched, his demeanor replicating Pa’s serious side.
The dank shack appeared through the thick, leaf-covered trees. It was aged black with rot, and moss freckled the exterior walls and a large portion of the saggy roof where bundles of thatch weren’t missing. Gaps in the side planks let more than just light spill inside. The place probably rattled every time the wind kicked up. What about coons and opossums and such? No doubt lots of critters had to be shaken out of that drafty dump before it was livable.
“Mrs. Henderson must have heard wrong.” Nate glanced at Pa.
No way was there a family living in that heap. Plus, the one room hardly looked big enough for two grown-ups, let alone a passel of kids. Ma had muttered on occasion, usually on a rainy day when they were all trapped inside, that it felt as if their house shrank, and it was only him and Elizabeth to get underfoot.
“Hush.” Pa pressed a finger against his lips.
“I was wrong. They are trappers,” Jesse said in a whisper. There were animal skins everywhere, staked and stretched out on the ground, other furs tacked to a small shed.
Nate wrinkled his nose. “Phew-wee, that stinks.” He fanned the air in front of his nose.
Near th
e shed, a wagon stood ready for its next job. Two mules were picketed not far away. Someone dwelled there. By all accounts, it looked like a trapper had made a home, not some family.
A baby cried from inside. Nate’s eyes widened as he looked over at Pa and Jesse, who both seemed just as shocked. After initially seeing the condition of the place, none of them had expected to actually find a brood.
“Hello to the house,” Pa called.
There were some shuffling noises inside, along with murmured voices. Then the lopsided door whipped open with a screech from a rusty hinge. A thin, pale-faced woman with brown hair and dark eyes and a squawking baby on her hip stood squarely in front of them as if she owned that mountain and no one was about to run her off, not that it was what Pa aimed to do.
She glared at the men. “What?” she barked.
Around her bony hips was a holstered pistol hanging opposite the baby. Nate had never seen the like and sensed all-fire quick that she rightly knew how to use that gun. This was no homestead family. Plenty of folks had settled around Gray Rock. Never once had Nate met a clan like this one. He would have remembered because he was a little bit scared of getting shot.
For being a wee thing, she was a fierce-looking woman. Not much weight or height to her, but she threw a shadow that had both Pa and Jesse sitting strangely quiet. No one seemed to know what to think of her. A staggered line of four dirty-faced kids peeked around their mama’s skirt and stared wide-eyed at him, Jesse, and Pa. Their big eyes fastened on the badges.
Pa tipped his hat. “Howdy, ma’am. I’m Sheriff Crosson.” He nodded toward Jesse. “That thar’s my deputy, Jesse Adams.”
Before he could introduce Nate, the woman clutched her chest, nearly dropping the baby. She stared at Nate with an air of disbelief.
“Nathanial.” She spoke as if confirming to herself that she was honestly seeing him. Her voice suddenly choked up, eyes welling with tears. “You gotta be Lucinda’s boy.” She blinked rapidly. He reckoned she was clearing her vision to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. “Come here, child.” The sharp tongue she had chopped at Pa with was gone, and her soft coax was luring.
Who was this lady? How did she know Nate’s birth mother?
He slid out of the saddle.
“Nathanial, git back on your horse.” Pa sounded none too happy. It was the same tone always used as Nate’s last warning before he got a licking. Those uncomfortable memories seemed far away, and she and that warm smile were right in front of him.
Nate wasn’t one to warm up to strangers, but this lady seemed to know him. People who showed up out of his past usually brought trouble. She didn’t exactly look innocent or even kindhearted. There was a raw edge to her the same as the mean men Nate’s old pa, Jim Younger, had ridden with. She was a woman, though. What trouble could she bring to him? For pity’s sake, she had kids of her own, so he didn’t feel threatened.
Pa’s warning from two minutes ago was shoved to the back of his mind. The bony lady didn’t look at Pa or Jesse, but smiled warmly at Nate.
“Boy, if you don’t git on your horse, I’m gonna open them ears by tannin’ your ass.” Pa was steaming, heard in his barking tone, but Nate didn’t even look back.
Not that he was ignoring him, but he couldn’t help himself, completely intrigued. He didn’t know much of anything about his birth mother, just that she had been a whore. She’d died when he was so young. He barely remembered her. Sometimes he did wonder. That was his secret. He would never want to hurt the mother and father he had now by asking questions. What if they thought he wasn’t grateful for what they had done for him? He loved them more than anything and too often wished he’d been born of their seed like Elizabeth. But that didn’t sway his curiosity.
Nate stopped a step in front of the raggedy woman, her hair unkempt, her clothing wrinkled and soiled, not unlike his own, except hers were homespun, every stitch. There were smears of dirt from her day’s work on her face that matched those on her children’s thin cheeks. The oldest kid, a boy, was probably Nate’s age. They smiled at each other.
“Holy shit.” She chuckled and fingered his snowy hair while wearing a shitty smirk. “Your mama had those same white strands. Hated them. Always wanted dark hair.”
Nate hadn’t known that and kind of liked learning a little something about the woman who brought him into this world.
