Dorothy Garlock (3 page)

Pearl, however, didn’t seem to share her concerns. “If you ain’t too stupid to know what’s good for you,” she said as calmly as a smooth spring breeze, “the only thing you’ll do is keep your mouth shut and not move an inch. If you want to test me, go ahead. I swear that I’ll shoot you like the dog you are.”

“Go to hell!”

“Hallie,” Pearl said, ignoring Chester’s curse, “get Mary back on her feet and start for the wagon. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Ya sure as hell better worry about me, damn ya!” Chester shouted, any fear for his own safety giving way to anger. His hands clenched tightly, he suddenly sprang toward them, the look in his eyes one of madness. But before Hallie could so much as scream, Pearl steadied the rifle and fired.

The bullet tore into the soft flesh of Chester’s left thigh, and the man howled in pain. He crashed to the ground, his hands leaping to the wound, crimson blood pouring out from between his fingers and staining his pants. The agony that filled his face was mixed with surprise at the fact that Pearl had the guts to shoot him.

“I told ya, you stupid son of a bitch,” she said coldly.

Chester’s only answer was an unintelligible cry.

Hallie was dimly aware of Pearl’s hand on her shoulder; once again she had been struck dumb by the sound of gunfire. Blinking quickly, she looked into her friend’s eyes through a haze of tears. She helped Mary off the ground and they followed Pearl, putting one foot in front of the other, each step taking them farther and farther away from the cabin and Chester’s cries of pain.

“What are we going to do now?” Hallie finally managed to ask.

For a long while, Pearl was silent. It wasn’t until the last of Chester’s shouts had faded into the air like morning mist that she said, “We’ll do what we came here to do—take Mary and leave Whiskey Bend forever.”

Chapter Two

E
LI MORGAN WAS
nervous.

Shifting uncomfortably on his wicker train seat, he peered out the window as the Colorado countryside sped by. In the bright summer afternoon, wildflowers dotted the wide plains with bright yellows, whites, oranges, and reds. Along the many burbling rivers and creeks, tall elms, oaks, and pine trees spread their broad branches, soaring high into the crisp blue, cloudless sky. In the distance, mountains rose into the heavens, their crowns capped with snow although the summer was in full sway. He spotted a wild stallion as it lifted its head in curiosity at the noisy locomotive before returning to its grassy meal. These were the familiar sights of home, a home that he had not seen for four long years.

“Four years,” he muttered to himself.

The fact that he was now able to take a train to Bison City was a testament to just
how much
things had changed since he’d left. Even though the train constantly tossed him from side to side and the passenger car held heat like an oven, it was a remarkably quick way to travel. The new route, a direct line running from Denver to Cheyenne, had only recently been completed. Hundreds of miles of track—iron rails and thick wooden ties—cut through the countryside. Among the many familiar town names there were even a couple of new places that had sprung up alongside the tracks.

Eli was also well aware that he himself had undergone a great change. While his thick, coal-black hair, piercing green eyes, and sturdy chin were the same as when he had left, much else about him was different. His tall, lanky frame had filled out dramatically; underneath his white shirt, taut muscles spread across his broadened shoulders. As he placed his black suit coat on the empty seat next to him, he was aware that his way of thinking had been transformed by his time as a member of the United States army. However, he had always been scrappy and hardworking, determined to make the most of what life had to offer. Such effort and devotion had paid dividends. Four years earlier, he had left Bison City little more than a boy. Now he returned as a man.

Still, concern lined his face. Pulling a thin, worn slip of paper from the inside pocket of his coat, he smoothed out the telegram that had brought him home. Even though it was now heavily sweat stained, he had no trouble making out the words. No matter how many times he reread it, memorizing every syllable, he felt no closer to discerning the message’s true meaning.

YOU ARE NEEDED AT HOME STOP

COME AS SOON AS YOU ARE ABLE STOP

HANK

In the four years that he’d been away, Eli hadn’t received a single letter, telegram, or correspondence of any kind from a single member of the family except from his uncle Hank. Eli had sent cards now and then to let the family know when he had returned to the States and had been discharged from the army. The silence from his parents had been hurtful. They had been dead set against his leaving the ranch and joining the army, and they had refused to write. It had taken him some time to get used to the break between them, but he’d managed to adjust.

