Untamed Journey (25 page)

Smith gritted his teeth, cursing himself for
not thinking straight. “You’ve caught me. It weren’t no wife, just
a whore I was taking with me on a nice trip. But she was a good
whore. Always gave me my money’s worth, and I don’t mean to see her
harmed none. I’m just asking after her.”

The clerk raised his bushy eyebrows again.
“Like I said, I don’t know their names or their business. If you
got legitimate claims on the bodies, I suggest you take it up with
the Marshals.”

The man left through the back door, Billy
Club in hand.

“Hey, Mister,” a high-pitched voice chimed
in. “I maybe got some information might be useful to you.”

Smith turned at the unexpected sound from the
back corner of the dark and dusty room. The skinny kid with the
broom was no threat. Smith had dismissed him when he’d first
entered the depot and had forgotten about him since. The youngster
was maybe fifteen, sixteen at most, and had a skittish way about
him that told Smith he was wont to lurk in corners listening in on
other folks’ business. Just the type he needed.

“Is that so? What information you got?” Smith
headed straight for the kid, figuring a few good kicks would get
any truth out of him.

The skinny boy was smarter than he expected,
Smith thought, as the kid pulled out a pistol and carelessly aimed
it in Smith’s direction.

“Hold on, there, Mister. You stay where I can
see you. I’ll talk, don’t you worry, and I ain’t greedy like some.
I’ll tell you what you want to know for a right fair price. Enough
for a bottle of Bill’s whiskey ought to do it.”

The kid started sweating as Smith took his
time answering.

Smith’s luck had been lousy since the day he
picked up Ruth Jameson. And he didn’t figure anything had improved
it since. Just his luck, the fool kid would shoot him by mistake
and he’d rot from gangrene, seeing as the nearest doctor was days
away.

Sitting down at the nearest table, Smith
showed both hands to the nervous kid. “Tell me what information you
got, and I’ll tell you if it’s worth a bottle.”

The kid scratched his lice-ridden head before
replying, “You pour me one glass and I’ll tell you half. If you
like it, I get the rest of the bottle and you get the rest of the
information.”

Too tired to quibble with the child any
longer, Smith fetched a glass himself, set it on the table, and
invited the kid over. “You got yourself a deal. Now talk.”

The kid sat across from Smith, but kept his
gun aimed directly at the man’s middle. He kept one hand on the
trigger and tossed back his whiskey with the other. “First, I can
tell you who’s got your horse. You said it was that Paint, and I
was taking care of the horses on that very train. I fed and watered
him every day, between here and Kansas City.”

Smith leaned forward, thinking his luck might
be turning after all. “Well? What happened to it?”

“After the robbers left and the Marshals
came, there were passengers running around everywhere. Screaming,
fainting, and complaining, every last one. Most that had horses
came back right quick and demanded I turn them over. When I was
taking one of the last mounts to the dandy that owned him, I seen
this woman come out of the livestock car, with your Paint behind
her. Now, I didn’t see you, but remembered you got on the train
together, so I didn’t think she was stealing or nothing.
Honest.”

“You’re sure it was the same woman?” Smith
asked.

“I’m sure. Folks don’t much notice me, but I
notice them. Have to remember whose horse is whose, or I’ll lose my
job. She was with you when you gave the horse over to the
conductor. I figured she was your wife or somethin’ and wasn’t
stealing. You can’t say different.”

“I won’t say nothin’ so long as you tell me
where she took my horse,” Smith promised.

“I’m getting there,” the kid insisted. “She
saddled up the horse, took some grain and water, and took off after
Marshal Jackson. He’d just left to track the robbers that got
away.”

“You’re telling me a U.S. Marshal took her
with him?” The doubt in Smith’s voice was clear.

“Yes sir,” the kid nodded, taking another sip
of his whiskey bribe. “And I ain’t lying. But they didn’t leave
together. She just took off after him. I saw her talking to him and
his partner first. And then she came back for the horse and left,
maybe ten minutes behind.”

