The sound of a rider coming over the hill didn’t alarm me. Abner Barton came every other day to make certain I was all right, and to bring me news about the bank. So far Higgins was being quiet, solicitous, Barton said, because of what had happened. I doubted that. He was just biding his time, like a cat at a mousehole.
I knew it wasn’t Barton the moment the rider topped the hill. His bulk wasn’t the right size, and his horse wasn’t a shiny sorrel gelding. It was a brown horse, a perky-stepping mare headed home.
I ran pell-mell out to the road. “Toby! Toby!”
He swung off the mare and met me at the edge of the ruts, laughing as he pulled me into his arms.
“Toby, you came back!”
“Of course I came back.” He crushed me against his chest. “I said I would.”
Suddenly I stiffened. I pushed against him, breaking away. I backed up a few feet and stared at him. I hugged myself with crossed arms, tightly.
“Lonnie….”
I shivered. “Why did you come back?”
He stared at me open-mouthed. “Lonnie—I said I would. You asked me to. Lonnie—what’s wrong?”
“You can’t stay.”
He looked completely bewildered. “Do you still fear the Barstows? If so, you—”
“Barstows!” I cried. “What do you know about the Barstows?”
He took a step toward me but I backed up farther. I couldn’t put a name to what ailed me; I only knew I couldn’t let him stay. I knew. I was different. He wouldn’t want me anymore.
“You began it all,” I murmured, staring at him blankly. “You brought them.”
“Lonnie!”
“Toby—I can’t help it. The Barstows—”
“Are dead.”
“One of them!” I cried. “Only one of them!”
“All of them,” he said softly, staring at me.
“Only one,” I shuddered. “Only Lacklander. Him. Just him.”
He started to shake his head, then stopped. A frown came into his eyes. “Lonnie, I watched the Barstows hang last week.”
“Hang?”
“They’re dead. All of them.”
“Lacklander didn’t hang!”
Toby shook his head. “No, he died before. A few days before the posse caught the others.” He stopped short. “But—how did you know?”
“I killed him.”
“You?”
“I killed him. Me.” I stared at him fiercely. “You wondered if I could. Loggins said I couldn’t. But I did.”
“Oh, Lonnie—oh no.”
“Don’t touch me!”
He halted, arms falling to his sides. “But—why? I—I know killing him must have been horrible. But I understand. It had to be done. You said you could, if it had to be done. Why are you acting like this?”
“I’m not the same, Toby.”
“Because you killed a man? He was an outlaw, Lonnie! A murderer.”
“Not because of him! Not—not because of Lacklander.”
“Then why?” he cried, reaching for me again.
I retreated hastily, wanting to flee. Toby moved more quickly and caught my arm, shaking me. “Stop it! You’re acting half-crazy!”
I stared at him wildly, stiff in his grasp, afraid. “Toby,” I said brokenly. “No man—no man will want me now. He couldn’t.”
“Why?”
I found I couldn’t tell him. I could not find it within myself to say the words. They sickened me; I knew they’d sicken him. I could not face the look of disgust he would have on his face. Shaking, I refused to look at him.
His hand tightened on my arm. “Lonnie, you don’t have to explain. I think I know.”
“Do you?” I whispered miserably.
“I think—I think only a woman can truly understand the horror. But I think I know.”
I jerked my head up and saw the pain and anger in his eyes. His fingers hurt and I winced. Abruptly he let go, staring blindly at me.
“I wish,” he said in a harsh whisper, “I wish I’d been the one to trip Jordy Macklin’s trap door. I wish I’d been the one to put the noose over his neck.”
My mouth opened. “You know it was Jordy?”
His face was white and very taut. “He said something. In jail. He said—he said there was a girl outside of Ridgely who had had the spunk forced out of her. I just never thought—”
“You talked to Jordy?”
His gaze came back to mine. “Yes. In Clayton. When I testified.”
I shook my head, completely lost. “Toby, what are you saying?”
“Let’s go in the house. I’ll explain it all.”
He sat in the rocker. I sat on the rug at his feet. Patch wandered in and came to settle in my lap. I stroked him as Toby told me his tale.
“I holed up in a little town the Barstows had already visited. I worked as a hired hand for my keep, hoping I could get back to you pretty quick. Then I heard a posse was hot on the Barstows’ trail. News came in a little later they’d been caught. I telegraphed the sheriff in Clayton, where they were in jail, that I was the man who had originally testified against Ben Barstow. I offered to again. When I got to Clayton, I found out Lacklander was already dead.”
