The Renegades: Nick (4 page)

“You said I was no gentleman, but do you take me for a man with no honor at all?”

“We-e-ll, that remains to be seen. My main worry is not my virtue but my breath, since you want me gone so badly,” she said, with a little grin. “Or at least, you did. What if you’re only pretending to accept me as your neighbor?”

“The black marks on my reputation have never included shooting a woman in the back,” he said, smiling, holding her gaze. “I’ll even furnish you with a gun that works, so we’ll be on level ground.”

That made her laugh out loud. She had a hearty laugh that surprised him, since there was sadness deep in her eyes.

“Level ground is exactly right,” she said, glancing around her at the prairie. “I’ve never seen such level ground.”

Some of the sadness had crept into her voice. He felt an urgent need to cheer her, to hold onto the warmth of their jesting.

“Anyhow, I’m the one who ought to be worried about turning my back,” he said. “You’re
the one who’s already taken a shot at me.”

She narrowed her eyes and threw his own words back at him in a fair imitation of his own voice.

“Damn straight I’m mean, and don’t you forget it.”

That made him laugh, too. She was a good mimic.

When she was being playful, she was beautiful. Not beautiful in that tall, sleek, dark-haired, majestic way that Matilda had been beautiful, but beautiful in her spirit. She was as different from Matilda as a honeysuckle blossom from a rose. A blood-red rose, as it happened.

They stopped laughing at the same moment because he tensed and turned to look to the south. He’d heard hoofbeats.

“What? What is it?”

He shook his head and held up his hand for quiet.

“Riders coming,” he said, when he was sure. “Two horses.”

Amazement in her eyes, she stared at him.

“I don’t hear anything but the wind.”

“You’ll have to learn to hear if you stay.”

A flash of hurt and then anger crossed her face.

“I’m staying. You can count on that, Nick Smith. Before I’m done with the Cherokee Strip, every pig you see will be wearing a hat.”

That made him laugh again. He might as well laugh as cry or throw rocks, because this woman plainly intended to stick here. At least for now. She and the two riding toward them, and hundreds of others besides.

He spoke to her straight.

“If these riders stop here,” he said, “don’t breathe a word about water.”

He went to his horse, drew the long gun from its saddle scabbard, and stood in the shade of the wagon to wait. Callie walked to her stack of belongings and pulled out a cast-iron skillet. He tried, but he couldn’t keep from smiling a little.

“Your new weapon?”

“Don’t laugh,” she said. “Unlike the gun, I know this will work.”

“You’d have to get mighty close to a man to hit him with it.”

“That’s your job,” she said. “You distract him. Or them, if this is Baxter and his brother.”

He shook his head at the determined look on her face. God help her, out here by herself.

“I can see right now I’ll have to get you a gun.”

He held up his hand for silence when she opened her mouth.

“No obligation. A loan, only a loan. You can cook my supper tonight for payment.”

The visitors proved to be a man and a woman on separate horses, with a child up in
front of the woman. They rode in a straight line toward Callie’s wagon, so they obviously did intend to stop.

“A woman!” Callie said. “Oh, I hope they’re our neighbors.”

Nick’s gut tightened. She’d better not be telling the other woman everything she knew.

“Remember not to mention my spring.”

She cut her eyes at him as her only answer before she laid her skillet down and walked out to meet the new people. Damn his flapping tongue! It had been totally unlike him to let slip his source of water to her in the first place.

“Hello, there, Sir, Missus,” the man called. “We’re your neighbors to the south. Our name is Peck.”

He had a mellow voice with an educated tone to it. In that way, at least, he was not another lout like Baxter. And as any man with any manners would do, he was looking at Nick, politely speaking to the man of the place instead of to a woman he’d never met. Miss Callie, however, took it upon herself to reply.

“Welcome, neighbors, come on in and get down.”

Damn! She didn’t have to say that!

The Pecks immediately accepted both invitations.

“Cool a bit and rest awhile,” she babbled on, as if this were her place instead of his. “I’m
Callie Sloane, and this is Nick Smith.”

If only she’d keep quiet about the water, all this hospitality would be fine.

