Turner rode off at a gallop, leaving Bartell in his dust. He sneered at the sound of Bartell riding up behind him. The yellow-bellied coward! All Morgan had to do was blink, and he wet his pants. Well, he'd show him what he was made of. When he got back to the cabin he'd tell Morgan off and set him straight. Then he'd
Drawing back on his mount's reins at the sight of a dust trail rising from the road, Turner saw a wagon moving steadily toward them. He looked back as Bartell drew up beside him.
"What are you stoppin' for, Turner? Anybody can see them steers ran north."
Turner squinted back at him. "That's a wagon on the trail.
What a wagon like that doin' in Injun Territory?"
"I don't know, and I don't care."
"Well, you should! Ain't
no
settlers allowed in here."
"Who says they're settlers? And if they are, maybe they're passin' through."
"Yeah, we can tell Morgan that. And when he asks us who was in the wagon, we can tell them that maybe they were settlers… or maybe they
wasn't
."
Bartell looked more closely at the wagon as it approached. "What else could they be?"
"If we go down, we'll find out."
"We ain't got time!"
"Maybe you ain't, but I'm goin'."
Turner spurred his horse forward. Taking a page from Morgan's book, he affixed a smile on his lips. It didn't escape his mind that there was no law to speak of in Indian Territory, and that there might be something of value in that wagon. A little extra cash never did
nobody no
harm…
Turner's smile widened as he neared the wagon.
"There's somebody on the trail ahead."
Chastity attempted to identify the approaching riders.
One horse… no, two.
She looked at Reed, her expression freezing when Reed reached down underneath the seat and withdrew a gun. He slid it out of sight nearby, his explanation terse.
"Just a precaution."
Reed drew the wagon to a halt as the men rode up. Chastity watched as he greeted them cautiously with a forced smile.
"Good morning, gentlemen. We weren't expecting to meet anybody on the trail today."
She saw the heavier of the two men blink when he saw her. Her flesh crawled as he studied her for a long moment, his smile stretching his thick lips to the limit when he responded, "We wasn't expectin' to see nobody, either." He paused, looking back at Reed with open scrutiny. "What are you all doin' out here in Injun Territory?"
Reed's smile grew strained. "We're on our way to the mission to replace Reverend Stiles. They've been waiting a long time for his replacement."
"The Injun mission?"
The smaller of the two men responded, his gaze shifting between them. "Yeah, I heard about that." He paused. "Even the Injuns figured the new parson would never come. I guess they
was
wrong.''
The bigger man prodded, "Where are you from? Kansas City?"
"No."
"Came by way of St. Louis, did you?"
Reed paused. "That's right."
"Came along the rail line… Sedalia, and then Baxter Springs…"
"Seems like you know the route well enough."
"Sedalia's a nice town. Did you stop there long?"
"A few days."
Chastity inched instinctively closer to Reed as the bigger man's perusal of her intensified. She felt Reed's responsive stiffening as he offered, "My name's Reed Farrell." She noted that he avoided introducing her as he said, "I'm pleased to meet you, Mr?"
"The name's Turner." The bigger man motioned with his chin at the man beside him. His name's Bartell." He added, "You missed the turnoff, you know.
The mission's north of here."
"I did?" Reed frowned. "I had no idea." Some how Reed's words did not ring true as he continued, "I don't suppose you could point us toward the quickest route back."
"It ain't hard. Just keep followin' the trail like you are and turn north when you get to the next fork. Another day or so and you'll be there."
Reed nodded, adding as if in afterthought, "Will you be traveling along with us?"
"No," the man called Bartell responded. "We got some cattle to round up."
Reed appeared surprised. "The Indians don't object to herding on their land?"
The man called Turner replied, "They're real nice neighbors if you know how to handle them. And our boss does."
"Your boss?"
"Yeah."
Turner's response was clipped as he turned his mount abruptly. "You just keep right on in the direction you're goin' and you'll ride right onto that fork I told you about."
"Thank you, gentlemen."
"Nice meetin' you, parson… ma'am."
The haste with which the two men rode off turned Chastity toward Reed with a frown. She saw the set of Reed's jaw, and a chill coursed down her spine as she said uncertainly, "Those men…"
"Don't worry about them. You're safe with me." Reed slapped the reins against the team's back. "We'll be at the mission soon."
The determination in Reed's voice turned Chastity's attention forward.
«» «» «» «» «» «» «» «» «» «» «» «»
Turner drew his horse to an abrupt halt out of sight of the wagon. He grinned when Bartell reined up beside him. "Yeah, nice meetin' you ma'am…" He laughed aloud.
Bartell's expression was incredulous. "Do you think it was
her
?"
"Who else could it be?" Turner's grin faded. "How many women do you suppose look like her with all that red hair and that white skin that Walker was talkin' about? And how many of them was church types who came through Sedalia a few days ago?"
"Walker didn't make
no
mention of her husband."
"Maybe he didn't know. Besides, a husband never made
no
difference to Morgan when he was after a woman."
"Yeah, but how many of them husbands looked like that Farrell fella?"
"Farrell's a parson! It don't make
no
difference how big he is! He
ain't never
goin' to be no match for Morgan."
"I don't know… there was somethin' about him. Did you see his eyes? Hell, I ain't never seen a parson with eyes as cold as that fella's."