“What did you do?”
“Testified at their trial. They were sentenced to hang.”
I swallowed. “Between the two of us, we’ve rid Kansas of a plague.”
He nodded. “You know, up to the minute the rope snapped his neck, Jordy kept yelling about a pardon. That his father the judge would pardon him.”
“Do you think he might have?”
“No. The sheriff contacted Judge Macklin to inform him of the trial, and he wired back he had no intention of attending. He said Jordy had finally caught up to the fate he’d been chasing all his life.”
“He was his son.”
“The old man disowned him before he died.” Suddenly Toby grinned. “You know who I saw at the trial?”
“No.”
“Dan Michael.”
“Loggins was there?”
“He said he wouldn’t miss it. And anyway, he ran them to ground. He was leading the posse.”
“Loggins! But he’s a bounty hunter.”
Toby shrugged. “The deputies and sheriff of Clayton didn’t hold it against him. Said they benefited from his law experience and his knowledge of the Barstows.”
“So he got his wish.”
Toby grinned at me. “He offered us his best wishes. When I told him we were getting married. He said he wasn’t a bit surprised.”
I stared at him. “We can’t get married. Not now.”
“Why not?”
“I told you. I’m not the same. What Jordy did—”
“I don’t care!” he cried. His hands gripped the rocker arms and he glared at me. “I’m sorry it happened—I’m sorry for you—but I don’t care! You’re still the same to me.”
“But I’m not!” I said, horrified he could think so.
He slid out of the chair and knelt in front of me. “Lonnie, you are.”
“How can you still want me?”
“Because I love you, Lonnie. You. No matter what’s happened, Lonnie Ryan is still Lonnie Ryan.” He caught my hands before I could pull away. “Don’t turn me away. Please, you said you loved me.”
Patch stood up in my lap, stretched, stared at Toby and wandered away. Both of us laughed, and then I sighed.
“All right. I still love you. And I still want you to stay.”
He grinned brilliantly. “Then I will.”
I sucked in a shaky breath. “We don’t have much to start with. Maybe nothing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tracker’s dead.”
Bleakness welled in his eyes. “They killed the hound?”
“Lacklander shot him.”
“Lonnie—”
“Rooster Gibbs slit the calf’s throat.”
“Oh God.”
“I’m losing the farm.”
That stopped him cold. “You’re what?”
“The bank says it’s something to do with a debt the original owner never paid. He says—this greedy man Higgins—that now I owe it. I can’t pay it, and now the land is his. Legally.”
“Legally, maybe, not rightfully.”
I grinned. “I knew you’d agree.”
“What can we do?”
Desolation washed in. “Nothing.”
“What’s the debt?”
I told him, and he blanched. “So much.”
“Toby, I’m tired. I’m tired of fighting people off with my gun. My dog is dead and the land ain’t mine anymore. I just don’t have the strength anymore.”
“You can’t give in!”
“No. I’ll stick it out. Till the end.” I sighed. “A whole week.”
He looked around the room bleakly. “Oh, Lonnie—if only I had some money.”
“Me too.”
Toby sighed heavily, eyes shadowed as he stared at me. He took a careful breath, and spoke just as carefully. “Then I guess—I guess we’ll just have to go somewhere else.”
I stared at him. “Go….”
“I know you love it here. I know it’s your home. But if there’s nothing we can do—Lonnie—” he stopped and swallowed. “We’ll just have to move on. Like all the others.”
“Leave?” I warbled unsteadily. “Here?”
Pain filled his eyes, tautening his face. “I don’t like it, either.”
“Oh, Toby!” I wailed. “I don’t want to leave!”
He pulled me firmly into his arms and this time I didn’t back away. I clutched at him.
“I know, I know,” he whispered against my head. “But we’ll make do. You’re tough and determined, and I’m willing to start carrying the load I denied so long. We’ll make out. We’ll go west, like all the others. Maybe California.”
“But I don’t want to!” I cried into his neck. “This is mine!”
He let me go and looked at me sadly. “Lonnie, you’ve got to realize, sometime, that you can’t always have what you want.”
I stared at him, anguished, and knew he was right.
I left him in the house. I was unable to coherently explain to him what leaving would do to me. I saw no way of convincing him of my need for the farm. Even with Toby, I realized my strength came from the land. Me without it, well, it wasn’t me.
Tracker’s grave lay shadowed beneath the tree. I stood over it, staring at the mound. My body felt heavy and my heart hurt. My eyes ached, but I refused to cry.
