Belle Gone Bad (12 page)

B
y the time they neared the Boggy River, Mercy was glad to exchange the light of the Moon for the light of the Sun. If he'd been tired before, now he was reeling in his saddle. Poor Kirby plodded relentlessly but reluctantly forward.

Belle rubbed her back and glanced over at him. “I'd prefer that outlaw wasn't hanging in the wind.”

“At least his trail leads ahead just like the pacer's tracks.”

“But I still feel like I've got a bushwhacker target on my back.”

“Wish we knew how many were gunning for us.”

“At least we took care of two outlaws.”

“I regret we had to shoot them.”

“That was your first kill, wasn't it?”

“Yes.”

“How are you feeling about it?”

“I can't believe it's real. Never imagined that I would take another person's life. It's disturbing.”

“I understand.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “Out here, many times you have to make your own justice and live by your own code.”

“Does it get easier?”

“No.” She patted his hand and then let go. “But you accept the necessity and the responsibility. Sometimes it's kill or be killed. I prefer to live.”

“So do I.”

He touched the Colt .44 on his hip. So much firepower at a man's fingertips made it easy to kill. He took a deep breath. He had to steel his mind and his soul to what he might be called upon to do. Danger loomed over them like a death shroud. He would not leave Belle and Diana vulnerable to outlaws, not if a sharp eye and quick draw could save their lives.

But he wished he was back at a Spiritualist picnic with nothing more on his mind than romancing a pretty lady. He'd even prefer to be sketching out a painting in the Red River Saloon. No, that was wrong-headed. He'd been dying back there. And he'd been alone, even in the midst of friends. No matter what happened up ahead, nothing was better than riding into unknown, even dangerous, territory beside his Texas Belle.

“Do you know where they're rebuilding Burnt Boggy Saloon?” she asked.

“I heard south of the burned tent.”

“Notorious place.”

“Not till famous ladies burned it down.
Three times
.” He chuckled. “Red Dog and Slim were so disgusted by all the unwanted attention from area newspapers that they kept the saloon on the move, trying to escape it. Easy enough if it's a tent.”

“And smart if you're selling illegal whiskey or Choctaw beer in Indian Territory.”

“I heard Choctaws call the Kiamichi River the River Where I Lost My Liquor.”

“Why?”

He smiled. “Lighthorsemen know wild young'uns like to buy whiskey in Denison, put it on boats, and row it upstream to the heart of Choctaw Nation.”

“I suppose they never get much north of the Red River.”

“Mostly. But Lighthorsemen can't touch Americans.”

“True enough.” She pointed ahead at the Boggy River. “Mindful of everything, Slim and Red Dog are still rebuilding Burnt Boggy?”

“That's what I heard.”

“But why?”

“Guess they've got to put all that money they're making some place.”

“I bet the first time they get raided by Deputy U.S. Marshals, they'll wish they had a tent.”

“You know they're strictly law-abiding businessmen. They run a café, bunkhouse, and poker palace.”

She chuckled. “And keep a lookout so they can hide the liquor should any nosy lawmen come around.”

“That's right.” He joined her laughter.

“I'll tell you this,” she said in a serious tone. “Burnt Boggy has been a welcome sight many a time. Tex particularly liked it. Red Dog and Slim allow no shenanigans. Folks better leave their feuds and quarrels at the door. You can fill your belly, play a hand of poker, get a good night's sleep, and obtain information. Best of all, it's safe.”

“But Tex was a bounty hunter. You're one, too. I don't see how outlaws would welcome you at Burnt Boggy.”

“Like I said, it's a truce area. We've never picked up a bounty there and everybody knows it. But they also know we'll pay for information.”

“So feuds and quarrels might get settled there anyway.”

“Not on the premises. And not all the information is good or current.”

“That's clever.”

“It works. Tex got a lot of respect both sides of the law.”

“You, too, I bet.”

She shrugged. “I do my best.”

“Lots of folks besides outlaws go there, too.”

“That's another reason why it's a good place for us to head right now.”

“I'm ready.” He saw the glint of water just ahead.

Belle stopped on the bank of the Boggy River. “Just north of here the Clear Boggy joins it. For that matter, keep going and you'll hit the Muddy Boggy. Above that is the North Boggy.”

Mercy chuckled. “You'd think they'd come up with name variations.”

