Sourdough Creek (23 page)

She took the small gun from the palm of his hand and turned it over, feeling its weight, hefting it gently up and down.

“I think you’re being ridiculous.” She looked at it, and then pointed it out toward the river. “It’s so tiny. Would it even do anything?”

“It wouldn’t kill a large animal, but the blast and sting would make it think twice about attacking. A person at close range wouldn’t stand a chance, though.” He handed her a pouch of bullets.

“Oh, for goodness’ sakes!” She didn’t want anything from him. He’d already done enough. He’d not worm his way back into her good graces.

Were his narrowed eyes and hard-set mouth his attempt to scare her? She almost laughed.

“Cassie, stop being a stubborn mule.”

She glared right back.

“I won’t sleep a wink this whole month with you over here and me on the other side of the river. I know Arvid won’t budge about this camping spot, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to like it.” A sweep of his arm took in the expanse of the camp. “For one thing, you’re out in the open, easily seen from the bluff. And, like I said before, much too close to the water. There ain’t a fool like an old-brainless fool.”

She stomped her foot, which Sam didn’t even seem to notice, but pain radiated up her sore muscles. “Sam!”

“It’s true. And he’s a liar and a thief—and doesn’t give a hoot about—”

“Sam Ridgeway,” she interrupted before he could say the hurtful truth. “I won’t stand for you defaming my uncle every chance you get.” She wished she could tell Sam he was wrong about her uncle, but she wasn’t completely sure anymore. “You did your own lying, too. You were going to steal the claim from me. Why, you were willing to marry me just to get your hands on it!”

“Bloody hell,” he said under his breath. “It was already mine.
Is mine
,” he corrected. “And what about you, Miss On-the-Up-and-Up. Weren’t you trying to trick me with your boy get-ups? That’s different, right?”

He turned to go. “Had something else to give you too, but I’ve changed my mind. I’ll be back shortly with the stew.”

He’s mad. Well, good
! She placed her hands on her hips and watched his wide back as he strode toward the river. “Fine, then,” she called loudly. “By the time you get back these sweet biscuits should be done!” Going over to the fire, she scooped a large dollop of lard from the can and flung it into the hot skillet appeasing her anger some. She waited a moment till it settled, then ladled in batter making four mounds.

A high-pitched whinny, more like a whistle than a neigh, sounded from across the river, barely audible over the rushing water.

Cassie looked up to see Sam turn back and wave her over.

It only took a moment for her to run to his side. “Look,” he shouted, pointing down the valley of poppies.

Both of Sam’s horses stood with their heads held high and ears pricked. Wind lifted their manes and tails as they intently watched something.

“What? I don’t see—” She leaned closer to Sam, trying to see what he did.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

S
am chuckled as his mare snorted and pranced around, hobbles and all. When Split Ear nudged up close, she squealed and kicked at him with her left hind leg.

“A stallion,” Sam said, pointing. “Don’t you see him?”

He extended his hand and helped her scramble onto a boulder, giving her some height. “
Now
I do. He’s beautiful!” In the excitement she pointed, too. “Look. He’s rearing.”

“Blood bay,” Sam stated under his breath, in awe.

Cassie laughed at the stallion’s bold behavior as he tried to gain the mare’s attention. After a short sprint, he slid to a halt and stood tall, motionless. His confidence, as tangible as the rock Cassie stood on, rippled towards them. His gaze shifted from the mare to where Cassie and Sam watched.

“He’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen, Sam. One mass of muscle and energy. I hope he comes closer. Look at that chest! It’s massive. His hindquarters are too.”

The animal’s nostrils flared with excitement as he tossed his head.

“Actually, I heard about him in the saloon in Hangtown,” Sam said, staring. “He was purchased years ago as a colt by a rich Spanish landowner and brought out here all the way from Texas. He’s a descendent of Steel Dust, a stud well-known for siring all kinds of great horses. Some wild mustang snatched his mother from the remuda, with him still at her side, along with several other good mares. They said men have been trying to re-capture him for years. To this day no one knows where he keeps his band.”

“He doesn’t want to come too close.”

“Give him time. He’ll try for Blu and your mare, too. He’ll wait for the right moment. The cover of darkness.”

