Untamed Journey (9 page)

“Apology accepted,” Jackson smiled crookedly
and placed his hat on Ruth to shade her sunburned cheeks. “Now put
it behind you. It’s a waste of energy, and you’re going to need
every bit you have right here and now. I became a Marshal to
protect the weak and innocent. It’s what I do.”

Ruth squared her shoulders and looked Jackson
straight in the eye. “Marshal, I watched my father and brother ride
off to war, never to return. I nursed my mother for two years only
to see her die from hunger and heart break. And if that weren’t
enough, I spent the last year of that godforsaken war hiding in the
woods from our own damn soldiers. I can promise you I am neither
weak nor innocent. Not anymore. And I’ve come too far to give up
now. I may not have your strength, but I can pull a trigger for the
right reason.”

Jackson took Ruth’s hand into his larger one.
“Then follow me. I have an idea.”

“T
hat’s my uncle’s
old place up ahead.” Jackson pointed to a tiny wooden house visible
through two towering pines.

Ruth’s first thought was a strong wind just
might topple the entire right side of the house. It had started out
as more than a shack, she had to concede, as they drew closer to
the front door. But the signs of neglect and abandonment were
everywhere. The weeds and brush were nearly as tall as the front
door and were growing through gaping cracks in the walls. The
single visible window was covered with a tattered scrap of burlap
hanging crookedly from the top corner.

Jackson turned in the saddle and looked into
Ruth’s doubtful eyes. “Stay mounted while I check out the inside.”
He threw the reins of his horse to her as he dismounted. He had his
pistol out and cocked before she caught the reins of the
sixteen-hand roan.

Ruth understood that it was just second
nature to this man, to have his gun at the ready, but her heart
sped up nonetheless.

As if reading her thoughts, Jackson voiced
his plan. “This homestead has been abandoned since my uncle died in
‘51. There might be an animal taking shelter. Wait here a
minute.”

He went at an angle to the front door and
pounded the butt of his Colt against the oak. If the scent of man
and horse hadn’t scared off any four-legged squatters, a loud noise
would usually do the trick. He pounded on the door a second time,
then stepped quietly toward the window. There was still enough
daylight left to see a few feet into the structure, but Jackson
wasn’t relying on his eyes to see what his ears could tell him
instead.

No sound came from inside, and nothing but
the wind in the pines and the gentle snorting of their tired horses
could be heard. He visibly relaxed and returned to the front door.
“You can get down now and stretch your legs.”

Jackson tried to open the door, but it was
jammed, and he had to shoulder his way through. For being abandoned
through nearly twenty winters, the old place had held up pretty
well, he thought.

He walked the perimeter of the one main room.
Not much left but a table with a broken leg, one chair, and some
old tin plates. There was a small room in the back and a sleeping
loft above, covering a third of the length of the main room. He
shook the ladder to make sure it was still reasonably solid and
climbed up. Jackson scanned the loft, seeing nothing but cobwebs
and rotting hay. He climbed down and pulled out his knife. He
stabbed it into the earth, hoping for a small bit of luck.

He lifted his eyes to meet the bewildered
green gaze of his unlikely companion. “What are you doing?” she
asked.

Jackson grinned for the first time since
they’d left town. “Checking to see how hard the floor is,” he
replied evasively and walked out the door.

Before Ruth could wrap her exhausted mind
around that cryptic comment, he returned with a shovel in hand.
Jackson removed his shirt in preparation for the hard work ahead.
The sun would be out for another hour yet, and the Indian summer
heat still lingered in the stuffy confines of the small house.

Ruth found herself staring at his naked
chest. She watched his long arms strain as he attacked the hard
floor with the edge of the shovel. Every time he turned to toss a
clump of dirt into the back corner of the tiny room, she felt an
urge to run her hands across his well-muscled back.

When she realized he had stopped moving and
was watching her, she quickly started chatting to cover the blush
creeping up her cheeks. “Are you digging a hidey hole?” She asked,
trying to look anywhere but at his naked chest. Her father and
older brother had dug a hole in their barn before they rode off to
war, and she and her mother had used it many times to avoid
marauding soldiers.

