Bride's Flight from Virginia City, Montana (7 page)

“Mister Parker, would you?” asked Charlotte.

He bowed his head. The others bowed their heads with him. “Lord, thank You for Cody and Cheyenne. Thank You that they were spared. Thank You that their family and friends are at peace and with You. Thank You for the beauty of this resting place. Thank You that tomorrow’s sun will come up for Cheyenne and Cody and their good friend, Miss Spence. The Lord is our Shepherd. Amen.”

As they climbed into the buggy, Charlotte said, “I will need time to speak with the children about all the plans, time to pack some food and clothing.”

Zeph nodded. “We’ll come by at eight tonight. Pack some winter clothes. I’m sure this warm spell won’t last forever.”

“No, it certainly won’t. Well, I’ll look for you in a few hours then. Make sure you book us some seats on the stage.”

“That’s done.”

“Pardon me?”

“I said, that’s done.”

Charlotte had the reins in her hand and was about to move into the roadway. She felt a mixture of surprise, delight, and anger flow over her features. “How did you manage that?”

“Matt set it up, Charlotte, not me, so don’t get excited—” “I am not getting excited.”

“He had it so two deputies would be going with you all the way to Pennsylvania—there was never any talk of me.” “So he purchased five tickets?” “The town did, yes.”

Charlotte thought for a moment. “You think you can take the place of two men?” The corners of her mouth moved upward ever so slightly.

“Dunning and Doede are all right.”

She laughed. “Strange sounding name—Dough Dee.”

“Strange name, good man. But I guess I can do the work of ten of him when it comes to Charlotte Spence and her brood.”

Charlotte called out to her horse and pulled into the street. “We’ll take you up on that, Mister Parker.”

He watched them roll between wagons and men on horseback and disappear around a bend of stone buildings and tall roofs. Then he walked Cricket over to Matt’s and tied her next to Union. He stood a moment, looking at the pieces of rock that made up Matt’s office and jail—it had been one of seven banks in Iron Springs during the gold rush of the ‘60s and was built like a fort—then he opened the door.

Matt was standing by his rack of rifles and levering each one to make sure they were loaded and the action was smooth. Two deputies sat drinking coffee in their black suits and derby hats.

“Zeph,” they both said at once.

“Mister Dunning. Mister Doede.” Matt glanced over at him. “Well?”

“She’s never even talked with them about what happened. Doesn’t know if the gang wore masks or if the kids could tell who the leader was. Hard stuff to bring up, Matt.”

“I know it.”

“She said she’d try and go over it with them tonight before we showed up. Maybe there’ll be drawings, maybe not.”

Matt nodded. “So how does she feel about going to Ogden?”

“She’s okay with it. I told her eight o’clock. Who’s coming?”

Matt inclined his head. “My two men here, of course, Dunning and Doede. Jude. Billy King.”

Zeph coughed. “There’s been something of a change in plans, Matt.”

“What change?”

“She wants me to go with her to Pennsylvania. Wants us to act like we’re a family of four. She thought that would be better.”

Matt looked at him. “She did, did she? And what do you think?”

“I think she’s hit on a good idea.”

“Is that right? Tell me, Z, did you put up much of an argument?”

Zeph shrugged and looked at a new wanted poster on the wall behind the desk. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dunning and Doede exchange glances and sip their coffee. For the first time he noticed how huge their handlebar moustaches were. “Sorry to disappoint you two gents,” he said.

They both smiled at the same time and raised their cups. “She is a handsome woman,” said Dunning, “and I had a hankering to see Pittsburgh.”

“On the other hand,” said Doede, “we didn’t want to miss the show here, either.”

“No, we didn’t.”

“Good luck, Zeph,” they both said at the same time. “Thank you, boys.”

Matt had his hands on his hips. “So it’s all settled. Charlotte Spence travels a few thousand miles with my kid brother—” “Jude’s younger.”

“—and a gang of cutthroats hunting them down, and this kid brother is going to protect them without the benefit of a badge, a pistol, or even a slingshot.”

