The Glass Orchid (21 page)

With every moment in the corral, she got more and more tense. By the time she found the three mares, her skin prickled, her head pounded, and an icy sweat formed on her brow. Unease spread through the herd like wildfire. She sniffed the air. Now certain she smelled smoke, she managed to get the mares on leads and headed toward the gate then glanced about to locate Muh’Weda. She found him, but he was too far away to hear any warning she might call. Her hand was lifting the gate latch when a horse trumpeted in anger.

She turned her head to see the stallion rear, hooves flailing. A break in the cloud cover sent a weak moonbeam to light the taut line strung from the irate stud’s neck. Kiera traced the line back to where Muh’Weda fought to control the stallion and haul it closer. Thank heaven the gelding her friend rode was well trained and sought to help its rider by casting its weight backward.

The nearer Muh’Weda drew the stallion, the louder its snorts and bellows became. Stirring increased among the rest of the horses. Outside the corral a growing commotion added to the noise. Shouts and screams echoed over the milling horses and the still resistant stud.

“They’re stealing the horses!”

“Get Big Si, the sheriff, and Marshal Quinn!”

Acting on instinct, Kiera shoved the gate open as wide as she could. Then with the mares’ leads in one hand, she pulled her pistol and galloped through the opening, firing into the air as she went.

The entire herd followed, raising enough dust and confusion to hide both her and Muh’Weda — if he could get the stallion under control and escape the corral.

• • •

“Excuse me, miss.” At the sound of gunshots and shouting, U.S. Marshal Evrett Quinn pushed from the house onto the veranda, passing Miss Elise Van Demer. Whatever the young woman wanted to tell him would have to wait, no matter how upset she seemed.

He cleared the porch railing to land beside his horse at the hitching post amid the chaos of running, shouting men and women.

“The barn’s on fire.”

“How’d that happen?”

“Who cares? Let’s put it out first.”

“I saw two Indians stealing horses from the corral.”

“Form a posse.”

“We need to put out the fire.”

“Get Big Si. Where’s Sheriff Boswell, and the Marshal?”

“Last I saw, the sheriff was headed to the horse barn, just before the dancing started.”

Ev did a quick scan and found Big Si Van Demer astride the platform set up for dancing, but found no sign of Boswell. The rancher was built like a stonewall, tall and heavy set. He had a booming voice that cut through the rising panic, bringing quick order if not calm. Ev mounted his horse and headed toward the platform.

“You there,” the rancher pointed at a hired hand. “Get these people organized into a bucket brigade. Then get four of the hands to haul out and set up those fancy hoses I had shipped in from Chicago.”

The order was followed immediately with a good thirty people lining up to pass water from the creek to the fire.

Ev knew he wouldn’t be fighting the fire. If he wanted to get the horse thieves, he needed to start now and couldn’t wait for the fire to be extinguished or to find the sheriff. Besides, Sheriff Boswell knew these ranchers and townspeople. He, better than Ev, could keep folks from forming a lynching posse. Ev was pretty sure no rustlers were gonna set a fire as a distraction and risk a stampede, which could prevent them from getting the horses. He didn’t think for a minute that the same person or persons set the fire and stole the horses.

Big Si’s next order went to his foreman. “Take any man not fighting the fire and round up the stray horses. I’m not losing that Army contract because of a couple thieving Indians.”

“Si, I’m going after those rustlers,” Ev interrupted.

“Boyd!” Si shouted for his newest hand.

Ev had met the man just that night and hadn’t liked what he saw. Known only as Boyd, the hand had a lanky whipcord build and eyes constantly on the move. That, the low-slung six-shooter strapped to his thigh, and the careful way he carried himself implied that Boyd was more gunslinger than cowpoke. When they’d shaken hands, Boyd’s were soft, like a city boy’s.

“Here, sir.” The man stepped out of the bucket line and approached Si.

“Get your mount and go with Marshal Quinn. I want my horses back.”

“And the rustlers?” asked Boyd.

“They’re murderers. Do what you were hired to do.”

