Texas Lonesome (32 page)

Sourdough Creek

By

Caroline Fyffe

Chapter One

Clarksville, Nevada Territory, June 1851

S
am Ridgeway awakened slowly. He grasped at the overwhelming happiness that enveloped him, unwilling to let it go just yet. The feeling ebbed and he opened his eyes.
Someday, I’ll have my own ranch, and it won’t be a dream.
A dull ache squeezed his temples, a result of too many hours of poker in the dim light of the saloon. Good thing he wasn’t a drinker. Waking up with a headache was as appealing as gettin’slapped in the face with a cow tail covered in dung.

The bedsheet, pulled haphazardly over his bare chest, felt cool against his skin. He stared at the cracked ceiling of his ratty hotel room, wondering how much longer the paper-thin walls would actually remain erect. The Desert Princess was anything but. Unfortunately, it was the only establishment in town to get a bed, if a saddle tramp like himself was inclined to stay over.

Suddenly, last night’s events came rushing back. His breath caught and he sat up. His gaze cut to his saddlebags across the room on a chair. It was true! Lady Luck had wrapped her arms around him and kissed him flush on the lips.

Sam threw back the sheet and crossed the scarred wooden floor. With shaky hands, he unbuckled first the left side, rummaged around, then repeated the action on the right. Not finding the thrice-folded document, he strode over to the morning light streaming through the window and tried again.

Nothing!

Heat rushed to his face as confusion settled in. Angrily, he tossed the bags onto the bed and stared at the floor, thinking. Just after midnight, when Sam had decided he’d had as much fun as one payday would allow, and time had come to call it a night, the Swede had made a startling declaration. The bald miner with only one eye was out of money. He wanted one last chance to win back some of his hard-earned pay. Feeling lucky, he tossed the deed to his gold claim into the middle of the saloon table.

It was the easiest hand Sam had ever won. Returning to his room, he put the claim into his saddlebag for safekeeping. At the most, he’d had two beers, so he hadn’t been drunk. He wouldn’t mix that up, not with how important these winnings were to him and his brother, Seth. They would finally get their life back on track. So where was it?

Dread gave way to anger as Sam put the puzzle pieces together. The only person who had known he was staying overnight in the Desert Princess was Arvid Angel, one of two other men involved in the game. Somehow that sneaking, lowdown bum had crept in here while he’d been asleep and stolen it! 

Sam stepped to the door, took the handle, and tested the lock. It held firm.

Somehow—
somehow
—he’d gotten in.

Now almost frantic, Sam glanced around, wondering how the snake had accomplished it. The room was on the second floor, without balcony or toehold. The old coot hadn’t come through the window. So how did he do it?

A large hole by the floorboard, half covered by a dresser, caught Sam’s eye. He was sure it hadn’t been there last night.

Two strides gave him access. He grasped the cladding and gave it a yank. A three-foot section of wallpaper ripped away, crisscrossed with small boards pasted to the back. Sam glared at the poor excuse of patching material dangling in his hands. 

Arvid must had taken the room next door and burrowed through after discovering the weak spot, somehow without waking him, and stolen the prize! 

Sam clenched his fists. This wasn’t the end of it! No way, no how! Not by a long shot. He’d find Arvid and retrieve what was rightfully his, if it was the last thing he ever did.

“I don’t want to call you Cassidy,” Josephine announced boldly. Her eyes filled and her bottom lip wobbled. “You’re Cassie. My
sister
.”

Cassie almost winced at the distressed expression on her little sister’s face. But there was no changing what had to be done. Time had run out. “From now on, and until I say different,” she responded, looking into her sister’s eyes to make her point known, “I’m Cassidy, your
brother
. Remember that.”

Cassie smeared some dirt down Josephine’s cheek and a tad more across her forehead for good measure. She rubbed a little on her own neck, too, just enough to seem as if she hadn’t bathed in a good while.

Picking up scissors, she lifted a handful of sun-colored locks from her sister’s head and, with a sound akin to shearing wool, cut it off one inch from the roots, leaving only thick stubble behind. A cry tore from her sister’s throat as she pulled back.

“Sit still, Josephine. I’ve told you a hundred times this is only for a while.” She sectioned off another portion and cut, unmindful of the tears running down Josephine’s cheeks. “It’ll grow back, when this is all over.” The younger girl wiped her face with the back of her hand and nodded compliantly.