Smith mulled over the information, confused
by Ruth’s actions. No woman in her right mind would cry rape on the
way to a new husband. And even so, why go to the Marshal when she
could have just finished Smith off in the chaos of the robbery?
That’s what he would have done.

“Where were they headed?” Smith asked.

“Due north. Folks said they were tracking the
robbers. So I can’t tell you where they ended up.”

“Then how are you going to earn the rest of
this bottle?” Smith asked, holding the whiskey just out of
reach.

“I’m getting there. Like I said, I know that
Marshal. He has family working for the railroad, so I figured he
was helping out his kin. His name’s Jackson. He has a ranch near
the Army Post at Fort Lyon. If he caught them robbers, that’s where
he would have taken them to wait for the circuit judge. If your
lady friend was with him, then that must be where she went
too.”

Smith was so relieved to have a lead on
Masterson’s missing wife that he handed the kid his whiskey with a
genuine smile and abandoned his plan to beat the youngster. “Get me
some food and water – enough to get me to Fort Lyon.”

“My pleasure, Mister,” the skinny kid ambled
off toward the supply room, whiskey and pistol in hand.

R
uth jumped at the
chance to accompany Sue on her trip to Fort Lyon. Not only was she
fascinated with Sue’s new business, and anxious to learn all she
could from the enterprising woman, but it would also give her a
little breathing room from Jackson’s unapologetic seduction. She
couldn’t think straight when he walked into the room. And since she
was living in his home, he had every opportunity to charm her on a
daily basis.

Ruth placed the last of her borrowed clothes
into her leather satchel, wondering how she’d ever manage to earn
money to buy food for herself, much less new clothing. A few days
on the trail with Sue’s ever-practical view on life should give
Ruth a chance to clear her head and come up with a plan. Her life
had been in upheaval from the moment her dear aunt signed Ruth’s
future away to a stranger.

This time, Ruth intended to plot her own
course. Whether or not the irresistible Jackson would be part of
that future was not clear. She hoped a few days with her own
thoughts might gain her some perspective.

Ruth heard Sue calling her name from the
front of the house. She rushed over to the window and called down,
“I’ll be right there.”

She hurried over to the bed and pulled out
her pistol, which she had kept loaded at all times since her fatal
encounter with Jasper Smith. This was one habit she would never
break, she thought, no matter what the future held in store.

She pushed thoughts of Smith out of her mind
with a pure force of will she’d learned during the War. She’d
watched more than one neighbor slowly starve to death, clinging to
a way of life that would never come again. Ruth had learned that
the inability to act and move forward could kill you just as surely
as a Yankee bullet. It just took longer, and was no doubt a great
deal more painful.

She carefully un-wrapped the last few coins
she had and promised herself it would be enough to start fresh. She
set her borrowed leather hat at a jaunty angle and gave herself the
gift of only looking forward from that moment on. She grabbed the
small satchel off the bed and left the room with a smile on her
face.

As she raced down the stairs, Ruth ran
straight into Jackson, all smiles himself. “Allow me.” Jackson took
her small bag and offered his arm.

“I don’t have time for any lengthy goodbyes,
Jackson. Sue’s waiting for me,” Ruth insisted.

“Then we’ll have to dispense with my usual
seductive wit and get right to the goodbye part.”

Before she could respond, Jackson tugged on
her arm with just enough force to pull her off balance and straight
into his arms for a kiss.

Ruth felt the force of Jackson’s heat along
the entire length of her body as he slowly ran his hands down her
backside, tugging her curves more tightly into his embrace. His
thick hair curled into her hands with a life of its own, while she
languished in the scent of man and soap.

Jackson pulled her closer, wanting the feel
of her softness against him one last time before she left. He took
her lips gently now, barely touching their smooth surface with his
rougher skin. “Miss me, Ruth.”

She opened her eyes at his words and gazed
deeply, wondering if aligning herself with yet another male were
the right choice.

“I’ll think about it,” she responded, more to
her own thoughts than Jackson’s words.

His black eyes slanted at the less than
passionate statement, and he decided he’d better persuade his
future wife with more relentless skill. “You’ll think about it?”
Jackson questioned, with a gleam in his eye. It was that glint
which made Ruth start squirming for her release—she could hear
Sue’s footsteps approaching, and didn’t want to get caught alone
with him.