“No, I’m going to dig a trap, which, if we’re
very lucky, will break the leg of the first man through the
door.”

That explained the location, she thought.

Jackson was making quick work, and had dug a
good half foot down already before asking, “Do you think you can
water and feed the horses yourself? I’d like to dig as much of this
hole as possible while there’s still light out.”

Ruth nodded wearily. “I can do it, as long as
your horse doesn’t object. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to teach
him any manners.”

“I’ll help if he gives you any trouble. Try
and hobble them about fifty feet northeast of the house, so they
are out of the way.” Jackson caught himself just in time. He had
been about to say out of the line of fire, but wasn’t sure Ruth was
up to hearing that yet. They’d been fighting or running since the
moment they met. He was amazed by her strength so far. She kept
pushing through her weariness to offer help. And she had never once
complained. But if she knew how slim their chances were now, she
might regret following him.

He cursed his failure to remove her from
danger.

Shaking off his mood, Jackson kept digging.
He’d been in worse scrapes with not half the reason to live. He’d
survive this – they both would. He’d be damned if he’d lose the
first woman in years who could match his determination to live and
start anew. The West was nearly empty of women, much less women of
Ruth’s caliber. She’d make a fine wife to someone.

Jackson dropped his shovel and hurried to
open the front door for Ruth as she returned. “Let me help you with
those”. Jackson took the heavy saddlebags from her.

She was startled at the show of chivalry. Not
that Jackson hadn’t been considerate of her needs - she knew he was
traveling slower for her benefit. And God knows what her fate would
be by now if he’d refused to help her and she’d run into the path
of those backtracking outlaws. Ruth had witnessed enough barbarity
during the War to understand that her fate could have been even
worse than Jasper Smith. They likely would have raped her first,
then left her to die by the side of the road if she’d slowed them
down with a posse in pursuit. Jackson had known that, surely, and
had risked his life to allow a small bit of human decency to
survive.

Ruth smiled, amazed. She had lost hope that
the world would ever regain any beauty and kindness. She’d been
convinced it had died with her parents and brother during the
horrors and desperation of the War. But on the road in the middle
of what city-folks called the untamed, uncivilized West, she’d
re-discovered the humanity of her childhood in this rough man. He’d
restored years of lost hope in a moment’s bravery. She’d lied to
him to get it, too, but she’d be damned if she’d let it go now that
hope had found her heart again. Ruth was no quitter and she’d see
this through to the end, no matter what it took.

Ruth followed Jackson over to the rickety
table where he had laid down the saddlebags and was pulling out
extra ammunition. “I’ll bring you some water and then you tell me
how I can help,” she offered. “The horses are watered and combed
down, but I re-saddled them. I wasn’t sure if you wanted them ready
to leave.” Ruth had paid attention to everything Jackson and his
brother had done on the trail so far, and she’d never seen them
unsaddle the horses for more than the time it took to brush them
down.

She might have learned more than most ladies
about survival, but during the War, her only defense had been to
hide in the surrounding woods. Traveling on the roads did no good,
as every road seemed to lead to folks in even worse circumstances.
So she’d dug in and stayed put. Unfortunately, that meant she
couldn’t contribute much more than common sense and a steady
demeanor to Jackson’s efforts to escape the men after them. But she
intended to learn and watched everything he did on the trail.

“You did the right thing. I have plans for
those horses. See if you can get us something to eat. No fire. I
figure they’re no more than six hours behind us, so we have a lot
of work to do before they get here.”

“What should we do when they catch up?” Ruth
asked, trying to keep the worry out of her voice. She’d made the
decision to trust this man with her future and would help as much
as she could. But she still needed to understand his thinking.
She’d been on her own too long to blindly trust anyone.

