He touched her tenderly, so as not to awaken her. “So what do you think of this life now, my beautiful lady?” he whispered. He needed no reply to his question. She’d already given him an answer when she risked her life to flee with him.
Love had chased him down, caught him up in its gentle jaws. He, a man who had hated for so long he could scarcely remember it being otherwise. He, a man who mocked everything sacred.
His stomach growled, reminding him that they hadn’t eaten since sharing that skillet of green pork back at the hideout. He needed to see they were both fed before they lit out. Walking softly, he found Gabe asleep, standing hip-shot. The bay whickered and tossed his head when Calder slipped the blanket onto his back.
“Hush, boy. Needn’t awaken her. We’ll come right back.” Pain shot through his arm when he hefted the saddle, and he grunted. Sensing his weakness, Gabe cooperated with the tightening of the cinch, waiting patiently while he mounted.
Together, they moved out of the deep darkness under the trees and into the moonless night. The prairie lay without shadows. Against the horizon a dim line where grass met sky. The ride to Hays was long, with only the muffled clopping of Gabe’s hooves to break the silence. By the time he approached town, his arm hurt like hell. Had to find something to eat in the mercantile or he might not make it back to Wilda.
Silently, he guided the horse along the back way of the sleeping town, the air heavy with the stench of a pile of buffalo hides beside the railroad depot. The great animals had all but disappeared from the plains, slain by men greedy for their hides and nothing else. Even the small herds were seldom seen anymore.
Damn sad, if you asked him.
Time to stop wool gathering and pay attention to what he was up to. A deputy likely patrolled the streets during the night, probably in a slipshod way. Calder left Gabe tied to a tree near a dry wash back of the main street and snuck in, moving from shrub to bush with his heart in his mouth. Shoulders hunched, and hugging his arm to stop the throbbing pain, he perked his ears to hear the dreaded click of a hammer cocking, the call of a lawman. All up and down the darkened street remained silent when he finally made it to the back of the row of stores.
He’d been in Hays a couple of times, but wasn’t sure from the back which structure was a mercantile. It took a while to identify the right building by peering through murky windows one by one. Then he had to move along the back wall searching for a door. Most of these places had alley entrances where trash was tossed out. Sometimes they were left unlocked. His searching fingers found the handle, tugged, but it was fastened tight. Probably barred. Damn it to hell. Sneaking to a nearby window he rubbed away some of the muck and peered in, jiggled the casing, but it was latched inside.
Before he could decide how best to break in, the thud of boots sounded along the boardwalk out front. A deputy making his rounds, trying all the street doors and peering through windows. After a long while, when he was sure the man was far down the way, he wrapped his bandana around his fist and tapped out a pane of glass as quietly as he could. Then he waited, giving himself the opportunity to get away should the lawman hear the noise and come back.
Nothing. All was quiet. The fella probably stopped to get a little poke from his favorite dove before returning to his rounds. He reached through the broken pane, unlocked the window, slid it up and climbed inside, no easy task. Halfway through, he stopped and took some shallow breaths. Bullet wounds hurt like hell, and he wasn’t enjoying this one whit. Good idea to try not to get shot again.
When his topside grew heavier than what remained dangling out the window, he fell to the floor. Laid there for a while till stars stopped dancing around in his head. The only light inside the place filtered through the window from a night fire alongside the street. Didn’t help much, but he finally gained some night vision and made out a bundle of tow sacks in the corner. In the darkness, he took cans off the shelf blindly. All had food of some kind in them. When the tow sack grew heavy, he stopped. No sense taking more than he or Gabe could tote. Once outside, he’d divide them up between the two sacks to even out the load.
The aching arm reminded him to look for some medicines. Bending close to a shelf behind the main counter, he made out bottles, jars and tins lined up. Something there oughta fill the bill. He swept some of each into the sack and called it good.
He’d been there way too long and needed to get out. Ashy darkness had lightened against the horizon, and soon dawn would steal across the open prairie. A man on a horse would stand out, draw attention. Too damn many soldiers out riding on early patrol to suit him. He needed to get shut of this town, and fast.
