Defiant (25 page)

He heard his ma moving around. She came in each night to say good night and smooth the covers. He liked it, though he tried to act as if he didn't. Baby stuff. Jeff made sure the blanket roll was well hidden before scooting between the sheets just as she opened the door. She came over and sat on the edge of the bed and cocked her head just a little. He thought how pretty she looked for someone that old. Her eyes sparkled, and they hadn't done that in a long time. She smoothed down the sheet and put her hand to his cheek. It felt cool. Nice. He pushed aside the guilt that suddenly rushed through him. She would miss him. But it would just be a few days, and she would know he was with Wade. She trusted Wade, just like he did.

She touched his cheek with her hand. That was all he would allow now—anything more was mushy. She smiled wistfully at him. “You're growing up, Jeff. I watched you today. You did a fine job.”

Guilt swamped Jeff, and he became defensive. “I told you I could take care of myself.”

“Of course you can,” she said. “I'm just not sure I'm ready for it.”

Jeff switched tactics. “You like Wade, don't you?”

“Yes,” she said. “But he'll be leaving for good, I think, after this trip. Remember that, love.”

“I do,” Jeff said and faked a yawn. “But I don't want him to go.”

“I know. I don't, either. But his home is in those mountains, just like our home is here. I think Tuck and Ed will stay.”

Jeff wanted to ask her if he couldn't go with Wade. Help him out with the horses he'd said he would bring back. But he knew his mother would say no. He knew she didn't like Indians, even ones that might be friendly, although she had never said much about it. He could tell by the expression on her face, the fear he never saw otherwise. Indians, he thought, were probably the only thing she was afraid of. Jeff had seen her shoot rattlesnakes, ride half-wild horses, help fight a prairie fire that had come close to the Ranger station. He'd been real proud of her. But if anyone mentioned Indians …

“Good night,” she said reluctantly, as if she didn't want to leave. He yawned again and nodded.

His mother started toward the door, reached it, then hesitated. “I love you, Jeff,” she said softly, then left, closing the door behind her.

He wished he didn't feel lower than a snake's belly.

Everything had worked out just as he hoped, Jeff thought with something akin to dismay as he urged his horse into a faster gait.

Once on the way, he started having second thoughts, but he couldn't go back now. Everything had been so easy, it was scary, and once on his way, he realized that part of him had expected someone—or something—to stop him.

If you start a task, finish it
. Ty had told him that. So had his father.
Never leave anything undone
. He wouldn't quit now, even if his horse wasn't terribly cooperative, or fast, or …

He nudged the animal again, his knees tightening, and old Seth cooperated, but just barely. He would never catch up to Wade at this pace.

Jeff looked at the sun. It was early afternoon. His mother wouldn't expect him until late since he'd told her he was riding out to meet Tuck and Ed. That heady excitement, the anticipation of adventure had dulled, leaving misgivings in their wake. What if he didn't catch up to Wade?

He was still amazed at how easily his plan had worked. Wade had left early, as had Tuck and Ed. Jeff had declined to go with them, saying he would follow after finishing his chores. He had eaten a big breakfast, pocketing some biscuits and blaming their disappearance on Jake. After feeding the chickens, milking their one milk cow, and cleaning the stable, he'd made his escape, saying he would meet the two hired hands. Ma was washing clothes, and he'd been able to smuggle out his bedroll by dropping it out the window. He'd taken his rifle with him.

He dug his heels back into old Seth's side, wishing he was riding King Arthur, but Wade had taken him, and old Seth was the best of the two wagon horses. The horse reluctantly speeded his pace into a canter.

Hours went by and Jeff's apprehension deepened. The rutted, dusty ribbon of road that headed through Black Canyon and up to the San Juans was empty as far as he could see. One day, two days, three days? He wasn't sure. Last Chance was to the north, and this road went south.

In late afternoon, he started climbing upward. The road narrowed into a trail. He saw fresh horse droppings and his spirits rose. He wasn't so far behind Wade, after all. He didn't even consider the fact it might not be Wade. He couldn't.

