Frontier Courtship (16 page)

Peeking over the oxen’s broad back, she stood on tiptoe to see if Ben—or anyone else—had heard. To her amazement, she was now the only two-legged creature remaining on that side of the wagon circle!

On the opposite side, however, a hue and cry was rising. People were running to and fro, waving rifles and pointing at two mounted figures silhouetted by the glow of the setting sun.

Faith smiled to herself. Clever Connell. He’d put himself and Irene directly in front of the sun so no details about them were discernible. All they had to do was sit there like Indian scouts and wait to be spotted. The imaginations of settlers who had already faced more than one raiding party since leaving St. Jo would do the rest.

Freed of remaining inhibitions, Faith stepped out from behind the ox, cupped her hands and started working her way through the herd shouting, “Ben! Here I am, Ben. Ben,” over and over.

Darkness was falling. She was just about to give up and sneak back to where she’d left her horse when a soft snort at her elbow startled her. Her old friend had come!

She wheeled, grinning, and opened her arms to hug his neck the way she always had. “Good boy!”

Unsure, the mule tossed his head to escape her grasp then went back to sniffing her Cheyenne outfit.

Faith settled for scratching the bridge of his nose and spoke to calm him. “That’s right. It’s me, boy. Sorry I don’t have any apples for you.”

She hadn’t thought to bring a lead rope either. Thankfully, she didn’t need one. All she had to do was turn and start off with a quiet, “Come on. Let’s go, Ben,” and the mule followed her through the herd like an oversize, obedient pup.

They were almost in the clear when a distant shout went up. “Indians! Quick, boys. Mount up. They’re after the horses!”

Faith’s initial reaction was to freeze and look around her for the threat. In another instant she realized that
she
was the Indian they were hollering about!

If the emigrants caught her, Tucker would find out she was alive. Then there’d be no escape for sure! But how was she going to elude capture? She’d left her riding horse ground-hitched at least a half mile away, maybe farther. Making a run for it and reaching it without being overtaken was not feasible. But what other choice did she have?

Think. Don’t panic. There must be a way!

If she were astride Ben, escape might be possible, she reasoned. The trouble was, she was short and he was sixteen hands at the shoulder. That put his back far above her leaping ability.

Lacking stirrups for a quick boost she cast frantically about for something to stand on. A rock or a stump would do. Anything. As a child at home she’d always led Ben over to the edge of the back porch where he’d stood patiently and waited for her to clamber aboard. Unfortunately, there weren’t any handy porches in the middle of the prairie!

If only she could vault from the ground onto his back without aid the way she’d seen the Indians do it. Then again, they’d had their horses’ long manes to grab hold of while Ben’s had been roached short and bristly, leaving nothing except one little lock of longer hair right at the base by his withers.

The old mule sensed her fright and tossed his head. “Easy, boy. Come on, Ben,” she pleaded. “We’ve got to stick together till we find something for me to stand on.”

She broke into a trot, dodging sagebrush and trying to keep the clumps of long grass that the herds had not yet decimated between her and her pursuers. Here and there, the bones of long-dead animals lay scattered, cleaned by scavengers and sun bleached. The largest of the lot was the skull of a bull buffalo. Maybe it would be enough.

Faith stopped and motioned to Ben. “Here, boy. Over here,” she gasped. “That’s it.” She knew that if he didn’t trust her implicitly, the sense of death surrounding the bones would keep him away.

Head down, treading cautiously and blowing through his nostrils, he came.

Thrilled, Faith could hardly contain her nervous energy long enough to let him step into proper position. She grabbed hold of the lock of mane before she jumped onto the skull and began her leap of faith. It was now or never.

Momentum carried her in a forward arc toward the mule’s side. His big head came around fast, almost as if he wanted to help. That additional swinging movement gave her just enough boost to manage to plant the inside of her right foot and ankle on his backbone!

Thanks to her leather moccasins, her foot didn’t slip back off. Inching along and finally hoisting herself the rest of the way to sit astride was easy compared to making that initial leap.

The moment she straightened, a rifle shot cracked. Faith ducked to lie closer to the mule’s back and pressed her cheek against the side of his neck, then urged him forward with a prod from her heels and a familiar, “Let’s go, Ben.”

