Nathanial

by J. B. Richard

  “Jesse, let’s go dance.” Kristy had her arm looped around his and swished her skirt, showing her eagerness. Her happiness had obviously blinded her to her ma’s stern face, and he suspected he appeared just as sober, but not to the beaming bride-to-be.

  He kissed her cheek. “Give me a minute with your ma. You go on. I’ll be right there.”

  She fluttered off, and folks congratulated her a second time as she breezed past on her way to the music. He couldn’t imagine having anyone else at his side or seeing her married to another man. The very thought of it stirred jealous anger in him. He’d marry her without Mrs. Short’s consent if he had to, but that wasn’t what he hoped for.

  “I’d hate to see anything ruin Kristy’s good mood. How much of this have you told her?” He was aware of some belittling of his job because Kristy had poured out her heart to him. She didn’t want to see him get hurt or worse, which was natural due to the love they felt for one another, but she’d said yes. So him being a lawman wasn’t enough of a practical worry for her to end their courtship.

  “I never told her I was against marriage.” She glanced around. Folks everywhere were enjoying themselves, drinking, eating, and dancing. Kids playing tag. “Shorty will give ya your pa’s ranch. You and Kristy could live there, work cattle, combine with this spread, and raise your children. Think of your future family. This is the largest cattle spread in the territory or any of the surrounding areas. There’s a lot of responsibility in running it. My husband is capable, but I’m sure he would enjoy giving some of those duties to you. And being a boss here would be a lot less dangerous than hunting killers.” Her face tightened, lips thin. “It’s your choice. One is a little more selfish, but either way, your family will always be provided for if something should happen to you.”

  Jesse had his fill of her trying to talk him out of being a lawman, a job he was good at and enjoyed. And what made her think he’d ever give up working side by side with the man he admired greatly? There was no choice. Kristy accepted who Jesse was. Her ma would have to learn to do the same.

  No one planned on dying in the line of duty, but it did happen. God forbid he left behind Kristy and a passel of little ones to grieve. Jesse wasn’t haphazard about catching outlaws, modeling the ways of Sheriff Crosson. He would have thought that would give Mrs. Short some relief. Instead, there was tension between him and her that always seemed to be present to different degrees. Shorty and the rest of the family somehow were able to overlook it. Kristy felt it sometimes. He knew because that’s when she had complained. For Kristy, he was willing to do what was necessary and, within reason, to keep the peace, but he was done being pushed about dropping his badge.

  “I’m a lawman. That’s all there is to it. You’d best get that straight in your mind, or you’ll end up hurting your daughter.” He tipped his hat, then headed toward where Kristy was waiting.

  They danced a few songs. When they rested, others who had not congratulated them earlier did so. Jesse’s stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten. He and Kristy each filled a plate. On the porch, seated together on the swing, they ate and made plans for their future. Kristy wanted a late-spring wedding when the blossoms were in full bloom and it wasn’t yet too hot. He didn’t care what time of year they exchanged vows as long as she became his wife.

  He was thinking about filling his plate a second time while Kristy talked between bites about having a lace train that would hang to the hem of her wedding dress. He glanced over the porch railing at the food tables. What the hell was she doing here? Who were the two men with her? Probably one was the man he’d trailed to Black Mesa.

  “Jesse, are you listening to me?” Kristy turned his chin.

  Heat rose in his cheeks. “Sorry.” He grinned.

  She shook her head. However, she did return his grin, so he knew he was forgiven.

  He glanced again toward the food tables. “You know those three?”

  Both men wore their pistols tied down. They weren’t cleaned up, dusted in trail dirt, unlike the folks at the picnic, including Shorty’s ranch hands. Even the tough men who worked for the cattleman had slicked their hair and were wearing their spare shirts, which Jesse knew from being a cowboy himself were saved for special occasions. The woman hadn’t even tided up her hair. They weren’t there to celebrate, so why come?

