Lauraine Snelling - [Wild West Wind 01] Page 3

  “Would you have just gone off and not come to say good-bye?”

  “Why, a’course not. I’d never do that to you.” His whiskey breath made her cringe as he put his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. “You just do what your uncle Jason said, and all will be well.”

  Her mother’s words coming from his mouth made her tighten her jaw. She half hugged him back. “What will you do?”

  “I don’t know, darlin’. I just don’t know. But something will come along. It always does.” He paused and then forced a smile. “Do this for your pa. It’d mean a lot to him.”

  Cassie nodded and left before she burst into tears. Was what he had told her to do legal? According to the will, she did own half of everything, which at this moment really was half of nothing. But she couldn’t sacrifice Wind Dancer, and who would hire Micah?

  With a heavy heart she paused on the steps, setting a plan to follow Jason’s instructions. “Othello, find Chief.” Othello sniffed the air and then trotted toward the Indian encampment, Cassie following. He stopped in front of a tepee and yipped. Chief bent over to come out and stood in front of her. “Jason wants to see you in the Gypsy Wagon.”

  Chief thought only a moment before nodding and striding off, with her at his side.

  “He wants me to take the wagon and head down to the Black Hills to my father’s valley. He said you’d talked about returning to your reservation.” She left off the to die part.

  He paused in front of her tent. “I would go with you.”

  “You think Micah will go too?”

  “Micah will always go where you go.”

  “I hoped so.”

  “I will return here after I talk with Jason.”

  Cassie headed to her tent. What did she really need to take with her? What would fit in the wagon? Was she crazy to be doing this? But what were her choices? She didn’t have enough money to go to a hotel and wait to contact some other shows to see if they would hire her. This show had been her home, her family, her life. She sank down into the folding chair and covered her face with her hands. How could she ever make it on her own? Othello nudged her hands and licked her cheek. When she didn’t respond, he put a paw up on her knee and whimpered.

  “It’s okay, fella, just a moment of stark, terrified weakness here. Like Mor always said, ‘All will be well.’ ” She heaved a sigh at the same moment as someone cleared his throat at the tent door.

  “Come in.”

  “Okay, we are set.” Chief nodded to Micah, who had joined him. “We need to be on the road before daybreak, so we need to get moving.”

  Within minutes the two men were going about their chores. There was a party going on in the dining tent. Several of the other tents were all dark. Had some of the others left already?

  She packed up her personal things, filling the trunk, making sure that all her costumes and clothing were packed in the wardrobe. There was no room in the wagon for it, but they could load it up on top. Some things she rolled into her bedroll before heading for the wagon. Jason had left a light on for her, leaving the wagon looking like he’d just stepped out and would return momentarily. She took off his bedding and spread out her own, tucking the sheets under the plush mattress and thick feather bed. Jason Talbot had liked the better things in life. How much had that desire caused the demise of the show? She ordered herself not to think along those lines and headed back to her tent, Othello at her side. She grabbed the handle on the side of the trunk and leaned into the weight to drag it back.

  “Can’t you ever ask for help?” Joe asked, grabbing the other handle between mutterings.

  “I didn’t know there was anyone around to help me.”

  “Well, we haven’t all left. What are you going to do?”

  “Head south to the Black Hills and see if I can find the valley my father always dreamed of.”

  “Do you have a map?”

  “Sort of. He drew it years ago.”

  Joe stopped in his tracks. “Does it have a name?”

  The sudden weight jerked her backward. “I don’t know.”

  “Let me get this straight. You are going off all by yourself to find a valley that your father discovered maybe twenty years ago and you don’t even know exactly where it is?”

  “That’s right, except for the fact that Micah and Chief are coming with me.”

  “I see. That makes it even better. You and two men—”

  “Joseph A. Bingham, get your mind out of the mud. You know as well as I do that those two would take on the entire Sioux nation to protect me.” She started to drag the trunk again. He grabbed the other side, and when they got to the wagon, he grabbed both handles and heaved the trunk up the steps. “Where do you want this?”

  “Under the table.” He put it away and she extended her hand. “Thanks, Joe. I hope you find a good place to work.”

  “Whatever I find, I most likely won’t have to stand still for a cigarette to be shot off under my nose.” He looked into her eyes. “Take care of yourself, princess. Maybe someday we’ll meet again.”

  Cassie swallowed hard. “Thank you. I hope so.” After Joe clattered down the three stairs, she inspected the cupboards. Pretty bare. Jason had eaten in the mess tent like all the rest of them had. She snatched a couple of burlap sacks off a hook on the wall and headed for the kitchen. He had said to take what she needed, and they would definitely need at least the staples. But since she’d never cooked a meal in her life, she wasn’t too sure what to take.

  While the party was still going on in the dining tent, the kitchen lay dark and still. When her eyes adjusted, she could make out shelves and bins but could only determine their content by feel. Beans, flour, sugar, perhaps rice. She felt around and finally found a scoop to use to fill her sacks, but how to tie them off so the contents wouldn’t spill? If only she dared light a lamp.

