Liberty Belle (9 page)

“Oh my. What dreadful men.”

“Quiet! Hands up and get over there. Move!” The bandit waved his gun and motioned them away from the coach.

Arms raised, Libby and Flora walked toward another man who didn’t look any friendlier.

Dusty climbed down from the stage and joined Harley, Grogan, and Samuels.

“Hand over your valuables.” The robber gave Libby an evil grin. “You ladies look like you got money. Throw us your bags.”

Libby gasped. If they took her money, how would she gain her independent life? She shook her head. “Not my dowry!”

“Look, Miss High-and-Mighty, you either hand it over, or I’ll come and take it from you. Trust me, you don’t want that.”

Harley edged toward her. “Give him the money. It’s not worth your life.”

Libby threw her reticule to the ground.

Flora gazed at Libby and with shaking hands threw hers down. The bag fell with a loud thump. “Oh dear. I didn’t mean to disobey, but I forgot about my gun.”

Another shady character emerged from behind the stage leading Libby’s mare.  “Got you a prize horse, Zeb.”

“Not Southern Star. That’s my horse!” She turned to see who would take the mare from her. Libby hadn’t noticed the tall, commanding leader before. He must have ridden from the front of the stage.

“No names.” The man silenced the outlaw leading her mare. He rode toward them. Unlike the other thieves, he looked intelligent. Dark blond hair protruded from under his gray hat. He sat as if he were out for a leisurely ride.

Her gaze collided with his.

Interest registered on his face. He swung a leg over the saddle and jumped to the ground. “I hear Georgia in your voice. What’s a southern belle doing out here? You belong on a plantation with a man to watch over you.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“No, guess not. Sorry to have to confiscate your money and your horse, but we are on a mission.” He snapped his fingers at the man who’d taken her money and pointed at the stage. “Check the coach, top and bottom. Payroll’s somewhere on it.”

He ordered his gang with such authority that Libby believed she’d have looked for the box if he’d asked. All too aware that the man’s attention remained focused on her, she turned her gaze away, hoping he didn’t see her trembling.

Harley stepped between her and the outlaw. “Take the money and go. Leave the ladies.”

“Is that so? I’m the one holding the gun. I’ll be the one to decide what I do and don’t do.”

“Hey, Captain. Look what the little mousey one had in her bag.” Grinning, the brigand held up Flora’s old pistol and then tossed it aside.

“Oh my.” Flora fainted in Libby’s arms.

The leader laughed.

Libby wanted to hit the man. How dare he rob and scare them? Gently, she set Flora on the ground. Fearing the outlaws might harm her aunt, Libby stood, keeping her eye on the leader.

“Found the pay box, Captain.”

A horse and rider galloped from behind them.

The leader stared past Libby’s shoulder. “Trouble?”

“Plenty. Looks like soldier boys coming.”

Libby contemplated slapping the man, but she didn’t want to endanger Flora. “Hope they catch you.”

Zeb winked. After a few quick strides, he leapt onto his saddle, rode in front of Libby, and swept off his hat. “I promise to put your mare and money to good use. I do wish you well.” He spurred his horse, and the gang galloped away.

Libby glanced at Flora’s gun, but the outlaws had already ridden out of range. She whirled her gaze toward the gambler and frowned. He could have done more to protect her things.

Harley knelt beside Flora and rubbed her hands. “Come on, little lady. Everything’s all right, now.”

Libby turned back and watched the outlaws disappear in the dust. “How dare they? I will get my horse and money back.”

“Not likely.” Grogan picked up his gun and sneered. “You know it’s not very smart for ladies to travel unescorted. You bring trouble to others that way. If those soldier boys weren’t coming, well, I won’t describe what might’ve happened.”

She hadn’t heard him say that many words since their trip began. Now she was happy he’d kept quiet.

Flora struggled to her feet and pushed Harley away from her.

Libby rushed to her. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, I’m fine.”

She didn’t look fine. Shaking, she stumbled toward the coach. Libby followed, wondering if Flora was ready for a life in Auraria. Goodness, Libby wondered if she herself were ready for a life in this wild country. She stooped and picked up their reticules. After a quick peek inside, her heart sank. Her money was gone.

Once in the coach, Flora giggled.

