Emma's Blaze (Fires of Cricket Bend Book 2)
Read Emma's Blaze (Fires of Cricket Bend Book 2) Online
Authors: Marie Piper
EMMA’S BLAZE
Fires of Cricket Bend, Book Two
BY MARIE PIPER
EMMA’S BLAZE
Copyright © 2015 by Marie Piper.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: March 2016
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-534-6
ISBN-10: 1-68058-534-7
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
For Aleisha—the first (and best) fangirl.
For Eric and Wesley—who let it happen AGAIN.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
The Trail ~ April, 1887
Bill
The clear blue sky arched overhead, as placid as the herd of cows wandering beneath it. Andrew McKenzie readied to spit a cheek full of tobacco at a small grasshopper making its way through the prairie grass. Perhaps the insect realized its fate. At the last second, it fluttered away.
“Not sure why Pa figured he needed us both this year,” Andrew lamented to the rider to his right before he spit.
Bill McKenzie adjusted his position on his horse. “Me neither, little brother, since all you do is complain.”
“Trust me. If there was anything else to do out here, I’d be doing it.” Andrew gestured to the vast land around them.
“Instead, you decided to come up here and pester me during my few precious moments of peace.”
Andrew grinned. “Only peace I’m findin’ out here is thinkin’ about Lily Hannigan in Abilene at the end of this drive. And Lord knows those thoughts ain’t peaceful. Good God Almighty, I can’t wait to—”
“I do not care to know what you can’t wait to do to that woman.”
“Are you blushing, Bill?”
“Hardly. Seems to me there’s better things for a man to spend his money on than a few minutes with a woman like that.”
“If you do it right, big brother, it takes more than a few minutes.”
Bill groaned.
Andrew laughed out loud and pulled off his hat so he could run a hand through his slicked-back, dark hair. “I don’t get you. Never have. Ain’t you ever had a woman get under your skin, nag at your thoughts, drive you crazy just at the thought of her?”
“I never let it get me in trouble.”
“Jumping Jehosaphat. Do you mean to tell me that there has been such a woman?”
“I ain’t dead.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Shut up. I keep my head, unlike you. Never let a woman drive me to do stupid things.”
“Men have been doing stupid things for women since the beginning of time. The Bible confirms it.”
“Most of those stupid things don’t land men in jail for picking a fight with a woman.”
Andrew’s teasing stopped. “That’s a low blow, Bill. And you know it.”
The brothers didn’t speak for a long time. Bill knew he’d been right, even if his comment had been a little on the cruel side.
Not that Andrew didn’t deserve the reminder.
Bill sighed. Avoiding conversations such as this was one of the primary reasons he preferred to ride alone. It gave him time to really look and see the things happening around him. He’d been going on cattle drives since he was fourteen, and felt the most at peace on the back of a horse. He took in the miles of grazing cows, their dotted hides speckling the plains, and the edge of the woods to the east cutting into the grasses between him and the far-off horizon. The scenery filled Bill with a kind of peace he’d only ever felt out on the trail.
At least, Bill had felt at peace until he’d realized Andrew had followed him up to the ridge.
“Why don’t you ride back to camp and see if Appie needs help?” Bill shut down any possibility of further conversation. “I’ll ride that tree line and see that no cows are making a run for it.”
“I swear, you’d rather talk about cows instead of ladies.”
Bill didn’t admit to what he was really thinking—cows were better companions. Cows went where you told them to go and didn’t ask anything more of you.
A pair of deep blue, feminine eyes surrounded by dark lashes swam through Bill’s memory for a moment, but he pushed them aside. Work came first, and there were two thousand head of cattle to attend to before settling in to camp for the night. The sun was already on its way down. Bill guessed it was around three o’clock. Night would come soon enough, and with it all the dangers he was ready to fight.
Andrew turned his horse and headed back in the direction of camp, likely realizing he would get no more from his older brother.
