Katy Run Away (7 page)

Cal followed her. He had no idea what he was supposed to say, but there were a hundred unlikely, argumentative prospects nipping at the back of his tongue. When he boarded, he discovered that he and Katy were the only two people in the back. He took a seat on the bench opposite of hers. The thin padding was worn and not particularly comfortable. He’d probably come to hate it by the time he reached Salt Lake City, but he was equally sure that what padding there was was likely to feel like a God-send once the coach lurched into rattling, jostling motion.

Katy avoided his eyes. She sat, hands folded primly in her lap, her face turned to the curtained window. Twin spots of temper pinkened her cheeks and there was a decidedly watery glimmer in her eyes.

“Katy.” Cal leaned toward her, lowering his voice so he would not be overheard by anyone passing just outside. “Is that what you think you father did, or your mother?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Her voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper. She swallowed convulsively. She blinked hard, trying to keep the tears at bay, and parted her lips just a little so she could breathe slowly and quietly, and without any tell-tale sniffling sounds.

Unfortunately for her, Cal very much wanted to talk about this. “Your father had an accident. It wasn’t his fault or his choice to leave; it just happened.”

“I know that.” She flashed him the most annoyed glare, and Cal promptly switched fishing holes.

“Your mother didn’t leave you either. She found herself alone and did the best she could in the face of a very bad situation.”

“She wasn’t alone!” Katy snapped. “She had me.”

“You were a kid, and no offense, honey, but I don’t think you have a realistic understanding of how hard it was for your mother to try running the ranch after your father passed. Hands are transient. Most respect only the stability of their pay.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about! They respected my father. They gave him their loyalty.”

“Did they extend your mother that same loyalty or respect?” Cal softly countered. “Or did they just walk off?”

She turned her face more fully toward the window, her brow furrowing slightly as she frowned.

Lowering his voice again, Cal leaned toward her, hands clasped, forearms resting on his knees. “Katy, you say I don’t understand, but I think I understand better than just about anyone else in the world. When I took over after my father died, those men who had been so loyal to him, who I had worked alongside and thought were my friends—every one of those men turned on me. That’s not to say they weren’t civil; they were. They were very civil, but they didn’t trust me. I had to earn that by showing I knew how to accomplish every task I set to them, down to the smallest detail, and by proving I could make hard financial decisions, regarding my herd, regarding my men, and most importantly, regarding the money with which I paid them. I was late one time, and I lost two hands. They just left. It’s been almost two years and I think I’ve got about half of them won over now, but my ranch isn’t anywhere near the size of yours and I don’t have half your hands. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for your mother, because I guarantee, not one man in your father’s employ—whether they liked you or not, whether they liked
her
or not—cut your mother one inch of slack. In fact, I’ll bet they were twice as hard and twice as unforgiving because she was a woman. Yeah, four months is awful quick to marry after losing your husband. I doubt it was easy for her; I’ll bet it tore her up, especially when she realized that she might have saved her home and her ranch, but she’d lost the loyalty and respect of her only child in the process.”

The coach rocked slightly as the two men climbed up onto the seat. One knocked on the side. “Heading out!” he called, giving them warning only half a second before Cal heard the snap of the reins and the coach began to roll. It was just as he thought too. The wagon wheels found every dip and rain-washed dent in the road—little more than a well-worn path of ruts that led out of town—and he very nearly bounced off the seat when they hit their first real hole.

Katy grabbed onto the bench and the wall, wincing once when her bottom also became disconnected from the seat, only to find it again an instant later. The padding wasn’t anywhere near thick enough, but he didn’t think that had much to do with it when Katy started crying. She turned her face all the way to the window, trying to hide it, but the space was too small, and she just couldn’t turn far enough to hide her tears or the wracking spasms that jerked at her shoulders.

She hid her mouth behind one hand and Cal switched seats, sliding onto the hard bench beside her. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, but she resisted being drawn against him. Prickly as she was, she thumped him in the ribs with her elbow, but Cal could be stubborn too and this was too important to just let go.

