Wilda's Outlaw (36 page)

“This morning, down at the depot. A wire. That’s when the rumor raced around town like a wildfire. Someone was there when the wire came in from the capital.”

“Did you know?" Wilda’s stare directed at Calder was accusatory.

He shook his head, and she covered her mouth with one hand. Not a great idea for Margaret to find out who she was serving coffee to. They’d need to get out of here, and soon. At least now he could ask her to go with him, if she ever forgave him for not mentioning the amnesty.

“Oh, I’m going to miss the children so much when you go home to St. Louis, Rachel,” Margaret said. She glanced at him and Wilda. “We used to pick up her and the children on Sunday and take them to church with us. But I’m so happy that she’s finally getting the chance to return home to her parents. Children should be with their grandparents.” Her eyes grew dreamy and sad and she ruffled Elizabeth’s fine golden hair.

Exactly his feelings. With the subject changed, he drew a sigh of relief. Margaret’s words and expression prompted him to lift Wilda’s hand to his lips. Too many people let life slip by them without grabbing what they wanted. And he wanted this woman. Though her eyes had a certain spark in them, she let him keep her hand. Maybe she’d forgive him by the time they’d been married a few years.

What would happen if he tossed her on a horse and kidnapped her one last time? Didn’t wait for her to say yay or nay or put up any sort of argument?

“Rachel,” Margaret said. “You and the children may as well stay here with me until time for you to leave. I can take you to the depot in our buggy.”

“Thank you.” Rachel looked from Wilda to him. “What are the two of you going to do?”

He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back. “Looks like we’ll be leaving Kansas,” she said and laughed. When she leaned her head against his shoulder, his throat swelled with emotion. It was all he could do to keep from grabbing her up and swinging her round and round, yelling “Yahoo!”

Margaret regarded them with surprise. “Oh, that’s too bad. Do you have to leave? I imagine this town will tame down some after the amnesty. We could use fine young couples like the two of you.”

Without answering, he rose. “You know, I’m getting worried about Smith. I think I’d better go check on him.”

“I’ll go with you,” Wilda said.

Without commenting, he headed for the door.

“It’s still pouring out there,” Margaret said. “Why don’t you stay here, dear?” she asked Wilda. “No use in you both getting drowned. I’m sure the men will return shortly.”

Head down, Calder wrenched open the door. When he tried to pull it closed, Wilda stood behind him. “I said I’m going with you.” She shoved him outside and closed the door behind the both of them.

He dragged her along the boardwalk to the shelter of a nearby store roof, then threw his arms around her.

She stiffened and pushed away. “Wait. First I need you to tell me, did you know about the amnesty when we broke you out?”

“Well, I’d heard them talking, but I didn’t really believe it. Besides, you and Rachel were so serious and involved, I didn’t want to interrupt.” He laughed.

Water dripping from her hair into her eyes, she hammered on his chest with both fists. “That isn’t in the least bit humorous.”

“Calumet doesn’t think so either,” he said, catching up her hands and kissing them both. “He’s not very happy with the governor. I’m sure he was looking forward to hanging me. Left up to him, we wouldn’t have waited for the judge and a trial. He may not yet.”

“You mean he could still carry out his threat to hang you? Is there really a danger he’ll go ahead with his plans and ignore the governor’s edict?”

“It’s very possible.”

“Surely he can’t do that.”

“After what happened today he may not care what he can and can’t do. That was Baron and Deke who pulled the holdup, wasn’t it?”

She nodded. “I’m truly sorry, I know how you felt about them.”

“They killed that poor woman, didn’t they?”

She nodded her head like a puppet.

Were those tears on her face, or simply raindrops? Swallowing hard, he went on. “He’ll paint me with the same brush, and Smith too.”

“Oh, no. Please don’t say that. What are we going to do?”

Despite his despair his heart swelled when she said “we” like that. Even so, he couldn’t let her get any more involved. Calumet didn’t need to ever find out she’d played a part in breaking him out of jail. Once Rachel was safely on the train, maybe he could keep them both out of this, somehow. It didn’t sound like that deputy wanted to own up to being tricked by two women.

He cupped her face in both hands. “I’m going to find Smith and warn him so he can ride out. I want you to go back to Margaret’s and stay there.”

