Untamed Journey (15 page)

“Can you describe the man for us?” Mike
asked.

“He’s my height, about twenty pounds lighter.
Doubt he’s past his thirtieth year, but he’s already losing his
hair,” Sven replied.

“Got any idea where they were headed?” Emmett
asked.

“They didn’t say,” Sven replied, never
missing a beat with his hammer, as he got to work on his next colt.
“But I made it my business to find out. I hoped the Law might be
coming close behind. I don’t much like guns or lazy bastards
pointing them in my direction, no matter how much gold they toss at
my feet. I notched the shoe I replaced. Left rear should leave a
mark like this.”

The blacksmith drew a picture in the dirt for
Mike and Emmett. “Find yourself a good tracker and pray for dry
weather and you should be able to find him easily enough.”

Mike and Emmett shared a smile of
satisfaction. “Much obliged. Most folks just mind their own.”

“Outlaws are bad for business,” Sven
explained matter-of-factly. “Every outlaw who pays me double scares
away ten decent customers who‘ll pay me reliable. The first time
you let them scare you into keeping quiet, you figure you did the
smart thing. Then another one comes your way, and before you know
it, a dozen evil men own a piece of your soul. I didn’t fight the
damn Yankees just to come out here and live amongst the worst of
the trash the Army wouldn’t even take.”

The blacksmith pounded the last nail a bit
too hard into the shoe of the gentle mare he‘d been working on, and
he stood quickly to avoid her warning kick. “It’s okay girl. We‘re
done here.”

Emmett and Mike thanked Sven once more before
heading back to the blacksmith’s shop in town. From there, they
hoped to pick up the trail of the three remaining train
robbers.

“M
y gut tells me I
need to backtrack once more - just to be sure.” Jackson’s lowered
voice immediately put Ruth’s senses on alert. “I can do it a lot
faster alone. I’m going to leave you for a day, two at most. You’ll
be safe here.”

Before Ruth could ask where they were, their
horses passed through a copse of western pine. Beyond the trees,
the trail opened up onto a dirt track nearly wide enough for a
proper wagon. But the sight of a real road after nothing more than
washed out animal trails for three days was immediately surpassed
by the structure before her.

It was painted a pristine white, freshly so
from the looks of it. With genuine glass windows and frilly
curtains, it beckoned with warmth and comfort in the middle of an
unforgiving wilderness. As Ruth took in more details, she realized
there were also the normal sights she would expect from a trading
post. There were stacks of grain and hardtack, barrels of whiskey
and sacks of coffee. A dozen shovels were set against the porch
railing. But then there were the flower boxes - a pretty, painted
flower box under each and every window, overflowing with
blossoms.

“What is this place?” Ruth asked in amazement
as she nearly unseated herself from Caboose, turning and twisting
every which way in order to see everything around her.

Jackson grinned at her reaction. “Not much
like the railroad stops you’ve been seeing on the trip out, I’d
guess.”

She shook her head in wonder. “Not much. I
haven’t seen anything but clapboard shacks coated in dust for the
entire trip. And a flower box I haven’t seen in years. Not since
before the War, at our Church. They had roses there, too.”

Jackson pointed to the rich burgundy blooms
that were tucked in next to the yellow roses. “I don’t know what
they’re called, but those red ones grow wild all through the
mountains. God only knows where Montgomery got the roses.”

“I guess if the proprietor can manage to
bring roses out here, he can find me a pair of shoes that fit.”
Ruth said.

Jackson had never viewed the roses like that
before, in all the times he’d passed through. He wondered if all
Easterners saw the flowers that way. “I guess that’s why Montgomery
is the best businessman out here.”

“Who is he? What’s he like?” She was curious
about a man who grew roses in the middle of the wilderness to be
viewed by only the rough men who passed through.

Jackson took a minute to recall all that he
knew about the trading post owner. “Montgomery’s a Southerner, I
believe, but I never asked officially. He’s well-spoken, and I
imagine had a more formal education that just about anyone out
here. He showed up about six or seven years ago, in the middle of
the War. Supplies were hard to come by, and he opened up shop at
the busiest crossroads he could find. With little to no law around,
he discovered early on that a more valuable commodity than even
whiskey or bullets was safety on the trail. He decided to provide
that, as well as supplies, for those passing through.”

