"Morning, boys." Ma laughed. "You make a right handsome young men. Hope some lonely widow doesn't catch you and hold you prisoner, somewhere along the way."

  "Ha-ha, Ma." Cynara poured two cups of coffee and sat down, handing one to Jessamine. "I'll tell you something. These clothes are more comfortable than petticoats and corsets, even with the shirts all bunched up around the hips."

  "No arguing that," Jessamine said, accepting a plate of flapjacks from Oysters.

  "I envy you." Annie refilled their cups. "It sounds like a wonderful adventure."

  Jessamine glanced at Cynara. "I hope that's what it will turn out to be."

  "I promised Chase I'd tell you to come and say goodbye," Ma told Jessamine. "He called to me when I was on my way downstairs from the bathing room. Heard me walk by, I guess."

  Jessamine swallowed a moan. What he'd asked would be hard to do. She felt a bit superstitious about saying farewell, afraid it would jinx the return trip. When she was seven, a playmate left to visit an aunt in another county and never returned. She got sick and died. Jessamine never forgot. There would be no ignoring Chase's request, though. "I'll go after I eat."

  "I'm still not so sure I shouldn't go ring them warning bells Jared rigged up." Oysters added an extra flapjack to their plates. "A man oughta know what his woman's up to."

  "You do, and we'll beat you unconscious," Cynara threatened. "Besides, they won't be close enough to Jared's house to hear the bells."

  He snorted and walked away. "It's a sad day when women pick on an old man."

  "You are not old yet," Annie said rubbing his back.

  Twenty minutes later, Jessamine climbed the stairs and entered Chase's room. "I'm leaving now."

  "Sure I can’t talk you out of this?" he asked, motioning her closer. "I worried about it all night."

  "No. I have to do this, Chase, for the wellbeing of my soul." She sat on the edge of the bed next to him, knowing he wouldn't let her go without a kiss. His eyes were bloodshot, his face pale. "I hoped you understood."

  "I do, actually." He took her hand. "I simply can’t stop worrying about you."

  "We'll be fine. Trust us." She bent and kissed his cheek. "How do I look?"

  "Well, if I didn't know better, I'd be darned embarrassed to kiss you." He grinned. "You're too pretty to be a boy."

  "Thank you. I'd better go."

  "Not until you give me something better than that baby buss on the cheek."

  She leaned forward, one hand embracing his face as she peered deep into his eyes and memorized the lines in his irises, so she'd never forget them. She thought she could stare at him like this every day for the rest of her life and not tire of it.

  "Bye," she said and kissed him thoroughly.

  "Come back to me," he whispered.

  She rose and went to the door. "I will."

  In the hallway, where he couldn’t see her, she wiped a tear from her cheek, hoping it had escaped his notice.

  Ma, Oysters, and Annie, each holding a frazzle-headed, sleepy-eyed child, stood outside the screened porch to watch them go. Cynara rode her horse, and Roy had saddled a gentle, well-behaved mare for Jessamine. Mounted, they checked to be sure they had everything. Then, they waved goodbye and rode up the lane to the front gate.

  Noon saw the rain end, and the sun pop out. Soon, the women shed their dusters, tucking them away with their bedrolls. They hadn't seen another soul on the road in the first three hours of riding.

  "We picked a good day," Cynara said, stretching her aching shoulders while watching a robin pluck a worm from the wet earth.

  "So far." Jessamine's voice held doubt.

  "Stop worrying." The robin flew off with its prize, and Cynara turned her attention to a rabbit hopping crookedly up the road as if to escape them. "It's beautiful here, and you know what? It's pleasant not hearing children cry or argue. Silence truly is golden."

  "I just hope it continues this way."

  Cynara laughed. "Why wouldn’t it?"

  "You never know."

  As Jessamine spoke, they rode around a corner. Up ahead, four rough-looking men on horses blocked the road.

  Chapter Fifteen

  O ne of the four men, with a long, thin face and fuzzy sideburns, nudged his buckskin horse out in front.

  "Where you boys heading this morning?" he asked.

  Jessamine moved her mare forward in a like manner. "Don't see as that's any of your concern, sir."