Ev frowned. He knew Big Si’s temper and had no doubt that the rancher wanted the rustlers shot, but Ev didn’t operate that way. With the sheriff — who hadn’t struck Ev as being on friendly terms with Si — occupied, Ev was the only lawman available. Van Demer’s insistence that the gunslinger join the pursuit made Ev wonder if there was more to this than simple horse stealing. Determined to catch the thieves alive, he attempted to avoid the offered help. “I can’t wait for him, and you need every hand you can get to fight that blaze. I’ll leave a clear trail for Sheriff Boswell to follow once the fire’s under control.”

Flames from the burning barn lit the cold grin that struck Boyd’s face. “I’ll catch up.”

Ev shrugged. He’d have to find another way to keep Big Si’s man from killing the rustlers. He pushed the gunslinger from his immediate thoughts and urged his horse into motion. Firelight reflected off the dust cloud from the escaping horse thieves. Ev headed in that direction, knowing that was where he would pick up the rustlers’ trail.

• • •

For the past three days, Kiera and Muh’Weda had managed to stay ahead of their two pursuers, stretching their lead to almost a half a day. However, getting the lead had cost them. They were lost.

Under the noonday sun, Kiera lifted her hat and swiped at the sweat trickling down her forehead. Oh, she and Muh’Weda both knew which direction would lead them to his village — west, but they were headed east. The idea had been to hide their tracks in the first stream they came to then double back, losing the pursuers in the process. However, every stream they found was little more than a mud track that would leave clearer prints for the pursuers to follow. So the pair had pushed on until now, when they paused to let the horses drink from a puddle that hadn’t yet dried up.

The badlands stood before them. Kiera knew better than to enter the twisting, endless chasms. They’d lose all sense of direction within an hour, and once in, the chance of getting out of the rocky maze alive was miniscule — better to risk facing the two men who’d followed all the way from the Flying V.

“We’re going to have to deal with them,” Muh’Weda’s statement drew her from her thoughts.

“Lord knows we can’t seem to outrun them, and places to hide are few and far between.”

“My father told me that Chief Washakie once said ‘if you must fight, it is best to choose the time and battleground’.”

“We can’t fight them. I may be able to fire a pistol, but we both know that my hands shake so much from fear that I couldn’t hit the sky if I aimed at it.”

Her friend grinned. “I never could figure out why you’re afraid of guns when you’re not afraid to live alone in Smoke Valley.”

“Solitude doesn’t scare me, but guns … I saw a man murdered once and haven’t been able to fire a weapon accurately since. I’ve got other ways to defend my home, just like you taught me other ways to hunt.”

“True. Still I’d like to hear the story of the murder someday, so I can really understand.”

“The story and my fears won’t matter, if those men catch us. They think we’re rustlers, and they’ll hang us at the first tree they come to.”

“Then we’ll just have to make certain they don’t catch us.”

“How?”

Muh’Weda shrugged. “Beats me.”

“Wonderful.” Kiera shook her head. Out of loyalty she’d allowed herself to be dragged into a situation where she could very well lose her life. She’d never see her sisters — one older, one younger — again. All the dreams she had of reuniting with them and bringing them west to live in her valley would die with her.

Though she mourned the loss of her dreams, she didn’t regret helping her friend. She’d been on the run for most of the past three years; the last eighteen months in Wyoming had been harsh. She’d been slowly freezing to death in the Wind River mountains when Muh’Weda found her. Until then, she’d not dared to hope for reunion with Edith and Mae. It was Muh’Weda’s help and his family’s kindness that allowed her to finally feel safe and settled enough to hope. She hadn’t escaped her grandfather’s brutal plans then survived three years of tribulation and disaster just to surrender and die. She’d get herself and Muh’Weda out of this, if she had to bushwhack the pursuers. “That’s it. We’ll set up an ambush.”

Muh’Weda stared at her, his jaw flapping. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“You did.” She couldn’t let her friend feel inadequate. He’d never get the
puha
he needed, and that had been the main purpose of this adventure. Getting back some of the village horses was an added benefit. The real gain was in proving to the village and the elders not only that getting the horses back could be done, but that Muh’Weda could do it.

“I did?”

“Sort of, you said we should choose the time and place for the fight. What’s an ambush if not that?”

“Did you have anything specific in mind?”

“Yes. I’ll tell you all about it while we look for the right kind of canyon to use as our battle ground then find a spot to leave our horses and the other ponies.”