But still . . .

The telegram from his uncle Hank had given him reason for concern. That it had been so short, so empty of clear meaning, had only caused him further worry. He wanted to send a telegram in return, to try to find out what had happened, but he resisted the urge. Instead, he packed his trunk and returned like a dutiful son, the kind of son he had always been, except for the one time when he had gone against his parents’ wishes and joined the army. In the end, the message that he’d sent in reply had contained only the date and time of his arrival.

Even now, as Eli bounced about in his train seat, he wondered
why
he had decided to come back. There was certainly a part of him that had wanted to stay away forever. He had begun a new life, far from the one that he had known. He’d looked forward to setting down in Galveston, Texas. He’d thought about opening a business, maybe even with a new bride and a bundle of joy or two, if he could find the right woman for the job. Even though it had pained him, he had put aside his future plans and was returning to the ranch.

When he thought of his former life in Bison City, in the midst of the Morgan family, he remembered vicious arguments with his father, his mother’s intolerance and complaints, but more hurtful than all others, the murder of his brother Caleb.

“Caleb,” Eli whispered aloud.

Every time during the last four years when he allowed the memory of Caleb’s death to enter his thoughts, it was as if someone were plunging a hot knife into his belly, then twisting it cruelly. The anger at not knowing who was responsible for the crime gnawed at him, his rage a tangible thing. Even now, four years later, the pain of loss was no less real.
My younger brother is gone . . . forever
. That it had happened two days before he was to leave for the army had only made matters worse. He agonized over what to do but, in the end, decided to stay true to his intentions and go. Somehow, he felt in his heart that Caleb would have understood; he’d had the same spirit of adventure that coursed through Eli’s own veins. Unfortunately, his parents did not understand. When he left by wagon the day of his brother’s funeral, no member of the Morgan family saw him off.

Folding the telegram, Eli placed it back in his suit coat. Regardless of
why
he was summoned to Bison City, he would soon arrive. All his questions would then be answered. His willingness to face the unknown was what led him to leave in the first place. That trait would undoubtedly serve him well on his return.

Eli couldn’t be certain when he became aware of the familiarity of his surroundings, but a sight here and there began to spark his memory. First there was a towering, gnarled mess of an elm tree. Then he spied the meandering stream where he and Abe used to fish for trout. Finally, when Elmer Watt’s sagging barn came into view, the very spot where he stole his first kiss from the man’s daughter, he knew he was home.

“There’s Bison City,” the woman in the seat in front of him said to her son, her arm pointing out the open window.

And there it was. Eli couldn’t suppress the smile that crossed his face at the sight. Many of the buildings looked the same as when he had last seen them, albeit a bit more weathered, but new buildings had sprung up as if they were spring crops. The town had certainly spread out; even now, as the train slowed into the depot, he could see men sawing and hammering wood for new buildings. Everywhere he looked, people bustled about. While he was used to the multitudes of Galveston, there were certainly more faces here than he remembered. Change, it seemed, had come even to Bison City.

When the train finally came to a full stop, its shrill whistle piercing the noon sky, Eli rose from his seat, gathered up his coat, and headed for the door. Few of the other passengers stirred; most were destined for bigger things in Cheyenne. Stepping out onto the platform, Eli wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and began to scan the crowd. All around him, happy reunions were taking place; an elderly woman held tightly to a young girl, smothering her with kisses, and two young lovers stared into each other’s eyes with passion. Eli couldn’t spot a familiar face. He checked his watch, saw that the train was on time, and shrugged his broad shoulders.

Lending a hand to the depot’s porters, Eli hauled trunks, satchels, and other packages from the train’s cramped baggage car. It was heavy work but not unfamiliar; growing up on his father’s ranch, as well as his time in the army, had made him no stranger to lifting things. He’d just retrieved his own large black trunk, its brass clasps and hinges shining in the summer sun, and dropped it to the platform with a heavy thud, when a familiar voice sounded from behind him.

“Sure looks like I picked a mighty fine time to be late.”