  Shorty had posted a notice that everyone in town was invited. Perhaps it was the free food and drink that brought them. Or being new in town, they wanted to meet folks, get to know them, but that hadn’t been the impression that spitfire of a woman had given when Jesse and Sheriff Crosson had paid a visit. Where were all her kids? Surely, she hadn’t left them alone at the cabin.

  “No. I don’t recall ever seeing them. They weren’t here earlier. I’m sure of it. Pa’s good about making introductions.”

  Jesse stood. He’d bet one of those two men was that woman’s husband. He and the sheriff had failed once to get a name and, the second time, had come home with only a first name. Walter. Jesse would introduce himself and find out who they were. There was probably a wanted poster back at the office with one or the other’s face on it. It wouldn’t surprise him to learn that both men wore a bounty, though the sheriff had found nothing by checking just the name.

  Jesse’s gut had tightened at the sight of them. The sheriff had taught him to follow that instinct. These two were trouble. The woman too. Her relaxed manner while standing between those shaggy-looking men led Jesse to believe she was right at home. The whole group, their nonchalant air, seemed queer since they were strangers there. They’d just moved into the area a couple weeks ago. Being around new people in perhaps an unfamiliar situation usually made one feel nervous. That wasn’t what he was seeing.

  “Stay here.” He strolled down the stairs, leaving Kristy to finish her potatoes.

  Shorty had come over and was shaking the hand of one of the two men. The woman was eyeballing the other ladies. She was dressed in nothing fancy or even what he’d refer to as nice. Even girls such as Kristy’s sister, Hattie, were all dressed in their Sunday best. It could be that the many styles caught the woman’s attention. Women fancied having new clothing. Such a simple thing made them shine.

  “How are you folks?” Shorty shook hands with the other fella, whose eyes weren’t focused on Shorty. The man stared past him.

  Jesse glanced over his shoulder. Kristy was standing near the gate in the yard, talking with several of her friends and their beaus.

  “We’re just fine,” the first man said.

  Jesse plunked his empty plate on the table. The group of outsiders and Shorty looked over at the sudden interruption. “I see that dog you mentioned showed up. Which one is he?” Jesse’s gaze shifted off the woman to flick between the two men. Both had stiffened. Neither had a hand near his pistol, yet their eyes narrowed on him, and he got the distinct impression they would enjoy nailing his hide to a tree, especially the tall, lean one. His jaw twitched, and his hands balled at his sides.

  Shorty choked on his drink. His eyes widened. “Boy, what’s gotten into you? These are our guests.” The burly cattleman turned, facing what Jesse perceived as trouble. “Excuse my soon-to-be son-in-law. We’ve all been drinking. Reckon he forgot his manners.” Irritation deepened his voice.

  Jesse hadn’t forgotten anything, nor had he touched any booze. The hardest thing he had to drink was Kristy’s sugary lemonade, which left him a touch jittery. He’d be damned if he’d give an apology. The group was silent. An explanation later likely would settle any misunderstanding as far as Shorty was concerned.

  The taller one glared down his nose at the mountain woman. So he was the dog and must have been the ringleader, used to giving orders. He didn’t cotton to Jesse’s blunt words being shoved in his face. Bosses didn’t typically put up with that. The other one’s neck veins were throbbing, his skin reddening. That one glanced sideways at his tall partner, silently questioning, What now?

  “I told ya the sheriff and his deputy
came callin’. Maybe you should try listenin’.” The wench was frank with her man.

  The tall fella shifted his gray eyes onto Jesse. There was a glint of raw hate. It could have been the badge he disliked or the fact that Jesse had prodded at him. Whatever the reason, they were both edgy.

  “Why don’t we all have a drink?” Shorty’s words were slightly slurred, and he made a misstep as he fetched the tray of bourbon, nearly spilling it across the table.

  Since day one under the tutelage of Sheriff Crosson, Jesse had begun to develop a keen sense of whether a man was on the up-and-up. This fella, the tall one before him, was posed to pounce at any minute. Honesty probably wasn’t in his vocabulary. Those three had to be scheming something, but what? No reports of any more stolen women had crossed the sheriff’s desk, and Jesse had been riding to the outskirt ranches, checking in, seeing if folks noticed anything suspicious or had any kind of trouble. He had also ridden to the shack where the mountain woman was squatting. No one had been home then or the two days following. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her until today.

