Flint Hills Bride (17 page)

Anson glanced toward her, grinning. He wheeled his horse, his pistol still in hand, and rode toward her. She kicked her mount forward, hoping he would fall in beside her. To her relief, he did. After a few yards, she let the reins to Jake’s mount slip from her grasp.

Anson saw it immediately and turned back, catching the horse easily. Foolish animal should have run back the way it had come, she thought.

It was probably better that Anson thought she was glad to be with him again, though that would take considerable acting. She couldn’t even remember what she had ever seen in him.

She was afraid to turn and look back at Jake for fear she’d give herself away to Anson. Leaving Jake afoot, in the cold, in the middle of nowhere was horrible. But not so horrible as leaving him dead.

Jake watched them ride away, frustration nearly overwhelming him. In spite of what she had said, he knew Emily didn’t want to go with Berkeley. It didn’t matter if she did, he realized. He would go after them anyway. She was his wife, and he felt a surprising wave of possessiveness.

They had started off in the general direction of Council Grove, though he doubted if that was where
they were actually headed. After he retrieved his pistol from the ground and wiped it carefully with his handkerchief, he started after them.

He had gone only a short ways when he heard pounding hooves behind him. In a moment the sheriff pulled a huge mule to a halt beside him.

“Where in the hell’s my horse?” the sheriff demanded.

“Berkeley took it.”

“You let him have my horse?” The sheriff threw himself off the mule and stepped toward Jake, one fist raised.

Jake took an involuntary step backward. “He had Emily,” he said.

The sheriff let his fist drop. “Ah, hell,” he muttered. After a deep sigh, he suggested, “Let me give you a lift back to town, and we can raise a posse.”

Jake shook his head. “I’ll accept the ride but no posse. I’m going after them alone.”

Emily and Anson rode for several minutes before Anson veered to the north. In the shelter of a few trees along a creek, he dismounted. “You gotta give me a hand,” he said, tying the mare and Jake’s borrowed horse to a tree branch. He sat down near the bank of the little stream.

Emily dismounted and tied the gelding. “What’s wrong?” she asked as she joined him.

Anson opened his coat to reveal his bloodied shirt beneath.

Emily took one look and felt the bile rise to her throat.

“Tie this up a little better,” he said.
His voice sounded as if it came from a great distance. Emily turned and staggered away a few steps and retched. She stood, doubled over, waiting for her head to stop spinning.

“Damn it, baby. I need your help!”

“Yes,” she managed to say. “Yes, I’m sorry. Give me a minute.”

She heard his muttered curse and slowly straightened. She tossed the hood off her cloak, letting the cold air hit her clammy brow. Her head seemed to have cleared, but her stomach still churned. She tried to imagine touching Anson’s bloody shirt and doubled over, retching again.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” grumbled Anson. “You’re useless.”

She heard him return to the horses. She wondered if he would leave her if she simply remained standing where she was.

“Get on your horse,” he demanded. “We’ll find someone who can help me.”

Emily stumbled toward the gelding, casting Anson the quickest of glances. She was glad to see that he had closed his coat. In a moment they were riding off across the prairie again.

Emily wasn’t usually squeamish about blood. Of course she had never been confronted with so much of it. She felt faint just thinking about it. She tried to turn her thoughts to other things. Like worry over Jake.

“The old lady put a bandage on me while her husband held me at gunpoint,” Anson said. “Crazy old fools. I was bleeding like a fountain, and they told
the boy to get the sheriff. Sheriff! Hell, you’d think they’d be going after a doctor.”

Emily felt her head spin. She doubted if there was anything left in her stomach to lose. She wanted to tell him to talk about something else, but she didn’t want to talk to him at all.

“A man would think his woman would ask how he came to be bleeding like this.”

“Please, Anson.” There was a real danger of her fainting and falling off her horse. She put her head down to the gelding’s mane and closed her eyes.