“No, I want to go with you.”

Thunder roared and a gust of wind drove sheets of rain beneath the roof. He pulled her back against the building and wrapped both arms around her. Her heart beat against his chest, the warmth of her body soaked through his wet shirt and she clung to him.

“There’s no danger to either of us if you let me go with you. Rachel will be long gone when the posse returns. And we can be too. Simple.”

Yes, she made it sound simple. The words he wanted to say choked him. All he could do was hold her and wish things had been different. This had to stop, now. And he knew exactly how to put an end to it. If he gave himself up, the sheriff would be satisfied. Rachel and Wilda would be safe. Finally, he let his arms slip from around her, pulled from her grip and backed out of her reach.

“I love you,” he said. “Be safe.”

A flash of lightning revealed the sorrow written on her features, then it was dark again, and he ran before he could change his mind.

She shouted for him to come back, but the storm swallowed up her cries.

Head down, he angled across the muddy street toward the livery to warn Smith he still had time to get away. Every step he took he ached to turn, call her. Dammit, he couldn’t drag her into a life on the run, and Calumet wouldn’t give up till he had him. As part of the gang, he was responsible for that poor woman’s death at the bank today, and the sheriff would make sure he paid. The governor’s amnesty would mean nothing. He could always say he shot Calder before he received the message, he could even claim Calder was in on the robbery. That would clinch it. No one from the governor’s office would even bother to investigate further.

****

For a long while after Calder disappeared into the rain-swept darkness, Wilda remained hunched against the storefront, her fingers wrapped around the cross at her throat. What had this all been for if she was only meant to return to Fairhaven and marry Lord Prescott? Was it some cruel joke the fates had played on her?

Fists clenched, she looked back toward Margaret’s small, clapboard house, where only the dim glow of a lamp shimmered in the window. Then she turned in the direction he had gone, took a deep breath and raced into the street. This would not happen; she would not let it. No matter what, she would not go back to Fairhaven, nor would she end up living alone in some frontier town doing laundry or cooking or, God forbid, working in some saloon. She’d rather be on the run with the outlaw she loved.

In the dark she almost overran the livery. Just in time the gaping door appeared in a flash of lightning. Inside, dripping wet and gasping for breath, she stood still and listened. Rain pounded on the roof, the smell of hay and horses hung in the darkness, and she could hear nothing. Had they already left? The wagon she and Rachel had come to town in sat at the far end of a double row of stalls.

A man holding a bobbing lantern appeared from one of the stalls.

“Hello?” she shouted.

He stopped short. “’Bout scared me clean to death, Missy. What you doing out in this storm?”

“I’m looking f-for someone. A Mr. Smith was coming here to trade that wagon. Did he leave already?”

“Why, yes’m, I believe he did. I tried to talk him out of going out in this here weather, but he wouldn’t be stopped. Would you be Missus Rachel?”

“I…no, why?”

“He asked me to see she got the money for the wagon I bought off him.”

“She’s at Margaret Dolan’s house.”

“Ah, I know the place. I’ll send it to her by me boy soon as this storm lets up a bit.”

“Thank you. Was there another man with Mr. Smith?”

“Another man? Nout that I saw, Missy.”

She hugged herself and shivered. What now? Where was Calder?

“He left two horses, though.”

“What?”

“For a friend, he said.”

Mind awhirl with possibilities, she considered her options once more. “Has his friend been in yet? For the horses?”

“Nout that I saw, but could be. I was up to the house for supper. Less go check if that fine gelding is still in its stall.”

She trailed along behind, eyes on the lantern hanging in his hand till he opened a stall door and held it up. Empty.

“Hmm, reckon his friend’s been and gone. Don’t see no one coming out in this to take a chance on finding a horse to steal here, do you Missy?” He cackled, impressed by his own humor.

“Oh, dear. He’s gone? You didn’t see him?”

“Tole you, Missy. You this Miss Wilda, you want me to feed and board the horse that fella Smith left for you?”

“For me? I don’t understand.”

“Sorry, I reckon I didn’t explain. One horse he said was for a friend, the other for this Miss Wilda. A fine little dapple mare she is.”

Wilda stared into the empty stall. “But where is the mare?”