Shocked, Libby glanced at her aunt to see if she had lost her mind. Instead, Flora smiled and patted her stomach. “I sewed a pouch in my petticoat where I keep a five dollar gold piece. My father always told me to carry it with me. So we still have something.”

“Flora, and here I thought you passed out from fear.”

“Oh, I was fearful, but I couldn’t think of any other way to divert that nasty outlaw. I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

Harley climbed inside the coach and took his seat, followed by Grogan and Samuels.

Dusty stuck his head in the door. “Sorry, folks. Them bandits been plaguing the line. They seem to know just when we’re carrying payroll. Good thing nobody was hurt. Six soldiers came. They sent some men after the outlaws, but I doubt they’ll catch ’em”

“What of my horse?”

“Gone, and I’m sorry. Looked like a fine animal.”

Libby wanted to cry. She had nothing.

Dusty shut the door. Soon, he sang out and the coach lurched forward.

Harley took Flora’s hand. “I do hope you’re well. You gave me quite a scare.”

Libby glared at the man. He would be the last one she would trust. His pretense for help came with a price, of that she was sure.

“Oh dear. I am fine, Mr. Mason.” Flora pulled her hand away.

“I would be happy to be your escort.” The gambler nodded at the other two men in the coach, who seemed to be watching out the window, and whispered, “You’re not safe out here. Not without a man to look after you. No telling what those two, he nodded toward Grogan and Samuels, or any other men we might come up against might do.”

Libby’s anger fired up. “We’re—”

Flora’s bony elbow stabbed Libby’s side. “How kind of you, but there is no need. We’re meeting Miss Longstreet’s … brother.”

Shock kept Libby’s mouth open until she gulped.
Brother?
What was Flora thinking?

###

Wade eyed the dust swirling in the air. “Mark, hide in the brush and don’t come out unless I call for you.”

The boy didn’t answer, just ran.

Sweat dripped down Wade’s back. Friend or foe? Or just buffalo? Was he ready to face death? God remained a distant stranger that he wasn’t ready to meet. He gazed to where Mark hid. “Could use some of those prayers.”

“Already prayin’.”

Wade grinned. The kid was good. A godsend? Or another joke from the Almighty? Should know in a few minutes. “Just stay quiet and don’t move.”

Wanting to protect the boy, Wade walked away from the spring. The sun shone bright; the sky a clear blue. Today seemed as good a day as any to die. As a lawman, he’d never been afraid. Today, he feared leaving Mark unprotected and alone.

He ran as fast as his sore leg allowed but stumbled and fell. He could hear the hoofbeats nearing. Wade thought about staying put. The tall grass could hide him enough that they might ride on.

He groaned.
Mark
. He had to show himself. Out of breath, his leg throbbing, Wade rose from the prairie grass. Standing tall, he saw the first of the horses break the hill.

Soldiers

“Mark, it’s the cavalry.” Now, Wade ran toward the boy, yelling for him to come out.

The boy peeked out of the brush.

“They’re soldiers. Fan the fire, and we’ll get us a ride.” Wade didn’t even pay attention to his sore leg. How long had it been since he felt like laughing? Felt alive?

The boy threw green brush on the fire. Heavy smoke rose.

Wade waved his hands and shouted. There’d been slim chance that the dust meant help. Wouldn’t hurt to let the kid think his time on bended knees helped.

The lead riders came to a stop and motioned for several of the troopers to gallop toward him.

Wade motioned for the boy to come to him. “Looks like we’ll be riding the rest of the way.”

Mark ran to him and buried his head against Wade’s chest.

Instinctively, Wade put an arm around the kid’s shoulders. Somehow, he’d come to truly care for the boy, son of Martin Taylor or not. Too bad he had nothing to offer him. Nothing but the promise to find him a home.

The jingle of bits and bridles announced the troopers’ arrival. “Saw your smoke, mister. You afoot?”

“Yeah. Indians attacked the wagons some miles back. The boy’s the only survivor. His father was killed in the raid. I came along too late. Storm ran my horse off.”

Mark’s shoulders slumped. Before facing the soldiers, he wiped his eyes.

Wishing he could take back the hard reality of the words, Wade patted Mark on the back.

A young lieutenant dismounted. Frowning, he slapped his hat against his leg and cursed. “We’ve had word of a few braves gone off the reservation. One of our patrols had a skirmish with some of them the other day. I think they helped even things out.”