  "Is that so?" He glanced over his shoulder at his men. "You hear that? The kid don't think it's any of our concern."

  They all laughed. One, a short man going bald, giggled like a sick coyote.

  Jessamine did not reply. The men were the kind that loved to pick on whoever they thought weaker. She knew their type, the outlaw type. Push the right button, and they'd shy away like oil on water. She made sure not to look at Cynara. That would make her appear meek. She had an idea. Escaping these hoodlums would be worth a small risk.

  "You don't recognize me?" she asked in a low, gruff voice. "My photo's on wanted posters from here to St. Louis."

  They glanced at each other, until one of them said, "I think he's the Kansas City Kid, Buster."

  Buster must be the head man's name.

  "That's right." Jessamine put her hand on the butt of her six-gun. "Now, if I were you, I'd ride on past my partner and me and forget you saw us."

  The runt of the bunch came forward. "How much is the reward on your head, Kid?"

  Jessamine flicked open the flap that kept her gun in its holster as if preparing to draw.

  "Shut up, Strings. You wanta get us killed?" Buster guided his buckskin to the side of the road. "The Kansas City Kid is the fastest gun west of the Mississippi. We'll be moving on now, Kid. You can forget you saw us too."

  The other three followed, riding quietly down the road. Jessamine didn't move except to turn her head enough to keep an eye on them until they were a hundred yards away.

  "Come on." She kneed her horse to speed up.

  "Do you think we're safe?" Cynara asked, riding alongside. "Greasy, good-for-nothing drifters. Probably live off what they can take from travelers."

  "They're do-nothing cowards who like to push folks around." Jessamine glanced over her shoulder, but the men had rounded a bend out of view. "You have to show them you're not afraid, even if you're shaking in your boots."

  "You did a good job of that." Cynara chuckled. "Even I believed you were the Kansas City Kid. Is there a man with that title?"

  "Yes." Jessamine wouldn't feel safe until she was sure there'd be no more trouble from Buster and his gang. "I saw a poster about the Kid at the railroad station in Salt Lake City and later in one of the towns where the stage stopped. He looked too young to shave yet, and I wondered if he had a mother."

  "I'd say chances are good that he doesn't." Cynara fanned her hand in front of her face. "Whew, I'm glad that's over, and I'm especially thankful you were with me. I would have melted like an icicle in July and given them everything I have."

  "Yes," Jessamine said grimly. "That could have ended up including your virtue."

  Cynara's eyes widened. "But that's why we dressed this way so that no one would recognize us as women."

  Jessamine glanced at her. "That's a nice shirt you have on. Good quality broadcloth, clean, and it even looks new. What would you have done if they demanded you give it to them?"

  Cynara shuddered visibly. "I'm no longer sure we're doing the right thing."

  "You can go back." Jessamine reached into her vest pocket and drew out a toothpick. It was a masculine thing to do, chew on toothpicks, but she liked the clean way her teeth felt afterward, and it helped label her as a male. "I'm going to the hideout."

  "Oh, beans. You know I can’t let you go alone." Cynara held out a hand. "Give me one of those."

  Jessamine passed her a pick.

  Late the next day, they reached Pony and went straight to Dr. Mains' office.

  Ma peeked into Chase's room. He appeared asleep, with Vella snoozing next to him. "Chase, if you're awake, Marshal Vining wants to see you."

  The marshal? Chase got a bad feeling in his gut. He pushed himself to a sitting position, careful not to wake Vella. "Does he have word of Jessamine and Cynara? This is the third day since they left, and I'm worried."

  "Calm down, son. He didn't say anything about the girls. Here he is now." She left, and Marshal Vining entered the room, carrying his hat.

  "Chase," the marshal said, "I'm sorry to see you laid up. How's it healing?"

  "Most of my bruises are fading, and Doc assures me my arm is mending." He patted his leg. "What's giving me trouble is this darn leg. The gash won't heal right, keeps weeping pus."

  Vining grimaced. "Doesn't sound good, Chase. Has Doc considered cauterizing it?"

  "Yeah, we talked about it." Chase shuddered. "Can’t say I'm in favor of it."

  "I don't imagine you are." Vining chortled. "Better than losing your leg, though."