Eli turned to find Hank Gallows standing before him with a wide grin on his tanned face. Uncle Hank, his mother’s youngest brother, had been a fixture in Eli’s life, and on the family ranch, for as long as he could remember. A lifelong bachelor and lover of the outdoors, Hank’s disposition was as bright and sunny as a June day. Even now, as he stood on the train platform, his blond hair, ruddy cheeks, and warm blue eyes had been only slightly touched by age since Eli had seen him last. With his worn hat in his hand, wearing a faded blue shirt and pants, Hank hadn’t really changed a lot.

“Figures that a polecat like you would make sure he was far away from any good, honest work that needed to be done,” Eli said as sternly as he could manage, a smile threatening the corners of his mouth. “But isn’t that the way you Gallows have always been?”

“That’s
old
polecat to you, youngster. Show me some respect.”

At that, both men burst into laughter and shook hands warmly. Hank had been one of Eli’s favorites, a man who always seemed to look on the bright side of life. The path that Hank had chosen for himself was undoubtedly a hard one; ranchers’ days were filled with riding, roping, branding, helping to birth new calves, mending fences, and many other tasks that were equally rough on a man. Still, regardless of whether he was under sun, wind, rain, or snow, Hank Gallows was ready to smile.

“I almost didn’t recognize you standing there,” Hank said as he stepped back to get a better look at his nephew. “You ain’t quite the same kid as when you left. I swear your shoulders are wide enough to give some of the bulls back on the ranch a run for their money.”

“I haven’t changed that much,” Eli said with a chuckle.

Hank beamed, his hand rubbing at his whiskered chin. “Son, if there’s one thing this old cowboy has learned in all his years, it’s that everything changes whether we like it or not.”

“Kind of like this,” Eli said, thumbing up at the train.

“What kind of ride did you have in that contraption?”

“Not too bad if you like having your insides turned into oatmeal,” Eli said with a chuckle. “Sure as heck beats being out to sea, though. When I was down in Texas, the army needed to move our unit up the coast for maneuvers. Some big shot figured it’d be easiest if they shipped us there by boat. I spent the whole time with my head hanging over the rail!”

“I’d have been right there next to you. Give me a horse any old day.”

Still laughing, the two men each took an end of Eli’s army trunk and hauled it out of the depot. The day had turned into a scorcher. As the sun blazed down on them mercilessly, they were quickly covered with beads of sweat. Weaving among the other passengers, they made their way to the wagon and team that Hank had driven into town. With a grunt, they heaved the heavy trunk into the wagon’s bed.

Once again wiping his brow, Eli remarked, “I kind of thought Pa might have come along with you to get me. I know things weren’t the best between us when I left, but I’d hoped time would have healed some old wounds. He isn’t still mad, is he?”

For a brief moment, a cloud passed over Hank’s face, pushing down his smile. But then in an instant, the look was gone. “Let’s get ourselves back to the ranch. You’ll have all your answers when we get there.”

Unable to help himself, Eli suddenly thought of Caleb, of his murder in the very town in which he stood, and his heart rolled over with anguish. Dread filled his heart. “What’s the matter, Hank?”

“You’ll find out in due time, my boy,” he answered, putting his worn hand lightly on his nephew’s shoulder. There was something in Hank’s eyes that Eli couldn’t quite make out; was it
pity
? “All in due time.”

After they climbed up onto the wagon’s seat, Hank grabbed the reins and began to coax the horses on their way. As they left, the train chugged its way slowly to the north, its whistle announcing its departure. The passengers on the train still had miles to travel.

But he was
home
.

As the last of Bison City’s outlying houses fell into the distance behind them, Eli drank in the sights that still warmed his heart. The town sat in a wide valley in the northern part of Colorado, only a couple of dozen miles from the Wyoming border. To the west, tall crags of stone, the farthest reaches of the Rocky Mountains, rose high into the sky until one had to squint to see their summits. To the east, grasslands and rolling hills stretched as far as the eye could see. Wild game of all shapes and sizes roamed amid the tall trees that covered the landscape; deer, rabbits, wild turkeys, and even bear called this land home.