She laughed, too. “Maybe it all comes from the same source. I guess it makes sense to somebody.”

“Where do we go from here?”

“North. It looks too open down here. Not enough trees and brush to make outlaws or those who don't want to be seen comfortable. I'll cross over to see where the tracks lead.”

Mercy let her ride ahead so he wouldn't trample the trail. When she was on the other side of the river, he let Kirby pick his way through the water. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, but it hadn't back at the Blue River, either. He kept his eyes peeled and his senses alert as he joined her.

She pointed down the road. “They're all still headed east.”

“They didn't turn off for Burnt Boggy?”

“Not unless they doubled back.”

“If they believe we're tracking them, they won't think we'll go there, either.”

“Most likely.”

“We've gained on them. Maybe we should keep on the trail.”

She shook her head. “I wish we could, but our horses won't take it and we're too tired to think straight.”

“Where do you think they're leading us?”

“Some type of trap.”

He nodded in agreement. He wished he could come up with a good plan to thwart the outlaws, but his mind felt like mush. Belle was right. They needed to regroup, even if they lost ground.

“One thing for sure,” she said. “They're not going to let us get away. If we lost their tracks, I bet they'd have to backtrack and plant big, bold ones for us to follow.”

“So stopping at Burnt Boggy won't make a difference?”

“It'll make a big difference. First, we'll get some rest. Second, maybe we'll learn some information that'll help us get ahead instead of trailing behind. Surely somebody has seen something or heard something out of the ordinary.”

“And Diana?”

“If she's a pawn, they'll keep her alive.”

“What if she's not?”

“Then she's probably buried somewhere by the Blue River.”

“Don't say it.”

“I didn't say I believed it.” She rubbed a hand over her heart. “Far as I can tell, she's alive and okay.”

“That's what I believe, too.” He gripped his six-gun. “But we can't leave it too long.”

“Wait here a moment.” She rode east down the road, checked the trail, and came back. “Tracks are steady. If they turn north, they can follow the Military Trail or the Fort Towson Trail. Both will take them through the heart of Choctaw Nation to Fort Smith, Arkansas.”

“I doubt they'll leave Indian Territory.”

“So do I.” She motioned around them. “But there are a lot of places to hide, particularly up in the Kiamichi Mountains.”

He turned Kirby north. “We can't do any more right now. And not to be too unmanly, but I'm about to fall out of my saddle.”

“Not to be too unmanly, I'm about to do the same.”

“Let's go find Burnt Boggy.”

B
elle didn't move, despite her words, although she kept her senses alert. She'd been stalling and knew it. They could talk about river names and Burnt Boggy anywhere. Truth was she didn't want to leave the trail. She didn't want to rest. She didn't want to admit that up to this point she'd been bested.

She looked east, wishing she could see into the far distance. She'd like to swoop down on the outlaws, grab Diana, and obtain justice. If she stopped now, the bandits would get farther away, maybe go to ground.

“Belle?” Mercy asked. “Is something wrong with our plan?”

She rubbed the back of her neck. “Everything. And nothing.”

“We're sitting ducks here. Let's go.”

Still she didn't move, feeling connected to the outlaws as if by an invisible thread. She touched the Soleil Wheel over her heart for reassurance. She'd relied on her physical senses for a long time. Maybe she had no choice except to open up to unseen forces. Apokni had told her that as she matured she'd come to accept and appreciate her Rattler skills. That time appeared to be upon her.

She looked east toward the outlaws and then north toward Burnt Boggy. Her emotions screamed that she mustn't let the pacer get away. Her body demanded that she rest. Her mysticism soothed her that all would be resolved in the right way at the right time.

She glanced at Mercy and saw the concern in his sharp gray eyes. She felt heat unfurl in her center. Her body tingled at the memory of his hands and lips touching her. She wasn't alone. She had someone she trusted at her back again. She only hoped that trust wasn't misplaced.

“Let's go see the new saloon.”

He smiled. “Lead on.”

She followed the trail along the river, weaving in and out of scrub brush, dry grass, and ancient trees. She rode steadily upward, moving in and out of deep shadows formed by overhanging branches thick with leaves. She skirted red rock outcroppings with green lichen tinting the north sides. Birds took flight and squirrels chittered as she passed under them.

