The Loner (17 page)

“You're not in this, Cathleen,” he said. “I'm not taking that risk.”

C
at's feeling of being abandoned multiplied itself a hundred times. She felt hollow, as if it were a scarecrow sitting in her saddle.

No, her head was what was hollow. She was losing her mind, and wanting to stay close with Black Fox was the cause of it. If only she'd never gone into his arms!

“What kind of risk?” she demanded. “Are you worried that I'll run away or that I'll get shot?”

He shot her an annoyed glance.

“Didn't I just say I'll leave you at the rendezvous while I find out what happened to Willie? Does that sound like I'm afraid you'll run away?”

She blinked back the tears that threatened her—angry, disappointed tears. Stupid tears. She
wanted
him to leave her, didn't she, so she could spy on Glass?

Why couldn't she be independent as she always was and keep her thoughts on getting her revenge as she always did?

“You said we are partners,” she blurted, unable to control her tongue any more than her thoughts. “I don't know how you can call yourself a lawman, Black Fox Vann, when you lie and cheat and go back on your word all the time.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Now he was angry, too.

“I'm talking about the fact that I
am
in on this bootlegger ambush,” she said, “if I have to ride out of the woods or a cave or wherever you try to stash me and
shoot
my way into it.”

“All right, all right,” he said, dismissing her with an irritated sweep of his hand. “You can be a lookout, you can hold the horses, you are in on it.”

“
No
,” she cried, “I don't want a
girl's
job. Becker and his men are trying to get me hanged. I want…”

Black Fox interrupted her tirade and finished the sentence for her. “…to know how we can find out the date of this little shindig.”

Clearly, he was trying to distract her and it worked. She stared at him, her eyes wide.

“I never once thought about that,” she said.
“We don't know what message to send when we find our messenger.”

They burst out laughing. All the warmth came back between them and she felt close to him again.

But what difference did that make? What was she doing, going back and forth between loneliness and happiness on the strength of a word from him here and a laugh from him there.

She had to stop this thinking about him and how she felt about him all the time. What she
really
had to stop was making love with him. In addition to destroying her mind, just one night in his arms had also destroyed her usual good control of her feelings.

Usually she could put aside fear and loneliness with an iron hand in order to damage the bootleggers and rob Tassel Glass.

Usually her hatred of Tassel Glass was the dominant emotion in her life. Now it wasn't.

That realization shocked her to her toes. It couldn't be true.

Yet it was.

“
That's
a man's job that you can do,” Black Fox said, as they rode along at a faster pace. “What's the best way to find out when Tassel Glass is expecting a big shipment of liquor?”

Cat thought about that.

“Sometimes I've found messages in his desk
from Henry West in Fort Smith. He's usually the one who sells whiskey to Tassel.”

“What do they say?”

“Most of them appeared to be answers to notes Tassel had sent to him about where and when to have their men meet.”

“Because Tassel would be the one keeping track of us Lighthorse,” Black Fox said.

“Yes, he kept track of the Lighthorse and…” she said, smiling wickedly, “…of The Cat. He thought. Until he realized after I shot up his newly purchased bottles twice on the trail that I was either reading his mail or talking to one of his men.”

“Where did they meet?”

She shrugged.

“Different places. Usually not too far from Sequoyah, because Tassel's so greedy he tries to get everything out of West that he can and he always makes him travel most of the way.”

“To lessen the chance that Glass will be arrested in the Nation in possession of the whiskey,” he said.

“That's right,” she said. “But mostly it was his men in danger of that because he usually didn't go pick up the shipment himself.”

“He wouldn't want his men arrested either, though,” Black Fox said. “He needs them to tend all the irons he has in the fire.”

“They never met at the Limestone Gap, to my
knowledge,” Cat said. “The place they used most often was the Green Corn Campgrounds on Spunky Creek.”

