The Lover (16 page)

Never again would she fall back into those ancient habits of trying to please. Never again would she depend on somebody else for her livelihood. Never again would she let anyone else control her.

Eagle Jack Sixkiller wasn't demanding any of those things and now that he'd gotten used to her being on the trail, he seemed perfectly happy for her to be there. He was different.

He was a fun-loving sort, and the Good Lord knew she needed some fun.

She would take his advice. She wouldn't think about what the cattle would bring in Abilene or whether she could keep Brushy Creek. For the rest of this drive, she would concentrate on staying
alive, she would take life one day at a time—it could as easily have been her instead of Tolly who'd drowned—and she would remember every single minute of every one of those days.

And those nights.

 

It took until the middle of the afternoon to cut their cattle out from Tolly's, but when it was done, Eagle Jack pushed their herd north anyhow, just as he had when they left Brushy Creek. Now, as then, Susanna had mixed feelings about it.

Not because driving part of the night would lessen the time she and Eagle Jack would have in the tent alone. No, it was because camp was already set up and it seemed a waste of effort to take it down and put it back up later the same day.

She and Eagle Jack rode ahead to scout and found a way that was grassy, mostly open land with not too many trees. There had been so much rain that water for the cattle wouldn't be a problem.

At the end of the second day, they struck the Chisholm Trail again, miles north of the ford where so many herds were waiting to cross, and began making good progress toward Fort Worth. Their scouting ahead of the herd every day became as much a search for Molly as for a place to camp, because Eagle Jack made sure to talk to everybody headed back down the trail.

Finally, when they were within a day's drive of Fort Worth, he found someone who had seen Molly run.

“I'll never fergit it, neither,” the gap-toothed man said. “I personally lost ten dollars and I never woulda thought that mare coulda run fast enough to beat a lame mule to the feed trough.”

“Where'd they run her?” Eagle Jack asked.

But the old man was lost in the memory. He shook his head in wonder. “Like greased lightning,” he mused. “Never seen nothin' like it.”

“Was it in Fort Worth that you saw her? In town? Tell me now.”

Susanna looked at Eagle Jack. He was so anxious she thought he might lean out of the saddle and grab the man to shake the information out of him.

Evidently that thought also occurred to the man, for he spoke quickly. “If you wanta see for yerself, they'll run her again tonight,” he said. “Not far on up the trail. There's boys in that Slash Double D outfit refusin' to believe their own eyes.”

“The mare's owners are traveling with the Slash Double D?” Eagle Jack asked.

“Reckon not. That trail crew's jist layin' over one more day fer another race. They's a race track down by the Deep Fork where they run.” He gestured to the northeast.

Eagle Jack was already turning his horse. “Thanks, old-timer,” he said, “I know that track.”

The man ambled his horse to the south, on down the trail.

“Let's run on over there and just see if she's there yet,” Eagle Jack said to Susanna. “It's not far.”

“It's great you know where it is,” she said, nodding her agreement.

“I've used that track myself,” he said.

They rode at a lope the whole way there, avoiding everyone they saw.

“Somebody might notice my hair,” Eagle Jack explained. “Don't want word to reach those worthless horse thieves that I'm anywhere around—not until I've set my eyes on Molly.”

His voice vibrated with unbridled excitement. It made Susanna smile.

“Once you set your eyes on her, what are you going to do?” she asked.

“Oh,” he drawled, “I haven't really thought about it.”

Susanna grinned at him. “Don't try to tell me that,” she said. “You've been in a fit about this horse ever since I met you.”

“Depends on what kind of shape she's in,” he said. “If she hasn't lost weight and her haircoat looks good and her eyes are bright…” He grinned back.

“What?”

“For starters, I may just steal her back again.”

They looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.

“Let's do it!” Susanna cried. “It'd serve 'em right.”

Eagle Jack nodded. “It would. They can go crazy looking for her, riding off in all directions, and then if they find out and challenge us, I'll—”

He stopped.

“You'll what?”

He ignored that. “They may find out I have her but they won't have the guts to come after me,” he said. “They're horse thieves, pure and simple. That's a hanging offense.”

“They've been getting rich off her,” Susanna said. “Stealing her will hurt them worse than a hanging.”

