Naomi fumbled nervously whenever she handled a rifle. Brody Quince could probably shoot the eye out of a hawk in flight, Emily Erdman's eyesight, even with her glasses, was so poor Charlie just hoped she could aim in the right direction if it was ever needed.
Marta, Mary, and Rebecca proved to be as expert as Brody, Daisy willing but unskilled, and Missy, a complete lack of willingness to learn. “I can't do that. It's too heavy...” or “My daddy tried to teach me once, but the noise is too loud...” The silly lisp that she affected became more intense, and she puckered into tears. Charlie avoided her.
The guns were bad news, not good like Missy had said. Neither Mangas Colorado nor the Comancheros would give up this prize. The water barrel was less than half full, even though they'd been rationing since the first day. The beans and peaches would last another two days, maybe three if they all sucked in their guts and ate less than the half-rations they had already practiced.
He looked at the girls from the Sparrow Creek Academy with new eyes. For all their giggles and petty rebellions, he'd been with grown men who didn't act as well. He wanted to save them. Hell, he wanted to save himself. But most of all, he wanted to save Naomi Parker Wolf McCallister. He wanted to save his woman.
After their silent passion, it wasn't possible for him to keep his hands off of Naomi when close, so by tacit agreement, they stayed clear of each other. It was different now. He felt her eyes on him when he hobbled around the camp, and there was never a moment he didn't know her exact spot.
Chapter Thirteen
Charlie was worried. Ever since they'd discovered the cache of guns, he'd been ... stoic. After Naomi had seen him measure the water the first day, she'd been checking too. She could see that it was too low to linger here much longer.
It was no surprise when he grasped her elbow and limped beside her to the overlook that was big enough for only two and afforded them a small amount of privacy.
As soon as they were seated, she turned to him, a hundred ideas churning, most of them impractical and born of desperation. She was surprised, though, when he already had plans made.
"It's time to get your students home. We're going to move them tonight, navigate by the stars. You're going to have to move fast, away from here, traveling toward Buffalo Creek as fast as the horses can go."
"Okay.” Naomi was ready to do something. The waiting was against them now that they knew the Comancheros were looking for guns. Maybe the Apaches were out there too, maybe they had moved on, but there was no maybe about leaving this hideaway.
"If luck is with you, you'll run into a posse of citizens coming for those girls and..."
Naomi put her hand across his mouth. “Stop.” She stroked her thumb across his lower lip, as he was wont to do to hers.
"We are not going anywhere without you. Do not suggest other than that."
Patiently, he explained his plan. He would stay behind, set fire to the guns when he figured they'd traveled far enough to be in the clear. He would deliberately draw the Comancheros to him, holding them off with the rifles while the girls rode through the night to safety.
"No."
"Naomi Parker Wolf McCallister,” he sternly pronounced her name. “Did you not hire me to save your students?"
"No ... yes.” She stopped and then added, “But not by killing yourself. There has to be another way. No,” she said tartly, “we'll find another way."
"Naomi, see those stars?” He ignored her words and pointed at the sky so brightly lit it was a thousand lanterns showing the way. “I'm going to show you how to use them as your guide.” He motioned at the sky, and explained how to navigate through the night using the pattern there to steer a course.
"You're going ahead with the wagon and the girls. I'm staying here with Old Mossy and put on a show. Those cartridges hold a lot of gunpowder, and I've got good use for it."
"We'll saddle up the buckskin and harness the draft animal, let either the Quince or Johnson girl drive. They're both steady. You keep going, no matter what you hear behind you. Like I said, I'm going to set a fire or two and make some noise. I want you and the girls in the wagon, traveling like the devil is on your heels."
"Follow the bear...” He showed her the constellation, murmuring the directions in her ear as he drew her close in his arms. “Come morning, drive with the sun at your back until you hit the trail to Buffalo Creek. Then kick the horses into a run. You're not safe until you hit town."
When he was done, she turned and looked him in the eyes. “If you think you can get out of this marriage by getting yourself killed, think again. I expect you to catch up with us after you set your fires. If you don't, I'm not promising that I won't come back for you. I never thought to have a husband, but now that I've been exposed to the institution of marriage, I find that I am quite partial to the idea."