“Limestone Gap is the best place for an ambush on the way back to Sequoyah from there,” Black Fox said. “Remember, Becker's like you—he wants Glass to pay for the whiskey before he takes it away from him and he doesn't want any white whiskey merchant involved.”

Cat thought about that.

“Right. And who knows? Maybe Becker found out about this whole deal from whoever's selling because he might be his supplier, too.”

“Could be.”

His eyes twinkled at her as he smiled his beautiful smile that was so rare. It held her gaze fixed on his sensuous mouth.

“Or maybe Becker's like you,” he said. “He may've been reading Glass's mail.”

She fixed him with her fiercest scowl.

“I'm insulted,” she said, trying to sound entirely serious about it. “If you can't quit saying Becker is like me, I'm riding alone.”

She lifted her horse into a lope and left him behind.

She would ride ahead of him the rest of the way so she couldn't see his handsome face. When he smiled at her like that it made her heart go right out of her body.

 

Black Fox spent the whole way to Sequoyah coming up with a plan, but the minute he really started thinking it through, he knew that he couldn't hide Cathleen as far away from him as the cave, which was the first place that came into his mind as they rode closer to Sequoyah. Anyone could see her; word must have spread that she was The Cat, and Tassel Glass would, no doubt, love to get his hands on her. Anything could happen. He had to keep her close to him but out of sight.

So, when they reached the outskirts of town, he left her in the woods where he had first sat his horse and watched Becker's raid on Glass's store. The first day he ever saw her.

Now, he waited hidden again, this time watching the side shed of the blacksmith's shop where Willie was working, dunking hot horseshoes into cold water. The girl who had run to Willie when the bullet knocked him down was the blacksmith's daughter, according to Black Fox's friend, Jake Mink. Jake didn't talk much and working at the livery stable hadn't loosened his tongue, so he could be trusted not to mention that Black Fox was in town.

He didn't want any questions about what he'd done with The Cat and he didn't want any requests to go after any other lawbreaker. All he wanted was Willie's undivided attention.

Finally, the horse was shod and the customer
rode away, passing by Black Fox's hiding place in the deep shadows of the alley without a sideways glance. He was a white man, of course, since he rode a shod horse, and a stranger to Black Fox. He looked to be respectable, though, and he was dressed like a preacher. Probably a circuit rider missionary who would never be of any concern to the Lighthorse.

Black Fox turned his attention back to his cousin. The blacksmith took off his leather apron, hung it on a post, and walked toward the small house set off in a field behind the shop, leaving Willie alone to sweep up the trimmings. Dusk was falling, most townspeople had gone home for supper and the street was quiet. Black Fox crossed the street, leading Ghost Horse at a walk into the shadows thrown by the blacksmith shop itself.

“Willie,” he said quietly, “I need to talk to you.”

Willie startled and turned to him.

“Black Fox,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.”

“I'm all right.” Willie grinned and his teeth gleamed white in the dimness. “The bullet only knocked me down and bled me a little. I sent word to the folks but Mama had to come to town and see for herself I was alive.”

“Sounds like Aunt Sally, all right,” Black Fox said. “I'm glad you weren't hurt, man.”

“I was glad she didn't try to make me go home,” Willie said, “but now I wish I'd gone anyway.”

“How come?”

“Kinesah is about to drive me plumb crazy, that's how come,” Willie said mournfully.

“She's the girl who ran to you when you fell?”

“Yes. Her and her mama acted like I was on my death bed and bandaged me and waited on me hand and foot for a day or two, so
my
mama decided I ought to work for her daddy some to return the favor.”

He pulled out a bandana and wiped his brow.

“Kinesah's acting like we're gonna get married,” he said, “and I don't know what to do.”

“I thought you were looking for a girlfriend,” Black Fox said. “You're not hunting a wife?”

“
No,
” Willie said vehemently. “I surely am not. And it was
Cathleen
I was sweet on; then you had to go and put her in jail.”

Black Fox opened his mouth to correct him, but Willie went right on.