  “Miss Cassie.” The low voice definitely belonged to Micah.

  “Yes. I’m trying to get us some supplies.”

  “I’ll get bags of flour, sugar, and beans from the storage. Can you find bacon or ham? Cook kept them in the icebox on that far wall. Better be quick. Those partying are getting restless for more to drink. They’ll search here first.”

  “Drink. Hadn’t they better be footin’ it out of here instead?”

  “Drink does bad things to a man’s mind.”

  “I know. What else should we get?”

  “Coffee, rice, eggs—if there are any. Tomorrow is when Cook buys supplies.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I help in here when they need me.”

  “Oh.” There were so many things she didn’t know. Surely she’d been living a protected life. Just taking care of her supplies for her act and herself. From the looks of it, that was already changing. “Thanks, Micah. You find whatever you think we need.”

  “Are there cooking utensils in the wagon?”

  Cassie thought for a moment. “There used to be, but I didn’t look in all the cabinets.”

  He thrust a frying pan and a cast-iron Dutch oven into her hands and then added a coffeepot. “The plates, cups, and utensils are over there.” She went to the shelf and took the essentials. So instead of food in her bags, she returned to the wagon with household gear.

  Chief grunted when he saw her. “Micah?”

  “Raiding the cook tent.”

  The old Indian strode off in the direction of off-key singing and shrill laughing. The party was definitely deteriorating.

  Cassie thrust her booty into the lower cabinets of the wagon and checked each of the doors and drawers to see what else they needed. Candles and matches in one drawer sent her on a search for kerosene for lamps. A half-full can hung on a hook under the wagon, along with a couple of pails and a water barrel.

  When Micah carried supplies up the stairs, she asked, “What about grain for the horses?”

  “They’ll have to make do with grass. This bucket has eggs. I used kitchen towels to cushion them. Meat’s in
the other sack.”

  “I’ll stow the supplies. You and Chief get whatever else you think we need.”

  “Do you have ammunition? Knives?”

  “Not much. Un—” She stopped herself. “Jason always brought the ammunition to me. I don’t know where he kept it.”

  “Chief knows everything. Ask him when he returns.” With that, Micah faded into the darkness.

  Why were the cooks not on duty? Had they left with their pay in hand like the others? She heard glass breaking and wild laughter. Without more contemplation, she buckled her holster belt in place and dug two revolvers out of the bag she kept them in. She already had bullets on the gun belt, but she stuffed a couple more into her shirt pocket.

  She’d just finished finding places for the supplies when she heard a gunshot. Without a thought she slammed the door shut and leaped down the steps. The crash of things breaking came from the dining tent, where the laughter had turned to shouting. Two men slugging it out stumbled from the tent opening.

  “Hey, how ’bout the pet here?”

  She headed for the voice and saw two men holding Micah by the arms while a third slugged him in the belly. Stepping into the tent, she drew both guns and cocked the hammer. “That’s about enough, boys.”

  The slugger threw another punch, and she shot a round into the dirt beside his right foot.

  “Hey, watch what yer doin’.” He swung around, fists raised, and then his face blanched. “Come on, princess, we don’t mean nothing by this.”

  “Then leave right now before someone really gets hurt.”

  He narrowed his eyes and took a step forward. “You don’t shoot people. You just aim for targets.” His hat flew up as the revolver cracked.

  “One more step and the next shot will be in your foot. Hard to find work with a shot-up foot.”

  He stared at her, trying to judge if she was bluffing.

  “Come on, man, let’s get out of here.” The two holding Micah’s arms faded away, and the third man decided retreat was a better idea than pushing Cassie again.

  “We was just havin’ a bit of fun.”

  “Take your fun down the road. Next time it won’t be just your hat.”

  Micah tried to take a deep breath and bent over coughing. “S-sorry.”

  “Let’s get our things and head out. Can you walk?”

  “Yeah.” He turned around and grabbed two sacks that had fallen to the ground. With a grunt of pain, he stumbled toward the outside of the tent.

  Feeling a touch foolish, she kept her guns drawn and followed him, wishing she had eyes in the back of her head. What if the players were waiting just beyond the edge of the light?

  No matter whether they had all they needed, they were leaving now, not waiting for first light as she’d intended. Why had she not planned for such a contingency as this? Why would she even think she needed to plan for things like this? Nothing was in any plan or dream of hers since Jason announced the end of the Lockwood and Talbot Wild West Show.

  4

  Thank you.”

  “You are welcome, Micah. Sorry I didn’t think ahead and prepare for such as those three.” She inclined her head toward the drunken men now skedaddling down the road.

  “You can’t—” he coughed again and gasped for a breath—“th-think of everything.” Micah set the bags down beside the wagon steps. “Where you want these?”

  Cassie touched his shoulder. “Are you seriously hurt?”

  He shook his head. “Bruised and the breath knocked out. Thought they was friends.”

  “Liquor does strange things to people.” She started to reach for one of the sacks, and he gently pushed her to the side.

  “I’ll do it. Put them where?”