  "For sure, Clyde. What can I do for you?" Chase motioned toward a chair. "Sit."

  "Thanks." Vining sat, leaned back, and crossed his legs at the ankles, setting his hat on his knee. "I heard your question about Jessamine and Cynara. Are they away from the ranch?"

  "Yes. They went to Pony so Jessamine could see the doctor there. He took care of her after she had the triplets and ran off. She was in bad shape then."

  "Well, I hope she gets home soon. That rumor about Dirk Shindler being in Mexico turned out to be false. Deputy spotted him near Bozeman." Vining put his hat back on. "Thought you ought to know."

  "Hell. I was already worried about Jessamine and Cynara." Chase cracked his knuckles, then glanced down, afraid he might have awakened Vella. She snuggled closer but didn't wake. "Just thinking about Shindler and her not knowing he could be around panics me. How sure are you about this?

  "No guarantees."

  "Can’t count on it then." Chase snorted. "That man didn't seem too bright to me, thinking he could blackmail Mr. and Mrs. Styles into paying ransom for grandbabies they didn't know they had."

  "No arguing that." Vining stood up. "Better go. Hoped you'd have information to pass on to me. Guess not."

  "No. Nothing. Been deadly quiet around this house. Only thing that seems alive is the children."

  "I'm sure they keep your mother hopping." Vining reached the door. "Let me know if you do hear something. Hope the ladies get back soon and safely. That's a long trip for them to make alone."

  "I know. I tried to talk them out of it."

  "Sorry you didn't succeed." Vining went out, calling, "So long," over his shoulder.

  Chase started to crack his knuckles again, thought better of it, and nestled the little girl more snuggly against him. If only he could ride a horse, nothing would stop him from going after Jessamine. Maybe he should send Roy for his brothers. Barclay wouldn't hesitate to go looking for his wife. Chase, on the other hand, couldn't be sure he could walk, let alone ride a horse. He hoped Doc got there soon so he could find out what to expect. He'd begun to think cauterizing his wound might be worth the pain.

  "How close do you think we are now?" Cynara asked, riding up alongside Jessamine as they followed a faint animal trail through boulders and scrub. A jackrabbit bounded out from under sagebrush right in front of them. A lizard darted under a rock.

  "See that cliff over there that looks like a bear in profile?" Jessamine pointed to the landmark. "That's the beginning of the badlands. The hideout is a mile or two beyond."

  Cynara studied the bear-like crag. "It appears so far away."

  "It's closer than it looks."

  They had been riding through bluffs and meadows, crossing icy streams full of snow-melt from higher up. The badlands would be dry, stark, and bare.

  Jessamine spotted the slit in the base of the crag that marked the trail they needed to take. She prayed their luck would hold out, and they could reach their destination without running into anyone. There would be few women in the region, and those that did exist wished to be somewhere else.

  Each bluff, valley, mountain, and creek brought Jessamine memories she had no desire to relive. Her hands began to shake the minute she realized they'd come near the trail into the hideout. She felt sick to her stomach, and a tic developed at the corner of her left eye, symptoms that screamed fear. Hold on; she kept telling herself. Hold on. You can do this.

  But not if they ran into outlaws.

  A lone coyote loped across the trail, flashing them a glance. A coiled rattler lay sunning itself atop a boulder. Jessamine pointed it out to Cynara. "Keep out of striking distance."

  "That's the fourth one we've seen today." A visible shudder ran over Cynara's body. "Why are there so many?"

  "Because they have lots of food but not many natural enemies out here." Jessamine continued along what had started as an animal trail until men discovered it. Indians, first, probably, then fur trappers and finally ranchers and cowhands. "Men shoot them. Coyotes eat them. Otherwise, they roam where they want, do what they want. The ranchers have killed too many of the eagles, wolves, and hawks."

  "How nice to have such freedom as these critters have." Cynara glanced up at the sky. The position of the sun indicated noon would arrive soon. "I'm hungry. Should we stop? The stream here looks clean, and those trees over there will offer shade."

  While she spoke, Jessamine halted. "Quiet."

  Cynara halted to listen. From a distance up ahead, came the jangle of gear and a horse's snort.