The man led her to the next stall and swung open the door. Jeb lifted her head and whinnied. “If you’re Miss Wilda, this is the one he left for you.”

Utterly confused as to Smith’s reasoning, she couldn’t think what to do or say. She could take the mare. Go after Calder. Aghast, she looked down at her wet dress. “You wouldn’t happen to have a pair of trousers I could borrow, would you?”

“Trousers, Missy?”

“Britches. Pants.” Dammit, was the man daft?

“Oh, well, sure, I reckon. Less go see.”

He led her into a tack room that smelled of sweet leather. “I keep clean britches here for when I get horse shit…uh, sorry Missy…sometimes I slip and fall in it, don’t you know?” He pawed around by the glow of the lantern and came up with a wadded bundle. “These’d have to do you, Missy. Alls I got.”

She grabbed the denim pants, shook them out and lifted a leg. Paused. “Turn around please.”

“Whut you doing, Missy?”

“I’m changing clothes. Now would you please turn around?”

“Why’nt I jest leave?”

“Leave me the lantern, then. And would you mind, if that mare isn’t saddled, could you do that for me? I’d most certainly appreciate it.”

He stared as if dumbfounded. “You ain’t from ’round these parts, with that fancy talk. Must be one of them danged and blasted Victorians. Figures why you’re crazy enough to ride out in this weather, and in men’s britches, to boot. Jest you wait till I fetch me ’nother lantern and I’ll get out of here. Leave you to your craziness.”

He hung the lantern on a hook, and after fumbling around on a shelf, found another. A scratch and the smell of sulfur, and the flame of a match flared. Soon, he had a light and, muttering, shook his head and stomped out, hopefully to do her bidding.

With him gone, she ripped the skirt from the long dress she wore and quickly stepped into the britches. They were baggy in the behind and too big around the waist, but he was a little man so the legs weren’t too long. On a nearby shelf she found a piece of rope and fashioned it into a belt to keep them up, tied it tightly and was ready. The high-button shoes weren’t boots, but they would do.

By the time the livery man returned leading a saddled Jeb, the noise of the storm had moved off. Maybe it would stop raining.

When she lifted her leg to the stirrup, she couldn’t reach it.

“Since you’re set to ride out whether or no, if you’d allow, I’d boost you up, fix them stirrups so they’re right for you, Missy. I wouldn’t want it said I didn’t give you a hand in your ride to your own end.”

“Thank you, I think,” she murmured.

He made a cradle with both hands and she stepped in and was lifted easily. In the darkness lit only by the glow of his lantern hanging on the stall post, he adjusted the stirrups. She’d never gotten the feel for riding. The trip over with Smith had left her sore and she moaned as she climbed into the saddle. It was big and stout, gave her a comfortable seat.

“There, now,” he said, patting the mare’s butt.

“Did you see which way Smith went?”

“Yep, he headed out yonder.” He pointed the opposite direction from Victoria.

“Good, then that’s the way I’ll go too.”

“Godspeed, young Missy,” he said. “If you don’t catch him, you can put up in Ellis. You need some supplies. Food and water.”

She leaned down. “I know. I’ll take care. Thank you. You’ve been very kind. I’ll always remember you.”

“That nout last long ’fore bad things will happen. You watch out, you do.”

“I will. Thank you again.”

He remained silent while she touched her heels against the mare’s sides and rode from the livery out into the street of Hays City. The rain had let up, and clouds drifted away from a speckling of stars. Off to the northeast, lightning outlined billowing clouds. On she rode, past Margaret’s where the lamp burned. Inside Rachel and her kids remained warm and safe. What the livery man had said about food and water pecked at her. She could die out there easily enough, without tempting those fates that had tricked her more than once already.

She hauled on the reins, turned the dapple back toward Margaret’s, slipped off her back and tied her to the post out front. Taking a deep breath, she ran up the steps and rapped on the door.

Her arrival caused quite a reaction. The children were asleep, but Rachel and Margaret bustled around firing questions too quickly to be answered.

“Please,” she said. “All I need is some food and water.”

“But why,” Rachel asked. “Where are you going? And where did you get those terrible britches?”

“I’m going after Calder and Smith, and you can’t talk me out of it, so don’t try. I will not go back to Fairhaven, nor will I become a laundress or fancy woman.”