Jeff stopped at a stream to water the horse and fill his canteen. He figured he would keep moving until dark, hoping to catch up with his quarry. But then the trail split into two, and he had not the slightest idea which to take. The sun was falling quickly now. He took the left trail, looking for signs of a recent rider, but he found none, not a track in the rocky terrain, not any sign of passage. The trail divided again, and he tore a scrap of cloth off his shirt and tied it to a branch as he guessed again.

Darkness and trees closed in on him at the same time. He stopped and dismounted when he saw a small opening in the trees, overhung by rocks. Some shelter. An owl hooted, and he heard the faraway cry of a wolf. He swallowed hard. He didn't dare go on and risk getting totally lost.

His father wouldn't have been afraid. Neither would Ty, or Wade.

Jeff started a fire, huddling near it for safety. He heard the comforting snort of old Seth. At least he wasn't totally alone. In the morning, he would find Wade's trail again.

He chewed on some biscuits, but they were dry and tasteless and stuck in his throat. Another owl hooted, and one answered, and the night was full of sounds that grew progressively scary.

He was afraid to go to sleep, afraid the fire would die, afraid of what roamed in the night.

And he wished he was home, in his own bed. He would have given anything, at that moment, to hear the door of his room opening, his mother's footsteps. He wouldn't even mind a kiss.

Mary Jo was frantic when Ed and Tuck returned without Jeff. She searched Jeff's room and found the note.

I'm going with Wade up to the mountains. He will need help with the horses. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine
.

If it was meant to be reassuring, it failed miserably.

How could Wade do that? That was her first thought. And then she realized he wouldn't have, not the Wade she knew. Unless Jeff told him she'd approved. She wouldn't put that past him.

But even then …

Wade knew how she felt about the Utes. He would know she wouldn't have consented. Or would he? Did she know him that well?

Fear squeezed her heart. She told herself not to panic, to think it through. Tuck and Ed were standing at the corral, puzzled, not quite sure what to do.

“You haven't seen Jeff at all?”

Tuck's shoulders seemed to squinch together. “No, ma'am. Not since this morning. You want us to go look?”

She considered the offer. But she knew it probably wouldn't do any good. Jeff was accompanying or following Wade. She would have to go after him, and the two men had to stay here with the animals. She didn't particularly want to tell the two newly hired men that their foreman was a friend of the Utes'; that might lead to more questions, more speculation. She couldn't risk it. They had known only that Wade was going to obtain some additional horses.

No, she had to go. She knew a name: Manchez. From talk in town, she knew the Utes sometimes camped along the Uncompahgre River, and she'd heard tell of a mountain man who lived near there. He might be able to lead her to the Utes. She swallowed her own fear. Nothing mattered but Jeff.

She wanted to leave that evening, but it would soon be dark; the moon was new now, only a small slice, and clouds spun like webs across the evening sky. It would be very dark and riding up into the hills would be foolish. Crippling her mare would not help Jeff. But she would leave at first light. Her mare was swift, and Jeff's mount old and out of shape. In the meantime, she could only hope that Jeff had somehow caught up with Wade, and she would meet them on their way back. The alternative left her stiff with terror. She couldn't lose her son. That would be one loss she knew she wouldn't survive.

She thought about going into Last Chance, and to Matt Sinclair, for help, but that was to the north, and Wade, and therefore Jeff, would be heading south. She would lose too much time.

Mary Jo didn't understand why she had so much faith in him, believed he could do the impossible. But he had done it once before when he'd saved her son. She had to believe he could do it again.

At first light, Jeff mounted old Seth and turned to retrace his steps. He tried to pay attention, but he was tired after a sleepless night. His eyes sometimes closed, and then he would jerk awake again.

He kept looking for the piece of shirt. He didn't find it. How, he wondered, could he have missed it? He didn't remember going so far after the trail split. But then the trail was leading upward again, and Jeff knew that was the general direction Wade was taking. A trail, after all, had to lead someplace.

