Lawman from Nogales (9781101544747) (8 page)

“Will you have to mention to anyone that I'm here?” she asked.

“Only if someone asks,” Sam said. “But if you're in Ireland, it doesn't matter anyway. Does it?”

“No, I suppose it doesn't,” she said quietly. She looked away and across the shadowy purple night, letting Sam know that she was finished talking about the robbery for the night. “Anyway, I only want to get home to Ireland and put this part of my life behind me.”

Sam nodded. He suspected there was more she wanted to tell him, but it would wait until she was ready, he thought, leaning back on his blanket against his saddle, which rested on the ground. Above him a million stars shone all around, but they had lost some of their sparkle. Sam only watched the stars for a moment; then he closed his eyes and listened to the cry of a lonesome coyote somewhere across the rugged hills.

Chapter 8

At the first sight of sunlight on the distant horizon, Erin awakened to the aroma of boiling coffee and sat up on her blanket. A few feet from her, the campfire crackled beneath a fresh mound of dried mesquite brush and downfallen scrub oak.

“Ranger Burrack?” she called out quietly, looking over at the bare spot where Sam's blanket and saddle had been.

Hearing no reply, she started to call out again. But before she could, Sam stepped forward into the firelight leading both horses, saddled and ready for the trail.

“I'm right here, ma'am,” he said, stopping a few feet away, the horses right behind him. “I thought we'd make our way out of here before daylight, so that we can get across the flats and into some hill shade before the worst heat of the day.”

“Yes, I understand,” Erin said, rising from her blanket. “I'm ready if you are.” She ran her hands down herself and straightened the trail clothes she'd put on before they'd left Wild Roses.

“There's fresh coffee, ma'am,” Sam said, letting her know he wasn't pushing to leave. “I have some jerked elk and hardtack in my saddlebags, for breakfast.” He posed his words as an invitation.

“Thank you,” she said, “but I can't eat a thing this early in the morning.”

He'd called her
ma'am
? Not Erin like before?

“Coffee, then?” he said. He dropped the reins to the horses and stepped toward the pot sitting in a banked pile of glowing embers. “You're going to need something in your stomach—”

“Excuse me, Ranger,” she said, cutting him off, as if something he'd said disagreed with her. “I told you in Wild Roses that I eat like a bird.”

Sam watched her step over to her horse. She took down a canteen hanging from her saddle horn and walked away into the grainy morning darkness.

He pushed his sombrero up and looked down at the coffeepot for a moment. Then he stooped and filled both of the tin cups he'd set out for them.

He stood up moments later, his cup in hand, when Erin returned and hooked the canteen strap over her saddle horn. She stepped over to the fire, stooped down and picked up her cup of coffee.

“On second thought, coffee sounds good,” she said.

Sam looked at her, seeing that she'd washed her face, pulled her hair back and tied it in place with a strip of rawhide.

Nothing like a clean face
, Sam thought, seeing how both her spirits and demeanor appeared to have lifted, brightened.

“How about that elk and hardtack now?” he asked.

She looked up at him, and smiled over the tin cup of steaming coffee. Before she could reply, Sam stooped beside her and took off his sombrero, leaving on the black bandanna tied back over his head. He looked into her eyes and took a breath.

“How far along are you, ma'am?” he asked.

“How far along—?” She stopped short with a stunned look on her face. “What on earth are you talking about?” she asked.

“Nobody eats
like a bird
crossing these Mexican hills and desert planes,” Sam said. “Maybe back in Wild Roses,” he added, “but not out here.”

“How dare you, Ranger,” Erin said, denying the matter as far as she could.

“Please, ma'am. You're with child,” Sam said with finality. “I would call it none of my business, except that we're crossing some awfully rough country together. I need to know what condition you're in. So, begging your pardon . . .
how far along are you
?” he asked again.

She looked away, let out a breath and turned back facing him, her eyes welling with tears.

“Please don't think me a harlot, Ranger,” she said.

“I don't, ma'am,” Sam said. “I just think you're in trouble, you're scared and you don't know who you can trust. So you're holding back from telling the truth, thinking that lying is going to help you some way.”

She stared back into his eyes and nodded slightly as if weighing what he'd said.

“If I am correct, it has been eleven weeks since I first missed my time,” she said at length.

“Three months . . . ,” Sam said, considering her condition and gauging her ability to withstand crossing the rough hill country that lay ahead of them. Not to mention the country that led to Port of Tampico, where she was headed.

“Please don't think me a loose woman, Sam,” she said. “I fell in love with the wrong man. When he found out I was carrying a child, he left me.” The tears welling in her eyes broke free and ran down her cheeks. She did nothing to stop them.