  Jesse didn’t offer a friendly hand toward any of the three. “What are your names?”

  Shorty was a very wealthy man. Maybe they were sizing up the place. A robbery now, or anytime really, would be risky. At all hours, cowhands could be found all over the ranch.

  “I don’t like you,” the tall one said through gritted teeth.

  Jesse grinned. “The feelin’ is mutual.”

  Suddenly, Kristy was at his side, slipping her arm around his. “Missy and Patrick would like us to go for a buggy ride with them on Sunday. Sounds like fun.” Her smile faded as she looked at all the unhappy faces.

  Her pa pushed off the table he’d been leaning against, keeping himself from falling. He wavered as he stood there. The missus was shaking a finger at him, right in his face. Some cowhands nearby snickered. Other folks politely ignored the couple by turning away.

  “I’ve seen enough. Let’s go.” The tall fella turned, and the two with him followed.

  Jesse grabbed his arm, spinning him. Kristy immediately backed off. The other two twisted around.

  “I asked you a question.”

  “Boy, git your hands off me.” He jerked his shoulder.

  “There’ll be no fightin’.” Mrs. Short, all of five feet of her and round as barrel, shoved between them, giving Jesse a mean look.

  “Ma’am, we’ll be ridin’ now.” The tall fella tipped his hat, then smirked at Jesse. “By the way, the name is adiós.” The son of a bitch chuckled.

  At the corral, the threesome mounted.

  Seen enough. What had that meant?

  “Jesse.” Kristy’s soft voice called his attention away from where those three were headed. “I have met that woman before in town, at the Hendersons’ store. Hattie and I were doing some shopping, then met Ma and Pa for lunch at Henry’s hotel. Remember, we ran into you afterward.”

  Jesse nodded. That was the day Sheriff Crosson had given him guff about kissing Kristy when he should have been at work. “Did she say anything to ya?”

  “No …” Kristy thought a minute. “But every time I looked up from the catalog, she was staring at Hattie and me.”

  “You didn’t think that was odd?”

  Kristy shrugged. “We were wearing new dresses. The latest style. Beautiful satin material. Shipped all the way from New York. Mrs. Henderson raved the minute we walked in.”

  Kristy wasn’t the bragging type. She had a comfortable life. Even so, she was modest, recognizing that not everyone could afford the same luxuries her pa was able to provide for her and her siblings. That pampered upbringing did make her naive at times. Normally, that didn’t irritate Jesse.

  Not even her pa had perceived danger, welcoming those three right into the party. Shorty was half drunk, though.

  “Let’s get some cake. Too bad Nate’s not here. I made chocolate.” Kristy seemed to have already forgotten about the thin woman and her two rough-looking companions. Nothing was going to spoil her day.

  Jesse picked up a plate, though his mind wasn’t on dessert. His instinct was to trail those three. But he’d just gotten engaged, and Kristy’s face was still lit up brighter than the sunshine overhead. She put a wedge of cake on his plate, then handed him a fork.

  They joined another young couple, sitting on a blanket near the music, watching men spin their ladies. Jesse picked at his food. Kristy and Missy jabbered about wedding plans. Nearby, some fellas tossed horseshoes. The clang of the iron smacking the metal stake was giving him a headache. Yet his mind was clear about one thing. To protect Kristy and these other ladies, he needed to know for sure that those men weren’t part of that ring trafficking women.

  “I’ll be back.” He stood.

  Kristy looked up from where she sat. “You’re not leaving, are ya?”

  He nodded.

  She gathered her hem, then followed him to his horse. “You’re going after them, aren’t you?”

  Maybe she wasn’t as naive as he’d thought. “Yup.” He swung into the saddle.

  “I suppose I’d better get used to this.” She grinned. “Be careful.”

  Jesse leaned down and kissed her. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.” He turned his horse.

  Hopefully, Kristy didn’t mention to her ma where he’d gone. Those three somewhere in front of him were smart enough to know he would track them. An ambush might be waiting.