She was certain the settlers wouldn’t want to risk hitting valuable animals by firing too low so she figured as long as she kept her head down and Ben kept moving she’d be safe enough.

Logic quickly countered by reminding her that anyone who came after her on horseback might manage to get a clear shot. Worse yet, one of the undisciplined drovers might decide to sacrifice the mule in order to down a real Indian.

That sobering possibility was enough to spur her to more drastic action. Tightening her knees against the mule’s sides and holding on for dear life, she kicked him as hard as she could and let out a war whoop that would have made Black Kettle proud!

All around her, animals shied and scattered. Only Ben remained steady. Without a single buck or lunge, he changed gaits and gained speed until he was covering the ground at a gallop faster than most horses could equal.

It had been years since Faith had ridden the mule without a saddle, let alone raced him. At that moment she cared less about where he took her than she did about keeping her tenuous balance. Later, she’d worry about where they were. Right now all she wanted to do was escape in one piece, together with Ben.

Thankfully, she and the old mule seemed of the same mind.

F
rom his vantage point on the ridge opposite all the commotion, Connell saw what was happening. He wheeled his horse and raced after Faith without pausing to explain anything to Irene.

After reaching the flatlands, he skirted the milling herd, staying in their dust to hide his passing. He needn’t have bothered. No one was paying the slightest attention to him. All they wanted was to catch the so-called Indian they thought was making off with one of their mules.

Frightened oxen were lining out and starting to run in spite of their fatigue. Connell saw his chance to solve everyone’s problems at once. Riding straight at the advancing animals, he waved and shouted, turning them back. Others followed the leaders, creating a whirlpool of stampeding, panting, wild-eyed livestock.

Trapped in the midst of it were the mounted settlers who had started in pursuit of Faith and Ben. Tucker was among them. Spurring his horse mercilessly, the wagon boss worked his way out to where Connell was patrolling the perimeter on Rojo, preventing breakouts.

“What the blazes do you think you’re doing?” Tucker shouted.

“Saving your bacon,” Connell yelled back. “You almost had a stampede.”

“Bah! Nothing me and my boys couldn’t handle.” He stood in his stirrups to scan the distance. “I should hang you fer lettin’ that Injun get away like that.”

“What Indian? All I saw was a bunch of dumb critters fixin’ to run themselves to death. That what you wanted, Captain?”

“’Course not. You tryin’ to tell me you didn’t see nobody out here stealin’ horses?”

“Not one single brave,” Connell said. He was proud of avoiding a blatant lie and wondered if Faith was going to appreciate his effort at veracity. She might, especially if he made a joke out of it when he told her about putting one over on Tucker.

“You was pro’bly in cahoots with ’em.” He started to swing his rifle barrel toward the plainsman.

Connell reached out and tore the weapon from his hand, then reversed it and pointed it back at its owner. “I’d watch my mouth if I were you, mister. There’s plenty of folks sick to death of your meanness. Bet they wouldn’t mind a bit if my finger slipped and I accidentally pulled this trigger.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You’re right,” Connell said, sizing up his adversary, “I wouldn’t. But not because I’m so forgiving. You’ve made this trip before. You’re the only guide these folks have, sorry as you may be. They need you. I won’t take that away from them.”

Ramsey Tucker obviously wasn’t a man who understood altruism. “Ha! Wouldn’t surprise me if you wanted my job.”

“If I thought I could get these wagons through better than you can, I’d take your place gladly,” Connell said. “Let me put everybody on horseback instead of in wagons and I might try it. But I don’t know enough about managing settlers and all their gear, especially through the Sierras. That’s rough country up ahead.”

“Well, stopping a few cows from running off won’t get you another job on my train,” Tucker said, gesturing at the herd. “The Beal wagon is long gone and so is Miss Faith. We’ve got no place for you here anymore.”

“Pity.” Connell touched the brim of his hat. “In that case, I guess I’d better ride.”

“Where you headed?”

The plainsman smiled. “California. Same as you.” His grin spread. “Maybe we’ll run into each other out there.”