Forcing a smile, Cassie continued to cut. “I’ll call you Joey. That’s short for Joseph. It won’t be so bad. Think of it—as a boy you can get away with all sorts of shenanigans. Remember Clarence? How he’d tell his ma lies and make rude noises? Well, I don’t expect you to be fibbing, but being a boy does have some advantages.”

Her little sister chewed on her bottom lip, considering her sister’s words. “Can I spit and holler?”

“Sometimes.”

Love lifted Cassie’s chest. Josephine, only five, was strong and resilient. She was a survivor, a true testament to their ma’s goodness. How Cassie wished her ma was here with them now. Every fiber of her being ached with the unbearable sadness of the loss.

Prickly heat burned behind Cassie’s eyes but she willed the emotion away. She’d even appreciate the help of her Uncle Arvid, if he were around. Provided that he was sober. Despite being almost twenty years old, she wasn’t used to being the sole decision maker of the family.

Finished, she helped Josephine, who now resembled a moth-eaten little muskrat, off the pine cupboard and set her on the floor. She held her by the shoulders and looked into her face. “Go put on the dungarees I altered for you. Use the cord for a belt.”

Josephine’s face was resolute, her beautiful hair already forgotten. Her gaze held all the trust in the world.
I wish she wouldn’t do that
. A whirl of dread cramped Cassie’s insides and she looked away from her sister’s innocent blue eyes. “Go on now. Be quick. Make sure everything is in your satchel. There’s not much time to cut my own hair before those good-for-nothing Sherman brothers show up.”

She caressed the top of Josephine’s fluffy head at the same time she swallowed her fear.

“And don’t you go thinkin’ you’re the only special one, now, you hear?” Ignoring her request, Josephine stood rooted in place.

Cassie had no time to push her along. She propped the cracked mirror against the wall, angling it back and forth until she found her reflection. Gathering her waist-length chestnut hair behind the nape of her neck, and before she could think twice, she cut it off just under her ears. The blunt remains swung loosely around her face. She swallowed, looking at her reflection. “There.”

Josephine’s eyes narrowed. “It ain’t as short as mine.”

Cassie picked up the mirror to get a closer look. “That’s because I’m older. I’m tying it with a cord, like the older boys do.” Replacing the mirror, she took a thin strip of leather from her pocket and raked her hair back with her fingers, tying it in a knot taut against her scalp.

Josephine scrunched her face. “It don’t look too good.”

“It’s not supposed to. Question is, do I look like a boy?”

“Sorta.”

Cassie plunked a tattered old hat on her head. “Now?”

Josephine nodded, wide-eyed.

“That’s good enough, then. Run, put your clothes on. Time’s short.”

Cassie was just finished binding her smallish breasts and pulling her chemise over her head when a loud pounding sounded on the front door. Josephine dashed into the room and threw her arms around her waist with the strength of Samson. “They’re here!”

She peeled Josephine’s arms from her body and quickly threaded her own arms into the bulky, green plaid shirt of her boy costume. “Go into Miss Hawthorn’s bedroom and lock the door. Scoot under the bed and cover yourself with the quilt I put there, just like I showed you. Make sure nothing is sticking out. I’ll call when the coast is clear.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

The doorknob rattled violently, jiggling back and forth. Josephine’s eyes grew large and frightened.

Cassie wished she believed the words she was about to say. “Don’t you worry a smidge,” she whispered hurriedly. “We’ll be eating cherry pie before you know it. Bristol Sherman isn’t worth a barrel of monkeys. And neither is Klem. I’m way smarter than the two of ‘em put together. Once I tell them Arvid Angel has moved on and took his nieces with him, they’ll go away.”

“What if they don’t believe you?” Josephine asked quietly. “I wish Uncle hadn’t made ‘em mad by stealing Klem’s watch.”

“We’re not even sure he did,” Cassie replied, not wanting her sister to think their uncle was a thief. “You just stay put under the bed.” She gave Josephine a little shove. “Go on, now.”

When her sister’s bottom lip wobbled, Cassie knelt down and pulled Josephine into a comforting hug. Her small body quivered uncontrollably. In a moment of painful clarity, it occurred to Cassie that this could be it.
This could be goodbye!

