Relentless (2 page)

“Grant—” Reverend Williams had seen young Spencer come up to the cemetery and had followed him there to see if he could help in any way. “Are you all right? Can I do anything for you?”

“No.”

“You’re welcome to come live with me and my wife if you’d like.”

Grant turned away from his father’s grave to talk to the reverend. “I appreciate it, but Tom Grady’s offered me a job on his ranch, and I told him I’d take it—for now.”

“For now?”

Grant looked up at the preacher. As their gazes met, Reverend Williams could see the fierce determination in the hardness of the young man’s expression.

“That’s right.” Grant had done a lot of thinking in the last few days, and he’d decided the best way he could honor his father was to become a lawman, too. “I’m going to work for Tom until I’m old enough to pin on a badge.”

Canyon Springs, Texas

Ten Years Later

Stagecoach driver Charley Martin was feeling good as he reined in the team of horses in front of the small stage office in town. After his six-day run, he was finally home, and it felt good. He was looking forward to spending time with his wife, Mary Anne, and daughter, Justine—or Dusty as he liked to call her.

Charley smiled as he thought of Dusty. She was getting older now—she was already seventeen—but her childhood nickname still fit. She’d had trouble saying her name when she was little. Her pronunciation of Justine had come out closer to Dusty, and because she loved being outside and helping him whenever she could, the nickname fit. She wasn’t afraid of a challenge, and, having seen the spirit in her early, he’d taught her how to ride astride and use a gun. Their town could be a wild place, and there was no telling what might happen. With his being on the road so much, he wanted Dusty to be able to defend herself and her mother. He’d been missing them and couldn’t wait to have a home-cooked meal and sleep in a comfortable bed tonight.

Hank Jones, the clerk in the stage office, had been nervous as he’d kept watch for the stage all afternoon. He’d known Charley was due back in today and the news he had for him was bad. When he saw his friend drive up, he went outside to talk to him, knowing it was going to be one of the most difficult conversations he’d ever had in his life.

Charley had just finished tossing the luggage down to the two men who had been his passengers on the trip when he saw Hank come outside.

“Hey, Hank—We made good time, considering the storm we ran into,” Charley said as he climbed down to speak with his friend.

“It’s good you’re back. Come inside for a minute,” Hank said.

Charley glanced down the street, eager to head for home, but he knew business came first. He followed his friend into the office and was rather surprised when Hank waited at the door and then closed it behind them. He tensed, knowing something wasn’t right. “What is it?”

“You want to sit down?”

His expression hardened. “Hell, no. What’s going on?”

“It’s bad news, Charley—” Hank looked him straight in the eye as he said, “It’s Mary Anne—I’m sorry—”

“Sorry? What are you sorry about? What about Mary Anne?” Confusion overtook him. He couldn’t imagine what Hank was talking about.

“It was a bad fever—Came on real suddenlike—She died three days ago—”

Charley could only stare at him in disbelief.
Mary Anne, dead?
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Numb and confused, he immediately thought of his daughter. “Where’s Dusty?”

“The Randolphs took her in—”

Charley was thankful for the Randolphs. Fred Randolph owned the local general store and was a good friend. He was out the door before Hank could say any more.

Dusty was in the kitchen at the Randolph house with her friend Francie and Mrs. Randolph, helping to prepare dinner, when they heard the loud knock on the front door. She looked at Francie anxiously.

“It might be my father—” She knew he was due back in town that afternoon if he’d been able to stay on schedule, and she desperately needed to be with him.

Francie gave her a quick hug and then they followed her mother into the front hall. Mrs. Randolph had just answered the door and in that moment Dusty saw her father standing on the front porch. A tormented cry escaped her as she rushed to him.

“Oh, Papa—” Heartbroken, she went into his arms, finally giving vent to the grief she’d tried to control these past days.

Charley held her close as he looked up at Mrs. Randolph, all the pain he was feeling revealed in his eyes. “Thank you for taking Dusty in.”

Mrs. Randolph touched his arm sympathetically. She had known this moment would come and realized father and daughter needed their privacy to come to grips with what had happened.