Turner gave a mocking laugh. "You can tell Morgan all about them eyes of his when we get back, if they bother you that much, 'cause that's where I'm headin' right now."
"What about the cattle?"
"The hell with them sorry steers. Morgan's goin' to be so excited about who's happenin' to pass by that he's goin' to forget all about them.
And he'll be real grateful that we didn't let him miss her. You can go after them steers if you want, but I know a good thing when I see it. I'm headin' back."
Digging his heels into his mount's sides, Turner spurred him into a jump forward that left Bartell cursing in his wake.
Something was wrong.
Reed scanned the passing terrain with growing caution. The two riders had ridden out of sight, but not out of mind. He hadn't liked the looks of them. The descriptions of the men in Morgan's gang were so vague that they fit any number of men, those two included. Morgan was the only one he could positively identify from wanted posters, but the hackles on his spine had never failed him.
Bothering him even more was the way they had looked at Chastity. They had asked too many questions and had been too evasive when he questioned them in return.
Reed glanced at Chastity to see that her expression was stiff. Even with her inexperience, she had sensed danger.
Reed silently cursed. He remembered the excuses he had formulated for taking Chastity with him on this chase. A parson and his wife were expected at the mission so a parson and his wife were what they were going to get. Chastity would provide him the cover to get necessary work done. He had actually talked himself into believing that nonsense, when the truth was that however hard he had fought it, he had been unwilling to let her go.
Reed's stomach clenched. He had lost one woman he loved to Morgan, or a man just like him. He would not lose another. He needed to get Chastity to the mission as soon as possible. She would be safe there.
Reed strained his mind to recall the extended map Jenkins had given him. If he remembered correctly, the fork in the road was no more than a few hours away.
Gripping the reins tighter, Reed slapped them hard against the team's back. His jaw locked tighter as the wagon jumped forward at an increased pace.
"Here they come."
Morgan looked up at Walker's solemn pronouncement. He straightened up slowly, his hand tightening around the branding iron he had just pulled from the fire. He cursed under his breath as he raised his arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead, never taking his eyes from the two horsemen steadily approaching.
"What do you supposed happened?
Where's the cattle
?"
"I don't know, and I don't care," Morgan replied through gritted teeth. "I told them not to come back without those beeves. I warned them."
Throwing the iron back into the fire, Morgan walked the few steps to the fence and picked up his gunbelt. He strapped it on.
"Somethin' must've gone wrong, Morgan. Hell, they ain't fool enough to come back without them beeves otherwise!"
"Walker's right," Simmons joined in reluctantly. "Turner's a bastard, but he ain't stupid. He knew you meant every word you said when he left."
The two horsemen drew closer, and Morgan adjusted his gun in the holster. He didn't care what excuse they had for coming back empty-handed.
Morgan squared his stance as Turner and Bartell reined up a few yards away. He watched them as they
dismounted,
the thought crossing his mind that they were too stupid to realize what was coming. Walker and Simmons stepped back warily as he spoke.
"I told you two not to come back without those steers."
"We had some trouble." Bartell was sweating profusely despite the cool breeze. "We got them all rounded up and it was too late to start back. Then, the next mornin' when we went to get them, somethin' had gotten into the herd durin' the night, and them that wasn't driven off was lyin' dead and wounded."
"Good work." Morgan
sneered
his sarcastic response, taking a slow step backward. "And good work demands good payment."
"Wait a minute, Morgan." Turner interrupted, his gaze darting toward Morgan's hand as it dropped toward his hip. "Don't go jumpin' to conclusions. We wouldn't have come back here without them that was left if we didn't have somethin' to tell you that we knew you'd want to hear right away." His eye on Morgan's twitching hand, he stammered, "Y-you got company passin' by. We rode ahead to tell you,' cause we knew you'd want to know right away."
Morgan's dark eyes were as cold as death. "Spit it out! What are tryin' to tell me?"
"There's a wagon headin' this way. It's a preacher and his wife. They took the wrong cutoff for the mission."
"I don't give a damn about a preacher and his"
"His wife's young and real good-lookin'. She got red hair and skin as smooth as milk. They said they spent some time in Sedalia on the way…"
Morgan went still, his heart suddenly pounding so loudly that it echoed in his ears. He stared at Turner. "What did she look like? Was she tall and were her eyes kind of green?"
"We couldn't see how tall she was 'cause she was sittin' down, but I'd say she wasn't the petite type." He frowned.
"I don't remember nothin' about her eyes."
"It was her husband's eyes I was lookin' at." Bartell interrupted anxiously, "He was wearin' a parson's collar, and he said all the right things, but I
ain't never
seen a parson who looked like him, not with them eyes that looked right through you. And I ain't never seen a parson that big, and with all that hard, workin' man's muscle."
Morgan hardly heard him. "Did she say what her name was?"
"She didn't say nothin'.
Her husband did all the talkin'."
"What else did he tell you?"
"He said they
was
comin' to the Injun mission to replace that Reverend Stiles who died a while back. I told them they took the wrong turn-off and to stay on the trail as far as the fork, and then turn north. Then we headed right back here. I knew you'd want to know."
Morgan took an unsteady breath. It had to be her. He stared at Turner for a long time, noting that Turner was sweating. He did well to sweat.
"You just bought your life back. You know that, don't you, Turner?"