“I’m Jacob Peck,” the man said, going to the other horse and lifting the child to the ground, then helping the woman dismount. “This is my wife, Sophronia, and our little girl, Hope.”

Callie instantly engaged the woman and child in conversation while Peck strode purposefully to Nick with his hand outstretched.

“Good to meet you, Mr. Smith,” he boomed.

He had a firm handshake and a direct, honest look in his eye which, under other circumstances, would have caused Nick to like him well enough. Now he wished the man right back where he came from.

“So you’re one of the lucky ones,” he said, nearly choking on the words. “You got a claim.”

“Well, I suppose it remains to be seen whether that’s lucky or not,” Jacob Peck said heartily.

Nick smiled a bit in spite of himself.

“That’s a common sense remark.”

“Common sense and the good Lord will carry us through,” Peck said. “And good neighbors. That’s why we’re here.”

Oh, great. A regular social animal.

“I was just taking off this wagon wheel,” Nick said, gesturing toward the wagon, hoping to discourage a long visit.

Peck evidently was a generous man, too. He turned and looked at the work.

“Need a hand?” he asked. “I’d be glad to give you some help with it.”

“No. Thanks anyway.”

“Do you have enough water to soak it to get the rim back on?”

What a busybody! And what a loudmouth! He’d spoken loud enough to stop the women’s conversation. Nick held his breath at what Callie might say.

“Mr. Smith is being good enough to help me,” she said, strolling over to join them with Mrs. Peck and the child in tow. “This is his claim right here, where my rig broke down, and that next quarter-section over to the east is mine.”

Nick’s gut tightened. That was what came of having the world full of people—feeling the need to explain things which were nobody else’s business.

Mr. Peck turned, smiled at her and tipped his hat.

“Will your husband be joining you soon, ma’am?”

“I’m a widow, sir,” she said.

“Well, we wish you all the best with proving up your claim, ma’am,” he said. “Please don’t hesitate to send to us if you need help. Our claim is the one directly south of yours.”

Mrs. Peck was beaming at Callie.

“I’m so glad you’ll be near us, Mrs. Sloane,” she said. “It’s so nice to have another woman in visiting distance.”

“Come by any time,” Mr. Peck said. “Our latchstring is always out.”

“And mine,” Callie said eagerly. “Please don’t pass by without stopping.”

Foolish girl. She didn’t know the first thing about these people.

Nick threw her a sharp glance. She’d better not try to include him in this neighborhood social club, and none of them had better be dropping by his cabin.

“Mama,” the little girl piped up, “where’s the water?”

“We don’t know yet, dear.”

“I’m thirsty.”

Nick stared hard at Callie’s profile, willing her to look at him. Stubbornly, she wouldn’t.

“Papa has the canteen on his horse. Come with me and I’ll give you a drink.”

Thank goodness, these people really did have common sense. But Callie couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie.

“Oh, no,” she said, “you may need your water on the way back. This heat is so fierce.”

He set his jaw and waited, helpless. The only thing worse than this makeshift, neighborly homesteaders social would be dozens of them camped at his spring.

“I have water in the wagon,” Callie said.
“Come here, Hope, and let me give you a drink.”

Neither of the Peck adults insisted on using their own supply, so Callie climbed into the wagon and brought out a cup filled with water. The little girl took it in both hands and drank thirstily.

“Thank you, Mrs. Sloane,” Peck said.

“Yes, thank you,” Mrs. Peck echoed.

Incredibly, a silence actually did fall, even between the chattering women. And, of course, Peck chose that moment to inquire about a water source.

“We haven’t found any water on our place, at least not so far,” Mr. Peck said. “Do you have any information about the nearest spring or creek or river, Mr. Smith?”

Nick felt Callie’s glance, but he didn’t return it.

“Chikaskia Creek’s about five miles due south-southwest,” he said, gesturing. “You’ll be riding into the wind, so you’ll have to hustle to get there and back before night.”

Peck turned to look in that direction.

“I’m thinking there’ll be more claim-jumping trouble after dark,” Nick said. “Somebody’s liable to come along and rip up your flag and plant their own while you’re gone.”

