Gabriel's Atonement (23 page)

“Look at that!” Behind them, a large wagon hauled a single-mast ship. “What do you think they plan to do with that on the prairie?”

Grandpa shook his head. “Gives a whole new meaning to prairie schooner.”

Lara chuckled. “Look at that boat, Michael.”

Her son oohed and aahed as they watched the big wagon circle around and out of sight. It seemed everyone's spirits were high, and many were singing. Still, most every man she saw was armed. Every now and then, a shot rang out and someone bagged a meadowlark, jackrabbit, or prairie dog.

As she reached the end of the bridge and had the advantage of high ground, she spied an unusually tall, old-fashioned buggy pulled by two shaggy yellow horses. A gangly-legged colt trotted alongside, nuzzling at its mother. A woman drove the wagon, holding the reins in one hand and a baby in the other. A tow-headed boy followed along behind, lobbing clods of dirt at a disgruntled cow. As long as Lara lived, she'd never forget the sights she'd seen this day.

By nightfall, they reached Pond Creek. Lara set about making dinner while Jo and Michael pitched the tent and got out the bedding. Grandpa tended to the animals. In spite of doing nothing but riding all day, Lara was tired and ready for sleep. Tomorrow was the twentieth, and the land run was just two days after that. Soon they would know if they had a home or not.

As she lay down on her pallet in the tent with Michael, her thoughts turned to Gabe Coulter. The man hadn't returned for his booklet as he'd said. Had he gotten tied up selling his horses? Or maybe he never really intended to return. Why should he? She was nothing to him except a needy woman.

She hated such thoughts, but they were the truth. Although she was only twenty-one, she felt worn down, haggard, ugly. What man would look at her twice when all she had to wear were faded, raggedy dresses? And what did she care if one did? She wasn't looking for a man. Gabe had sneaked over her defensive walls and helped her. She knew not to trust a man. But how could one as kind and generous as he be a wily gambler? The picture she had of him in her mind didn't fit with the gambler image. Could the stranger have been wrong?

She blew out a sigh. What did it matter? More than likely she would never cross paths with Gabe Coulter again, not with thousands of people crowding into the same area.

Gabe stretched out on his cot in the large Rock Island Hotel tent. It was his first time to stay in a makeshift hotel. All around him, men's deep chatter blended with the loud snores from those already asleep. Rain splatted on the top of the tent. He hoped Luke would be able to stay dry and get some sleep where he'd camped near the horses. Even though the hotel clerk had assured them they'd hired armed guards to watch over the animals, Luke wanted to stay close. Gabe admired the man. Even more so, he actually liked him. Luke had become the closest thing he'd had to a friend in as long as he could remember.

He turned on his side, thinking over the day. His only regret was that he hadn't gotten back to see Lara. So many people haggled over his horses that he'd organized an auction and ended up selling all except for Tempest, Luke's palomino, and their packhorse. His pockets were full of cash—enough money to purchase the supplies he would need to establish a home and ranch. He could even afford to hire some men to build a solid wood house. In his rented suite in Kansas City, he owned enough furniture already to furnish his bedroom, study, and parlor. The only problem was that whenever he closed his eyes and dreamed of the new place, Lara Talbot invaded those dreams as she walked through the rooms of the new house and decorated them. She was the one he wanted to share it with.

But she never would.

He couldn't—wouldn't—marry her, even if she was willing, without telling her that he'd killed her husband, albeit not intentionally. Once she heard that news, she wouldn't want anything to do with him.

He saw no answer to his dilemma.

He yawned and flipped onto his back. Hopefully, tomorrow's crossing of the Salt Fork would go as easily as today's trek did. Although if the rain continued, it would make fording the river much harder. People like Lara who had wagons would face the worst of it. Would her pitiful mule even be able to make it across a swollen river pulling their rig?

Gabe's body relaxed and felt heavy as sleep drew near. The sudden pop of gunfire erupted, and he jerked awake. He bolted up, yanked on his boots, and rushed outside. The gunfire came from the direction of the horse corral. Men yelled. The high-pitched squeals of the frightened animals rent the air that was already filled with the acrid stench of gunpowder.

Several men rode past Gabe, with several riderless horses in tow. Gabe stepped into the path of Luke's riderless horse, his hands held out to his side. “Whoa, boy.”

The gelding slid to a halt and reared, his slashing hooves narrowly missing Gabe's face. When the animal set all four hooves on the ground, Gabe grabbed his halter and then smoothed his hand across the gelding's neck, cooing soft, soothing sounds. The well-trained horse quickly settled under his gentle touch. Gabe led the animal back and found Luke bending over one of the guards, who'd been shot. When he glanced up and saw Gabe with his horse, relief softened his expression.

“I can't tell you how glad I am that you caught Golden Boy. I've had that horse three years, and I'd sure hate to lose 'im.”

Gabe nodded, his gaze searching the corral for Tempest. He didn't see the horse, but it was night and there were few lights about. He whistled, and the tension fled when he got an answering neigh. Tempest pushed through the other horses and stuck his head over the fence, obviously happy to see his owner after the mayhem. Gabe held on to Golden Boy while scratching Tempest's face and between his ears. “You're all right, buddy.”

Other people rushed to the corral, and soon the breach had been repaired and the injured man carried off to the doctor's tent.