Then she kissed him full on the lips, the chin, the cheek, and back on the lips, awkwardly placing each intimacy. When he drew her closer and laughed, scraping his rough beard against her jaw, she said again, “I mean it, Charlie Wolf McCallister."
"Yes, ma'am,” he answered gruffly. “Now let's get you loaded and on your way."
She called the girls together and told them the plan. Charlie threw a box of cartridges to three of the girls, Becky Johnson, Brody Quince, and Daisy Meadows. “Open those up, ladies. I need a supply of gunpowder."
When she filled a canteen for him and fussed at the blanket covering his horse, she looked up and asked, “Why do you call a beautiful horse like Old Mossy?"
He stopped tearing apart the rifle boxes and grinned. It was the first fully developed smile he'd given her. “Oyamossa,” he said slowly, and for the first time she heard. “Oh, he has an Indian name.” She paused and then corrected herself, “A Kiowa name. What does it mean?"
"Fearless warrior—or close—the Indian language doesn't exactly match the English in descriptions. Sam made the word into ‘old mossy’ so that he could remember how to say it. That stuck."
He spilled the rifles onto the ground and stacked them, with the boxes broken up for kindling.
"You're going to destroy the rifles?” He was methodically slamming the stock against the ground, breaking each rifle before he threw it on the growing pile.
He looked at her bleakly and asked, “Army, Indian, Comanchero?” Naomi could see the worlds he straddled. She picked up a gun and banged it on the rock, splintering the wooden stock.
"Can't let these fall into the hands of either Mangas Colorado or the Comancheros, and they're closer than the army right now.” She banged a second gun against the boulder and felt the crack of wood under her hand. “I think you've made me stronger.” Her grin turned into a tender expression as she looked up at him.
"Please don't get yourself killed."
"I'll use them to get a little noise and light showing, priming them with gunpowder. Then I'll lay a trail that leads up to it. I'm not lighting it till you've had plenty of time to get off the mountain and out of sight. Then I'll light the charge and ride like hell to join you."
"You can't ride. Your leg is broken.” It seemed like a poor time to remind him of that, but Charlie just shook his head.
"I can ride. Don't worry. Climb on board, girls. The wagon should travel fast, there's no cargo weighing it down now. I left a box of rifles on board. Use them if you have to.” The eight students from Sparrow Creek Ladies’ Academy looked solemnly at Charlie Wolf and then took up their positions in the wagon.
Indifferent to the girls waiting to get started, he drew her into his arms and hugged her. “Tonight, Naomi ... the stars will guide you tonight."
Becky Johnson drove the wagon down the side of the mountain. Every creak and groan of the old cart seemed magnified in the night. From the back of the buckskin, Naomi sighted a course and led the girls across the desert and away from the plateau that had concealed them for three days.
No one spoke as the mountain receded into the distance. Hours passed and the shadowed rocks and cliffs no longer loomed behind them, when the first fire flared high.
"Charlie set the rifles ablaze,” Daisy's voice carried to Naomi.
"Quiet, ladies, or else Mr. Wolf's risk was for naught.” She knew her voice was sharp, but fear rode with her. Silence once again prevailed as they bumped across the rugged terrain.
When the first light of day began, Naomi altered their course accordingly, and they headed for Buffalo Creek.
It was midmorning by the time they hit the trail that led into Buffalo Creek. They began smelling smoke even before the residue of ash and fire drifted toward them. By the time they arrived at the small village, they knew it was not a haven for them.
Buffalo Creek was no more. It had never been large, not more than a restaurant, sheriff, doctor, and small general store. The buildings were gone, burned to the ground.
"Don't stop or slow down, Brody. We're going to Eclipse.” Charlie had anticipated trouble. He'd said, “If you can't get to Buffalo Creek, bypass the town and head straight to Eclipse. It's big enough. You ought to be safe there."
"Load your rifles and get ready, girls. Brody, no matter what happens, keep the wagon moving."
And then she heard the thunder of hoofs behind them and Charlie Wolf was there, yelling instructions as he herded them toward the town. Old Mossy stretched out under him, Charlie rode the animal gripping with his thighs, the splint on his broken leg gone. Charlie had bound his leg to the stirrup.