He laughed. “It really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

She turned her head enough to glare at him.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. “It’s not really that bad. I’ll pull through. The old lady did wrap me up, and I think it’s mostly stopped bleeding. Here, see?”

She turned her head away, fighting nausea.

He laughed then turned his attention elsewhere, in a lighthearted mood now that he had ridiculed her weakness. She didn’t care. Just as long as he left her alone.

The day was warming considerably, and Emily realized that the snow that had made tracking so easy for her was in danger of melting. Jake might be afoot now, but he wouldn’t stay that way for long. As soon as he could, he would come after her. But first he would have to get a horse, and by then, the trail through the snow would be gone.

She hung back as much as she felt was safe without rousing Anson’s suspicions and, remaining hunched over the horse’s neck, she tugged at the hem of her riding skirt. The darned thing wouldn’t tear.

There were no petticoats under it. Her drawers were short enough she couldn’t reach them. Her blouse would surely tear easily, but she might have trouble explaining how it came to be torn. Deciding on her reticule, she reached inside her cloak and untied it from her waist.

“What’s keeping you?”

Anson was turned in the saddle, glaring at her. She hadn’t realized how far she had lagged behind. She sneezed noisily, then quickly searched her bag for her handkerchief. He turned away in disgust.

Keeping the handkerchief handy in case he turned again, Emily fingered the items in her bag. What should be the first to mark the trail?

Her choice had barely left her fingers before Anson reined in beside her. “You should be in Denver by now,” he said. “Tell me why you’re out here instead.”

“Well,” she began, thinking fast. “I couldn’t keep Jake on the train.”

“Yes. Jake, your old friend.”

She ignored the sarcasm in his tone. “He got the engineer to stop the train and walked back to Americus. Well,
we
walked back. I got off, too.”

“And why did you do that?” There was a definite ring of suspicion in his voice.

“He was going after you, Anson. I went along to slow him down.”

“And how did you accomplish this?”

“Let’s see. I got a blister on my foot. But that wasn’t intentional. He kept trying to send me back, but I always went after him.” She hoped a note of fondness hadn’t slipped into her voice at the last. It
was going to be hard to deceive Anson when her love for Jake was so new.

But her life and Jake’s might depend on Anson trusting her. She had to make it real. “It’s been a horrible few days, Anson. I don’t know why he took off this morning. I thought he had finally given me the slip. I was afraid of what would happen if he found you.” The last was true, at least, though not the way she wanted Anson to think.

Anson was quiet for several minutes, during which time Emily wanted to drop something else on the trail but didn’t dare.

Finally Anson spoke. “I appreciate you keeping the deputy busy.” She tried to ignore the insinuation in his voice. The bastard actually thought she had slept with Jake to save
him.
“But it occurs to me. Now, you’re slowing
me
down.”

He kicked the mare to a faster pace, drawing a snort of protest from the horse he was leading. Emily dropped a coin before catching up.

The sheriff arranged for a horse while Jake bought a few supplies. Before noon, he rode out, heading somewhat west of the southwest route to Reeveses’ farm. On their way into town, Jake and the sheriff had seen where the three horses had turned north. Now, he hoped to find Anson’s trail without backtracking all the way to where the two trails diverged.

By the time he had been two hours on the open prairie, he began to wonder if it had been a poor gamble. The snow, which had left such a clear trail earlier, was gone and the ground, though soft now, might still have been frozen when the pair passed.

Jake was considering the possibility of heading back toward familiar ground to pick up their trail where they had parted, when he saw the sun glint off something in the distance. He rode toward it, losing it for a moment when the sun went behind a cloud.

He dismounted at the spot and picked up the picture of Anson Berkeley. He nearly laughed aloud as he tucked the picture into a pocket.

“Thanks, Emily,” he said, searching the ground for other indications that they had passed. When he was sure of their direction, he swung into the saddle, following confidently behind.

B
y noon Emily was longing to stop. She had had only water from the canteen since her wedding dinner the evening before. She knew in another couple hours fatigue would make it difficult to stay in the saddle even if she weren’t starving.

