Gabriel's Atonement (28 page)

Mark couldn't believe his rotten luck. Breathing hard, he slowed his pace.

A man waved him on. “Don't give up. Just find the last piece of land and claim it. Go on. Others are right behind you.”

He nodded his thanks and hurried on. Three blocks from the train station his steps slowed as his eyes landed on the prettiest thing he'd seen since meeting Joline Jensen—an unclaimed lot. The lot on the far side already had a tent on it as did others farther down. How had this one been missed? He stepped across the invisible threshold and drove his stake into the ground. Then he straightened, looping his thumbs in his suspenders and watching the other frantic Boomers pass him.

His neighbor to his left nodded and grinned. “I wondered when someone was going to notice that plot hadn't been claimed. If 'n I'd had a son old enough, he'd have gotten it.”

Mark smiled, very glad the man didn't have a son. He wasn't as close to the depot as he'd hoped, but the way he figured, with this huge crowd, there would be plenty of men who didn't get a claim who might be interested in hauling freight. Stretching, he surveyed his plot. It wasn't the one he'd hoped for, but with all the wares he had coming, by tomorrow, he would be doing a stiff business. He needed to hire several workers to get his large tent erected and stocked. His thoughts rushed to Jo Jensen again. Where was the pretty girl now?

He shook her from his mind and got back to work. From his satchel, he withdrew a ball of string and a supply of sticks and began staking out his mercantile. He wished he'd thought to bring a fabric sign with him, but by tomorrow, he'd have the one he'd had made just for this event.

Besides the tent, the first things he needed to have brought to his booth were the half-dozen barrels of water he'd sent by train. Gilbert, his father's employee, had thought him crazy to ship barrels of water, but Mark knew that with so many people competing for the land, there was bound to be a shortage of the precious liquid. Just how much he could get for a cup was the question. He grinned.

Yes sir, by tomorrow night, his pockets would be lined with coin.

Though Sunny wanted to gallop constantly and Lara preferred it, she reined him to a brisk trot, hoping to conserve his energy. He was too valuable to lose. She glanced at the sun, estimating that she'd been riding for close to two hours. Looking around and behind her, she only saw three riders, and one of those veered to the right as she watched. He must be heading for Kingfisher.

Lara angled Sunny to the left slightly, trying to remember all that Grandpa had told her about the lay of the land—but it all ran together with no map to refer to. Should she stop here and claim this section? And how was she to know if someone else already had when she couldn't see the whole one hundred and sixty acres at once?

She crested a hill and allowed Sunny to pick up his speed as he descended it. A man stood in a copse of trees, waving his flagged stake as a signal to ride on. This land was claimed. “Please, Lord, help me find an available claim.”

Everything depended on it.

She kept Sunny to a trot across the hilly land as much as possible, knowing the horse could last much longer at that speed. She crossed several more rolling hills and realized there was no one around. She searched right and left. Only a single rider followed her. Was this the spot she should claim?

One more hill—to see if there was a water source—and she would stop. She held her breath as she crested the hill and pulled Sunny to a stop. His sides expanded and shrank with his labored breathing.

A wide creek, surrounded by trees on both sides ran through the beautiful span of land. She looked to her left, and her stomach clenched at the sight of a stack of stones that indicated the corner point where four sections of land met. Her heart picked up speed. She could claim this land. It was perfect. And not a soul was in sight.

But hoofbeats pounded behind her—close behind.

“Hi'yah, Sunny!” She slapped the reins against his neck.

The surprised horse bolted forward and down the hill. Rocks scattered beneath his hooves. Lara held her breath, wishing she hadn't pushed him so hard on the slope, but her family's existence rested on her getting this land.

Suddenly, Sunny stumbled. Lara grasped at the saddle horn, but her hand slipped. Strings of Sunny's mane slid through her fingers as she scrambled for a hold. And then she was flying over the horse, through the air. Darkness claimed her.

Gabe's heart nearly flew from his chest as he watched Lara sail over the head of her falling horse. He should have called out to her. Let her know it was he who was following her, then maybe she wouldn't have felt the need to hurry so badly. He should have slowed down and not pressed her. This was his fault.

At the bottom of the hill, he jumped off Tempest before the horse stopped and ran to Lara. Blood seeped from a cut above her eyebrow, as well as multiple scrapes on her face and hands.

He jumped up and grabbed the reins of the buckskin, at the same time checking to see if the horse was injured. At least the gelding was standing. Blood ran down his front legs, but all four hooves were securely on the ground. The horse panted and blew, still winded from his long ride. Gabe needed to cool down the animals, but first he had to tend to Lara. He led her gelding to a shady spot and checked to see where Tempest was. The horse had found water and was helping himself to a drink. Gabe jogged over to him, grabbed the reins and tied them to a hackberry bush. Then he unfastened his bedroll and bag of supplies, making sure to keep his claim stake close at hand. Picking a wide-open spot, he shoved the blue-flagged stake into the ground, becoming an instant landowner. Pride swelled through him, but it was short-lived.

Under the shade of an oak tree, he shook out his bedroll then hurried to Lara's side, scooped her up, and carried her to his blanket, where he laid her. She moaned but didn't awaken. He knew little about doctoring, except that he needed to tend her wounds and cover the worst of them. Tugging off his bandana, he jogged back to the creek, dipped a corner of it in water, and returned to Lara's side. Kneeling beside her, he gently pressed the damp cloth against the biggest cut. It probably needed stitching up, but he had no needle or thread.