“Why don’t you and Dusty go on into the parlor?” she offered. “Francie and I will be in the kitchen if you need us—”

She drew Francie away with her, leaving them alone.

Charley and Dusty moved into the sitting room and sat down on the sofa.

A torrent of emotions filled Charley as he faced his future. He still couldn’t believe it—

Mary Anne was—dead.

The pain of losing his beloved wife was like a knife in his soul. He had no idea what he was going to do without her. She had meant the world to him—and now—Again, thoughts of his loss overwhelmed him.

Dusty clung to her father, taking solace in his loving embrace. She knew their lives had been changed forever, but they still had each other.

When they finally left the Randolphs’ house some time later, Dusty took her father to visit her mother’s grave in the small cemetery behind the church. The sight of the simple white headstone and freshly turned earth brought new tears. It was a long time before they returned home.

Much later, Dusty lay alone in her bedroom unable to sleep. She wondered what was going to happen next. Her father was due to leave town again on his next run in just two days. She wanted to stay with him. She loved him. He was all she had left. Sleep was a long time coming for her that night.

Charley sat alone in the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning, staring down at the half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting before him on the table. He couldn’t go upstairs and sleep in the bedroom where his beloved wife had died. He would rather pass out there at the table. He’d been trying to drown his sorrow in the potent liquor, but had found little release in his drunkenness. If anything, the liquor made him feel even worse. Disgusted, he pushed the bottle across the table away from him.

Charley frowned, wondering what the future was going to bring. His daughter was an innocent. She was too young to be left there at the house all alone while he made his runs, and they had no other family nearby. Slowly, he came to realize the only way he could keep Dusty safe was to take her with him. He didn’t know how she’d take to the idea, but there was nothing else he could do.

His decision made, he pushed away from the table and got up to stagger into the parlor, to try to get some sleep on the sofa. In the morning, he would tell Dusty what he had decided. He only hoped she would be content with his decision. From now on, she would be riding shotgun with him on the stage.

Dusty got up early the next morning and went downstairs to find her father asleep on the sofa. She was quiet as she went out into the kitchen. She found the whiskey bottle on the table and quickly put it away before starting to cook breakfast for him. She was busy frying the bacon and eggs and
making biscuits when her father appeared in the doorway. He had been and always would be her hero, and she went to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Good morning. I thought you might like some breakfast,” she offered, going back to her cooking.

“I appreciate it,” he said in a gruff voice as he went to sit at the table. His head was pounding, and he knew he wouldn’t be drinking again anytime soon. “We need to talk.”

Dusty looked over at him from where she was standing by the stove. “I know. What are we going to do?” The uncertainty of life without her mother was frightening to her. It had all happened so fast. There were still moments when she expected to see her mother walking into the room or to find her sitting in her favorite chair in the parlor doing her needlework.

“Well, from what I can figure, there’s only one thing we can do—” Charley looked up at her.

She waited in silence for him to continue.

“I know this may be hard for you—”

An unexpected sense of agony filled her as she feared he might be planning to send her away somewhere—to a boarding school or possibly some unfamiliar relative back East.

“But I want you to start going with me on my stage runs.”

“What?” She was shocked and relieved at the same time to know they would be staying together.

“I can’t leave you here by yourself, so the only thing we can do is have you ride with me.” His gaze met hers across the room. “I thought we could
get you some other clothes. If we cut your hair and you dress like a boy, none of the passengers would suspect you’re a girl, especially with a name like Dusty You could ride shotgun. I know you’ll be giving up a lot, but I have to know you’re safe, and that’s the only way.”

Charley was unsure how she was going to react. He was watching her carefully now, trying to judge her reaction.

Dusty was shocked—

Cut her hair?

And wear boys’ clothes?

She was momentarily confused and then realized her father was right. The disguise could work. She would make sure of it. Her whole life was going to change, but she didn’t care. She and her father only had each other now, and they needed to be together. She looked at him, tears shining in her eyes. “I want to be with you, Papa. That’s all that matters.”