He pretended to study her. “You're a hard woman, Susanna. I believe you'd like to see them suffer.”

“I would,” she said. “I may have to look them up and mention the little mare they used to win with, every time.”

He chuckled. “Remind me not to cross you,” he said. “I think you actually would torment them like that.”

She laughed.

His gaze held hers. She saw laughter there and something else—affection. It gave her a little thrill.
Only Maynell ever looked at her that way. Very few people in her life had given her true affection.

“Don't ever underestimate me,” she said.

“I won't,” he assured her. “I'll be on my guard.”

About a mile farther on, he signaled for quiet and they slowed their horses to a soft, ground-eating trot.

“It's a track some farmer built,” he said. “He collects a few dollars from every racehorse owner who uses it.”

“I hope the thieves have already paid their fee for tonight,” she said.

Eagle Jack chuckled quietly. “Mean as a snake,” he said. “I'm surprised you shot that one.”

She made a face at him.

Then, suddenly, through a little grove of pecan trees, she saw the white rail fence and then the straight stretch of beaten earth.

Eagle Jack gave a hand signal to stop the horses. When they had dismounted, he came close and spoke into Susanna's ear. “Hold the horses,” he whispered. “Over there, under that low-hanging tree. Watch for me and keep them quiet.”

He helped her get the horses arranged in the shadows, then he vanished.

Susanna shifted her position to try to keep him in sight and she could see him drifting from tree trunk to tree trunk, silent as a falling leaf. But she heard the sound of hooves and then a man's voice.

Beyond Eagle Jack, on the other side of the
fenced track, a tall man sat a tall gray horse. Beside him, there was a loafing shed in the shade, open to the south. At first, she didn't notice the second man—he was near the fence to the track.

“Let 'er be,” the mounted man said loudly. Then he dropped his voice and said something that might have been, “Quit foolin' with her.”

Or maybe it was, “I'm not foolin' with you.”

He moved his horse to the left and Susanna could see that the man by the fence had another horse—a small one with a scruffy mane and pricked ears, tied to a hitching rail on the far side of the white fence. Could this be her first glimpse of the famous Molly?

The second man stooped over, raised her right forefoot, and began, apparently, to pick her hoof. He didn't even look up when the other man spoke to him again.

“I want you to time Prince,” the tall man shouted. “Right now!”

He was holding out something in his hand, which must be a stopwatch.

Still no response.

Molly pinned her ears and stretched the rope she was tied with just enough to bite the hoof-picking man smartly on the bottom.

The horseback one threw back his head and laughed. The other one dropped her hoof, slapped his hand over his wound, and headed away from the track, hobbling toward the trees on
the far side of the track. Susanna glimpsed a tent farther on, back in the shadows. They must be living there at the track.

The man on the gray horse followed the one on foot, saying something now and then, all of it unintelligible from this distance. Susanna looked through the pecan grove for Eagle Jack again, but he had disappeared.

She glanced back at Molly, if Molly it was.

The hitching rail, the green grass and blue sky met her eye. The shaggy little horse was gone.

Susanna blinked.

It was impossible. Not even a whole minute had passed since the horse had bitten the man.

Had it? Maybe she'd lost her sense of time.

But no. It hadn't been very long because the gray horse had not yet reached the trees.

She tried to take in what had happened. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around the muzzles of the two horses she held.

No sense letting them speak if they should see a new horse coming toward them through the trees. She concentrated on scanning the grove, both in and out of the shade, for a glimpse of Eagle Jack and Molly.

Could he have Molly in hand? Could he have untied her that fast?

“Let's go,” he said, from behind her.

She startled and bit her tongue to keep from crying out as she whirled to face him.

Sure enough, he was leading the horse she'd seen tied to the fence. He was holding his other hand out for the reins of his saddled mount.

Susanna handed them over and threw herself onto her own horse. Eagle Jack mounted quickly, too, holding Molly's rope in his hand.

“Susanna, meet Molly,” he said, as they turned to head out. “Molly, this is Susanna.”

Molly was trotting between the two saddled horses. She glanced sideways at Eagle Jack and muttered deep in her throat.

Eagle Jack chuckled. “She's been trying to talk ever since she saw me,” he said, “but I couldn't let her make any noise.”