"Comancheros have Eclipse under siege. Follow me.” The draft horse was covered in sweat, heaving in exhaustion. They'd driven him at a hard run to Buffalo Creek and then past that horror. Now, they pushed him harder, skirting the town, to cut through the desert and come in on the other side.
Naomi clung to her mount and kept up, riding close to the wagon. Charlie rode on her outside, shielding her as they galloped toward Eclipse.
The sounds of battle carried through the desert air. Naomi looked across at Charlie. His hat was gone, and he crouched low on his horse's neck, his hair streaming back and mixing with the midnight coat of Old Mossy.
He looks like an Indian.
For the first time since their meeting, she saw him as a savage, a wild, untamed creature to be feared. Suddenly the landscape changed as Apache warriors rose from the hidden trenches they'd burrowed and came after the wagon.
Naomi counted five running on the ground and one warrior riding a piebald stallion, closing fast. Charlie turned to block the horse and rider. The last Naomi saw, the two riders came together, fighting hand-to-hand, Charlie with knife against spear.
Shots fired from the wagon drove the running Apaches back, and the wagon raced toward white riders who were coming to meet them.
When Charlie circled Old Mossy and came up by her side, the rifles sounded, mistaking him for the attacking Indians.
Naomi swerved her horse closer, throwing her arms around Charlie. Their mounts sped along stride for stride until bronze arms of steel lifted her from her horse and sat her in front of him. All guns were trained on them when they pulled up at the edge of Eclipse. Riders surrounded them as they rode beside the wagon into town.
"What in the name of hell did you think you were doing?"
Naomi buried her face in his chest, wrapped her arms around his waist, and muttered, “Saving you."
"That's
three
ass-beatin's you've got coming,” he whispered into her ear.
"Better quit canoodling and get inside the town, Chief, although you might not be any safer here than wherever you've been."
It was Sam coming up on Old Mossy's left side. Deacon came up on his right. Naomi looked at the cold-eyed gunslinger and said, “I'm very glad to see you too, cousin.” The McCallisters edged out the other riders, protecting as well as escorting Charlie and Naomi down the main street of Eclipse. “Wouldn't want anyone to think you're part of Mangas Colorado's band, Chief.” Sam handed over his Stetson, and Charlie pulled it on, tucking his hair underneath.
They ended up in front of the county jail, Sheriff Wood out front to greet them. Hiram Potter, Buffalo Creek's sheriff, stood beside him.
"Ma'am.” Hiram Potter tipped his hat in Naomi's direction and reached a hand behind her to grab Brody Quince, drawing her out to stand in front of him.
"I know your folks will be glad to see you. Hamilton rode out to the ranch when the bastards...” He blushed and said gruffly, “Excuse me, ladies. When the Comancheros burned us out of Buffalo Creek, there wasn't but a few folks in town, and we got out ahead of them. If they hadn't been so bent on destroying everything there, they'd have caught us. Guess they thought Jericho was locked up in my jail."
"We got here just in time to warn Eclipse citizens that the outlaws were coming. Hamilton rode hell-bent for leather to the Double Q and then the Comancheros hit, pinned us down, and we hoped you'd stay put wherever you were."
Hiram Potter was a friend of the family, but knew his place professionally. He stepped back and mumbled to the Eclipse sheriff, “Begging your pardon. Just needed to welcome Lucy's girl home."
Naomi wanted attention to turn to Charlie Wolf. She stood before the townspeople of Eclipse, and for the first time since her adventure began, was acutely aware of Charlie's buckskins that drooped and sagged on her form.
Sheriff Wood asked, “Would this be the wagon Jericho Jones is having a conniption fit over?” One by one, the girls handed over their rifles and displayed the sixteen that were still boxed. No one mentioned the other three cases that Charlie had destroyed.
The men were immediately deep in conversation and the girls and their ordeal an unimportant event because they'd survived.
As soon as the wagon was unloaded, the girls and Naomi were hustled into the biggest building in Eclipse, the CQ Mercantile. For just a moment, she'd felt the pull of Charlie's glance and when she'd looked up, he'd held the saddlebag ready to throw. “Use what you need, teacher."