Once he was some distance away, Bill exhaled heavily. It had taken weeks of convincing to get Andrew to even come on the drive. Bill had also promised that he’d never have to come on one again. His younger brother seemed determined to leave ranching behind in favor of a life in a big city, where the whiskey flowed and the card games were plentiful. Andrew wanted action and excitement; things ranch life didn’t offer. Close calls with both death and imprisonment hadn’t stopped his lust for gilded things and card games. Bill hoped it wouldn’t be the death of him. Or the death of them all.
Kicking his horse gently, Bill headed toward the trees and kept an eye out for anything that could be a danger to the drive. Things lived in the woods—cougars, horse thieves, maybe even renegades—and the day could go from dead quiet to a violent uproar in the blink of an eye. He’d seen it happen at least once a year.
Two years prior, it had been a coyote. From seemingly nowhere, it had appeared and taken down one of the smaller bulls. Everything had happened so fast no one realized until the bull was on the ground and blood was spilled all over. So far, in the weeks since they’d left their ranch near Laredo, they’d only lost one cow, and the men of McKenzie Ranch were diligent in their determination to keep the number of losses down. There were always at least two men on watch. As the eldest son of Josiah McKenzie and heir to it all, Bill took his position of authority especially seriously. The previous year had been a nightmare. His younger brothers and hands had caused trouble in every town they visited along the way, and in a little town called Cricket Bend, the youngest McKenzie boy—Theo, just twenty-one years old—had been violently murdered by a madman. Bill hated thinking about it.
This year, they’d steer clear of Cricket Bend. His pa had decreed it, along with a slew of new rules the men had to abide by. Fortunately, the entire crew had agreed. They’d keep to the same trail as always, but there’d be no drinking in saloons or fighting along the drive, and absolutely no stopping in the small town of Cricket Bend, which meant no encounters with Sheriff Luke Anderson and Deputy Matthew Frank.
Not one single man, be he McKenzie by blood or by payroll, would go to Cricket Bend this year.
Bill rode, watching and listening the whole time. The world was calm, and that was the way he liked it. Another good thing about cows—they startled easily. If you had a hundred cows all happily grazing in a field, you knew nothing was wrong for the time being.
And just like that, Bill saw a few cows up ahead skitter away from the tree line. They didn’t run far, but made a definite enough rush that he knew something in the trees had spooked them. He rode toward whatever waited, and pulled his shotgun from his saddle on the way. Jumping from his saddle with an ease which bespoke a lifetime on horseback, he left his trusted horse—a gelding called Orion—behind.
Parts of the woods were so thick a man couldn’t go a foot off the trampled trail without shoving branches out of his way. When he peered into the trees, he didn’t see anything. He stood still and waited for a few minutes. Nothing happened. If it were a predator, it was probably watching him. He kept his gun ready, his breathing steady. Panic got you killed, but a healthy dose of fear kept you alive. He’d learned that from his pa, and the advice had served him well.
A loud crack echoed from the woods. A quieter rustling followed.
“Son of a bitch,” Bill whispered. Something was out there.
Glancing back toward his horse and the cows, Bill saw no other men. Pete and Jess were probably on the other side of the herd, and the rest of the boys were likely down at camp. For a moment, he regretted sending Andrew away. Reckless hooligan or not, his brother was a damn good shot, and two guns facing down an unknown were certainly better than one.
There was no sense thinking about it. Bill knew he’d be going this alone.
He ducked through the trees, moving as quietly as he could. Staying totally silent wasn’t an option, but he watched where he stepped and tried to minimize the noise. A few yards in, a steep, tree-covered hill led down to a little creek. Bill stopped and looked around.
Someone was there. In the fading light of day, he could only make out the shape of a person crouched by the creek. He raised his gun and took another step forward.
Hearing the noise, the person bolted to their feet and turned toward him.
It was a woman. He saw her hair, red as fire, hanging loose and wild.
“Saints alive,” he said.
At the sound of his voice, she took off running.