He kissed to his mount and all three horses fell into a long trot.

“We have to pace ourselves now in case we have to run later,” he said. “The ground's soft from the rain and I don't have time to cover our tracks.”

“I can't believe they didn't see you,” Susanna said. “That was a legendary exploit. It'll live forever, wherever men sit around the fire and tell stories of horse thievery.”

Eagle Jack smiled.

“I really think you're Comanche,” she said, “instead of Cherokee.”

“The Comanche aren't the only horsemen in the world,” he said.

“And the Legend of Molly's Rescue will prove it.”

“It may be a legend that doesn't yet have an ending,” he said.

“Surely they wouldn't come after you, since you're the rightful owner.”

“Ah, but they'd have to be right upon us to know who I am,” he said.

It might have been a prophecy. The next minute, from somewhere behind them, the sound of a gunshot tore through the air.

E
agle Jack looked back over his shoulder.

“Folger's still riding that buckskin, I see,” he said.

He sounded as calm as if they were sitting on a porch somewhere watching people ride by.

Susanna worked up her courage to look behind them, too. The tall gray horse with the tall man riding was coming after them at a gallop, and the other man was bouncing along, bareback, on a shorter buckskin horse some distance behind the gray. As she watched, the tall man lifted his gun and fired at them again. She saw the flash from the muzzle.

She faced forward, urging her horse to go faster, lifting Fred into his awkward lope as the sound of the shot reached them.

Eagle Jack held his mount at a trot, with Molly right beside him.

“I know we have to pace our horses,” she said, glancing at him as she started to draw ahead, “but we might get killed if we don't run.”

He grinned at her. “Naw. I've seen Oates shoot before. He's not exactly what you'd call a marks-man.”

“Anybody can get lucky once in a while.”

“We're out of range—he needs a rifle at this distance,” Eagle Jack said.

She smooched to Fred again, anyway.

“Come
on
,” she said, with a fierce look at Eagle Jack.

“Slow down,” he said. He rode up beside her and caught hold of Fred's bridle. “Listen, Susanna, trust me. We need to stay just about this distance in front of them.”

She stared at him, then looked back at their pursuers. “Whatever for? What if he
has
a rifle and he just hasn't used it yet?”

“Then I'll have to use mine,” he said. “But until then, let's draw them farther away from the track and the farm. If they're camping there, they may be friends with the farmer and I don't want any interference when I deal with them.”

Her heart slowed its rapidly accelerating beat. His calmness and confidence took away her fear of getting shot, or most of it, because he was in control of the situation, after all.

However, a new fear, born of the coldly vengeful resolve in his voice, came to life in the
pit of her stomach. He wanted no interference.

What was he planning to do to those men?

“Oates was wearing only the one gun,” he said, “and no saddlebag for extra ammunition. He'll run out, pretty soon.”

“Not if he sees that he's doing no good because we're out of range.”

“He's mostly just trying to scare us into dropping this rope,” Eagle Jack told her, nodding at Molly.

“He could have all his pockets and both his boots full of ammunition, for all you know.”

He gave her an infuriating grin. “Aw, come on, Susanna. Let's not borrow trouble.”

“Eagle Jack, what are you doing? You're not going to let them get any closer, are you?”

“Not yet.”

Another shot rang out.

Eagle Jack laughed. “What did I tell you? Three more to go, if he started with a full load.”

He slowed a little more, and the smile faded from his face as he turned to look at her full-on.

“When they catch up to us, be sure you let me stay between you and them,” he said.

“Why would you let them catch up?” Susanna asked.

“I owe them a visit,” he said.

Suddenly, his tone had turned flat and hard. He set his jaw and he looked dangerous. She could think of no other word for it. Eagle Jack Sixkiller was a dangerous man.

That thought had come to her before, and it was right.

“I know they beat you up and stole your horse,” she said quickly. “But Eagle Jack, don't you think it'd be better to let the law take care of them? There must be some lawmen not too far away.”

“I've got a herd to drive,” he said. “I don't have time to hunt for the law.”

Susanna looked back. The two pursuers were getting closer. They still had as many as three bullets.

“Let's go on,” she urged. “We've got Molly. That's all that matters.”