“Come on, honey,” he said, coaxing her to turn from the window to him. Eventually, she did. Eventually, she let go of the seat and the wall and her small fingers hooked into the folds of his shirt, clinging to him as she gave up all the effort it took to hide, to be silent, or to be angry.

“I don’t want to go home!” she wept.

“I know.” Cal folded his arms that much tighter around her. He rubbed her arms and her back. He pressed a kiss upon the top of her hair. He tried to be as comforting as he knew how.

The only thing he didn’t do was order the coach to turn around and take them back to town.

* * * * *

Katy couldn’t remember falling asleep. She certainly didn’t mean to, but she woke with a start, almost pitching forward straight off the bench and onto her nose when she heard the gunshots. It was evening now. The sun had almost set, casting the desert in a gloom of shadow and greyness. The lamps were lit up near the horses, but inside the coach everything was much darker and all Katy could hear was the rumbling rattle of carriage wheels coming to an abrupt stop and a frightening cacophony of shots and shouts.

“Don’t be stupid!” and “Put that rifle down!” were both repeated numerous times and in a variety of hard and growling voices. They were followed by a particularly chilling pistol report and an almost congenial sounding, “I’ll put the next one right through you, my friend. Now, drop it.”

Beside her, Cal must have fallen asleep too, because as fast as she came awake, he was also struggling to sit up. He still had one arm around her, and he quickly shifted it from her shoulders to her stomach, pressing her flat against the cushioned wall and out of view of the fluttering gaps between the window curtains. There was a slight rock to the carriage and then the unmistakable sound of a wood and metal rifle falling to the ground.

“Thank you,” the congenial man said. “Hands up. There’s a good boy. Now, don’t do anything we’re going to have to shoot you for. This is just a friendly, localized robbery. Do as we tell you, and we’ll leave living people instead of bodies behind us.”

Looking from one window to the next, Katy jumped when she heard footsteps on the ground just outside.

“Hello, the coach,” the man called, his tone still casual and calm. “How many are you. and are you unarmed?”

Beside her, Cal looked at her and then back out the window. He hesitated only a few seconds before replying, “Two, and I am not. My pistol is holstered and I have an unarmed woman sitting beside me.”

“I don’t care if the pope himself is sitting beside you. If you do something stupid, I swear I’ll kill you both.” In spite of his words, he remained cheerful. Katy could almost hear him smiling. “Are you at all confused about what is transpiring here?”

Cal looked at her. “No, sir,” he said grimly.

“Good man. Here’s what I want you to do. You are going to leave your gun holstered. You are going to take off your gun belt and very slowly and carefully pass it out the window to me. You are also going to keep in mind that any deviation from this plan, either accidental or otherwise, will result my ordering the carriage and both of its unfortunate occupants to be brutally shot as many times as it takes to reassure me that you are no longer a deadly threat to me or my men. Do you understand the terms as I have issued them?”

This time Cal offered no hesitation. “Yes.”

“Wonderful.” The bandit outside knocked twice on the door of the carriage, signaling which side he was on. “Pass out your gun.”

It was the most frightening situation she had ever been in. Katy sat frozen, hardly daring to breathe as Cal unfastened his gun belt, coiling it twice in his hands before passing it out through the window curtains. It was taken from him, and a moment later, the door jerked open.

Katy had never seen a real live bandit before. She’d seen pictures of them on wanted posters and such, but never had she seen one in real life. The first thing that struck her was that he didn’t look anything at all like a criminal ought to. He wasn’t fat, or slovenly, or dirty. He didn’t seem to be uneducated or hostile, but was lean and swarthy, only partially illuminated by the amber glow of the driver’s lights up front. His dark hair mingled with the shadows under his hat and at least three-days’ worth of beard growth blanketed his chin. His clothes were neat and clean. His boots were dusty but polished, and his spurs caught the dim light as he propped one boot up on the carriage step and leaned his forearm upon his knee. Most of his features were lost in the shadow beneath his hat brim, but she could see his mouth clearly enough. He was smiling.