She looked at him in earnest, worried. The old Cassie. The one he’d held in the moonlight after she’d fallen asleep on Meadowlark. Her eyes searched his. Her kissable mouth tempted him.

“What can we do? We’d be stranded without our horses.” Sam was sorry when she looked away, back at the marauder. “Besides, I’d never want to lose Meadowlark.”

“As long as we’re diligent about keeping the horses hobbled, and close, we should be okay. We’ll tie one to a tree in camp every night; the others won’t go far.”

The stallion spun a full circle and pawed the ground with a powerful foreleg, digging through the damp earth and sent a clump of sod flying.

Sam laughed heartily. “Looks like he means business.”

The stallion trotted a few feet closer, prompting another round of squeals from Blu, and forcing Split Ear to hold his ground by pinning his ears and snorting.

“Poor Split Ear,” Sam chuckled. “His only girl has abandoned him.”

Sam took out his pistol and fired one shot into the air, which brought Arvid running from his tent, gun in hand. The stallion raced away before Arvid could see it.

“What’s going on?” He was breathing hard by the time he reached the riverbank. “Injun?”

“No. Stallion. He’s interested in our mares.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Arvid said, waving his gun around.

“You wouldn’t!” Cassie jumped down from the rock and faced her uncle, her brow furrowed.

“Why wouldn’t I? I defend what’s mine.”

“Because it’s not right! He was here first and this is his home.”

“Women. They’re always so over-romantic.” Arvid stomped back toward his tent. “Call me when supper is ready. I’m starved.”

“Okay, now I’m really off,” Sam said, disliking the man even more, if that were possible. “Don’t worry too much about Arvid and the stallion. That animal is a mature horse, cagey enough to have avoided the lariat for this long. I doubt your uncle could kill him even if he tried.”

“That doesn’t make me feel much better. How can anyone think like that?”

Sam tried to keep the knowing look off his face. Especially as Cassie’s expression said she wanted to bite her own tongue for proving his point.

Cassie waited by the bank as Sam walked away, feeling very small in the bigness of the land. The breeze chilled her. Upstream, the river careened around a bend and crashed down a short waterfall into a big, black pool. It continued on to the shallower spot where Sam was getting ready to cross. Farther down, it widened for a few yards, and then narrowed into wicked looking rapids.

When Sam had hopped his way across the rocks and climbed the far bank, she turned and headed back to the fire. With a pot holder in each hand, Cassie dumped out the scorched biscuits she’d been frying before the stallion arrived. With a degree of difficulty, she wiped out the hot, weighty skillet with a dishtowel. Setting the utensil back over the fire, she scooped another clump of lard and this time carefully plopped it in. At home, she could have managed the skillet one-handed, but here, on the trail, it took two—and it was three times as tricky.

She sat back on her heels and watched as the fat melted into a clear liquid. She’d yet to get the hang of cooking over a campfire. When they’d first started their journey together they had eaten the supplies they brought with them: jerky, baked bread, and fruit. Now that most of that was eaten, food preparations fell to her shoulders.

But tonight, their first supper on the Sourdough, Sam was graciously bringing over something he’d put together. How nice of him, she conceded. Thoughtful, indeed. Whatever it was, she didn’t care. The fact that there was going to be something to fill her gnawing belly was a blessing. And one she greatly appreciated. Staunchly, trying to hold onto the hurt she still felt every waking moment, she shoved away any nice feeling about him.

If only she had a table to work on. Even a log would be an improvement. She looked around. A fallen tree not that far away had been stripped of its branches by someone else. If she could get it over here it would serve as a work-top of sorts. Walking the short distance, she bent her knees and gripped onto the trunk, giving a serious tug. It moved slightly. She’d need help to get it over to the fire.

“Uncle Arvid, can you give me a hand out here?”

She waited for him to respond. “Uncle?”

Arvid poked his head out of his tent. “What? Is supper ready? What’s taking so long?”

Taken aback by his angry tone, Cassie glanced away for a moment before putting a smile on her face. “Could you help me drag this log closer to the fire? It’ll make cooking a lot easier.”

Arvid disappeared back inside. He emerged moments later pulling his suspenders up over his shoulders. “Seems like a lot of work to me. Always something with you, girl.”