Cassie put her face just inches from Josephine’s. “You know Psalm 23. I want you to say it to yourself over and over.” When Josephine didn’t move, Cassie began, “‘The Lord is my shep—’”

A pounding on the door rattled the room. Trying to ignore it, Cassie took Josephine’s hands into her own and gave them a shake. “Come on, sweetie, say it with me. As Josephine’s raspy little voice melded with her own, Cassie turned her sister’s body toward Miss Hawthorn’s room and gave an encouraging push. “Go on now and do as I say.
Hurry
.”

Josephine moved away, her whispered words scarcely audible.

“And be quiet as a mouse.”

“I will, Cassie. I promise,” she called in a small voice over her shoulder.

Cassie snatched her ivory cameo off the dresser, and with fumbling fingers pinned it to the bodice of her chemise, hiding it beneath the heavy shirt. She heard her mother’s words as if she were standing here before her. “Take my guardian angel cameo. I pass it on to you.”

Boot steps moved across the porch toward the parlor window. She cinched up the rope around her waist, making sure the knot was securely tightened. The pounding sounded again, but this time on glass with a force so great Cassie was sure it would break the pane.

Cassie hefted her pa’s Colt 45 from the mantel and hooked it inside her pants on the rope belt, making sure her shirt concealed the bulge. “Hold your britches on!” she shouted back, forcing the deepest voice she could muster. “I’m coming!”

T
he sign read: Broken Branch, population 432.

Trail weary, Sam dismounted and stretched his legs. Turning to his horse, he flipped the stirrup over the back of the saddle and gave a firm tug to loosen the cinch. A gentle breeze ruffled the gray mare’s long, black mane and stirred the leaves on the ground.

Sam ran his hand down her right foreleg and lifted it up. With his thumbs, he felt around the spongy frog at the center of her sole. Finding nothing suspicious, he covered her pastern with his palm and felt for warmth. Her shoe looked fine. On several occasions he’d felt Blu favor that foot, but nothing seemed amiss now, at least nothing he could discern. He’d have the blacksmith take a look as soon as he got a room and settled for the evening.

With the sun behind him, Sam tipped back his hat and took his first good look at Broken Branch. The town at the bottom of the hill was undistinguished. Consisting of several dusty streets with the usual commerce buildings and houses, it could be any of the half dozen places he’d ridden through of late. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

“Hope there’s a smithy,” Sam said to his horse. His stomach let out a loud growl. “Not to mention a thick, juicy steak.”
And a knowledgeable person who’s seen Arvid, willing to point me in the right direction.

Unbuckling his chaps, he pulled them off and slung them over the saddle, and then ambled ahead.

Just then loud voices erupted, drawing his attention to a house a block off the main street. Two figures skittered around the large front porch in some kind of scuffle.

It didn’t look life-threatening to Sam, so he decided to stick with his rule of keeping to himself. Appeared to be two kids, anyway.
Probably arguing over who had to clean out the chicken coop
, he thought with a lopsided grin. The skinny one was fast as a jackrabbit, and all over the place. The taller of the two was cumbersome and slow, and would never in this life catch his quarry. What Skinny lacked in bulk, he made up for in speed. Despite the fact it was actually quite entertaining, Sam looked away.

Cassie ducked under Klem’s fist and darted behind a rocking chair, thankful the scoundrel had shown up alone. She’d already taken several painful punches to her body and didn’t know how many more he’d land before bringing her down. She gasped for breath. This couldn’t go on much longer. She was spent, hurting. It took every ounce of her energy just to lift her arms in defense. The tinny taste of blood inside her mouth made her want to retch. Things had gone from bad to worse and she needed to draw Klem away from the house, away from Josephine hiding under the bed, before giving up the fight. The gun hooked inside her pants was cumbersome, but she was glad she had it for a last resort. Maybe he’d listen to reason if he were looking down its barrel.

Reaching for her shirt, Klem tripped over the spittoon Miss Hawthorn had out for her boarders’ convenience. His boot caught and he fell to his knees, knocking his head against the porch railing with a crash.