Unfortunately, that didn’t worry Peck one bit.

“We have four grown sons holding the
claim,” he said. “They’re plenty capable.”

“We’ve already had trouble with one man trying to take my claim,” Callie said. “Baxter is his name. He has a black beard and he’s riding a mule. Watch out for him.”

Mrs. Peck gasped.

“Oh, we will. Thank you for the warning.”

For another long moment, no one spoke. Nick hoped they were thinking about the dangers out here on the prairie. Maybe they’d go back where they came from.

Then Callie and Mrs. Peck resumed their chattering and Nick kept trying to overhear them. He had no idea why—if Callie said the wrong thing, the harm would already be done and there’d be no way he could undo it.

“How low is the creek?” Jacob Peck was saying, for the second time.

“Running less than half full, somebody said right before the Run. I haven’t been over there yet.”

Callie gave him another look, one which plainly said that the least he could do, as a sneaking Sooner, was to save these nice people the long trek to the creek.

Imperceptibly, he shook his head. His spring probably could supply the Pecks, him and Callie, too, but the Pecks had too many family members. Word was sure to get out to the whole countryside once they all knew. Besides,
damn it, he had intended to keep it secret from everyone.

“So would you say that we need to start digging our well soon? Even with the ground so dry?”

“Four grown sons are a lot of help,” Nick said.

It wasn’t his responsibility to advise these people. He’d already taken on one charity case too many.

“I hope you don’t have any trouble finding the creek,” he said. “Just keep watching the southwest horizon for a line of trees.”

He turned back toward the disabled wagon.

“You’ve been so kind, I feel I should help you with that,” Mr. Peck boomed.

“No, thanks. You need to be on your way.”

Rude behavior he knew, but he’d pretended to be sociable for as long as he had patience.

He softened it a little by adding, “You don’t want to be too late in getting back. There’ll be some murders tonight. And some bad beatings meant to intimidate people into leaving the choicest claims.”

Mrs. Peck overheard that, although he couldn’t imagine how, considering the fact that she and Callie were both talking at once.

“Let’s go, Mr. Peck,” she said, taking the cup from the child and giving it to Callie. “I hate to leave the boys for too long.”

Finally, after what seemed another hour,
they took their leave, with the women squeezing each other’s hands and exchanging promises to visit very soon.

When Callie had waved them out of sight, she turned to him.

“They’re nice people and they would help either one of us any way they could,” she said. “Do you think your spring would run dry if you shared it with them?”

“No, but it would with a couple of dozen families camped around it. Six adults and one child are too many tongues to wag.”

He went to the blasted wheel.

“Why didn’t you let Mr. Peck help you with that?” she said, following his every step.

“Because I didn’t want to be obligated,” he roared, turning on her. “Surely you can understand that.”

A stabbing pain of aggravation hit him right between the eyes.

“You are all the neighbor I can handle,” he said, managing to lower his voice—but not much. “I don’t want to be visiting with people, I don’t want them dropping by to see me, I don’t care if I never see another homesteader for as long as I live. I’ll stay on my own land and they can stay on theirs.”

Her eyes widened and sparked with anger.

“That attitude is downright … inhuman!”

“The human race is the one to stay clear of,” he snapped. “You’re better off living with the
deer or the wild horses or the prairie dogs. They’re a whole lot more civilized.”

A shadow crossed her face, bringing the sadness back into her eyes. It invaded all the lines of her body, wilting her in an instant before his very eyes. Angry as he was, true as his words were, he could kick himself all the way to Texas for saying them.

“You have a point,” she said finally. “I certainly … know what …”

Nick held his breath, waiting for her to finish.

What? What has your short life taught you about the cruelties of your own kind?

She only stood there, lost in memories, staring at a spot in the far distance, silent as if he had vanished from the earth. He hurt to see the pain so raw in her eyes. She looked so lone-wolfing sad.

“However …,” he said.

His portentous tone made her look at him.

“… There are some exceptions to every rule.”

He flicked a significant glance at her grazing animals.

After a moment, she took his meaning.

The sparkle returned to her eyes. “You’re right,” she said, “even you couldn’t find a civilized thing about those two.”