She felt awkward. “I can get it later with my horse if you’re rather not do it now. I didn’t realize you were resting.”

He sat on the ground and pulled on his boots. “Just taking a nap before supper. Got to rest when I can.”

Cassie had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from saying something. What would happen if they weren’t able to move the log? If it was too heavy? She’d seen his temper several times during their trip, explosive enough to make her insides quake. Then, his laziness began to grate on her nerves. Who was Uncle Arvid? Really? Other than being her father’s older brother, she realized she didn’t truly know him at all.

Arvid came up and took a hold. “Go on and get that end,” he directed her. “On the count of three. One, two, three—”

Cassie shoved for all she was worth and the log moved forward several feet. Arvid lurched back, but caught his heel. He fell hard on his backside. The log was ripped from Cassie’s hands.

Arvid screamed out like a tortured animal, writhing in pain. Cassie ran to his side and dropped to her knees, not knowing what to do.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

“D
on’t touch me, girl!” Arvid screeched. “Don’t touch me! You’ve done enough harm already. I think my back’s broke.” His arms were drawn up to his chest, his fingers resembling the crooked talons of a bird. Pain contorted his face as he glared at her.

“Uncle Arvid, let me help you,” she gasped. “I’ll get you back to your tent.”

“No. Not ’til the pain stops.” His eyes rolled back in his head as he groaned.

“I’ll get Sam. He’ll be able to help better—” Cassie gulped down a sob as she stood. The spectacle of her uncle on the ground held her spellbound. “I’ll be back as fast as I can. He’ll know what to do.”

Cassie took off toward the river, running as fast as she could. She paused at the river’s edge looking for the path Sam had taken, then dashed across. The last rock was covered in slime, and she slipped, plunging her foot into the icy water before she had a chance to catch her balance.

Scrambling up the opposite side, she ran all the way to his campsite where she fell to her knees, struggling to catch her breath.

Sam heard someone running across the ground, heard harsh breaths interspersed with the footsteps. Was it Cassie? He bounded from his tent. “What happened? Is the stallion back?”

She shook her head, unable to speak, her breath still a tangle within her chest. Sam took her by her arms and pulled her upright so he could see her face.

“Go on, take a deep breath.”

“It’s Uncle Arvid. He’s hurt bad. Please come.”

Sam grasped Cassie’s hand and pulled her along behind him as they ran down into the meadow, spooking the horses. When they arrived at the river’s edge he gave her no time to protest, but scooped her into his arms and carried her across. They made it back to her camp in minutes.

“There.” Cassie pointed.

Sam went over and dropped to one knee. “Arvid. Arvid. Can you hear me?”

The old man’s eyes popped open, blazing hot with anger. Sam jerked back in surprise. “I can hear you, you piece of dung! I just can’t move!”

Sam stood up slowly and turned to Cassie, whose face was ashen. “What happened?’

Her teeth chattered violently, making it hard for her to answer. “We were trying to pull this log over by the fire, so I could use it for a table. He tripped and fell. I had asked for his help. It’s my fault he’s been hurt.”

Sam gently tipped her face up with his finger. “Accidents happen, Cassie. But still, we need to get him into his tent where he’ll be more comfortable. You go in and straighten it out so I can lay him down.”

She nodded.

“Arvid, this is going to hurt,” Sam said, kneeling down again by his side. “But we have to get you somewhere where we can take care of you. So,” Sam found a stick and placed it between Arvid’s teeth, “bite on this if it hurts too bad. I’m going to pick you up and put you on your bedroll.”

Arvid’s eyes grew large with fear. He rolled his head back and forth.

Cassie was back. “It’s ready.”

“Bite now,” Sam said, slipping one arm under his shoulders and one under his knees.

“Aaaarrrggggg!”

“Bite the stick!”

“Acccckkkkgggg!”

“Keep biting!”

In six smooth strides, Sam had Arvid on his bedroll. As he laid him down, the older man moaned, his arms and legs stiff, as if frozen in pain. Carefully, Sam straightened out his limbs and removed his boots. He covered him with a blanket. Cassie waited at the opening of the small tent, crestfallen.