• • •

The sun hung low over the horizon when Muh’Weda scrambled into place beside Kiera behind a large rock fall that created a choke point in the box canyon where they’d set their ambush.

To someone unfamiliar with her Shoshone friend, his thin lips and flat features made it seem as if he were dead serious. However, Kiera saw the twitch at the corners of his mouth and the sparkle in his eyes. He was as excited by the coming confrontation as she was.

“They’re following the trail we left and should be here soon.”

“Did you get the stallion and the mares secured in that other canyon?”

“Yep. They’re too far away to be easily heard but close enough for us to get them without any trouble if our plan works. The men following us will think we lost the mounts and are stranded.”

“It better work. I don’t like the alternatives.”

“Me neither.”

She handed him her hat then tied a bandana over her bright pinned up hair. “I’d better get moving, so we can spring our surprise.”

Her friend smiled, but the sparkle faded. “Be careful, Kiera.”

“You too.”

Swift and silent she hurried into position behind a boulder just inside the mouth of the canyon. She signaled Muh’Weda when she was in place and watched him arrange her hat to make it look as if she were still with him. Then she hunkered down to wait. She would stay hidden until the men settled into a spot for their attack on what she hoped they believed were two rustlers.

She and Muh’Weda had chosen this canyon because the chasm’s mouth was well out of gun range, which made that opening the most logical place for the pursuers to leave their horses. Separating the men from their mounts was key to the success of the plan.

From behind the rock, she watched the two men leave their horses tied to a low branch growing out of the canyon wall then make their way, one on each side of the chasm, toward a tumble of rocks about twenty feet from where her hat showed Muh’Weda’s position to be. She was now between the men and their only exit.

One of the men wore a badge and was on her side of the canyon. He signaled the other man to hold off firing. However, the second man either didn’t see the signal or ignored it and aimed a careful shot that blew Kiera’s hat off the rock.

Darn. I liked that hat.

Muh’Weda returned fire fast enough to make it seem as if two people were taking careful shots at their pursuers.

Quick and quiet Kiera eased from boulder to boulder toward the horses. At the last rock she checked to see that the pursuers’ attention was focused on Muh’Weda. Choosing her moment, she broke cover and ran for the steeds left near the canyon mouth. Her job was to take possession of the horses. Then, using the mounts as cover, she would help Muh’Weda, by threatening the two men from behind. They didn’t need to know that she couldn’t hit a target and only carried a gun to complete her disguise as a man.

Once she and Muh’Weda had the men in what appeared to be crossfire and they realized that aiming bullets in her direction would kill their horses, the men would surrender and the gunfight would be over with everyone alive.

She’d put her foot in the stirrup and hoisted herself halfway into the bay gelding’s saddle when something grabbed her free leg.

• • •

There was no sight or sound of the stolen horses, but both rustlers hid behind the boulder where the bullets came from, so Ev wasn’t certain what caused him to turn and look toward the canyon entrance. However, the itchy sensation that signaled unseen danger attacked his neck.

“No!” He holstered his gun and sprinted for the horses. One of the desperados was trying to steal their mounts. “Keep him pinned down,” Ev yelled to Boyd.

“What?”

Ev prayed the gunman would figure it out because explanations would have to wait. Before the rustler swung into the saddle, Ev managed to get a grip on the desperado’s foot and pull hard.

The horse sidled away, and the man tumbled backward. Swinging his arms and twisting as he fell, he landed smack on top of Ev. They toppled to the ground with the rustler astride Ev’s chest. The man was a lightweight and would never have knocked Evrett down without the momentum from the horse’s movement.

He lifted his arms to fend off a punch, but the punch never came. Instead, his opponent’s arms flailed, hands slapping, fingers gouging and scratching. One blow landed on his ear and set his head ringing.

Damn, this guy fights like a girl.
Ev attempted to get a grip on the wildly swinging arms, but they seemed to be everywhere at once. Unable to stop the assault, Ev shot his arms straight out, under the area where the suspect flailed, and shoved at the assailant’s chest.

The move sent the thief flying to land butt first in the dirt about two feet away. The startled expression on his face was quickly replaced by a feral snarl.