“They're horse thieves,” he said. “They deserve to hang.”

“Too bad you've led them away from the trees,” she said, trying to lighten the look in his eyes.

Trying to put a smile on his face.

“You don't have anything to hang them from out here,” she added.

He didn't change expression. He slowed their pace even more and looked back to see the men again.

“There's more trees than those,” was all he said.

“Eagle Jack…”

He ignored that and rode on, for quite a long way.

“Nothing will go wrong,” he said, finally. “But
if, by some stroke of bad luck it does, get on Molly and ride for the wagon. Nothing on four legs can catch her.”

He glanced at her once, sharply, to see if she'd heard, then he looked back at their pursuers.

“You can ride bareback, surely, since you sit a saddle as well as you do.”

“Yes,” she said, “but I'm not leaving you, so forget about that.”

“Remember what I told you to do,” Eagle Jack said. He kicked up the pace. “Let's get this done,” he said.

They rode at a short lope, farther out into the open country, back in the direction of the herd, but not exactly the way they had come. While Eagle Jack guided them into a rough patch, rocky and sandy, with less grass and more mesquite, they heard another shot.

They rode another mile or more before he slowed the horses again. The stubborn men began to gain on them.

It wouldn't be long now. Susanna's breath came hard. Surely she wouldn't have to watch him hang them. Surely that wasn't what he intended.

One of them, Oates or Folger, yelled, “Hey, you! Horse thief! We've got you now.”

The call came faintly on the wind, but when Susanna looked to see them, Oates was coming
closer all the time. Folger, on the buckskin, was still some distance behind him.

“Whoa,” Eagle Jack said. “Whoa, now.”

Without a word to Susanna, he turned his horse.

Then he said, “Stay behind me, Annie,” and started back at a brisk trot to meet the skinny man on the tall gray.

Susanna stayed close behind him. She saw him dally the end of Molly's lead rope around his saddle horn to free his hand for the gun he wore on his hip.

“Drop your weapon and step down, Oates,” he yelled. “I'm gonna show you what happens to a real horse thief.”

Susanna would have laughed if she hadn't been so scared. Oates had a look of surprise on his face that looked to have been painted there.

“Sixkiller?” he said.

Eagle Jack's gaze flicked to Folger, just for an instant, and Susanna realized he was waiting for the buckskin horse to get within range of his gun.

“Yep,” he said, focusing on Oates again, “the same Sixkiller you hit over the head from behind with that two-by-four.”

He rode up to within a few yards of the man and stopped.

“That wasn't me,” the skinny man protested. “That was Folger snuck up on you like that.”

“Drop your weapon, Oates.”

Oates's gun appeared frozen in his grip.

“You've got to believe me, Sixkiller.”

Eagle Jack drew his gun and shot Oates's gun out of his hand before Susanna could comprehend what was happening. It bounced once, then came to rest against a rock.

“Down,” he said.

Oates's hand tightened around his reins for a split second.

“Don't even think about making a run for it,” Eagle Jack told him. “I'd much rather shoot you than hang you.”

So Oates stood up in his stirrup, wavering a little, and got down from his horse. Behind him, Folger finally realized what was happening and turned his mount around, seeking escape.

Eagle Jack fired again and put a hole in his hat.

Folger pulled up and got off the horse.

“You two partners get together now,” Eagle Jack said. “Right over there by that big mesquite tree.”

Susanna's heart stopped. Would he actually hang them? He had every right to. No law could fault him for it.

“I can't watch this, Eagle Jack,” she said. “Please don't.”

He ignored her.

He gestured with his gun from one of the thieves to the other.

“Now.”

The one word, spoken low and quiet, was so powerful that both men moved at that same moment, both trying to walk over the rough ground without stumbling and watch Eagle Jack at the same time. Oates hardly dared to look down.

“Don't be shootin' us, now,” he said.

“Shooting's too good for you,” Eagle Jack said. “Horse thieves hang.”

“We was gonna bring her back to you,” Folger said. “All we done was borry her a little while.”

Eagle Jack fired at his feet.

“Dance,” he said. “Entertain the lady.”

Then he fired at Oates's feet.

Both men began to shuffle.

