Reese (29 page)

Reese retrieved Atlanta. The horse was glad to see him, nearly knocking him down in its enthusiasm. Someone had been taking good care of him, brushing his auburn coat, laying fresh bedding, and from the appearance of the debris, bringing him apples and carrots. Cash always said he treated Atlanta like a pet; now he'd probably have to.

He packed his saddlebags with the small number of supplies he'd taken from Mary's larder. He'd left one hundred and fifty dollars on her kitchen table. He couldn't take her money.

When he rode out of Rock Creek, folks waved good-bye, as if he were one of them, as if he were coming back. He stared straight ahead and kept on going.

"Hey, Reese, you okay now? We were worried." The twins ran down the boardwalk at a pace with Atlanta. "We took care of your horse. Nice horse. Can we come along?"

They'd been worried about him? Didn't anyone in this town understand he wasn't worth worrying about?

Reese kicked Atlanta into a gallop and left Rock Creek in the dust. One more minute and he'd have given in to the urge to climb down from his mount, pat those boys on the head, then show them how to clean a horse's hooves. With a little guidance, those two could become fine men, but they weren't going to get that guidance from Baxter Sutton.

They weren't going to get it from Reese either. As Mary had shouted, he wasn't everyone's schoolmaster. He was no one's now and never would be again.

When he was far enough away for it not to be too tempting to return, Reese drew Atlanta to a halt and glanced back. Mary watched him, just as she had when he'd come into town. But now he knew how she tasted, how she felt, how she sounded when she sighed his name.

She raised her hand—no longer hello but good-bye. How could she still wave good-bye as if he weren't taking everything and leaving forever?

Reese wheeled Atlanta and headed in the direction his men had gone the last time anyone had seen them alive.

He wasn't up to this, and he knew it. But he had responsibilities to the men who had called him captain. They had followed him; they had trusted him. He had led and trusted them too.

He'd trusted them not to die, dammit! He'd thought men like those would have the courtesy to let him die first or at least take him along when they did.

He rode all day—until he nearly dropped from the saddle—with no sign of anyone. Dead or alive. How was he going to find them when his scout and his spy were among those he searched for?

He'd just have to keep trying. If worse came to worst, he'd hire another scout at the fort.

Reese made camp and fed Atlanta, then himself. As he dozed in the flicker of firelight, the ghosts came. New ghosts to add to the old.

The thunder of hooves announced riders coming in fast. Reese knew who they were—the latest additions to his nightmares.

Five horses walked into camp. His men dismounted and helped themselves to coffee, then ranged around the fire. With bright lights of exhaustion flickering in front of his eyes, Reese stared at them. They looked almost...
Alive.

Cash threw himself down next to Reese. "Looks like you're alive."

Reese blinked, waiting for his friends to disappear.

"We were worried,
Capitan.
Nate thought you would die from the fever, then, when we finally breached El Diablo's lair and he was not there..."

"Figured you and the rest of Rock Creek were goners," Jed finished.

Frowning, Reese reached over and touched Cash's arm. Cash scowled. "What the hell's that for?"

"You're alive."

"Damn right. You want a hug too?"

Reese shook his head, then gulped lukewarm coffee.

"Never thought Miss Bossy would let you out of bed so soon." Cash wiggled his eyebrows.

After a moment, Reese managed to speak again. "What happened?"

Cash shrugged. "We went to El Diablo's hideout. Planned to blow him back to hell, but they were dug in just like you said they'd be."

Reese raised an eyebrow.

"I know. You're always right. Anyway, we decided we weren't leaving until we rooted them out. When we finally went over the wall, all we found were the Injuns. No chiefs." Cash glanced at Sullivan. "No offense."

"One of these days, Cash, I'm goin' to take offense."

Cash didn't appear worried. Man had to have ice in his veins and nerves of iron, but Reese suspected that's what made him both a gunfighter and a gambler.

He found it interesting that Cash seemed to have taken over the expedition, becoming the leader in Reese's absence. He never would have thought Cash gave a damn about anyone but himself. But it seemed Reese had been wrong about a whole lot of things lately.

"As soon as we finished with the followers, we went after the leaders."