“Do you mean he’s a gun for hire?” Ruth
asked, a little perplexed at Jackson’s explanation.

“Some might say so,” he replied carefully
after a moment’s pause.

“But you wouldn’t?” she nudged, sensing
Jackson’s hesitation and wondering at the cause.

“No, I wouldn’t. He doesn’t work just for the
asking. Not for the government, the army, or anyone else he doesn’t
respect or like. I heard a rich cattle man tried to hire him for
his exclusive use a while back, and was politely refused. Even
after a lot more money was offered, the cattleman left empty
handed. Montgomery works for himself. On the other hand, this is
his business – and he isn’t shy about making a profit doing it. But
he has long term vision. His word is more reliable than gold out
here. If you leave a loved one here under his protection, that’s
just what he does – protect, no matter what it takes. And out here,
that can take a lot.”

“So I can trust him?” Ruth was short on trust
these days, and having her person handed over into yet another
stranger’s care was rubbing her nerves raw.

“Yes, you can,” Jackson replied without
hesitation. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be leaving you here. But that
being said, Ruth, you shouldn’t trust the trading post owner any
more than necessary. It is simply safer leaving you in his care
than leaving you alone in a wilderness you don’t know.”

Since he could encounter the outlaws and not
come back.

Jackson kept that thought unsaid, since she
seemed on edge as it was. But he still planned on making
arrangements with Montgomery in the event that happened. Jackson
would offer the trading post owner a nice bonus for taking Ruth to
Emmett’s ranch if Jackson didn’t make it back.

As Jackson and Ruth rode closer, the largest
and ugliest excuse for a dog she’d ever seen trotted in their
direction, letting off three warning barks.

“Is that a wolf?” Ruth wondered out loud as
she instinctively pulled back on the reins of her horse.

“Could be,” Jackson replied. “At least part,
would be my guess. He’s been around almost as long as Montgomery.”
As Jackson spoke, he kept his eyes on the front porch, waiting for
official permission to approach.

“Come on down and rest a bit, Jackson. I see
you.”

Ruth took her eyes off the almost-wolf, which
had headed back to the side of the porch at the sound of his
master’s voice. The sight that replaced him was even more shocking
than the wild animal.

Montgomery Wilson might not have earned a
second glance on the streets of Boston or New York. But out here,
at the crossroads to the dustiest, dirtiest trail imaginable by the
average city dweller, his shined shoes were a beacon to draw every
weary traveler in.

He was tall – exceptionally so – more
well-dressed than truly handsome. His build ran lean, but even
under the carefully pressed suit he wore like a second skin, Ruth
could tell he had strength.

As Montgomery approached Ruth’s horse, he
ignored Jackson. Instead, he held his elegant hand up to Ruth, to
help her dismount.

“Please, come in and sit a spell,” he offered
politely. “You must be exhausted. I have fresh coffee brewing, or
tea if you prefer.”

Before Ruth could close her gaping mouth, the
gentleman in question was helping her down, offering her his
well-appointed arm as he simultaneously chastised Jackson for his
poor manners. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to the lady,
Marshal?”

Jackson grinned and made the introductions,
without offering the proprietor any details about just who Ruth
might be to Jackson, and why she was traveling alone with him.

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss
Jameson. Please come in and rest a bit.”

“Thank you.” Ruth glanced back at Jackson,
still a bit perplexed, as she was led up the front porch, past the
shining yellow roses and purple wildflowers.

“Sit here, Miss, and make yourself at home,”
Montgomery invited. “There is a private room through that door if
you’d like to freshen up. There should be water in the basin. Have
you decided on coffee or tea?” He inquired, politely awaiting her
response, as if he had all the time in the world.

Since Ruth hadn’t tasted tea since she left
her Aunt Kate’s house, she accepted a cup. It was promptly served,
steaming hot and in good china.

“How did you know?” Ruth wasn’t quite sure
what she was asking as she paused, at a loss for words.