“Not likely,” Tucker countered, eyeing his rifle. “You ain’t gonna ride off with my gun, are ya? I need it for protection.”

“I’ll leave it on down the trail a ways. If nobody steals it before you get there, it’ll be waiting.”

“What about the Injuns?” Tucker sounded incredulous.

“You’d better hope I’m right and there aren’t any Indians hereabouts. If you were imagining them, your rifle will be right where I put it. If not, well, there’s nothing I can do about that.”

“You could hand it over right now.”

“And give you a chance to shoot me in the back when I ride away? Not hardly.”

“You don’t trust me? Why not? What did I ever do to you?”

Connell wasn’t about to let himself be drawn into a conversation that might make him so angry he’d accidentally reveal too much and thereby put others in more danger.

He turned Rojo quickly and rode away as additional men joined the wagon boss.

It vexed Connell to have to travel the emigrant trail to dispose of Tucker’s gun. He’d chosen that route simply because Faith had headed in the opposite direction. The longer he kept Tucker and the settlers distracted, the better her chances of escape.

The last time Connell had seen her she’d been clinging to that mule’s back as if she was part of it, going like the wind. Since she wasn’t using a bridle, he hoped she’d have enough control to keep her mount from instinctively circling back to rejoin the familiar herd.

If the rider in question had been anyone but Faith Beal he’d have doubted that feat was possible. In her case, however, he’d learned never to underrate her capabilities. If anybody could convince an old mule to behave, using nothing more than voice commands and a few firm nudges, Faith could.

It was a sight he wished he could stick around to see for himself instead of having to hightail it west on account of Tucker. Oh, well, Irene could tell him all about it when he rejoined her.

Irene!

Taken aback, Connell realized he hadn’t even remembered to bid his future bride goodbye when he’d ridden off so abruptly. All his thoughts, then and since, had been of Faith. All his concern had been only for her.

His gut twisted with remorse, yet he couldn’t help feeling continued apprehension for the young woman whose bravery, wit and compassion had earned her a special place in his heart.

There was no way to make amends until he went back to camp, either. Fortunately Irene was a mature, sensible woman. Surely she’d understand his actions, if not his motives.

Did he understand those motives? Did he want to? That was an excellent question, one he was not ready to consider, let alone answer too honestly.

He slowed his horse, tossed Tucker’s rifle to the ground and sped away. There was no time to waste. Wherever Faith was, she needed help. His help. He’d rescued her before and he’d keep doing it as long as necessary. It was impossible to imagine himself not caring, not looking after her, no matter where she went or what she did.

That thought plunged into his consciousness like raindrops splashing onto the surface of a river to instantly become part of the flow. How could he and Irene marry as they had promised when they were little more than children, while he continued to shepherd Faith through life’s trials? Even the most tolerant wife would wonder why her husband took such an inordinate interest in another woman.

And she wouldn’t be the only one wondering,
Connell told himself. He’d been pondering the same question lately.

His life, his thoughts, his heart, had become so entwined in Faith Beal’s dilemma he couldn’t imagine ever breaking free. The question was, did he even want to try?

Fingers cramped, muscles throbbing, Faith didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to hang on…or how many more miles Ben was going to travel. Though he’d slowed to a stiff trot as he picked his way through the unfamiliar landscape, he was still making good time. She could hear him snorting, feel his sides heaving with every breath.

By listening carefully she decided no one was pursuing them. At least there was that to be thankful for. Speaking of which, she’d been lax in giving proper thanks for her deliverance. Again.

It was hard to enunciate clearly with the mule’s gait bouncing her around, but she did manage to string together a simple, heartfelt “Thank…you…Father!” by inserting one crisp syllable between each stride.

The unexpected sound of her voice after she’d been quiet for so long must have startled the old mule. It shied, pranced sideways for a few yards, then kicked out at an invisible nemesis before continuing forward.

Had Faith been riding with a saddle, or even just a bridle, she wouldn’t have had trouble staying aboard. Riding bareback was another story. She was already slipping off the right side of Ben’s back when his unexpected lunge pitched her forward. Instead of falling all the way to the ground, she closed her arms around his upper neck and hung on for dear life.

Straddling his mane, her face nearly between his big ears, she wondered what in the world to do next.