Dunning and Doede laughed.

Zeph glared. “I’ll make out all right.”

“Will you?”

“I came through the war without a scratch, didn’t I?”

Matt was thinking. “I can’t go with you. And I guess I got to thank you for freeing me up two more guns”—he nodded toward the two deputies—“but there is a thing or two I can do.”

He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a badge. “Oh, no—” Zeph started to protest.

“Oh, yes,” said Matt, pinning the badge to Zeph’s black suit. “You either go as the law, or you don’t go at all. I mean it.” “All right,” Zeph grunted.

Matt picked up a black book off his desk. “Put your hand on this Bible and swear to uphold the laws of Iron Springs and the Montana Territory.”

Zeph placed his right hand on the leather Bible. “I swear.”

“And the laws of the United States and every federal jurisdiction.”

“I swear.”

“So help you God.”

“What, am I on trial or something?”

“So help you God.”

“So help me God.”

Dunning and Doede raised their coffee cups in salute.

Matt opened another drawer with a key. He pulled out a holster with a six-gun.

“No!” Zeph almost shouted and backed toward the door.

Matt ignored him. “You don’t have to wear it. You can leave it in your luggage until you need it; I don’t care. Heck, maybe you’ll never need it. It’d be nice to live in your kind of world, where there’s never a villain and no one ever gets hurt or killed.”

“I’m not taking it, Matt.”

“You will. You’re a peace officer now. It’s the law.” He thrust it at Zeph. “Take it. Maybe you didn’t notice. It’s Dad’s. The 1858 Remington he always swore by. You don’t think he’d want you to have it if he knew the sort of journey you’re setting out on tonight?”

Zeph took the gun from Matt’s hands and looked at it—the long dark octagonal barrel, eight inches, some engraving on the frame and cylinder, the grips white elk horn. It was Remington’s New Army, and it had been converted from a pistol that fired lead balls, like a Civil War musket, to one that fired six .44 caliber cartridges. He caught a whiff of burnt powder and new leather and his dad’s rich pipe tobacco, and saw him smiling at the dinner table and teasing Mom about something with the Remington in its holster hanging off the back of his chair. “I remember. He used to plink tin cans when he wanted to relax.”

“Yeah.” Matt smiled. “You shove it in your bedroll and I’ll relax, too.”

Zeph held on to the gun and holster. “I’ll keep it because it’s Dad’s. But I ain’t going to use it. Not ever.”

“Tell me your stories when you’re back in Iron Springs safe and sound.” Matt snatched a piece of telegram paper off his desk. “I forgot. We heard back from Fort Abraham Lincoln.”

“They’re too far.”

“I know they’re too far. But Custer’s keen. If Raber sets foot in Dakota again, they’ll send a platoon of troopers to run him down. A personal guarantee.”

Zeph shrugged. “He’ll cut straight down to Utah and the railroad once he knows the kids aren’t in Iron Springs.”

“Or try to head you off through Wyoming.” Matt pulled another scrap of telegram paper from his shirt pocket. “We heard back from Fort Laramie. They keep on eye on the railway anyhow. Said they’ll be ready to respond if they hear from us. They’re harboring a grudge against Raber. Appears he shot down two of their troopers last fall.”

“Good to know the bluecoats’ll be out and around. Thank you, brother.”

“I guess you’d better have a talk with Byrd and Holly about the Bar Zee. No telling when you’ll be back from Pennsylvania. See you at Spence’s at eight?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there. Gentlemen.”

Dunning and Doede both raised a hand.

When Zeph had Cricket a mile out of town and headed for Two Back Valley, he reined up, twisted his body around, and dug into the saddlebag on his left. He came up with his dad’s pistol and holster. Pulling the gun, he flipped open the cylinder gate and pushed against the ejector rod under the barrel. One, two, three, four, five rounds. That was all his dad loaded into the Remington. The hammer was always on an empty chamber, so he didn’t shoot his foot off when he tugged the gun free. He stuck the Remington back in its holster and shoved both into the saddlebag as deep as they would go. Then he cinched the bag down tight.