On instinct alone, Bill followed. Down the ledge, over the creek, and up the hill on the other side he followed her as she darted through the woods like a wild animal. It wasn’t an easy run, and he swatted branches out of his way the whole time while barely managing to keep his target in sight. He came up another hill, went down the other side, and suddenly found himself only a few yards away from what he’d been chasing.
The woman was trapped between him and a steep drop-off.
“Please,” she called out to him.
Bill sucked in a breath and saw her clearly, now that she’d stopped moving. She wore a blue dress with long skirts. Though it had likely been quite fancy at one time, the dress was now a tattered disaster. As she tried to find footing in her heeled boots on the hill, it was obvious she favored one foot. Though she was clearly hurt, it seemed she had decided to make a stand right there, glaring at him with a rock in her hands.
It was a real stupid moment for Bill to notice she was pretty.
“Go away,” she warned, bringing him back to his senses. “Please.”
“Ma’am, between your rock and my gun who do you reckon is going to prevail here?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want trouble.” Her voice was scratchy. He wondered how long it’d been since she’d spoken to another person.
“You scared my cows.”
“They scared me first.”
He took a step forward and lowered his gun a little. Now that he could size her up, she wasn’t much of a threat. He pegged her for about thirty, his own age. She was tall for a woman, and built lean. Despite the brave words she was hollering, he saw her shaking. No doubt he’d scared her near to death.
“I think we started on the wrong foot, ma’am. My name is Bill McKenzie. We’re driving cattle up to Kansas. Abilene. Let me help you.”
“What makes you think I need help?”
“You fixin’ to live in the woods forever?” She didn’t answer, and Bill kept talking. “Come back to camp with me. We’ll get you patched up.”
“Go on your way, sir.”
“And leave you out here to be eaten by wild hogs?”
“I’d sooner face down a whole tribe of hogs than a group of men I don’t know, thank you very much.”
Bill understood her point, and liked her for it. This woman was a fighter, and probably a real pain in the ass, but she’d no doubt survived something big. He’d have bet his life her tough crankiness had played a big part in that. “Miss, if you come with me, I swear on my life no one will hurt you. If you stay out here, you’ll be dead in a week. Renegades, mountain lions, any number of creatures could hunt you down, wounded as you are.” He lowered his gun to his side. He hoped she’d understand the gesture and decide to trust him. If she didn’t, he would have to work much harder to get her back to camp, because he sure wasn’t leaving her wounded in the woods. With her hurt foot, she couldn’t run. Still, he bet she would do a lot of kicking if he tried to grab her.
“Do you happen to be passing by a town called Cricket Bend?”
Bill took a deep breath. “We’ll reach it in ’bout two, three weeks. Why?”
“Get me there alive and unharmed, and I will pay you handsomely.”
He raised an eyebrow at her tattered condition. “No offense, miss, but you don’t exactly look like someone with money.”
She stood up a bit taller and reached up a hand to smooth back her hair a little. “It’s not on me. It’s there. In Cricket Bend. Get me there, and I’ll see to it you’re rewarded.”
Her attempt at haughtiness didn’t work. Bill had seen folks pretend to have money to get out of all sorts of situations, and figured this was just the same. He’d so looked forward to avoiding Cricket Bend this year. Immediately, he knew he’d be the one to take her where she was trying to go, his father’s decree or not. After all, he wasn’t on the list of men the sheriff of the town would shoot on sight—the rest of his brothers were. Letting her travel alone for another moment would be not only ungentlemanly, but cruel. “What if we get you there just because we’re good men?”
She smirked. “Then you’re damn fools. You don’t know a thing about me. I might be fixing to murder you all and run off with your herd.”
Bill laughed. “There’s twelve of us, and two thousand head, and eighty-some horses too. If you feel like trying all alone, you’re welcome to.”
“Maybe I’m not alone.” Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head.
Bill recognized a bluff when he saw it. “I’d be the worst kind of man if I left you to die out here. Now, you can either come with me back to camp where there’s food and our cook can look at your foot, or I can stick by your side and follow you wherever you’re going. Either way, you’re stuck with me.”