"Finished?" Reese saw an entire ghost ranch littered with bodies, and he didn't want to be the cause of that no matter what they had done.

"The ones that weren't already dead, we sent to Mexico with a warning that the Yankees were coming."

"The army," Nate corrected, wearily sipping at his flask. "They're the army now. Not Yankees."

"They'll always be Yankees to me, preacher-man."

"And they went? You're sure?"

"Once they found out there was no gold in Rock Creek they were happy to. There isn't any gold, is there?"

"Not according to El Diablo. He just wanted his land back."

Cash grunted. "That's what I thought. If there was gold in that town, I'd have smelled it."

"Once Sullivan and I made sure the bad men were over the border, we came on the run to rescue our
capitan.
But here you are. Where are El Diablo and his friend?"

"In their graves, as of yesterday."

Cash slapped Reese on the back. He winced as his shoulder howled. "And you half-dead. You never cease to impress me, Reese."

"I didn't shoot 'em."

"Who did? Your mouthy schoolteacher? Nate's little friend? Or perhaps the mother of those twin terrors?"

"The Devil shot Jefferson, and then Brown shot the Devil."

"Brown? Surprising that he'd do anything for anyone, but I guess he owed you. So the job is over. The bad guys are dead or gone, and Rock Creek doesn't need us anymore. Where's my money?"

"I'll have to get that to you later."

Cash's eyes narrowed. "Twenty-five dollars isn't much, but it's mine. I can play it into more."

Reese took a deep breath. "I thought you were dead. I was coming to bury you."

"Where the hell did you get the idea we were dead?"

"El Diablo."

"The Devil is the prince of lies." Nate took another drink. "And you believed him?"

"I knew you'd never let him get past you and come after me if you were alive."

"Shit," was Cash's only comment. The rest just appeared embarrassed.

"Now what?" Jed asked.

"Now Reese gets me my money."

Reese didn't even glance at Cash. "I left the money for Mary."

"Get it back."

"I'll find you the money somewhere else."

"But
Capitan,
aren't we going back? I like Rock Creek, and they seem to like us now too. We can make it our base. Whenever we have nowhere else to be, no other job to do, we can stay there. When you need us, you can send your messages to the hotel."

"No more messages." Reese sighed. "No more jobs."

They stared at him dumbfounded. Even Nate roused himself enough to scowl in Reese's direction.

He owed them an explanation, though he really didn't want to share this part of himself. He wanted to ride off into the sunrise with his men still believing he was a worthy leader. But if he did that, they'd never let him go. So he'd tell them the truth about who and what he was—to a point. Some things were better left unsaid.

"I'm not always right."

"Oh, yeah, that's a surprise."

"Let me finish, Cash." The gunman held up his hands in surrender. "Before we got together during the war, I had my own company. Lost every man and ended up in the hospital with a minie ball in my back."

He waited for the looks disgust, the words of derision. No one said anything for several moments.

"Explains where you got the scar." Sullivan shrugged.

"Don't you know what a scar like that means?"

"You were hurt,
Capitan."

"Most folks thought I was shot running away."

"Most folks were damn fools, then." Nate stared into the fire as if contemplating past damn fools he had known.

Cash lit a cigar. "I've known you for seven years, and I never saw you run from a fight. If you aren't talkin' to 'em first, you're right up in front just beggin' to be picked off. Never could figure out why you had a death wish. Until now."

Reese had a hard time believing these men, who were rougher than rough, who had seen horrible things and therefore believed the worst of everyone, always, could sit around calmly drinking and smoking and defending him, just as Mary had, when people who had known him all his life had cast him out without a quiver.

"Just because I haven't run since you've known me doesn't mean I didn't at one time."

"You've never asked any of us what we did before." Cash blew a waft of smoke into Reese's face. "Why?"

"Don't care. It's what you do now that matters."

"What makes you special?"

"Huh?"

"How come you get to trust and we don't? How come you get to believe in us but we can't believe in you? What makes you so damn special, Reese? I don't give a shit what you did once. All I care about is what you do now, when you're in front of me or behind me. How about the rest of you?"