He kept riding toward the Bar Zee. Behind him the bullets were scattered in a circle and sinking into the mud and snowmelt and hoofprints. The sun was going down red. He’d see Charlotte Spence in two or three hours and then spend maybe three or four months with her if he was lucky. Or blessed.
Now that would be a mighty nice way to spend the winter and spring, if it’s okay with You, Lord.
Zeph began to whistle as Cricket jogged toward the mountains.

Chapter 7

C
harlotte pulled aside one of the drapes at her third-floor bedroom window and looked down into the yard at the front of her house. Several men were riding up. Laycock held a lantern toward their faces. His other hand held a shotgun. She wasn’t alarmed. She had spotted Zeph right away.

He was taller than Matt, but Jude had a few inches on him. His teeth were whiter and straighter than either of his brothers and his shoulders broader. His hair was a nicer shade of brown. She made a face. His shoulders and teeth and height weren’t the important things. She liked his spirit. All the brothers had nice smiles and easy voices and pleasant personalities, but Zeph was something special.

She’d known it from the time he’d helped her brother Ricky on that posse. No, she’d known it before that. And when Cody and Cheyenne told her how he’d rescued them, how gentle he’d been, how he’d named them, it only confirmed what she already believed—that Zeph was strong, gentle, and caring, a true man. She had thanked God in her prayers that evening that he was the one accompanying her to Lancaster County and not a pair of strangers with badges and guns.

Years ago she had hoped to spend more time with him. But Ricky’s long illness and death had made that impossible. So had all the years since then she’d spent running the ranch from dawn to dusk. There had been no opportunity for long evening rides and talks; she could only dream about such things.

Until now. Circumstances had combined to bring Zeph and her together in such a way they would have plenty of time not only to talk, but to see what the other person was like under all sorts of conditions and in all kinds of moods. Now she would truly get to know him and find out if he was the man she thought he was. What Raber had done to Cody and Cheyenne’s family was unspeakable. But the good that God was starting to bring out of it was a gift.

Still, there was the promise she had made, a promise she could not break. There was a war going on inside her, and it had been going on for years. She had always liked Zephaniah. One moment she desperately wanted something to happen between them. The next she knew they could never be a couple, ever. It was why she had always kept Zephaniah at arm’s length. She had to. A promise had been made at her brother’s deathbed. Yet she still wanted to be close to Zephaniah. She shook her head. There was no easy way to solve her dilemma.

She fixed a bonnet on her head, her long blond hair already pinned up. The luggage was by the front door with Martin who, to all appearances, was guarding it with an old buffalo gun his grandfather had owned. She carried a lamp into Cheyenne’s room. The girl was sitting on her bed in a charcoal dress and bonnet like Charlotte’s, no ribbons. Together they knocked on Cody’s door. He opened it, dressed in the same clothes he had worn to the funeral that afternoon, but the hat on his head was not a Stetson; it was flat-crowned and broad-brimmed, not nearly as interesting to look at. Charlotte nodded and smiled even though Cody was pouting about the hat.
I don’t want people to find you or your clothing interesting,
she thought.
I don’t want any of them to notice you at all.

“Miss Spence?” Martin called up the staircase.

“We’re coming!” “They’re here.”

The three of them descended the staircase. Marshal Parker stood just inside the open door, hat in his hands. “How are you, Charlotte?” “Perfectly fine, Marshal.”

“We have the girl riding with you. We can fit a side saddle if—”

“Not at all. I’m dressed for riding under my skirts. Perhaps I’ll be mistaken for a man by anyone who’s out looking for us.”

“Maybe. The bonnet will be a giveaway though, even in the dark.”

“Then I’ll take mine off. And Cheyenne’s.” “That’s fine. We also have a couple of packhorses to carry your luggage.”

“Thank you, Matt. There is a good amount of it. But I
am
thinking of three or four months. My, it’s getting chilly.”

“There’s a cold front moving in from the northeast. I brought some sheep-fleece jackets along. It might make the ride more comfortable for the three of you.”