“Sue’s coming. You have to put me down,
Jackson.”

“Sue can wait,” he retorted, as he pulled her
retreating figure back into his arms.

Ruth half-laughingly ended up with her back
to Jackson’s muscled chest as she protested, “You’ll shock
Sue.”

“I might embarrass you, but Sue’s been
married twice over. She won’t be shocked by my seduction, or by
your enjoyment of it.”

Before Ruth could think of a suitable
response, she felt Jackson’s hands envelop her breasts in warmth
and all thought fled. He cupped both fully from underneath,
stroking lightly across the surface of her wool dress, until he
captured both quickly hardening nipples at their base. He gently
clasped each nipple between two fingers, sliding from the base to
the tips. She could feel each stroke in the pit of her stomach, and
reflexively leaned into Jackson’s caress, suddenly not caring who
saw them.

He pushed her lush hair slowly off her neck,
exposing it to his mouth as he placed light kisses along the nape.
He settled his mouth more forcefully at the apex of her collarbone
and clasped that surprisingly sensitive flesh in his teeth. The
light scraping over her bare skin instantly brought a rush of wet
to Ruth’s heated thighs, and a groan from deep in her throat.

Jackson smiled wickedly. He stepped away from
Ruth just as Sue entered the house.

“We’re wasting daylight, you two. The time to
cuddle is at night, when there’s no work to be done.”

Sue’s matter-of-fact acceptance of Ruth and
Jackson’s obvious activities did nothing to lessen Ruth’s
embarrassment.

Jackson laughed in masculine pride as Ruth’s
blush increased, even though Sue had turned and walked back out to
pull the wagon around. He placed one last quick, hard kiss on
Ruth’s reddened lips. “Don’t forget to think about me, even if just
a little.”

His glowing eyes told Ruth a token protest
would be laughable. They both knew she’d do nothing but think about
Jackson the entire wagon ride.

“S
o have you decided
to marry that man, or are you still trying him on for size?” Sue
asked, barely five minutes into their seven hour journey.

“Why, I just –”. Ruth was at a complete loss
for words, not sure of one single thing about her present or future
at this point.

“You’re just what, girl?” Sue prompted.
“You’re just waiting? For what – a handsome prince to come rescue
you from making a decision? Or guidance from the Almighty in your
dreams? It’s not going to happen. You can survive out here, more
than likely, just letting others toss you this way and that, or you
can choose your own path, and truly live. That’s the only real
dream the West offers – the promise to choose. Don’t waste it.”

“But what if I make the wrong choice –
again?” Ruth didn’t realize she’d spoken her thoughts out loud
until Sue pulled up on the reins to stop the wagon.

“Ruth, I can only promise you this. No matter
what choice you make, you’re only determining the beginning. You
don’t know what life’s going to bring you ten minutes from now,
much less ten years. You might pick a poor man who strikes it rich.
You might pick a rich man who loses everything to drink. You need
to first determine your own path. Find a way to feed and clothe you
and yours. There is no quicker path to a life of misery than facing
no choice but a bad husband, or a life of prostitution.”

Sue shook the reins and started down the road
once again before continuing. “Once you have your own power to
survive, you can focus on living. All you can do is choose an
honest man and a strong one. There’s not much in the way of rules
out here, which can be really good or especially bad, particularly
for a woman. It gives us choices we couldn’t have dreamed of back
home. But with this independence comes the responsibility of
choosing. You can’t count on anyone else for your happiness, nor
blame them for your misery.”

“Would you choose Jackson for your own
daughter?” Ruth asked with equal candor.

“I’d expect my daughter to make her own
choices, but if asked, I’d surely recommend him,” Sue replied.
“He’s strong and he won’t cheat on you. If you have that as your
foundation, you’ve at least got a fighting chance.”

“You’ve known Jackson all his life, so I can
see how you’d be able to recommend him to me. But how do you know
I’d be good for him?” Ruth inquired, with guilt niggling at her
conscience.