She wished, besides, that she had spread her coins a little more thinly. Soon she might have to drop the reticule itself. If she could have a moment of privacy, she could tear some undergarment to ribbons and hide the pieces in her reticule for future distribution.

Perhaps she could simply stop. Would he leave her? Or come looking for her at an inopportune time? It was worth a try. She pulled the gelding to a stop and dismounted. She wished she had food in the bag but knew there wasn’t so much as a crumb.

She watched Anson, hoping he would drop out of sight over the next hill. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder and turned the mare back.

“What is the problem now?”

“I need to stop,” she said, searching for an excuse.

“There’s nothing here. Why would we want to stop?”

“I have to…take care of nature.”

“I should leave you behind. Let you slow that deputy down if he’s following.”

She watched him for a moment, wondering if he was serious. She didn’t want him to know how much she would welcome the prospect.

After a moment, he dismounted. “Well, get on with it. I’ll hold your horse.”

The tops of a couple of straggly bushes were just visible where the ground dropped away a little to her left. She hoped the ravine itself would offer more protection than the bushes promised. With a determined stride, she walked toward it.

It wasn’t as deep as she had hoped. She removed her cloak and hung it on a bush, enhancing her screen. Working quickly in the cold, she ripped the ruffles off her drawers, and tore away the hem of her blouse. When she had them in six-inch lengths she stuffed them into her reticule. Deciding that Anson wouldn’t let her stop again, she quickly emptied her bladder.

As soon as possible, she threw her cloak around her shoulders and climbed out of the ravine, shivering inside. She was now cold, and hungry and tired.

Anson had been busy while she was gone. He had lowered the stirrups on her bay gelding to fit his longer legs and shortened them on the black he had taken from Jake. “Mount up,” he ordered, handing the black’s reins to her.

“That’s my horse,” she said, pointing to the bay as he swung into the saddle.

“Yeah? Well, I’m riding him.” He started away, leading the white mare.

Emily struggled to mount the taller horse. She was forced to run him to catch up with Anson. There was no question about being left behind, now. She wanted her horse.

“When are we stopping to eat?” she asked.

“When we find some place to stop. How should I know when that’ll be?”

“There.” She pointed to the right toward the horizon. “Smoke.”

“So it is.” He reined his horse—
her
horse toward the column of smoke.

As soon as he was well ahead of her, she drew one of the ruffle pieces from her reticule and let it flutter to the ground.

As they came over the hill and got their first view of the ranch house below, Emily was struck by its familiarity. This was the Kinney ranch where Jake had gotten the map. The ranch with the four big sons.

And Anson hadn’t been there.

“I hope we’re not too late for dinner,” she said brightly. “I’m starved.”

Anson pulled his horse to a stop and watched the house.

“What are we waiting for?” she asked.

He spared her barely a glance, his attention on the yard. The figure of a man left the house and walked toward the barn. He was followed in a moment by a second, then a third.

As Emily watched Anson’s profile her heart sank. He was being too cautious. When he turned his mount away from the ranch, she pretended not to understand.
“Why aren’t we stopping? We need to eat and someone should look at your…wound.”

She wished she hadn’t mentioned it. It brought the bloody image to her mind. She felt a little dizzy.

“It’s because of the wound, I can’t stop. They could get too curious.”

“But we have to stop someplace.”

“Yeah. But not here. They’ve got a whole army working for them.”

The “army” didn’t work there, they lived there. And most of them were only boys. But she wasn’t about to correct him. If he knew she had been there and was eager to return, he would be even more inclined to distrust her.

It was midafternoon when the trail of coins and ruffles led Jake to the hill above the Kinney ranch. He could see where the horses stopped for a time and turned away, bypassing the ranch. After a moment of hesitation, Jake rode down the hill to talk to Kinney.