“Ma'am, you don't have to explain yourself to me,” Sam said quietly. “My only concern is getting you safely to Jerez.”

But she continued as if she hadn't heard him.

“After he left me, I learned that he'd been killed, robbing a train across the border in Texas,” she said.

Sam looked at her closely.

“Was he one of the Gun Killers?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “He rode with them for a while. Then he went on his own way.” She wiped her eyes, collected herself and raised her chin. “Would you like to know his name?”

“Only if you want me to know it, ma'am,” Sam said.

“I suppose it makes no difference,” she said, dismissing the matter. “Now you know why I find it important to get home to Ireland. I want to bring my child into this world surrounded by people I have known all my life.”

“It's usually a mother's wish that their child be born in the United States and become an American. But in your case . . .” He let his words trail.

“In my case, I am wanted by the law,” Erin said with an edge of bitterness in her voice. “Yes, you're right, Ranger Burrack,” she added, “and in the case of myself and my poor brother, Bram, America has not been the paradise we'd thought it to be.”

“I'd never call my country paradise,” Sam replied, “but I call living here a struggle in the right direction.”

Erin considered his words for a moment.

“Perhaps I would feel differently had things gone better for us,” she said.

“No matter how things turned out for you,” Sam said, “there was an opportunity for you to rise or fall on your own. I expect that's the best we can ask of any place.”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” said Erin. “But you have to admit, there's much injustice in America—wrongs that need to be made right.”

“I admit there's plenty of injustice for everybody,” Sam said. “But the only way I know to make things right is to follow the word of the law and keep it headed in the right direction.” He offered a tired smile. “My being a
lawman from Nogales
, that's all I know to do about it.”

She returned his slight smile and watched him stand and walk to the saddlebags atop the copper-colored dun.

“There's lawmen from everywhere down here,” she said to him, “from Texas, Arizona . . .” She shook her head slowly. “I don't understand how things work down here.”

The Ranger gave a slight smile.

“Neither does anybody else, truth be known.” He sipped his coffee. “That's how it's always been on the border. I don't look for things to change anytime soon.”

When he returned, he stooped beside a flat rock he'd placed near the fire and laid out a knife and a shank of jerked elk for breakfast.

“Let's get you fed, ma'am,” he said. “We've got a long ride ahead. In your condition, you'll need all your strength.”

Erin moved over beside him and reached out for the knife handle.

“Let me do that,” she said. “You sit down and enjoy your coffee.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Sam nodded. He picked up his coffee cup, but instead of sitting, he stood up and sipped his coffee while he picked up her blanket, shook it out and draped it over his shoulder. Then he picked her saddle up from the ground and walked it over to the roan.

With the knife in her hand slicing the elk meat, Erin turned enough to watch Sam set his coffee down and saddle the roan for her.

“I'm able to saddle my own horse,” she called out.

“I know that,” Sam said, his back turned to her.

She watched him roll her blanket and place it behind her saddle. She looked down at the knife in her hand, turning it back and forth, examining it for a moment. Then her eyes went to Sam's black-point dun, and to the wooden gun case beneath his bedroll.

“What's in the case?” she asked.

“A gift from a friend,” Sam said. Then, realizing that she already knew it was a gun, he added, “It's a Swiss rifle, a gift from a former marine sharpshooter—a Cuban named Dee Sandoval.”

“Oh, it's what they call a long-shooter?” she asked.

“Yes, it is,” Sam replied.

“You—you'll be using it on the Gun Killers?” she asked hesitantly.

“I'll have to see how things go,” Sam replied, not wanting to put her off, but not really wanting to discuss the matter.

Seeing his reluctance, Erin changed the subject. “Will you be teaching me to shoot Bram's gun today?” she called out.

“As soon as we get across the flats and back into the hills,” Sam said without looking around at her. “There's an old mission ruins higher up. We'll take a good rest there and get you shooting in no time. How does that sound to you?”

Erin smiled to herself and went back to slicing the jerked meat.

“That sounds just fine to me,” she said. “I see you're not carrying the Starr in your belt.”

“No, I put it away in my saddlebags,” Sam said. “When you almost fainted on me in Wild Roses, I took it back. I didn't want you to drop it on your foot.”

“Yes, I understand,” Erin said.

“Do you want it back now?” Sam asked.

“No, not right now,” Erin replied quietly, still slicing the meat. “But once we're across the flatlands . . . when the time comes.” She looked back around at him with a smile.

“Yes, when the time comes,” Sam said, almost to himself.

PART 2

Chapter 9