  "Ride for the trees, fast." Jessamine nudged her mare to speed up. "And stay quiet."

  Her last command presented a difficult task. How did one remain silent amidst the clank and jingle of one's own horse gear? Tonight, while they rested, Jessamine would tear pieces from whatever fabric her saddlebag might hold and wrap them around the chains and other metal bits that could like now, give them away to whoever might be around. For the present, she would rely on prayer.

  Upon reaching the trees, the women slid from their horses and hobbled them in the thick of the scrub. Jessamine grabbed her rifle from its sheath and found a rock big enough to hide behind. "Over here," she called softly. "Those dark clouds rolling in will help make us harder to see."

  Cynara joined her with her rifle. "See anything?"

  "Not yet."

  "Look." Cynara gestured to a circle of rocks. "Someone's camped here."

  "Outlaws. Nobody else comes here."

  "What about lawmen?" Cynara asked. "Don't they come seeking wanted men?"

  Jessamine didn't answer. She'd seen something move out by the trail. Nudging Cynara, she nodded toward the open area where they'd been riding minutes before. Hats. Above the scrub, the hats bobbed like the heads of quail looking for food. Three mounted men and a packhorse rode past, unaware of the rifles aimed at them.

  When the men were gone, Jessamine swiveled around, so her back rested against the boulder. She took out her handkerchief and dabbed at the sweat on her forehead. "That was close."

  "Too close." Cynara followed Jessamine's example, leaning against the rock.

  "Well, you wanted a break." Jessamine stood and walked to her horse. "Might as well take it here and give those men time to get out of hearing distance."

  She returned with her canteen, offering it first to Cynara.

  Cynara drank and handed it back. "Thanks."

  "Maybe we should travel at night from now on." Jessamine recapped the canteen after quenching her thirst. "Except, that has its own dangers. The ground is so rough. A horse can step in a badger or ground squirrel hole and break a leg. Rattlers. Wolverines. Two-legged rats."

  "It's the two-legged variety that worries me." Cynara fetched some jerky from her saddlebag and shared it with Jessamine.

  A spider crawled onto Cynara's boot. She knocked it away, shuddering. "Can’t abide spiders."

  "Some of them are good to have around. They eat other insects, you know."

  "I don't care." Cynara stood up and wandered around while finishing her jerky.

  Jessamine studied her. "You know, Cynara, I truly admire you. It must have been hard coming from a nice, established home in the east to live in a crude cabin. You're a strong woman."

  "So are you. I cannot comprehend traveling in the condition you were in when you first came to the ranch years ago." Cynara sat on a rock. "Barclay told me about it. You were so young and had lived through unimaginable horrors. Then you escaped while close to giving birth. You must have been terrified. And, then, birthing three babies with only strangers and men at that, to aid you."

  Jessamine shrugged the compliment away.

  Cynara shook her head. "So amazing."

  "A person does what they must, Cynara. I had no choice."

  "That doesn't make it any easier."

  Jessamine stood and stretched her arms overhead. "Once you accept that you have no other options, it's easier. You're no coward, Cynara. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here."

  Cynara chuckled. "Maybe I'm merely too stupid to be afraid enough."

  "I don't believe that." Jessamine motioned toward the horses. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

  Two hours later, through light rain, they approached the slit in the sandstone wall at the base of "the bear." Jessamine stopped, donned her rain slicker, and drank from her canteen. "From here on, the danger multiplies by a hundred. We can’t know what we'll find beyond this wall. We have to be quiet and very, very careful."

  "Do you think there'll be outlaws in there?" Cynara asked, gaping up at the sheerness of the sandstone monolith while she, too, pulled on her slicker. Scattered Indian sketches decorated the base.

  "I hope not, but we won't know until we get there."

  "Look, the stream we've been following comes from the crack in the wall." Cynara pointed. "Do we have to ride upriver?"

  "Yes, but it gets shallower, not deeper. We'll be fine." Clucking her tongue, Jessamine guided her mare into the water. "The good thing is that we don't have to go far once we're inside. We didn't hide the money until we were away from the hideout."

  "Are there buildings at the hideout?" Cynara followed Jessamine.

 

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