23

Isn’t she a fine young woman?”

Ransom stared at his brother. “I take it you mean Miss Lockwood, not Betsy Hudson?”

“Now, boys.” Mavis’s mouth went straight as she shook her head.

Ransom raised his eyebrows, letting his mother know he was not going to pursue this. He’d never understood the term besotted before he’d witnessed his brother watching Miss Lockwood. Granted, he was supposed to call her Cassie, but for some reason he knew beyond a doubt that he better keep his distance. Most of the young women in the area would go into the flirty giggles when Lucas turned his warm smile on them. But Miss Lockwood seemed unaware—not rude, but unresponsive to his brother’s charms.

“You better do something about the Hudson family before you follow your heart after this one.”

“Leave it to you, Ransom, to hit the nail on the head. When she drove that nail into the post, I could hardly believe my eyes. That was some shooting.”

Ransom snorted under his breath. Like he’d said, besotted.

As they banked the fires and made their way to bed, he turned his thoughts to the morning. Perhaps this was the day they could finish dragging those hardwood trees down to the sawmill. Beautiful wood had a grace all its own.

Just starting to fall comfortably asleep, Ransom wanted to ignore the barking dog, but the bark said something bad was happening. What could be wrong now?

He slammed his feet into his boots and headed for the front door, grabbing a robe as he left his room. Lucas met him in the hallway.

“You check the back. I’ll get the front.” Stepping out the front door, Ransom searched for the barking dog. With a moonless night like this one, the animal blended into the shadows. But he didn’t stop barking. “Okay, Benny, what is it?” He went down the steps and into the front yard, searching for a skunk, deer, anything out of the ordinary. Benny must be down by the barn; he wasn’t right at the porch as he usually would have been. He slept in a doghouse kept by the front door, with a pile of blankets to keep him warm.

“Don’t shoot. It’s me.” Calling the warning, Lucas came around the end of the house. “Listen! Isn’t that Othello barking now?”

“Get dressed and get the horses. Good thing they’re by the barn.” Within minutes both men were in the saddle, rifles in their scabbards, and racing full tilt across the valley.

“What is it, Othello?” Cassie’s feet hit the floor as she heard her dog slam against the door. “I’m coming.” Shoving her arms into her robe, she crossed to the door and let the dog go tearing out, then grabbed her rifle from the rack by the door. Instead of charging out like her instincts screamed, she stepped out onto the stoop, rifle at the ready, ears straining for sounds of whatever was alerting the dogs, for she could hear the Engstroms’ dog barking down at the ranch house too.

The thunder of horses’ hooves, a spine-chilling shriek, and riders broke into the clearing. “Injun lovers! No Injuns wanted here! Go back where you come from!” Rifle shots and curses rent the air. Riders circled around the cabin.

With no idea how many were there, Cassie clung to the building. She aimed and shot to where the sounds were coming from. Insane laughter, curses, more shots rang out.

Chief and Micah erupted from the wagon. “Where are you, Cassie?”

A low growl from Chief. “Don’t shoot us.”

Cassie could see nothing on this hazy, moonless night. She fired again in the direction of the horses’ hooves and crazy screaming. “Get down!” What was out there? By ear she could tell they had at least two rifles and a .44. Slugs slammed into the wagon and the cabin. She returned fire. Chief fired. In this blackness his failing eyesight was as good as hers. Both he and Micah hit the ground and bellied under the wagon as more bullets thudded into its wood. One shot must have entered the wagon through the open door, for Cassie heard the shattering of glass. What could that be? Something was hit for sure.

The smell of burning kerosene drifted to her. Now what? The riders came around again. More firing.

“Hey, lookee there. Fire!”

“The wagon’s on fire!”

“More riders coming.” Cassie fired in the direction of the latest ringing curse, heard a yelp, and turned her fire at the riders coming in.

“Don’t shoot!” Was that Ransom’s voice?

At that moment she found herself slammed against the logs at her back. Her right arm went slack. Grabbing her rifle with her left hand, she fired off a couple more rounds before the burning made her catch her breath. Was something burning? She turned to look.

“Save the wagon!” Lucas and Ransom shouted again as they skidded their horses to a stop and hit the ground running.

“Chief? Micah?”

“Wagon’s burning!”

She could hear them off to the left, muffled. Where was Runs Like a Deer? Why couldn’t she move her arm? Pushing against the house, she inched herself back up on her feet, her rifle clenched in her left hand.