Old hound, you may be the best off of us all. You, at least, died doing what you had to do. This damn bank is tearing me up, and I can’t do what I want. I can’t flight them. Not anymore.
I hugged myself and looked up, staring bleakly across the cornfield. I knew fundamentally I remained the same, but my spirit had taken a dreadful beating. I despised myself for it, but I finally realized the futility of fighting it any longer. There was simply nothing left.
“I could,” I said softly, “march into that bank with my rifle and place it square against banker Higgins’ fat belly. I could tell him all about me shooting Wes Lacklander. I could threaten to do the same to him.” I sighed. “But I won’t. As much as I love this land, it ain’t worth killing a man over.”
I swallowed and straightened my hunched shoulders, realizing my decision was made. Toby would want to know, so I went off to tell him.
He faced me in the room, incredulous. “You’ve decided what?”
I glared at him. “You heard me. We’ve got nothing left—the bank owns it all. I guess even the mare goes to old Higgins, but if we leave quick enough he won’t have to know. Let’s start packing.”
He continued to stare at me, and slowly closed his open mouth. “Now?”
“If we wait much longer, I’ll take root. Then you’ll never get me out of here.”
Slowly a smile crept across his face. I saw a light come up in his eyes, and then he was pulling me against his chest.
“I knew it,” he said. “I knew you’d do it. You’ll never let anything defeat you.”
“Higgins did,” I told him.
He hugged me tightly. “No, I don’t think he did.”
I said nothing, content in his arms.
A step sounded at the open door. “A pretty sight,” said Dan Michael Loggins.
I gaped at him, stunned. Toby wrenched around, turning loose of me, and grinned as he reached out his hand. Loggins strode into the room and took it, then smiled crookedly at me from beneath his mustache.
“I knew you’d figure out what you wanted, sooner or later.”
He frustrated me, as always. “If you’re so smart, figure out a way to save my farm.”
His eyebrows slid up. “Farm?”
“Never mind,” I said, angry at myself for mentioning it. It was hardly his concern.
I finally smiled at him. Loggins removed his hat and hung it on the door peg. Like before. I shook my head at him. He’d never change.
“Got any coffee?” he inquired.
“I’ll make some,” I said, resigned.
Toby and Loggins sat at the table, reliving the trial and hanging. I listened silently as I fixed them both something to eat. I was glad the Barstows were dead, but it gave me no particular pleasure. I was past that.
“When’ll you two get hitched?” Loggins asked.
I looked at Toby and shrugged, realizing it might complicate our move. “We haven’t decided.”
Loggins stared at the both of us a long moment, then smiled slowly. His eyes glinted. “Don’t wait too long.”
Flushing badly, I glared at him. “You’re despicable!”
He stared at me, astonished. “I’m what?”
“Despicable,” said Toby, grinning. “Her mother was an educated woman.”
Loggins was clearly affronted. “Well, educated or not, it’s no way for Lonnie to talk. Certainly not to a man, and one her elder at that. Particularly when it’s not true.”
“You say,” I muttered.
He sighed and shook his head sadly. “And here I’d even come all this way just to give you a piece of good news. With treatment like this, I should saddle up and ride away, leaving you all unawares.”
“What news?” Toby asked.
“The reward, of course. For the Barstows. Part of it’s yours.”
“Mine?” Toby stared at him blankly. “Mine?”
Loggins nodded, smiling benevolently. “All posse members got a share. It was a mighty substantial reward, I must say. Of course I’d wanted it for myself, but since I had a posse with me, it was only fair it got parceled out accordingly.”
“But—where do I come into it?”
“Oh. Well, you were the man who got Ben Barstow hung originally. And you testified against the others. So we all voted you a share of the reward.”
“How much?” Toby whispered.
“Five hundred dollars.” Loggins smiled. “Call it a wedding present.”
“You’ve done it!” I shrieked, throwing myself at the startled man. “You saved it!”
He caught me as I threw my arms around him. He managed to keep us both upright as I clung to his neck, laughing and he flung Toby a startled look.
“What’s she talking about? Saved what?”
“The farm,” said Toby, grinning broadly. “You’ve saved the farm.”
“Oh. Well, I’m glad of that.” He smiled weakly as I hugged him again. “I didn’t know it was in trouble.”
I disengaged myself from Loggins and went around the table to Toby. “We have to go now. I don’t want to wait any longer.”
“Go where?”
“To the bank. To Higgins. To tell him the land ain’t his.”
“Isn’t,” said Toby, and grinned. “Let’s go.”