  “Under the bunk. Wish we could put the food in barrels, but there’s no room for that.” She climbed the steps and entered, at the same time watching carefully for intruders. If someone thought she had money, he might be waiting for her. But the wagon was clear, so she beckoned Micah in and breathed a sigh of relief at the same time. Good thing Othello was on watch or she’d have missed the supposed fun. And Micah might be dead or at the very least severely injured.

  She was now responsible for not only herself but two other people. And a small herd of animals. She who had never had responsibilities beyond her own act in the show. The thought hit like a punch in the solar plexus.

  Othello rumbled a deep growl and then whined when he heard Chief’s gentle voice. Cassie’s heart settled back from leaping into her throat. She heard a knock at the door and Chief’s whisper of introduction.

  “Come in.”

  Chief, wearing his standard black felt hat and vest, fur side out, over a faded red shirt, paused in the doorway, took one look at Micah, and closed the door behind himself. “Visitors?”

  “Yes, you might say.”

  Chief glanced at her. “Your guns?”

  She nodded. “I didn’t like their games. If you could call three against one a game.”

  “I see.” A glint of a smile lit his dark eyes. “We go tonight?”

  “I think we’re going to have to. Don’t you agree?”

  The chief nodded.

  She stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the wagon.

  “More supplies?”

  She shook her head. “We’ll make do with what we have. Can you think of anything else?”

  Chief emptied his pockets onto the bed where the bullets bounced on the quilt. He set a box of shotgun shells beside the booty. “No time to find more.”

  “I have some, so we should be okay.” After all, what did they need bullets for? This was no longer the days of the Wild West, when a man’s gun was the law. She’d heard tales of the early days from listening to her father swap tales with other performers, mostly the men.

  Both men stared at her, shook their heads, and settled their hats more tightly on their heads.

  Cassie thought a moment before turning and pulling one of her rifles from the show pack. “Take this with you, in case we need it.”

  Chief took the proffered gun and checked the magazine. “Full.”

  She nodded. “I’m sure you know how to use it.”

  The look he gave her questioned her intelligence.

  “Just checking. Micah, have you ever shot a firearm?”

  He shook his head.

  “We’ll rectify that down the road.”

  “I get livestock ready,” the chief said. He hurried down the steps, Micah behind him.

  Cassie glanced around the wagon and blew out the lamp. Surprised at herself, she locked the door behind her and tucked the key into a pocket of her leather jacket. The roll of bills Jason had tossed her gave her a cushion of comfort. At least they had something to start out with.

  When the livestock were ready, she swung aboard Wind Dancer and followed Micah to the corral where Chief had sequestered the stock they were taking. Her old friend, George, snorted when Micah slid open the bars on the gate, but he trotted out the opening, followed by the rest of the herd. With the Gypsy Wagon in the lead, the entourage slipped as silently as possible out of the lot. One of the cattle bellowed, and another from the remainder of the herd answered, but none tried to turn back.

  Cassie swung her open loop and kept her focus on the small herd as they made their way down the road heading south from the sleeping town. Only a sliver of a moon hung in the western sky, but the starlight grew brighter as they left the buildings behind. They crossed the train tracks, the wheels clattering a mighty racket.

  She hung back, watching to see if anyone showed up to question their exit. A dog barked but Othello never answered, trotting along just ahead and to the side of Wind Dancer’s prancing feet. The thudding of cattle and horse hooves and the creak of the wagon all sounded loud in the stillness.

  They kept at a steady pace hour after hour until she realized the sky was indeed lightening and a widening band of pale yellow cracked the eastern horizon. She trotted up to the wagon and rode beside Chief. “We b
etter stop and water them, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I’ll find us a place with water and grass, and we’ll let them rest.”

  “All right.”

  “Tell Micah to trade places with me.”

  Cassie nodded and reined her mount away from the wagon. She dropped back and gave Micah the message.

  Hills and rocks came into view as the daylight woke the birds and set the crows to announcing their passage. They passed a road that turned off to the right. Bar S Ranch was carved into the top half log of a three-log sign. As the dust from the hooves floated westward through the gate, she wondered how many ranches they’d passed in the dark. The ranch road curved between two hills, leaving her pondering who lived there and how far they were from town now. About an hour later, with the sun climbing well above the horizon, Chief returned from his place in the lead.

  “Good place to stop a mile or so ahead.”

  “Good.” While she’d not mentioned it, her legs, so used to quick rides and flashy moves, were grumbling at this new protracted riding. While she was not sure what time they’d left the show grounds, her body was telling her she’d been in the saddle far longer than it was used to.

  With daylight, she counted the herd. Three buffalo, eight head of cattle, and two horses, besides the team pulling the wagon and the two they were riding. Fairly sure she’d not requested more horses, she figured Chief had a reason for bringing them. If only she had her father’s stallion, Lobos, but he’d been put down sometime before her father died.

  Cassie shifted in the saddle. Discomfort was quickly escalating to actual pain.

  “Up ahead and to the right. There’s a gully to shield us from the road.”