“Pull it out. Get it away from the cabin!”

The men grabbed the wagon tongue to pull, but nothing happened.

“The wheels are chocked.” Micah ran to one front wheel and pulled away the block while someone else did the others. With arms and shoulders and grunts, they got the wagon moving and pulled it away from the cabin. They kept pulling until twenty feet or more stretched between the cabin and the burning wagon. Someone jumped through the open door to fight the fire inside.

“Get back!”

“Water bucket! More water!”

“Open the long window!” The shouts rang out.

“Runs Like a Deer!” Cassie screamed this time.

“I’m here” came the answer from somewhere outside the cabin.

Othello’s bark now came from down the hill. Was he following the attackers? “Othello!” she screamed. The wagon was fully ablaze now, its light casting a flickering orange glow. The wagon . . . her only home of so many years. The final contact with her mother and father. Tears leaked down her face while a fierce burning started in her arm. Her locket and the papers were still in there.

The four men stood back. A groan came from somewhere beyond the cabin.

“Cassie! Where are you?” Lucas’s voice this time.

“Here, by the cabin.” In the dancing light she looked down to see a dark patch staining her robe. No wonder her hand had quit working. She’d been hit.

Runs Like a Deer knelt beside her. “You’re hurt.”

“I know but not bad, I think.” Please, Lord, I’ll need this arm for the shoot. The burning intensified, pierced. Othello plowed to a stop in front of her and whimpered. “Okay boy. Good boy.”

“I think one of them is wounded,” Ransom called.

“How do you know?”

“Othello, go get him.” Chief waved the dog outward again.

Othello whined, his tail low but wagging. He edged closer to Cassie, sniffing her hand. “Go get him, Othello, go.” He did as she told him, but obviously he was reluctant to leave her.

“Ow.” Cassie muffled a scream and jerked away from Runs Like a Deer’s probing fingers.

“Let’s get you into the house.” Lucas put his arm around her waist and half lifted her. “Can we get some light in there?”

“I’ll get the lamp.” Runs Like a Deer lurched to her feet and hurried inside.

“You better go see what Othello has.” Cassie let herself be lifted but groaned when the action moved her arm.

Micah left. Runs Like a Deer helped hold Cassie’s arm to her chest while Lucas tried moving her again. “No, stop.”

“Chief, come help me!” Micah called from the lower edge of the clearing.

Cassie closed her eyes as the world tilted. I’ve never been shot before. How bad is it? What if I can’t trick ride or shoot again?

“She needs to see a doctor.”

“No, just . . .” But she had no more energy to speak.

“We’ve got to stop the bleeding.”

“Here, wrap this tight around it. Can we get her down to Mor?”

The words and sentences ran together. They were doing things to her arm, mostly intensifying the pain. Then the pain eased a bit. Surely it couldn’t be too serious. She just had to tough it out to get into the cabin. With a man on each side of her, they tried again. Cassie clamped her teeth against the piercing pain that burned all the way down to her fingertips. Never before had she felt such pain. One of them banged against the doorframe, and she bit back a shriek.

“Set me on the chair by the fire.” She remembered her manners belatedly. “Please.”

“The fire’s gone out.”

“I’ll start it. Put her there.” Runs Like a Deer’s voice.

She felt herself lowered to the chair and gratefully leaned against the back of it. When the world stopped spinning, she turned to the ruckus at the door.

“Just knock him out.” Chief sounded furious. “Ain’t good for nothin’ anyway.”

“Is he hurt?” From the disgust in their voices, Cassie perceived they were talking about one of the raiders. “How bad is he hurt?”

“Not bad enough.” Chief and Micah dumped the man on the bench by the door. Thumps and flops told her he missed the bench and landed on the floor.

“Where’s he hit?”

“Grazed his head. Knocked him off the horse. His friends left him behind.”

Ransom raised the lamp to see the man’s face. “Well, that figures! Dooger, you worthless piece of trash, do I need three guesses to figure who started this?”

“Ain’t got nothin’ to say.”

Ransom snorted and stood up. “Good. Just go dump him back outside. Pull his boots off. It’ll slow up his walking. Mighty cold out there tonight. Maybe he’ll be dead by morning. Save Edgar a passel of work.”