But maybe she did. He glanced at the buckskin and realized there was no gear attached to the saddle. Looking back at the hill, he saw that Lara's satchel and bedding had come loose in the fall. He quickly fetched the items, along with her battered straw hat, and brought them back. He felt odd rummaging through her unmentionables, but it had to be done. The first thing he noticed was the sad state of her grayed garments. Oh, they were clean, but faded and frayed. He tugged out a petticoat, easily ripping the thin fabric into strips. At the bottom of the bag, he discovered a rolled-up piece of fabric and untied and unrolled it, thanking God for the supplies inside.

The only thing missing was a bottle of whiskey to cleanse the wound and ease her pain, not that he thought she would imbibe. Ten minutes later, he sat back on his heels and studied his handiwork. Lara would have a jagged scar, but it would heal, and maybe her hair would hide it.

She'd be horrified to know that he'd run his hands down each of her limbs, making sure there were no breaks—and thanked God there weren't. Those pants, which surprised the dickens out of him, had protected her legs. She would be sore and in pain for a few days, but she would live. He hoped.

He heard a scuffling and saw a rider sliding down the rocky hillside. Gabe strode out to let the man know the land had been claimed. He started to motion to the man to ride on, but a thought streaked across his mind.

“Hey, mister, you got any whiskey?”

The man grinned and reined to a halt, his horse prancing and blowing hard. “You aim to celebrate gettin' a claim?”

Gabe shook his head. “My woman got hurt. Her horse didn't take that hill as well as yours and mine. I need some whiskey to cleanse her wounds.”

“Sorry to hear that.” He reached behind him, unfastened his saddlebags, and pulled out a half-empty bottle of scotch. He gave it a lingering look then tossed it to Gabe. “I guess your lady needs it more than I do. Mind if I water my horse a speck from your creek?”

“Go right ahead, and thanks a heap. And no one has passed us in a long while, so the next section may be unclaimed.”

“Thanks!” The cowboy grinned and tipped his hat and trotted his horse toward the creek. Gabe rushed back to Lara's side, mulling over the fact that he had a creek on his own land.

When he poured a small portion of the scotch on Lara's forehead, she groaned and twisted away from him. She raised a hand toward the cut, but Gabe grabbed her hand and pulled it away.

“W–what happened? W–where am I?”

He plugged the bottle and scooted closer to her. “Your horse took a fall, and you fell off. Injured your head, mostly.”

Her eyes blinked, and she squinted up at him. “Gabe?”

He took her nearest hand. “Yeah, it's me. You liked to have scared me half to death.”

“The land!” Suddenly she bolted up, moaning and grabbing her head.

He clutched her shoulders, halting her progress, and pushed her back down. “Easy there, you had a bad fall. You just need to rest.”

She looked toward the hill. “My horse. Is he—”

“Fine. He's shook up and scratched his knees, but he seems fine.” Gabe glanced at the buckskin and smiled. “He's even grazing, so that's a great sign.”

She stared at him. “Let me go. I've got to get land.”

He shook his head. “You're not going anywhere. You don't realize it yet, but you're going to be in a world of hurt come morning.”

She pushed an elbow behind her, again attempting to rise.

Once more Gabe gently halted her progress. “You need to rest, Lara.”

She glared at him. “Get off me.”

“No.”

“My family is depending on me.”

“You're more important to your family than a piece of land.”

She grimaced and looked past him, her eyes latching onto something. Gabe glanced over his shoulder as a trio of riders crested the hill. He rose and walked toward them, waving them on with one hand while keeping the other resting atop his gun. “This land's been claimed. Move on.”

They nodded and kept riding. Gabe relaxed and walked back to Lara. Now that she was doing fairly well, the horses needed his attention.

When he turned, Lara was sitting, albeit a bit shakily, glaring at him. “You? You claimed my land for yourself?”

S
ilas Stone clutched the bars of the tiny window of the Wichita jail and gave them a shake, like he'd done a hundred other times. Even if they broke free, it wouldn't help him because the opening was too small for him to climb through. He blew out a frustrated sigh and stared out at the quiet alley.

For weeks, people traveling in wagons of all kinds had passed down his alley, but now it was just—quiet. The land hunters had left town, and some unlucky soul had claimed his land—the land his brother was buried on.

Today was April 22. He glanced up, barely able to see the angle of the sun from his cell. The land rush was over and done with by now. The marshal's fat old deputy had taken pleasure in counting down the days until the run and shoving it in his face that someone else would be rightfully settling on the land he'd already claimed as his own. He gritted his teeth and shoved away from the wall, pacing to the front bars and back. He had to get out of here. Had to get back to his land and throw off the yahoo who thought it was rightfully his. Someone would soon be sorry for intruding on his dreams and stealing what was his. Someone needed to live on that land who would put wildflowers on his brother's grave.

He kicked his empty food plate, sending it skittering across the floor. The tin dish gave a satisfying clink as it hit the bars. If he hadn't been thrown off the land, he'd have put up a corral by now, planted a garden, and maybe even stolen a half-dozen head of cattle to call his own.