“You ought not to have done that, Black Fox. All she'd done was steal from Tassel Glass, and everybody knows what a cheater he is.”

Black Fox shook his head. No way did he have time to argue this with Willie.

“Even if she wasn't in jail, though,” Willie said thoughtfully, “I don't want Cathleen for a wife no more than I want Kinesah. Them girls get to tellin' a man what to do and if he won't do every little
thing, they bust out cryin'.” He mopped his brow again. “I can't take much more of this bossin'.”

Black Fox stifled a smile. In fact, he really wanted to laugh, poor Willie was so pitiful.

“You feel good enough to do some riding for me?” he asked.

Willie dropped the broom. “Where to?”

“Fort Smith. But you cannot tell a soul in this Nation—except for the Lighthorse—where you're going or why. Willie, Cathleen's life depends on you keeping your mouth shut.”

Willie's eyes went so wide Black Fox could see the whites of them in the gathering dusk.

“I'll do it,” he said.

“Along the way, before you leave the Nation, find Rainwater or Adair or any other Lighthorseman. I need them fast.”

“What do I say?”

“To the Lighthorse, tell them to get word to as many lawmen as they can.”

“All right.”

“To Judge Parker, say I need as many federal marshals as he can send to round up two gangs of bootleggers. We can catch them redhanded. There are white-men killers and thieves among them.”

“I'm on my way,” Willie said.

“When you've delivered the messages, you meet me, too. On your way back, watch for a big wagon load of whiskey coming out of Fort Smith. Rendezvous is Long Man Lake, at the foot of the
bluff,
ayanula
. Fast. Tell everyone soon as they can ride there.”

“I'm gone,” Willie said.

He turned toward the pen full of horses behind the blacksmith shop. Black Fox saw the big paint horse among them.

“He's stout,” he said. “But is he fast?”

“Faster than that gray bag of bones you're ridin',” Willie retorted, throwing the words back over his shoulder.

“I can give you supplies from my saddle bags,” Black Fox said.

Willie dismissed that with a wave of one hand.

“See you at Long Man Lake,” he said.

Black Fox went to the gray, turned the stirrup, stuck the toe of his boot into it, and swung up into the saddle. Night was coming on. He had to get back to Cathleen.

He took the alleys and stayed off the street, except to cross it at the corner as he'd done the day Cat called Glass out. For a moment, when he rode into the trees, he didn't see her but wonder of wonders, she had stayed hidden close to the spot where he'd left her.

“I'm surprised to find you here,” he said, with mild sarcasm. “I was expecting to have to rescue you from inside the store where Glass had caught you going through his mail again.”

“Hmpf,” she said, nudging her Little Dun horse out of the thicket. “I don't believe I needed any
rescuing the last time you left me hidden. I got in and out of town on my own hook.”

“In Sallisaw, yes,” he said dryly, “but the last time you were in Sequoyah town, I believe I carried you out right before you met your maker.”

“That's hard to say,” she retorted. “I might've mowed them all down.”

“And I might've mistaken you for my Aunt Sally,” he said sarcastically.

“I did think about searching Tassel's desk,” she said, “but I decided the ambush will probably be a week from yesterday.”

She pointed her horse in the direction he indicated.

He looked at her incredulously. “Why did you decide that?”

“Lots of times they do their devil's work on Sundays,” she said. “I don't know why.”

Black Fox thought about it. “Maybe you're right. Becker has his men together but he still has to have time to get his wagon and drive it to the Gap.”

“When I was following Glass's men and shooting at the merchandise, I used to think maybe West sent shipments into the Nation on Sunday because he used his wagons and men in Fort Smith during the week,” Cat said.

“Could be. Of course, they'd have to have started from Fort Smith early Saturday.”

Soon they were heading, single file, through the
woods toward a deer trail he knew that would take them straight southeast to Long Man Lake. Black Fox sent her ahead of him so he could watch their backs.

“Take it slow,” he said. “When we cut the trail, I'll tell you.”