He hadn’t made it to the back door before he knew one thing for sure. The sack was too heavy to carry over his shoulder, made the damn bullet hole ache. He fumbled with the bar, slid it back and opened the door. No way he could shove it back, but it didn’t matter. They’d be after him soon enough. He dragged the sack out and across the alleyway toward where Gabe waited. More than once he came danged close to passing out and stumbled to his knees. Each time he was forced to toss out a couple of cans to lighten the load. Couldn’t take a chance on being run across laying helpless by one of those wandering Limeys. Or worse, a sheriff’s deputy.
After dividing up the cans between the two sacks and tying them behind his saddle, he leaned against Gabe to catch his breath. He kicked at the stirrup with one boot. Missed. The world spun and he fell on his butt, cursing. The arm, the damned arm. The bullet had taken more out of him than he’d figured. On hands and knees, he remained there a moment before grabbing the stirrup and using it to climb to his feet.
“Dammit, Gabe, do you see a rock?” Something to climb up on. Seeing nothing, and getting no reply from his mount, he untied the gelding and led him away, stumbling now and then.
After about half a mile of toe-dragging over the flat prairie, he sank onto the ground. “To hell with this, boy. Gotta git on one way or another.”
With one final effort, he climbed to his feet, placed a toe in the stirrup, grabbed the pommel with his good hand and gave a mighty heave. Grunting and groaning, panting like a dog, he managed to inch a leg over the saddle. Pain sent stars rocketing through the darkness but he hung on and talked softly to the patient horse, till he could plant his other foot in the stirrup. Grinding his teeth against the pain, he slumped forward along Gabe’s neck and urged him on before daylight caught up with them.
Wilda waited for him down by the river, the sky was turning fast. He had to get out of this town before someone spotted him and checked him out. The soldiers from Fort Hays worried him the most.
The sun was almost up when he rode into the trees along the riverbank. Kicking out of the stirrups, he dragged a leg over the saddle, slid to the ground and leaned against Gabe breathing hard.
It’d been a lot of years since he’d last been shot. Sure as hell forgot how bad it hurt, how weak it left a fella. But he’d made it back to her without being spotted. He could rest up a day or so before they rode out. Sure as hell wished they had another mount.
Reins in one hand, he led Gabe through the trees toward where he’d left her sleeping.
****
The moment her eyes opened, Wilda sensed danger. Lying on the ground, alone and exposed. Why was it so quiet? Where was Calder? For a brief instant, she wished it had all been a dream, the hellish year-long trip and all that had happened since they’d left St. Ann’s. But it was all too real, and wishing wouldn’t make it different. She had clearly lost her mind and placed herself in a position of grave peril. Still, she would never return to Fairhaven and its master Blair Prescott. Not if he appeared at this very moment, got down on one knee and begged and pleaded, would she go back to the life he wanted for them. She would rather die right here, right now.
The trouble was, that might very well happen, and in spite of her reluctance to return to Blair, she did not want to die. Would she choose life with Blair over death? She certainly had chosen life with Calder over the idea of living with that cruel Lord in his castle prison.
Calder. Where was he?
Afraid to call out, she rose, shook sand from her skirts and stepped behind some brush to relieve herself. Rather than return to the small clearing where they had slept, she remained hidden, waiting, watching. As daylight slid across the plains, she squinted her eyes at the great distance, but he was nowhere in sight. He’d snuck off in the night, like the thief he was. She’d probably never see him again. He probably decided to leave her here rather than deal with a troublesome woman. What would she do if he didn’t come back?
The ponderous thudding of horses’ hooves, the creak and jingle of leather saddle and bridle preceded a shadowy horse with no sign of a rider. For a moment she couldn’t breathe or move. They’d killed him. Shot him in the night. Then he came in sight, leading Gabe, and she almost fainted with relief.
“Wilda?” he called softly.
She burst from hiding and ran to him. Dark blood coated the arm of his shirt. “You’re hurt. Where have you been? I was afraid you…” Two gunnysacks hung from the saddle. “Wh-what’s that?”
“Brought us something to eat.” He tried to untie one of the sacks, grimaced with pain and leaned his head against Gabe.
She touched his back. “Here, let me. I can get those. You sit down. I’ll take care of your arm.”