“After I dig this hole, we’ll spread my
saddle blanket over it and cover everything with a bit of dirt.
Then I’m going to lead the horses off into the woods and backtrack
to you. If we’re lucky, they’ll split up, thinking we rode off, but
still needing to check. We’ll keep a small fire going to confuse
them, so they aren’t sure if someone’s here or if the tracks they
find are the real trail. They’ll have to search the house, but will
sit a spell and watch us first, if they have any smarts among them.
We have to be quiet so they’ll get lax, thinking no one is inside
and they’ve been tricked. If we can get one or even two of them to
break down this door and fall in, I can shoot the next man through
the door.”

Jackson took Ruth’s chin in hand and asked
her point blank, “Can you live with being part of that or would you
rather go hide in the woods? I know you weren’t expecting this
violence. I swore to protect the innocent and I mean to, by any
means. But it’s going to get ugly.”

Ruth kept her gaze steady and didn’t flinch
when she replied, “You do whatever is needed. Tell me how I can
help.”

Jackson got angry at himself in that moment,
thinking this brave woman could be dead in hours, if he failed. He
set aside his misgivings and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“Good girl. I could use some crossfire to
keep them occupied. You don’t have to shoot anyone, although I’d
certainly recommend it.” Jackson watched Ruth’s face carefully,
looking for any hesitation that could put them at a
disadvantage.

“If you think I’d have a guilty conscience
over those animals, you don’t know me at all. I saw what they did
to the other passengers on the train. Give me the rifle. I know how
to use it.”

H
alper carefully
examined the horse tracks embedded in the trail before remounting
his mare and addressing the men. “There are three horses, but I’m
positive only two are carrying a rider. And one is either a woman
or a child. There isn’t enough weight behind those faint hoof
prints to be anything else. I say we ride on. We can catch up
before nightfall.”

“What if it’s a trap and there’s another
posse coming after us?” Bear asked, fingering a well-worn spot on
the brim of his hat. “Nothing has gone according to the plan Jasper
Smith gave us. We should maybe cut and run.”

Halper snorted at Bear’s obvious nerves. He
frightened easily, for such a big man. “There’s no posse behind us.
They split up hoping we’d chase the other group and allow these two
to get away. And even if we’re wrong, that woman could be used as a
hostage in case a new posse comes after us. It’s safer to have her
along.”

Silently, Halper counted his profits – from
this job and from the woman. If no posse showed up, he planned to
sell her to a brothel. Why pay the Comancheros to be the middlemen?
He would give the Mexican’s mother first chance, but the highest
bidder would win out. Halper had some opium left he could force on
the girl to make her passive. He had deals with several brothel
owners to supply him in exchange for bringing fresh women. He’d use
half and stash the rest for any future opportunity that crossed his
path. The West was full of desperate widows and abandoned wives
looking for their next meal.

“We’ll split up.” Halper announced. “Jones,
White, you come with me.” Halper turned and looked straight into
the eyes of the Mexican. “You take Bear and Green and meet us at
the cabin three days from now.”

The Mexican immediately protested. “We should
stay together and ambush them. The woman will be a distraction. We
can take them right here and head south.”

Bear shook his head at the sudden change in
plans. “Jasper Smith won’t like that. He told us straight out to
meet him back at the cabin three days from now.”

“Bear, don’t be such a fool,” Halper
admonished. “Smith won’t know about the woman, and doesn’t deserve
a share if he’s not here. We have plenty of time to head south,
sell the woman, and still meet him on time.”

Bear frowned before insisting. “It will take
four days - maybe more if the weather is bad.”

Halper silenced the debate when he cocked his
rifle. “You men head west. Jones, White, you’re with me.”

The Mexican grumbled under his breath to Bear
and Green, “Señor Halper will cheat us on our share of the woman.”
But the three men mounted their horses and headed out. Halper had
quietly killed the last man who failed to follow orders.

T
he hours dragged on
as Jackson and Ruth waited in complete silence for the inevitable
arrival of the outlaws. Jackson would move around the tiny cabin,
silent as a hunting cat, every twenty minutes or so. Ruth quickly
learned why, as her arms began to ache just from propping up the
rifle. Cramped legs could get in her way too, so she followed suit
and started stretching her limbs as soon as she saw Jackson return
to his position to the left of the single front-facing window.