She heard the cock of a rifle before she saw the glint of a barrel and the crown of a man's hat in a tree up ahead.
Lookout
. She felt chilled at the sight. Most likely he was from Burnt Boggy, but he might be connected to the outlaw gang. She held up her hand to alert Mercy and then eased Juniper into deeper cover. Mercy stopped beside her.

“Trouble?” he asked.

“Lookout in that oak limb hanging over the trail.”

“He's seen us by now.”

“Heard us a long way back.”

“He could've picked us off,” Mercy said. “I doubt he's one of the outlaws.”

“True.”

“Still, no point in making us both targets. I'll go ahead. If there's no trouble, you follow.”

“No, I'll go.”

“Belle, I can do this.”

“It'll put you in danger.”

“I'm already in danger.”

She nodded, hanging back as he rode onto the trail. She wasn't used to letting somebody else fight her battles for her. But she also realized that Mercy needed to prove he could stand on his own two feet now that he was well. Still, she couldn't help but worry. That surprised her. He was coming to mean a lot to her fast.

She watched as Mercy stopped under the tree, talked with the guard, and motioned her forward. She raised her hand in greeting to the lookout. He raised his hat in reply. And they were free to continue.

“He says Red Dog and Slim still want me to carve Burnt Boggy a bar to rival Red River's.”

She chuckled as she followed him down the narrow trail. “Do they think they need more to draw customers?”

“No. But the one I was carving for them burned up along with the tent. It's unfinished business.”

“Sounds like Slim and Red Dog. Once they get an idea in their heads, there's no stopping them.”

“I doubt I'll do it.”

“Why?”

“I'm not convinced another woman won't burn down the place.” He turned and gave her a hard look.

She threw up a hand as if in denial. “Not me. I've been there plenty of times and never burned it down.”

“There's always a first time.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “You're just looking for an excuse.”

“Maybe if I had new inspiration, I'd be more inclined to do it.” He rode out into a clearing, stopped, and looked her over from head to toe, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

“Oh, no!” She laughed harder. “Don't even think about it.”

He joined her laughter.

She smelled freshly cut cedar as she rode through sawdust up to the new Burnt Boggy. They'd pretty much reconstructed the first Boggy Saloon. Two large rooms were connected by an open dogtrot under a shiny tin roof. Two square windows appeared to watch their approach. Smoke curled up from a river-rock chimney. One half of the building was home to the notorious saloon while the other half held bunks so patrons could sleep off their liquor or just get a good night's sleep out of the weather. Hitching posts circled the edge of the clearing as if the place was expecting a lot of takers. But on this early morning, only two horses were in sight. She looked them over. She didn't recognize them or their hoofprints.

Mercy rode right up to the front, dismounted, and threw his reins over the hitching post.

She was right behind him and stepped down with a sigh of relief. She walked over to him, stretching her back.

“Looks like we're safe enough.” He glanced around, then at her. “You ready for hot beans and beef?”

“And ready to set my backside on something that doesn't move.”

He laughed and extended the crook of his elbow. “Dear Lady, allow me to escort you inside.”

She clasped his elbow. “Dear Sir, you are too kind.”

He tucked his head toward her. “That's what you say now, but wait till I get you alone.”

She leaned closer so the side of her breast brushed his arm. “Do you have nefarious ideas in mind?”

He covered her hand and squeezed. “Isn't it about time to continue your education?”

She felt a little breathless at the gleam in his gray eyes. “I might need guidance in the finer points of . . . Free Love.”

“I'm always happy to oblige a lady.”

“But only one at a time.”

He laughed. “Belle, you're all the woman any man could handle.”

“Just keep that in mind.” She stepped toward the dogtrot. “In case your eye starts to stray.”

He stopped and swung her around to face him. “There's not another woman in the world who can compare to you. You're all I want.”

She relented in her tease, or half tease, at the seriousness of his face. “You're all I want, too. I just meant—”

“Not even in jest. Maybe you'll tire of me, but I have enough tricks up my sleeve that it won't be for a long, long time.”

She pushed her hands under his vest and clasped the hard muscles of his narrow waist. “And if you were to tire of me too soon, I'd hunt you down and tie you to my bedpost.”

He grinned as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “I'd leave a trail you couldn't miss.”

And he kissed her with so much fire that she felt scorched to her toes.