Ben took any decision from her by lowering his head and proceeding to shake her off like a pesky insect.

All Faith had time to do was yell “Be-e-e-e-n! Whoa!” before she landed in a heap at his feet. If he hadn’t been so seasoned and wise he might have run right over her. Instead, he carefully sidestepped, stopped and waited, looking about as sorry and disconcerted as a traveling preacher who’d misplaced his only hymnbook.

Faith sat there in the dust for a moment, making a mental and physical assessment of the parts of her that hurt. Two hands weren’t nearly sufficient to soothe all her bumps and bruises, not to mention wipe the dirt out of her eyes or check the scrapes she’d gotten when she’d slid to the ground.

She’d decided no bones were broken and was getting to her feet when she heard a female voice say, “Nice dismount.”

“Irene?” Faith’s head snapped around. Her mouth gaped. Not only had the other woman managed to follow her through the twilight-dim wilderness, she’d also picked up Faith’s riding horse and brought it along. “You startled me. I didn’t hear you coming.”

“You’re not supposed to. That’s one reason our ponies aren’t shod.”

“You mean Indian ponies, don’t you?” Faith asked, frowning slightly.

“That’s what I said.”

“No, you said
our
ponies. You may not realize it, but you talk like that all the time. It’s as if you identify more with the Indians than you do with your own people.”

Irene nodded. “I suppose I do. This was my second summer with the Cheyenne. They treated me with respect and made me a part of their tribe while I learned their ways. It’s going to take me a while to get over those influences.”

Faith was dusting off her doeskin skirt as she spoke. “I guess I can understand that. Right now I’m glad I traded my calico for this dress. If I’d been wearing a cloth outfit when I took that fall just now I’d probably have been torn to ribbons.”

“Are you all right?”

“I think so.”

“Then we’d better be going. Connell is going to wonder where we are.”

“Humph. That makes two of us,” Faith said, scanning the countryside with a puzzled frown. “All this land looks the same to me. I’m sure glad you showed up. I have absolutely no idea how to get back to our camp.”

“It isn’t too far. We’ll have to pick up and move if the men from the wagon train come looking for you. I haven’t seen any sign of them so far, but they may change their minds.” She held out a rope. “Here. Throw a loop on your mule like you should have in the first place and let’s ride.”

Faith was already beside Ben, meticulously checking him for injuries. “In a minute. I’m almost done.”

“You’ll be
done
all right, like a roasted Christmas goose, if you don’t mount up and follow me. There’s not much moon tonight and the desert gets very dark once the sun sets all the way. That can work to our advantage if we’re smart.”

“What about Connell?”

“He could track an antelope blindfolded if he had to. Don’t worry. He’ll find us wherever we go.”

Faith put the rope around Ben’s neck and tied it off, then took the reins of her saddle horse. She was about to mount up when an odd noise caught her attention. She froze, listening. “What was that?”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Irene insisted. “Come on.”

“Well, I did.” Faith paused long enough to see if Ben had noticed, too. Not only was he acting more alert, his ears were pricked and he was staring in the same direction she thought the sound had come from. “And so did he.”

“All the more reason for us to keep moving,” the older woman cautioned. “You can either come with me or stay here and fuss about some will-o’-the-wisp. It’s up to you.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Faith said quickly. Keeping hold of the mule’s lead rope, she climbed into the saddle, kicked her horse and fell into line behind Irene without further discussion.

Bringing up the rear, Ben snorted and blew condensation through his flared nostrils as if making his own comment.

Faith glanced back at him. She could tell he was uneasy, as was she. Whether the third member of their trio believed it or not, she and Ben both sensed that something was amiss.

Faith might have believed she’d merely been imagining things if her mule hadn’t echoed her nervousness. She shivered and peered into the distant dimness, straining to sort out the sounds of the desert at night.

It was totally peaceful. Too peaceful. That wasn’t how other evenings had been. Normally, birds called and insects chirped, even in the darker phases of the moon. Tonight, absolute quiet reigned.

The only sounds Faith was able to discern, no matter how hard she tried to hear, were the soft clumping of the horses’ hooves and the pounding of her own heart.