Cassie tried to smile. That sure didn’t sound like the man she sort of knew. “Who is it?”

“Crazy Jud Dooger, one of Beckwith’s no-good cohorts. If there’s trouble in Argus, you can pretty much lay it at their doors.”

Lucas squatted in front of her so he could look her in the eye. “Cassie, looks like we stopped the bleeding, but we need to get you to a doctor. You don’t need infection to set in. We can ride in or put you in the back of the wagon. Riding would be faster, but we could put a pile of bedding down in the wagon, where you might be more comfortable.”

She could still smell burning wood. “Our wagon. What about our wagon?”

Lucas wagged his head. “It’s still burning. There’s no way to stop it. Some of the frame is left, and the wheels, but the inside is basically gutted. It was old and dry and went up fast.”

“How do you think it started?”

“Bullet exploded the kerosene lamp and started the fire—burning coal oil spattered all over,” Chief told her. “We couldn’t catch it fast enough. Too much caught too quick.”

She could feel her pulse in her arm, in her whole arm. She should ask them to loosen her bandages a little. “How many of them were there? I think I heard at least two rifles and a pistol.”

Ransom knelt beside Lucas. “Three for sure, maybe four. Guess we’ll have to haul Crazy Jud in too.”

“His horse still out there?” Lucas asked.

“Haven’t seen it. Probably left with the others.”

Cassie still couldn’t believe all this, even with her arm as a constant reminder. “Can we prove who did it?”

“Oh, I have a feeling that when Edgar is done with Dooger here, he’ll know who to arrest. Maybe they won’t get away with it this time.”

“You know . . .” Ransom paused. “From how the dogs were barking, and they didn’t come in the lane, these yahoos knew to go around the fences and come up the west side along the hill. How did they know that? I mean, it’s not like they’ve been out here visiting or helping.”

“What are you thinking, brother?”

“I’m thinking that maybe these three are the rustlers too.”

“Surely Edgar investigated them.” Lucas frowned.

“Can’t say, but . . .”

Runs Like a Deer brought Cassie’s coat and helped her shove her good arm into the sleeve.

She sat erect. “I need to get dressed first.”

Ransom said, “You’re decent. Let’s get going.”

“What about him?” Chief waved a hand toward their crumpled raider.

“Is his head still bleeding?”

“Oozing some.”

“Tie him on a horse, and we’ll take him in too. I’d rather leave him in the barn, but Mor would rip us apart.”

The two helped Cassie stand again and half carried her out the door. Micah had brought the horses around. Lucas swung aboard and scooted back over his cantle to sit behind his saddle. Micah and Ransom lifted Cassie in front of him and settled her into his saddle.

“I can ride Wind Dancer,” she protested.

“You could, but this way we can make sure you get there in one piece,” Lucas murmured in her ear.

The warmth of his arms around her seeped through her coat, and Cassie let herself lean against his chest. They started down the hill, but Lucas stopped. “Othello, go home.”

But the dog just hung back and continued after them.

“Cassie, tell him to go home. We don’t want to have to worry about the dog too.”

“Othello, g-go home.” She tried to speak sternly but stuttered instead. “Is he obeying?”

“He sat down.” Lucas turned the horse and stopped by the dog. “Tell him again.”

“Othello, good boy. Now go home. I’m okay. Go home. Now!” She threw all her energy into the command. Othello waited, turned, and started back up the hill.

“He’s minding.” They continued down the hill and across the valley.

They stopped at the ranch house to let Mavis know what had transpired before heading into town.

“Oh, Cassie, I’m so sorry. I never dreamed they’d really follow through on their threats.”

“Didn’t mean to hurt nobody,” Crazy Jud mumbled. “Jest scare ’em off.”

“Well, mean to and are are two different things. I hope Edgar throws away the jail key after he locks all of you up.” Mavis stopped by Ransom’s stirrup. “I could come along, you know.”

“You could, but this will work the best. We’ll be back as soon as possible.”

The ride passed in a blur of pain and motion, cold and freezing tears. This was too much. They’d not done anything to deserve this. The jeers and curses, the laughter and obscenities pounded along with the rhythms in her head. Would this bad nightmare ever be done and gone?

Did they dare stay here, or would it be better for all concerned if they moved on? Leave behind the only real home she’d ever known and go to who knows where next?

God, if this is an example of your kind of protection, I think you didn’t live up to your word.