In reply, he sank to the ground right where he stood. “Gabe first.”
“Okay, but you stay right there.”
He chuckled dryly. “Doubt I’ll have any trouble doing that.”
She unloaded the cache, loosened the cinch on Gabe’s saddle and tugged it to the ground.
“Leave his bridle on, he’ll stay around with the reins hanging.”
When the saddle came off Gabe gave her a grateful look, then shook himself all over before moving toward the river where he lowered his muzzle into the cold water. She knew exactly how he felt rid of some of the trappings.
She sat beside Calder, removed the medicines he’d brought and examined them. “Where’d you get all this?”
“In Hays.”
“In the middle of the night?” She stared at him. “You stole it?”
“Well, I didn’t have money to buy it, and our bellies thought our throats had been cut. Had to do something.”
Briefly she studied the cans of peaches and tomatoes and beans and milk, a cone of dark sugar wrapped in parchment paper and a loaf of dark bread. Time to eat later, after she saw to Calder’s wound.
“Okay, let’s take off your shirt. No sense in tearing it up since you don’t have another. I’ll fix your arm and then we’ll eat. I’m starving.”
While she cleaned his wound and wrapped it, she chattered to distract him from the pain.
“Looks like you were lucky. It’s not too bad and the bullet went all the way through.” Seeing he was okay, she began to fume. “What were you thinking? What if they’d caught you? And I’d have been here alone, not even knowing where you were. Or if you were dead or alive.” Anger at him grew until she wanted to hammer on him instead of wrapping the wound.
“I guess after a few days I’d just had to wander off or something. And probably never be found again.”
He hissed through his teeth while she worked, and when at last she finished, his grimace turned into a weak grin. “Pretty gal like you wouldn’t wander anywhere very long.”
She tilted her head and answered his grin with a ferocious frown. “Don’t give me that pretty gal nonsense. It won’t get you out of trouble. I think I’ll just not speak to you for a few days, see how you like it.”
He grinned weakly. “Might be a relief if you’re going to keep on at me.”
She tied the bandage firmly and stood up. “There. Now, I’m hungry.” She pawed through the canned goods, set aside a couple.
“Not so mad at me for bringing something to eat, I see.”
“Oh, hush.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll do that. I might remind you that hush is a western word, not one you brought with you. Before long you’ll have gone over to our side, become a yank.”
“Mmm,” she said and held up a can of peaches.
He shifted a bit and cradled the arm. “Sorry I couldn’t bring anything that needed cooking. We don’t dare build a fire or we’ll be spotted. But I thought this would do till we get out of this country and away from your Lord’s men.”
He took out his knife, held the can of peaches between his knees and sawed it open. “I thought these would do for breakfast. The tomatoes will make a good dinner later. If I wasn’t afraid they’d hear the shot, I coulda got us a rabbit, but gunfire travels far on these plains. Besides, I didn’t think you’d want to eat it raw. We’ll just have to do without.”
“Calder, don’t you ever leave me alone again, you hear?”
Why didn’t he just shut up? He acted as if it were perfectly normal for a man to rob a store, get shot and sit down to a meal.
“Okay. Okay, I won’t.” Bending the jagged metal lid out of the way, he pierced a peach half with his knife, took a bite, and glanced up at her. “Here. Don’t let it drop in the dirt. It’s good.”
Juice of the sweet peach shimmered on his lips, and she could not hold back any longer. Dropping down beside him, she held the palm of her hand under the golden fruit while he transferred it to her mouth. The thick, rich syrup slid down her throat, cool and delicious. So good that she forgot all about how he had found the food.
“Oh, my. How wonderful.”
“Yeah, stealing don’t change the taste one bit.”
She chose not to reply. Hated to admit he was right.
Placing the can carefully on the ground so it wouldn’t turn over, he tore off a piece of bread, handed it to her and tore off another for himself. They sat in the grass in the morning sun and shared the fruit and bread, taking turns drinking the last of the juice.
He glanced at her, then dropped his gaze. “I love you, you know,” he said.
“Look at me, please.”
He raised his head, green eyes sparkling in morning sunlight.
“Now, tell me again.”
For a long moment he studied her, then murmured, “You first.”