A strong hand clamped his shoulder and turned him.
“Excuse us, ma’am.” Pa’s nostrils flared as he silently scolded Nate with a hard stare. He didn’t tolerate disrespect, and not listening when Nate had been told to get back on his horse was grounds for a tongue-lashing, if not an ass smack. Pa marched him toward Buck.
“Your man home?” Jesse asked, breaking the tension.
The woman seemed as displeased about Pa interrupting her storytelling as Nate was, or at least she was hatefully glaring.
“He’s off trappin’, or so he said. I never really know what he’s into.” Her temper flared. Gone was her soft voice.
“You expectin’ him to return anytime soon?” Jesse had taken over while Pa flopped Nate on Buck, then swung a leg over his bay.
Pa turned his attention back to the thin woman.
“I don’t know when that dog’ll come ‘round. Likely when he gits the itch to make another brat.” She snubbed her nose with her fist. “If you’s worried about us botherin’ any of those so-called good folks in that thar town, don’t be. We ain’t much on being neighborly. Stick to ourselves.”
The way she had spit out the words “that town” had Nate believing she silently just slapped Jesse and his badge right in the face. And if she got the chance to actually hit him, she likely would. Pa, too, for that matter. The lines on her face were hard as she eyeballed the two like she had an old score to settle. Maybe she just hated lawmen. Seemed that way.
“I ain’t keen on self-proclaimed righteous folks tellin’ others how to live. That store owner’s a bossy bitch.”
Nate slapped a hand over his mouth, holding back his chuckles. He’d overhead Pa relaying those exact words about Mrs. Henderson to Ma a few times.
“Well, that explains it,” Jesse whispered over Nate’s head. “Somewhere along the line, someone did something and left a mean mark on her, or she wouldn’t be so mad.”
She huffed at the whispering as though she were about to put her head down and charge.
“Could be she’s referring to us comin’ to talk to her man, wantin’ to know his business, judgin’ her husband in a way.” Pa’s voice was no louder than Jesse’s had been. “But one busybody doesn’t mean everyone in town is like that.”
Pa was right. She was jumping to conclusions, being judgmental herself. Nate pondered if her man was a good one, trustworthy, honest. He knew half a dozen in Gray Rock that straddled that fence daily.
The mountain woman breathed in snorts. Reckon she figured it wasn’t up to them to judge, that they had no business being there, and she was tired of looking at them.
Pa and Jesse were still leaned together. “Just because a fella’s mean and miserable don’t make him a criminal. All the pelts are evidence enough that he’s a trapper, or at least some of the time he is. Don’t forget she said she’s not always sure what he’s up to. We need to keep an eye on them.”
Nate was soaking it all in. The woman had called her man a dog.
“It ain’t polite to whisper. Say it to my face, or shut the hell up.” She smacked a hand against the door to grab their attention as though what she’d just said wasn’t enough.
Pa and Jesse glanced at one another as if neither was sure what to make of that gun-toting spitfire of a woman.
“If there ain’t nothin’ else, I got cookin’ to do.” She tapped a foot impatiently for a few seconds. “Oh, one other thing. You might like to know that my boy”—she jerked her head at the kid about Nate’s age—“was out huntin’ and spotted a war party. Said they were carryin’ scalps. I certainly wouldn’t want any of those unwelcoming pricks in
that town of yours to get their hair lifted. That’d be a damn shame.” Then she spun on her heel, and the door slammed.
They all just stared at the empty doorway. Pa scratched his head. He hadn’t even found out her name or that of her man. Jesse looked just as taken aback by her brassy manners. Hands down, that woman had balls, big ones. Nate chuckled. He wasn’t so sure that she was even the same species as Ma.
Ma would have strung up any of them, including Pa, had they slammed a door in someone’s face. She was all heart. Everyone around Gray Rock knew it. She’d do anything within her means to help a friend or neighbor. There were no hard edges on her. Rarely did she even raise her voice. This woman, on the other hand, was all bite, teeth, and claws to her very core.
“Reckon that hellcat’s done talkin’.” Jesse snorted out a chuckle.
Pa let go of a deep sigh as if he had just slipped a tangle with a grizzly. They turned their horses.
“As soon as we rode in, there’s one thing I observed right away,” Pa said. “Do either of ya know?”
“Yeah, the place is far too small to cage stolen women.”
What Jesse said led Nate to look around a mite closer. The outbuilding with furs tacked on it was also too tiny to hide much of anything. But that didn’t mean those folks weren’t involved. The woman sounded as if her man might be up to something other than trapping, and Pa had reinforced that to Jesse. Nate knew firsthand how kids could be used as a decoy. His old pa had forced him lots of times, practically his whole life, to smile sweetly and bat his lashes, pulling the wool over the eyes of his prey. It made Nate wonder what kind of man would leave his woman and children alone in a rat trap, not even fit for animals, way out in the mountains without much to keep them well. Pa would never.
There was no guesswork. Nate knew the answer. The man was no good, just like Nate’s old pa. He hoped she wasn’t a criminal. He wanted to talk to her more and learn what she knew about his ma.
CHAPTER 3
Nathanial Page 2