He took a sip from the canteen, then splashed some water on his face to keep himself awake. His horse plodded along as the trail became steeper and steeper. Pines mixed with aspens, their branches overhanging the trail and shadowing it. The farther he went, the more the trail narrowed, the path nearly obliterated by needles. He looked behind him, and he couldn't see it anymore. The forest had closed in around him.

A squirrel darted from one tree to another, making Jeff wince before he realized it was simple play. He fought down his growing fear and wiped the sweat that drenched his face despite the cool mountain air. What would his father have done? What would Wade have done?

He found a place wide enough to turn around and he did that, lightening his hold on the reins. Maybe old Seth could find the path again, maybe he knew the way home. The horse snorted, obviously displeased that he was not in the stable munching oats.

“Let's go home,” Jeff said, ready to give up his attempt to follow Wade. All he wanted now was the Circle J. Home.

Old Seth plodded back down, foam flecking at his mouth. He wheezed, and Jeff's guilt escalated. He stroked the horse's neck. “It's all right, old boy,” he said. “We're going home, you and me.” He hoped his tone conveyed more confidence than he had.

Mary Jo pushed back a lock of hair as she approached the ramshackle cabin. She'd been riding hard for long hours, following the road until it became a trail and started climbing upward. She had a sack of supplies, food, matches, oats for the horse, two extra blankets, her rifle and a pistol.

When several trails split off from the main one, she tried to puzzle out which to take, wondering whether she should head toward Last Chance after all. But then a lone miner and mule approached from one of the trails. He'd not seen a boy, nor a man with an arm in a sling, but he told her where she could find Tom Berry, the reclusive mountain man she'd hoped could help her. He was famous in these parts, having once explored with Kit Carson. Mary Jo obtained some vague directions and headed for Tom Berry.

After hours of searching, she found a faint trail leading to a small clearing and cabin. A mangy-looking mule glared at her from where he stood, a tether around his neck.

Mary Jo knocked on the door, waited, then knocked again. There was noise inside, but no one answered. She knocked again, louder.

“Goddammit,” someone roared from inside. “Can't a man be left alone?”

Mary Jo just knocked louder.

The door banged open, and she stared at the sight in front of her. Tom Berry was a tall, solid man, and he stood there in dirty long johns. A black beard, just slightly laced with white, fell several inches past his chin. His age was impossible to determine. Though his body seemed fit, his face was like a well-traveled road, jutted and rocky and crisscrossed by dozens of trails. Pale blue eyes stared at her with enmity.

If she hadn't been so worried about Jeff, she might well have lost her nerve.

“Mr. Berry?”

His eyes narrowed. “I'm not in no mood for a woman.”

She caught his meaning. She felt her face flush. “I need a guide. My boy, my son, is gone, and—”

“I ain't no shepherd.” He started to shut the door.

“I'm looking for a man,” she said desperately. “Wade Foster. I think he might have gone up to the Ute camp.”

The door stopped moving. The man seemed to hesitate a moment. “Foster? Why?”

“He's been staying with us … I think he went to get some horses from the Utes, and my son … decided to follow him.”

“Foster's got a family of his own.” His eyes looked her over shrewdly. “But then he might not have told you that.”

Her back stiffened at the implied insult to both Wade and herself. “Of course he did. They're … dead,” she said, before stopping suddenly. Had she made a terrible mistake? But she'd hated the man's insinuation.

“Chivita? The boy?”

She could have bit her tongue. Had she just condemned Wade? She didn't make any response.

“How long ago?” Berry asked.

“I'm not sure.”

“How?”

She kept silent. It was Wade's business, not hers to reveal. Tom Berry's eyes seemed to be boring through her. “Foster sure set store in that kid of his.” He stopped. His eyes narrowed again. “Why was he staying with you? I didn't think he would ever come down out of those mountains.”

Mary Jo wanted to answer, explain that Wade had been wounded. Jeff's life might depend on it. But she couldn't tell whether this man was Wade's friend or enemy.

The man suddenly cracked a smile, showing slightly yellowed crooked teeth. “You know him, all right,” he said. “You'll do, I guess. First woman I met who kept her mouth shut when she should. How long your kid been missing?”