Twenty minutes later he was back on the hillside, picking up their trail. He had a small sack of food tied to the saddle horn but little new information. Kinney and two of his boys had seen riders on the hilltop, but they hadn’t come in. The Kinneys had thought it seemed odd at the time, but had soon forgotten about them.

The Kinneys had placed the sighting at shortly after the family had finished their noon meal. That put them about two hours ahead of Jake. He was definitely gaining on them.

Berkeley was wounded, and Emily was no doubt exhausted by now. They were traveling more slowly
than he was. But they also had a spare horse. His own was in danger of being pushed beyond its limits.

But his worry for Emily made it difficult to pace the animal. He knew how tired she became in the afternoon. He remembered holding her in front of him while he rode, letting her sleep. Would Berkeley do the same for her? He didn’t know whether to be more upset at the thought that he would, or that he wouldn’t.

And had Berkeley found anything for her to eat? He was sure they hadn’t stopped any place up to this point and had passed up Kinney’s ranch. There had been no food in his saddlebags when Berkeley stole his horse. There was probably nothing in the sheriff’s, either. Emily, almost certainly, hadn’t eaten before she rode out to find him.

It was his fault that she had fallen into Berkeley’s hands. He should have made sure she was awake and understood that he would be back. She must have awakened to find him gone and believed he had abandoned her again.

He prayed he would get a chance to make it up to her. He didn’t trust Berkeley to take care of her the way he would.

Emily let another piece of ruffle slip from her fingers.

“What the hell was that?”

He had turned at precisely the wrong time. “What was what?” But was there really any use pretending?

Anson swung around and grabbed her horse’s halter so there would be no escape. “Get down,” he demanded.

She did as she was told. He dismounted, gathering the reins to all three horses, then walked to the tiny white flag. “I don’t think this accidentally tore off your riding skirt,” he commented as he tied the horses to the tough stalk of a dried sunflower.

“No,” she said, sounding more courageous than she felt. What would it take to spook the horses? The stalk wouldn’t hold a frightened horse. But stranded with Anson afoot didn’t seem like much of an improvement over the current situation.

“You’ve been leaving a trail for that deputy friend of yours, haven’t you?”

“If the wind didn’t blow it away, yes.”

He stormed toward her, and she thought for a moment he might strike her. He seemed to make an effort to control himself. “You know, Emily,” he said, exuding the dangerous charm she had once found so attractive, “I’ve wondered if that deputy got to you. I know women aren’t particularly faithful creatures. But you see, it doesn’t matter. You work just as well as a hostage as you do a partner.”

Emily forced herself to hold her ground. She watched him pick up the bit of ruffle. He considered it, considered her and even looked back the way they had come as if he expected to see more flags every few feet. He needed to make a decision.

And so did she. If she could get one of the horses, preferably her own gelding, she would ride back the way they had come. Perhaps she would be lucky enough to reach Jake before Anson caught up with her. And if she didn’t?

Anson turned to her with a cold smile. “Give me the rest of these,” he said, waving the bit of cloth.

“That was the last.”

He started toward her. “I don’t believe you. But if it is, we can just make some more.”

She turned to run, but he caught her, spinning her around. He tossed aside her cloak, leaving her gasping at the shock of cold air. One hand closed around the front of her blouse. “Are there any more?”

“Yes. In my reticule.”

He snatched it away from her waist, breaking the strings. She hated herself for giving in so quickly, but she couldn’t stand out in the cold for long. The moment he let her go, she snatched up her cloak and drew it around herself.

“My, my,” he said, withdrawing a handful of ruffle. “You were prepared. Now, how to use this to lead the deputy astray.” He tossed her another grin.

She knew the moment he came to a decision. She only hoped he would brag about his plan so she might have a chance of spoiling it.

“You, my dear, will wait here. With your horse.”

Her surprise and pleasure must have shown on her face because he laughed. “Don’t get excited. You won’t be going anywhere.”

He grabbed her again, forcing her hands behind her back. He tied them quickly with his handkerchief. “Please, have a seat,” he said, giving her a shove.