Without thinking, Cassie leaped over him, trying to reach the porch stairs. In mid-air his hand shot up and gripped her ankle.
Too late!
He’d been playing possum. They rolled together toward the stairs and bumped down into the dirt.

Adrenalin kept her scratching, punching, and squirming to get free. With his overpowering weight, Klem rolled her to her back and sat on top of her, forcing the air out of her lungs. He pinned her arms up over her head as sweat from his face dripped onto her own, running down her neck.

If only the gun would go off and shoot a hole right through his foot!

Klem reared back, raising a doubled fist, his eyes filled with rage. “Tell me where Cassie is, you little skunk!”

Gunshots rang out and bullets kicked up dirt all around.

Squeezing her eyes closed, Cassie prepared to meet her maker. Klem’s brother, Bristol, must have shown up for the party.

“Fun’s over,” a deep voice called out. “Get off him.”

At the sound of the shots, Klem had collapsed onto her in a shocking show of cowardice. A moan gurgled from his throat. “I’m hit,” he shrieked, looking at his hands in disbelief. “I’m bleeding, I’m bleeding.”

Cassie tried to extract herself from under his heavy body, but was pinned. “Stop your sniveling.” She gasped for air. “That’s my blood on your hands, not yours.”

Klem crawled to his knees and stood, wiping dirt and debris from his clothes. He eyed the stranger as he approached.

“What the devil is going on here?” the man asked through clenched teeth. He dropped his reins and left his horse standing as he approached. Offering Cassie his hand, he pulled her to her feet.

Klem was backing away when the man turned on him. Grasping him by the front of his shirt, he yanked Klem up close to his face.

“Never could abide bullies like you.” He motioned with his head toward Cassie. “That boy weighs less than a bantam.”

Suddenly, Klem took an awkward swing at the cowboy, who easily caught his arm and twisted it around his back, shoving it upward. Then the man pushed Klem away with such force he fell to his knees in a puff of dust, pitching forward and landing flat on his face. He came up spitting dirt from his mouth.

“You ought to mind your own business, mister,” Klem mumbled. He climbed to his feet.

“Really.”

The one word, delivered with such controlled fury, sent shivers down Cassie’s spine and she took a tiny step back, giving him space. Time stood still as he enforced his own patience. Then, with measured movement, he rolled up the sleeves of his white broadcloth shirt and stood with his fists tensed at his sides.

“What I
ought
to do,” the stranger replied, “is give you a taste of what you were about to give this young boy. How would you like to take on somebody
my
size?”

Cassie couldn’t help but hope this tall newcomer would make good on his offer.
Yes, beat Klem to a pulp!
Make him beg for mercy!
The warm blood flowing from her nose went forgotten. Inwardly she cheered. Finally, someone strong enough to stand up to Klem!

Her nemesis shrank before her eyes. His shoulders drooped and he looked everywhere but at the man. He was a whipped dog getting ready to slink away from his master.

“Well?”

“Nah.” Klem shook his head.

“Then apologize.”

Klem’s face flamed.

“Do it or take the consequences.” The stranger took off his hat and handed it to her.

“I apologize.”

As soon as the words were out, the coward turned and stormed down the boardwalk, around the corner, and out of sight.

Now Cassie was the object of the stranger’s intense brown-eyed gaze. By the way he was looking at her, she thought for sure he’d ask why a girl was masquerading around as a boy. Earlier, when she’d confronted Klem on the porch of the boardinghouse, she’d been shocked that he’d fallen for her ruse. He and his brother, Bristol, knew her and Josephine as they all lived in the same town. Just went to show how stupid he was.

The stranger didn’t ask, though. Instead, he retrieved his hat from her hands and refastened his shirt cuffs. He looked embarrassed.

“This happen a lot?”

Stung, Cassie squared her shoulders. “No.” She swiped at her bloody nose with the back of her hand.

“You should get cleaned up. Where do you live?”

Cassie hitched her head toward the boardinghouse and made her way to the steps. When she lifted her foot, a sharp pain sliced through her side and she gasped.

Instantly, the cowboy was there, gingerly placing her right arm over his shoulder and snaking his left carefully around her back. When their bodies connected, confusion marked his face for a moment.

She turned away quickly as she felt her face go hot. Still, he held her steady as they climbed the stairs and she fumbled with the key in the lock.

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