“Good evening. Ma’am.” He tapped a finger to his hat brim and Katy recoiled, but then the shadow of his face turned to lock on Cal. “So tell me, who here has been robbed before?”

Too scared even to fidget, Katy looked at Cal. She couldn’t see him any better than she could see the bandit, but she could feel him beside her and something told her, if she could see him, there’d be that ominous pulse of muscle leaping his jaw like it did when he took off his belt and came at her. It wasn’t proper, but unsure where his hand was, she touched his thigh just so she could feel him. He wasn’t angry, per se, and he didn’t feel scared. Just grim and tense.

“No one?” the bandit guessed, cheerfully answering for them when neither one offered otherwise. “Ah well, this is going to be fun, then. Here’s how it works: I say, give me all your valuables. Much as you did your gun belt, you’ll pass over what you have. Then I’ll say thank you and we’ll leave, and nobody will get hurt. You’ll both continue on to your respective destinations somewhat lighter financially, but with an excellent story that you can embellish at will later on when you no doubt recount all this excitement to your friends and neighbors. We will also continue on in our nefarious patterns of life, slightly richer financially but (as you’ll likely be quick to note) one bootstep closer to that abysmal day of reckoning when the devil shall take his measure of us, find us all delightfully lacking of proper social and moral niceties, and set us to suffering in the burning mires of Hell everlasting. So!” Clapping his hands, the bandit rubbed them briskly together. “Is everyone ready to play their part?”

The muscle under Katy’s hand tensed slightly.

“Not particularly,” Cal said.

The bandit flashed his teeth, his smile becoming a grin. “I admire your honesty. Pass over your valuables or I will shoot you where you both sit.”

Katy sat motionless, feeling as Cal as he parted his money from his wallet and reluctantly placed the bills in the bandit’s outstretched hand.

“You have a waistcoat watch,” the bandit noted.

“I don’t suppose it’ll make any difference that it was a gift from my deceased father?”

“None whatsoever.”

Even more reluctantly, Cal handed that over as well.

“Thank you.” Pocketing both, the bandit turned his eyes to Katy. She shrank against the back of the seat as, again, he flashed his teeth in smile. “Hello, my lovely.” He raised his hand, pointing at Cal before he could move to shield her. He tsked. “Don’t do it, my friend. You don’t want my attention to come back to you, I promise. No hardship will befall our dear Madame Pope, so long as she cooperates and you don’t do anything stupid.”

Katy swallowed hard. Her breasts rose and fell, each breath coming just a little bit faster as the bandit fixed her with a speculative look.

“No rings on your pretty fingers. No earrings or necklace. No pendant. Either Madame Pope has taken a vow of poverty or she has something very wonderful hidden in her luggage. Where is your purse?”

“On a northward train,” Cal informed him. “Unfortunately, our luggage departed for Wyoming yesterday. We’ve been trying to catch up ever since.”

The bandit cocked his head, his face shadowed by his hat. It was hard to see even his mouth now. “Are you playing with me, my friend? Because I’ll warn you now, I favor very few games at all.”

“Believe me, being shot is not on my list of day-to-day ambitions,” Cal assured him. “You’ve already taken everything we have.”

“And if I take Madame Pope out of this wagon and search every lovely inch of her, am I going to find you’ve told the truth or lied through your teeth?”

“You have,” Cal repeated, “everything of value that we are carrying.”

The bandit stared at them in silence for almost a full minute, and then tsked. “Very well. You leave me no alternative…”

Cal moved, putting out his arm as if to shield Katy from what was coming. She felt his whole body stiffen when the bandit pointed at him again, not with his finger this time, but with his gun. It made a very cold and gut-clenching sound when he cocked it.

“Wait!” It wasn’t until she felt Cal startle against her, that Katy realized she had spoken at all. And God help her, but she couldn’t get her mouth to stop moving. “I have money.”

Cal snapped around to look at her, his eyes huge with shock and alarm. The bandit was much more subdued, but she still shivered when he locked his eyes on her and didn’t blink.

“What are you—” Cal stopped when the bandit pressed the tip of his gun right up against his cheek.