“That a lady would be arriving?” Montgomery
asked, understanding what Ruth did not. “My dog. He can scent the
difference, and is trained to let me know exactly who is coming
down the trail. He’s half champion hunting dog, you know. Has the
best nose this side of the Mississippi.”

Ruth felt herself nearly laugh at the
comment, as if the beast’s pedigree on the hunting side was of more
interest to strangers than his wild-wolf half.

“He’s quite the companion, your dog.” Ruth
sipped slowly from the steaming teacup in heartfelt gratitude. All
thoughts of the huge ugly beast were washed away by the flavorful
aroma. After she’d finished half a cup in blissful silence, all the
hardships of the last three days seemed part of some other woman’s
life.

Jackson walked in after taking care of their
horses. He helped himself to a mug of coffee off the stove and sat
down next to Ruth and Montgomery, getting right down to business.
“I need your services, Montgomery. I need to leave Miss Jameson
here with you for a day or two, under your protection.”

“Of course,” Montgomery replied. “I happen to
be entirely free at the moment. She can stay as long as needed.” He
turned toward Ruth. “Miss Jameson, if I may say so at such short
acquaintance, your company will be a lovely reprieve. If I’m not
mistaken, that’s a southern accent I hear. It’s pure music to my
ears.”

It wasn’t lost on Ruth that the trader didn’t
ask one word about why Jackson needed to leave Ruth, or where he
was going. She imagined discretion was a hallmark of his successful
business. She silently wondered if any outlaws had left their women
here for protection. They must have wives and kids too, she
thought.

Jackson downed the last of his coffee, nodded
his thanks, and handed over several silver coins as a deposit. The
transaction was done so smoothly and with such little fuss, Ruth
only felt like chattel for the smallest moment.

As Jackson stood up to leave, she almost
followed out of instinct but stopped herself in time. “You’re
leaving already?” She blurted out instead.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see about supper
while you say your farewells.” Montgomery disappeared into the back
of the store.

Jackson took both of Ruth’s hands in his much
larger ones and squeezed them in reassurance. “Promise me not to
worry. I’ll be back for you soon.”

She held on tightly for a moment, then
reminded herself that she was still truly alone in this world.
Marshal Jackson had no real ties or obligations to her. It was only
instinct, or maybe bald hope, that had her believing him when he
said he’d return.

Jackson held Ruth’s doubtful gaze another
reassuring moment before lifting her chilled hands to his warm
mouth. He warmed her palms with his breath before placing a kiss in
the center of each. “Miss me a little, Miss Jameson.”

He tipped his hat to her in farewell before
heading out the front door. He left at a good clip, and his dust
trail vanished on the wind before Ruth had finished her tea.

“He’ll be back, Miss Jameson. Don’t you
worry,” Montgomery reassured her from across the room, where he’d
silently re-entered as soon as Jackson rode off.

“Do you know him well?” She asked, wondering
how far back these two men went.

“As well as I need to. And even if I didn’t,
he left his favorite horse behind. There aren’t many men out here
who’d give up a favored mount, even to rid themselves of a lady’s
unwanted company.” Montgomery grinned at Ruth to soften the sting
of his comment.

Ruth smiled half-heartedly, knowing he was
probably right. And she definitely fell into the category of
unwanted company, although not for the reasons the clever trading
post owner probably thought.

“So you weren’t harmed in the train robbery,
I hope?” he inquired.

“How did you know the train had been robbed?”
she asked in surprise. She was certain Jackson hadn’t mentioned it,
and Ruth had been in Montgomery’s company since they’d arrived. “It
only happened three days ago, and we just got here. I can’t imagine
how someone else might have brought the news.”

“I wouldn’t assume anything out here, Miss.
The reality is, with you in tow, Jackson was slowed down. It
wouldn’t take but two days of hard riding for a man alone to reach
my place. That being said, you are still correct. No one arrived
before you with the news. But I did get a visitor from up the rail
line, and he mentioned that the train hadn’t arrived on time. With
it running nearly two days behind, we both figured another robbery
was the reason.”