With Golden Boy back in the corral and standing next to Tempest, Gabe finally relaxed. Rain dampened his clothing, but he wouldn't be sleeping in his dry cot tonight. Not when there could well be others who'd like to steal their horses. He hadn't yet seen their packhorse, but dawn would reveal if it was still there.

As he leaned against the railing beside Luke, he blew out a frustrated breath. “I'll sure be glad when this land rush is over so we can get a full night's sleep.”

“Yeah. Somewhere dry with hot food.”

Gabe nodded. “Why don't you take my place in the hotel tent, and I'll stay here for a while, keeping watch. We can trade off later.”

Luke eyed him. “You really wouldn't mind? I am drenched to the bones and would love to get out of these clothes.”

“No. Go on. I couldn't sleep now anyway, and I'm used to staying up late. Four a.m. has been my normal bedtime for years.”

“If you're sure.”

“Go!” Gabe swatted his hand in the air. “Get some rest.”

Luke nodded then trotted away. Gabe crossed his arms over his chest, wishing he had his duster. No sooner had he wished it than Luke came jogging toward him, holding the coat.

“Thanks!” Gabe took it and settled into the dry jacket, relishing its warmth. He leaned back against the corral railings, hooking one boot over the lowest one. Tempest leaned his head over and nudged Gabe's shoulder, and he reached up and patted the horse's muzzle. Gabe yawned. He'd been looking forward to a good night's sleep in a dry bed, but that wasn't going to happen now. At least they'd managed to save their saddle horses.

He nodded at one of the guards who walked past him. To keep his mind off the rain and how miserable the night was, he mentally ran through the course of travel he planned to take on the land run. He wanted to get property along the Cimarron River, near Guthrie. And he hoped that Lara Talbot got a section of land that bordered up next to his, but the odds were against that happening. Still, a man could dream.

He smiled as he thought of all the ways he could help the pretty widow. Maybe if he bided his time until she finished mourning her husband—well, maybe something could develop between them. The image of those beautiful green eyes rarely left his thoughts. He blew out a loud sigh. When he first started on this venture, he'd never have guessed he would meet a woman who intrigued him so much.

The blazing campfire cast a brave circle of light into the misty night. Two of the riders Payton Reeves had hired rode in fast and yanked their mounts to a quick stop, the horses trailing behind bumping into the rumps of the leaders. Payton searched the half-dozen nags for one particular horse and cursed. He kicked the water bucket, sending it flying into the shadows. One of the horses squealed and sidestepped when the bucket landed nearby.

“That was stupid.” Albert Swan scratched his chest and yawned. Keeping hold of the ropes tied to the horses trailing his mount, he stepped to the ground.

Payton glared at the man he'd hired to help him steal Gabe Coulter's horses. “You're the stupid one, Swan. You couldn't even swipe the right horses.”

“It was dark, and the one you wanted is black. How'd you 'spect me to find the right one at night and with no lantern?”

“That was your problem. I paid you to get two particular horses—the palomino and the black with the diamond on its forehead.”

“That palomino was following us until some yahoo cut 'im off.”

Payton spat. “Coulter, most likely.”

“At least we got some good mounts you can sell,” Raul, the second rider, said. “Prices are running high for horses.”

“That may be true, but that wasn't the point of this venture. I wanted to keep one particular man from riding in the run.”

“If you don't want the horses, we'll take them. I nearly lost my head stealing them.” Albert poked a finger through a hole in his hat.

“There was extra guards posted. If two of 'em hadn't fallen asleep, we pro'bly wouldn't have gotten any.”

Payton shook his head. “Get them on a picket line.” He suddenly swung about and stared into the darkness, listening. His camp was a ways north of the mayhem at the border, so no one should come this way unless his men had been followed. The crickets resumed their ruckus, and he relaxed.

This scheme hadn't gone as planned. He'd just have to come up with some other way to get back at Gabe Coulter for ruining his brother's life.

And he would.

He had to.

T
he day before the land rush, Lara sat with her family in a crowd surrounding a minister, and celebrated Easter Sunday. The man's loud voice carried well, but right behind them another group was playing baseball.

The minister turned slowly, and Lara was able to catch most of his comments. “Have you ever considered how the disciples felt after Jesus died? They thought He was the Messiah, but now He was dead.”

Crack! The smack of a bat hitting a ball reverberated in the few seconds the minister paused to allow his thought to seep into the minds of his listeners.

“Run! Run!” Cheers rang out.

“Slide!”

Jo rose onto her knees and turned toward the ball players. Lara tugged her down and frowned, shaking her head. Jo scowled and flounced back onto the blanket, her arms crossed.

“They'd lost someone who was so precious to them,” the man continued as the crowd behind them quieted, “and their expectations had to have been crushed. Woe is we.” He shook his head. “What about you? Tomorrow is a monumental day. A historical day. But what if you fail to obtain land tomorrow? Will your faith in God be crushed, like the disciples'?”

He turned a slow circle again. “Remember folks, Jesus rose from the grave! Hallelujah!”

Many in the crowd repeated his praise to God, as the baseball players' chants rose in volume again.

“When the disciples were at their lowest, Jesus appeared to them in the room, with the doors still locked. And what did He say to them?”

“Peace!” several men yelled out.