Emily regained her balance and carefully sat down on the ground. It was cold and damp. “What are you going to do?” she asked. She had little confidence that he would answer her.

“You know, I haven’t taken the time to see what our friends were carrying.” He found a length of rope in Jake’s saddlebags. He used it to tie her ankles together.
In the other saddlebags, he found some bread and cheese.

“Imagine,” he said, unwrapping it. “This has been here all along.” He took a bite, brushing away several crumbs.

Emily’s stomach rumbled noisily, but she wouldn’t beg for food. She gave him a level glare.

With a muffled chuckle, he turned back to the horses, leaving her gelding and leading the other two away. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said, mounting the black and leading the mare.

She watched him ride away at a canter. Before he dropped into the next valley, she saw a bit of ruffle drift to the ground. A false trail, she thought. He would drop markers for a ways then double back and change direction. And she wouldn’t be able to drop anything else; he would watch her too closely.

She strained against the knots that bound her, succeeding only in knocking herself off balance. She lay on her side, fighting tears.

“Well, I was wanting a rest,” she said aloud. The sound of her voice calmed her a little. Jake would find her, she told herself. Anson’s plan wouldn’t fool him. She tried to believe it.

Emily wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Anson rode back to her. He returned without the black and offered no explanation for its whereabouts. He merely dismounted, untied the rope that held her ankles and helped her to her feet. He untied her hands and, with an awkward shove, helped her into the gelding’s saddle. He used the rope to retie her hands to the saddle horn. “We’ll be moving a little faster now,” he told her.

As he mounted the mare, the strain of his wound was finally beginning to show. Or perhaps he had injured himself further when he was pushing her around. She watched him closely for more signs of exhaustion, forgetting her own.

In spite of what he had said, he walked the horses for nearly a quarter of a mile, before setting them at a canter. They would leave more shallow tracks, she supposed, thus insuring that Jake followed his fake trail. She wanted to cry in desperation, but the job of keeping her balance left her no time.

Anson kept them moving, walking the horses only occasionally, until nearly dark. He spotted a farmhouse beside a creek and pulled up. When Emily was alongside he untied her hands. “I don’t imagine you’ll try to run off now,” he said. “That—” he pointed toward the house “—is the nearest food.”

Emily tried to glare at him but was too exhausted. She rubbed her wrists instead.

“You are my wife, by the way. My wound was an accident. We need food and shelter and will be on our way in the morning.”

“With any money they might have in the house.” It was out before she thought, but she wouldn’t regret it.

“So you know about that, huh? If you had come through a little better with your brother’s money, I wouldn’t have had to do it.”

“You could be halfway to Denver by now, Anson. You’ve been going from house to house taking everyone’s savings. The house we passed up at noon, you could have been there three days ago.”

He gave her an odd look as if he thought she had gone crazy.

She explained. “You spent Saturday night with the Garveys, the folks with the obnoxious son. They gave you directions to the Kinneys. You could have made it by Sunday noon, but you decided to roam all over the territory robbing everyone instead.”

“So you were right behind me, were you? That’s what I suspected.
That’s
why I changed direction. Now, shut up. You give me away to these people, I’ll kill them
and
you.”

He started forward, jerking the gelding’s reins.

A grandmotherly woman met them at the door. She hollered to her husband who came to see to the horses. “You poor children, you must be freezing.”

She ushered them inside where they both collapsed into chairs near the fire.

“Ma’am,” began Anson, his voice quivering with exaggerated fatigue. “My wife and I would be pleased to accept your hospitality for the night And some food if you have any to spare.”

“Of course,” the woman said. “I’ll bring you some bread to hold you while I make some soup from what’s left from supper.”

The woman went through a doorway into the back of the house. From where she sat, Emily could watch Anson as he scanned the room, looking for hiding places, no doubt. She vowed not to let him out of her sight.

In a moment the woman returned with a plate of sliced bread and a crock of butter. She set it on a table across the room, and Emily moved to take a seat there.