The familiar look of revenge on the young soldier’s face caused Wade to grimace. “We could use the loan of a horse. At least to the next stage stop.”

The trooper took off his hat and wiped his brow. “We’ve got an extra horse or two. Found one. Saddle on him and everything.”

Wade looked at Mark and winked. “My name’s Wade Calder. If he’s mine, the saddle has a WC burned in the leather. No brand on the him. A gelding, he’s a bay mustang.”

The lieutenant grinned. “Sounds like we found your horse.” He turned and waved over a couple of men and sent them back to the main unit. “They’re going to bring your horse back. We can escort you part way to the stage house. We have orders to be on the lookout for an outlaw gang. They have a bad habit of holding up the stage and stealing the payroll. This land’s ripe with renegade Indians and outlaws. Keep a close watch.”

“Intend to, Lieutenant.”

Suddenly tired, Wade sat down on a nearby rock and rubbed his sore leg. He didn’t have to wait too long, and one of the troopers came back with Banjo in tow. Wade grinned at the little horse. Not much to look at, but he was the closest thing Wade had to a friend.

Mark rose.

Wade shook his head. Maybe not. Mark made for good company, but only until a proper family was found. The horse he’d keep.

After the rest of the regiment arrived, Wade mounted Banjo and reached out for Mark. The boy climbed on behind him.

“I told you Banjo would be back.” A hint of mirth sparkled the boy’s words.

“That you did. I’m grateful, too. He’s a good horse.”

“Mr. Wade, I got something to tell you. It’s real private.”

“I don’t think any of those soldier boys can hear us. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll ride off to the side.” Wade wondered what the boy had in mind. He sounded serious.

“Well, that night you were hurt and asleep, I got my father’s papers. We have a gold claim near Denver. That’s where we were headed. I was wondering ... well, could you go there with me? I’d make you my partner.” Hope edged his voice.

Wade was glad the boy rode behind him and couldn’t see the frown his words had caused. Not that Wade had any plans. But they hadn’t included taking on any responsibilities.

“Mr. Wade, I don’t know how to get there myself. I don’t even know how to find gold—”  the boy sniffled.

“How old are you, Mark?”

A couple more sniffs and he stopped. “I’m ten.”

“Hmm, that is pretty young to mine gold by yourself. Tell you what, I’ll consider the offer. That’s the best I can do for now.”

“Thanks. I’ll be praying.”

Wade had to grin at that one.

After a couple more hours of riding, the soldiers told Wade the station was a day or two ahead. They headed east and rode away. Watching them go, Wade felt the weight of responsibility fall on his shoulders. A responsibility he didn’t want. Another of God’s cruel jokes.

Chapter 11

Libby opened her eyes and stretched. She relished the night spent in a soft bed, and one she needed after her ordeal yesterday. Robbed. Just thinking of those desperate outlaws made her cringe. But she’d survived it even if her money and horse hadn’t. She stretched across the bed and snuggled under the quilt. The stage line must have realized if they didn’t provide at least one comfortable place to stop overnight, no one would ride their coaches. To sleep in a real bed, in such a nice home, what a relief.

The aroma of bacon drifted into her room.
Real food and not just beans
. Energy flowed through her legs and arms. Only a few more days on that stage and she’d be in Auraria. Humming a joyful tune, she slipped into a clean outfit.

After she finished readying herself, she knocked on Flora’s door. No answer. Laughter leaked from the kitchen. Her aunt’s distinctive giggle gave her away. The woman was already downstairs. Flora seemed to flourish in their new life of adventure.

Slowly, Libby walked down the stairs, enjoying the scent of fresh baked bread. This morning, she would eat like a queen. The idea caused her to pause. At home, every day started with a good breakfast, and she’d have not given a thought to the smell of bacon or bread.

Had that been only a few days ago? Had she been wise to give up so much? And for what? She had no promises, and now she had no money. But she when she arrived in Denver, she would send her father a telegram. He would send her enough funds to see her through until her teaching job paid her. A minor stumble on her journey. She would make out fine.

Sunlight slipped between the curtains and lit the staircase. Libby stared at the shimmering light displayed around her. She put a hand in her pocket to get a handkerchief and felt the cool tin of the sheriff’s badge. Her breath caught. If only she could meet a man like him.