Hugely relieved, he managed a melancholy smile as he got up to go and hug her.

“We’ll buy the clothes today, so you can start getting ready.”

It was late in the afternoon on the following day when Francie arrived at the house to see Dusty.

“I’m glad you could come over,” Dusty told her friend as she let her in. “I need your help.”

“Of course, what can I help you with?” They hadn’t talked since Dusty had returned home with her father.

Dusty quickly explained how she was going to
be traveling with her father when he left town the following day.

“So you’re just going to be riding along in the stage with the passengers while he’s driving?

”

“It’s a little more complicated than that—”

“What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

“Well—” She paused for a moment, knowing her friend was going to be shocked. “Actually, when we leave, I’m going to be riding shotgun for him—”

“You’re what?” Francie could only stare at her.

“I want to stay with my father, so he said I could ride shotgun with him, but to do that—”

“What are you talking about?” She was still trying to accept the surprising announcement.

Dusty met her friend’s gaze straight on. “With my mother gone, this is the only way I can stay with Papa, but to do that I need your help. Come on into my room with me.”

She grabbed Francie by the hand and drew her down the hall to her small bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

“Here.” Dusty handed her a pair of scissors.

“You want me to cut your hair?”

“Yes—real short. If I’m going to do this, I have to look like a boy.”

Francie looked from the scissors to her friend’s beautiful, long, thick mane of dark hair. “You’re sure about this?”

Dusty looked at Francie, her expression serious. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“All right.”

True friend that she was, Francie set to work.

Half an hour later, Francie was waiting in the parlor when Dusty appeared in the doorway.

“Well, take a look. What do you think?” Dusty asked. She had changed into the boys’ clothes her father had bought her and was as ready as she would ever be to start her new life.

Francie spun around to face her friend and was amazed by the complete change in her appearance. Standing there before her clad in loose-fitting pants, a work shirt, boots and hat was someone who appeared to be a young boy of maybe fifteen or sixteen.

“I can’t believe it—”

“I really look like a boy?”

“Oh, yes.” Francie doubted anyone in town would recognize Dusty at first glance. “This disguise is going to work.”

Dusty grinned. “Good. Papa will be glad. This will make things a lot easier for us.”

“Are you comfortable?” Francie knew Dusty had had to tightly bind her breasts with a length of cloth to disguise her figure.

“I’ll get used to it. I have to.” She twisted and shrugged a little, testing the binding.

Francie went to her and gave her a quick, reassuring hug. “I’m going to miss you while you’re gone.”

“I’m going to miss you, too, but I’m trying to look at this as a big adventure. I’ve always wondered what Papa did on his trips, and now I’m going to find out.”

“Just be careful.”

“I will be.”

They visited for a little while longer and then
Francie had to go home. She gave Dusty one last hug, knowing her friend was going to have a lot of wild stories to tell her when she got back to town after this first trip.

Charley returned home a short time after Francie had left. He’d been down at the stage office making sure everything was set for them to leave first thing in the morning. When Dusty met him in the hallway, his first look at his daughter left him grinning broadly.

“I’d say you’re about ready to ride out,” he told her, impressed by the change in her appearance.

“Do you think so? Really?” Francie’s approval had been one thing, but she desperately needed her father’s.

“Really,” he assured her; then he teased, “You know, I always wanted a son, too.”

“And I always did want to be a boy.”

Charley knew that was true enough.

They both laughed.

“You do need one more thing—” He disappeared into his study for a moment and then came back carrying a gun and holster.

“If you’re riding shotgun with me, you’ve got to be ready for trouble.”

Dusty took the holster from him and set it aside on the table in the hall. “Papa—”

He heard the more serious note in her tone and looked her way, wondering if she was worried about leaving the following morning. “What, darling?”

“Can we go down to the cemetery one more time and tell Mama good-bye?”

“Let’s go.”

He put his arm around her and they left the house together.

In the predawn darkness the next morning, Dusty got dressed and strapped on the gun belt. As she grabbed up her gear and got ready to leave the house with her father, she knew her life was never going to be the same again.