  CHAPTER 14

  Jesse picked up the trail of the thin woman and the two men without difficulty. They stayed on the road into town. He crossed over the bridge into Gray Rock. The place looked deserted. Everyone was at Shorty’s ranch, whooping it up. Exactly where he should have been, celebrating the holiday with a beer in his hand and now and then kissing his bride-to-be. But it was his responsibility to watch over the town and the folks who lived there, especially with the sheriff in Birch Creek.

  Sheriff Crosson probably had thought about what was going on back home at least a hundred times. Jesse knew that man too well, and they’d been investigating these disappearances, trying to find a pattern or some clue that would aid in catching the men who were stealing women right out of their homes. Sometimes in broad daylight when least expected. Nightfall would give better cover, but the outlaws committing those crimes seemed to hit randomly.

  Their tracks halted in front of Pete’s saloon. On the door, a paper was tacked. At picnic. Open tomorrow. Around the side of the building, their trail led him to where the back door was kicked in, hanging wide open. Pete wasn’t careless. He’d never leave the place unlocked.

  Inside, the register drawer hung open. Not something Pete would have overlooked. Plus, it was empty. The saloon keeper did quite a business. There wasn’t another bar around for miles and miles.

  Under the counter, the shotgun Pete kept was gone. He wouldn’t have toted his weapon to a neighborly gathering. Jesse would bet some bottles of whiskey were missing too, but he had no way of telling without having Pete check the inventory. He wouldn’t pull the man away from the celebration. The barkeep was the surly type, not one to mess with. He’d be fit to be tied the minute he realized he’d been robbed. Keeping Pete from taking the law into his own hands would be a headache Jesse didn’t want to deal with. He suspected that the men who did this crime were involved in much worse transgressions, so he wanted nothing getting in his way of nailing them for the bigger offense.

  He closed the rear door behind him. From there, the robbers’ trail skirted the tree line. Then they had ducked into the trees at the far end of town. That’s where the hoofprints stopped being so easy to follow. They’d gone into the creek, leaving no horseshoe marks to track. He suspected they would eventually end up at the shack. But he would trail what sign he could find in case they moved camp.

  Along the ridge side, he rode. Two, three miles later, weaving among the juniper, he topped the summit. The mare was holding up fine, just a little winded. He let her breathe a few minutes. Sun glinted off the
rocks that formed the skyline of Jumping Fish Canyon across the valley six or so miles farther ahead. Down off the ridge, he steered his horse. The brush was thick there, and he slowed his pace to a walk so as not to make noise. The thought of an ambush hadn’t left his mind. Likely, they were watching their backtrail, or at least they were taking time to sweep away their tracks with a branch. He’d found such markings twice.

  Jesse veered around Jumping Fish Canyon. The trail into that gorge was a harsh one, unforgiving to any horse that didn’t have sound feet, and a perfect spot to snare a man. If he made it inside without getting shot, the trail out was too steep for the mare to climb. She wasn’t as sturdy as his last horse that had gotten gored by one bitch of a cow.

  Twenty minutes later, on the other side of the canyon, he pulled up reins. There in the dirt was a hoofprint. They’d missed erasing that one. Soon, he would be at the shack. This was the long way around, but that trio had obviously taken precautions.

  The shack was empty. No woman, no kids. Nothing but a few fur pelts stretched out and drying in the heat. Jesse mopped his brow. The wagon was gone, and the tracks of the rickety thing were hours old. How could that be? She’d been at the picnic. Not enough time had passed. Which meant someone else had been there with the kids. Another man probably. How many were in this lot?

  Jesse searched the ground. Boot tracks had stamped the dirt, men coming and going out of the shack. If he counted right, there were four. The prints were all too big to even consider that a second female was involved. The wagon tracks should be easy enough to follow, but now there were kids in the middle. Extra precautions would have to be taken. He thought of his little partner likely having lots of fun in Birch Creek, eating too much sugar and getting himself into trouble. Jesse didn’t want any shooting around the young ones.