The others nodded in agreement with Cash, which might have been a first.

"You lost your company. Join the club." Jed tossed the remains of his coffee into the fire. "How do you think every last one of us ended up called to Atlanta by Mosby?"

"But—but my men were all from my hometown. They weren't even men; they were boys. They went to war because of me, and they died for it."

"Big damn deal," Cash sneered. "Most of the men in that war were boys. Hell, we were all boys back then. We did what we had to do."

"Fat lot of good it did," Nate slurred. "Still lost. Think you're special? We all got our problems."

"At least with you,
Capitan,
we win."

"I thought you'd died because of me."

"Well, we didn't, so get over it," Cash said. "We like working with you. We like having you in charge. Don't screw up a good thing, Reese. Let's just keep this little group exactly as is."

Reese didn't understand. They weren't behaving the way he'd thought they would once they knew the truth. He'd hid his past for so long, he could barely manage to speak of it, but they acted as if his killing a company of boys was nothing. What had they done to make his sins appear negligible?

Cash was right. He didn't care.

Thinking the issue resolved, everyone bedded down. Though exhausted, Reese couldn't sleep. His mind was too full. If men like these could hear his darkest secret and shrug, if a woman like Mary could know everything and still love him, then might his family have forgiven him too?

There was only one way to find out.

When the sun rose in the east, Reese had already been riding in that direction for hours.

* * *

Mary was helping at the store when the Sutton twins tore in. "The six are back! But there's only five."

Then they went out again. Mary glanced at Rose, who was stocking calico bolts in the rear. Rose nodded, and Mary ran after the boys.

Only five? Who was missing? And why?

Mary's heart hurt, both from the unanswered questions that plagued her mind and running amid the first true heat of a Rock Creek summer.

The five men and their horses stood in front of the hotel. They all glanced up as Mary puffed to a stop in front of them. She reached for the hitching post so she wouldn't fall down.

Rico hurried forward and put an arm about her. "He is not dead,
senorita.
Calm yourself."

"He thought you were all dead. He wouldn't wait here; he had to go after you."

"We heard the whole story," Cash drawled, and strode past her into the hotel.

"Wh-where is he?"

"No idea." Jed followed Cash.

"When we awoke this morning," Rico said, "he was gone."

"He got past Sullivan?" She glanced at the man in question, who shrugged and went inside with Nate.

"If
el capitan
wanted to go, he would go. And if Sullivan heard him, he would say nothing."

"You have no idea where he went?"

"East. We thought perhaps he came here, but obviously not."

Mary's eyes burned, and she blinked fast to avoid embarrassing herself.

She had meant nothing to him. Why was she surprised? His excuse that he was no good, that he was poison, was just that—an excuse. Because here were the men he'd thought dead, and they sure didn't look dead to her. Yet upon finding them alive, Reese had run off. They had come back, and he had gone east. Maybe he did have a wife and children. Who knew? Certainly no one in this town.

"He still might come back,
senorita.
We are here. He will find us."

Mary shrugged off Rico's arm. "Perhaps."

As she walked to the store, Mary refused to allow hope to enter her heart. Even if Reese did return, it would no doubt be for the men.

If he'd wanted her, he never would have left in the first place.

* * *

Life returned to normal. School was out for the summer. Kids ran wild in the streets and down by the creek. The cougar was dead, and so was the Devil. The stage stop returned, and the town began to blossom once more. Everyone was happy. Or almost everyone.

Grady returned to his hotel and discovered boarders. Rico, Sullivan, and Jed continued to live there. Nate and Cash retreated to the saloon, which they fixed up just enough to be livable. One or two would drift out of town for a day or a week. But they always came back.

They seemed to like it in Rock Creek, perhaps because everywhere else they were hired help. Here they had made the town stronger, saved it, really, and the folks accepted them as citizens.

Of course, Sutton whined once in a while, but Mary had caught him sneaking over to play cards with Cash, and the more Sutton did that, the less he complained about them. Clancy wanted them gone too, but he hadn't the guts to say anything to them. He just railed at Mary whenever he could and made veiled insinuations during Sunday sermons, which everyone ignored.