“Faster,” Eagle Jack said, and thrust his fingers into the pockets of his vest.

He pulled out more bullets, fired once more, then commenced to reload.

Even though these were the men who had beaten him so badly with a two-by-four, and from behind, in a sneak attack, Susanna couldn't help but feel pity. Their legs were shaking so hard they could hardly stand, but they danced anyway. Their boots scraping the ground in that tremulous rhythm made her stomach turn.

It was fear, fear raw and savage as any she had ever felt in her childhood that was emanating from every pore in their bodies. Pure fear, growing by the second to surround them and fill
the very air she was trying to breathe.

“Eagle Jack,” she said quietly, from behind him. “What are you going to do?”

He didn't answer. She didn't even know if he'd heard.

“Keep dancing,” he said, “and then when I say so, Oates, you can go get that rope off your saddle.”

“Eagle Jack, please,” Susanna said. “I don't want to see this.”

But all of Eagle Jack's attention was on his enemies.

“I'll use my rope on you, Folger,” he said. “I'll sacrifice it for that, because nobody ever needed hanging like you do.”

Their faces paled even more, which didn't seem possible. Susanna felt the blood pounding hard in her head.

He fired at their feet again.

“I cannot stand this, Eagle Jack,” she blurted. “Let's go and leave them here.”

He was unsnapping his coiled rope from its place on his saddle.

“Please,” she said.

Her voice came out loud, although her mouth was almost too dry to speak. “I know how it is to feel such fear,” she said.

Eagle Jack looked up.

It must have all been in her eyes, in her voice. He must have seen and heard her memories flashing through her consciousness, memories of her
little-girl self whose life was at the mercy of adults who were strangers to her.

He searched her face.

“Tolly died,” she said, more softly. “Isn't that enough death for a while?”

He kept on looking at her with his dark, hooded eyes. They told her nothing.

But when he turned away, he left the rope where it was.

“Sit down,” he said, to the still-dancing men. “Take off your boots.”

Oates made a strangled sound, as if he were trying to say something, but he obeyed without a word. Folger followed suit. When both men were in their sock feet, Eagle Jack looked them over.

“Now your socks,” he said.

“Susanna, would you mind?” he said. “Pick up their horses' reins and bring them over here.”

He glanced at the horses.

There was a canteen tied to the saddle on the gray horse but the buckskin, of course, had neither.

“I'm doing this for the lady's sake,” he said, turning to look at the men again. “You've got no water, no food, and no boots, but you can make it back to the farm. Let's see you hoof it.”

He gestured with the gun for them to get up. They obeyed.

“I tell you now that I'll set the Rangers on your trail at the first opportunity,” he said. “So y'all might want to consider heading in the direction of
the Indian Territories or maybe Louisiana. Your life in Texas will be hell from now on.”

The two horse thieves started walking when he pointed the gun at them again.

“Get on out of my sight,” he said, “before I change my mind.”

When they were a dozen yards away, trying to hurry and pick their way over the rocky terrain at the same time, he got down, gathered up their boots, and tied them together with his rope. They dangled from his saddle.

“Let's go,” he said.

“Maybe some of the men can wear those boots,” Susanna said. “We lost a lot of clothes and stuff in the river.”

He didn't answer.

Wordlessly, they tied the other three horses to their saddle rings—one on each side of Susanna's Fred, and Eagle Jack kept Molly. They rode on, also in silence.

Finally, she tried again.

“Those are nice boots,” she said, “probably they could afford them with the money they won with Molly.”

He threw her an impatient glance.

“Folger and Oates dressed well,” he said. “That was part of their fakery as Kentucky gentlemen.”

He didn't look at her again. He didn't say anything else, either. They rode on.

Maybe he was angry with her. If so, she wanted
to know it. She was through with that time in her life when she lived on the edge of relationships, trying to guess how the other person felt about her.

“Are you sorry you let them go?” she said.

“Not too much,” he said, staring off into the distance. “A hanging's never pleasant.”

“I know it's the code, though. I hate to think maybe you'll feel you didn't do your duty as an honorable man. You let them go because I asked you to.”

He looked at her then, fully into her face. He was listening.

“I thank you for making that decision based on my feelings, Eagle Jack. I will always remember what you did.”