Once again, he hadn't counted on her determination.
Somehow in that devious little mind of hers, she had come up with a way to use Purdy's men to her advantage.
At the sound of gunfire, he came out of his reverie with a start.
Jessie.
She could be killed before he could intervene.
Cursing to himself, he leaped onto his horse and raced toward the sound of gunshots.
Marshal Torn Smith was mad.
He'd staked his reputation on this hanging.
And now everything was going wrong.
As he rode, he nursed an unreasonable sense of frustration.
He was furious with Cole Matthews, the most feared man in Texas, for barging in and stealing his thunder.
He was furious with Purdy for making him look foolish in front of the entire town.
And he was furious with Big Jack Conway and his family for ever having lived.
Purdy's men had wisely separated, breaking into clusters of three or four and taking different paths.
That way, the marshal would have to decide which group to follow.
In the confusion, Smith knew most of them would manage to escape.
Most, but not all.
He was still marshal of this town.
And someone, by thunder, would pay for this humiliation.
Up ahead he spotted four horsemen.
Turning his mount, he raced along, straining to keep them in sight.
"Halt," he shouted.
Above the sound of thundering hooves, his words were lost.
"Stop or I'll shoot."
The horses in front of him continued their frantic pace without even pausing.
He aimed his gun and fired, then emptied his gun in the darkness.
Ahead of him Jessie flattened herself in the saddle and urged her mount to go even faster.
At the sound of gunshots she saw her father jolt and crouch low in the saddle.
As they entered a thicket, Jessie ignored the little stabs of pain as tree branches snagged at her hair and clothes.
Ride, her heart cried.
Ride until they were free of this place forever.
Ride until they could put this nightmare behind and return to their beloved home.
The way Jessie figured it, they had five hours before daylight.
If they were to make good their escape, they had to keep riding until then.
And by the first light of day they would have to find a place to hide until darkness could cover their trail once more.
They raced through the dry flat land of Kansas, keeping well away from marked trails.
Occasionally they heard the shout of a rider or the crack of gunfire, but they were able to keep to the shadows and avoid being seen.
Once the marshal and his deputy passed so closely Jessie could hear what they were saying, could actually smell the sweat and leather and horseflesh.
But the trees and rocks blerded into the shadows, affording them perfect cover.
When the lawmen were far enough away that the clatter of hoofbeats couldn't be overheard, Jessie motioned for the others to follow.
Whenever they could, they rode flat out, running the horses until their energy began to flag.
Then they would walk them until their breathing became easier.
By pushing hard, they managed to pass by Newton while the residents of that sleepy cow town were still in bed.
At a creek they watered the horses and filled their canteens.
"Are you all right, Thad?"
Jessie asked.
"I'm fine."
"We won't be able to stop until morning."
She gave him a worried look.
He was so young to have to face up to such a grueling journey.
With this act, she had placed his life in jeopardy.
"I'm not tired, Jessie. I just want to get Pa home."
"I know."
She drew Thad close, and both glanced at their father, slumped in the saddle, accepting a drink from Danny's canteen.
"Let's move," he called hoarsely.
Jessie helped her little brother mount and pulled herself wearily into the saddle.
There was only another hour of darkness left.
And then they would seek shelter for the day.
The farmhouse built into the slope of a hill had long since been deserted, an apparent victim of fire and neglect.
The only thing left standing was a stone chimney.
The single outbuilding was no better.
Though it had escaped the fire, the roof had collapsed, crushing the walls inward, leaning at drunken angles toward each other.
"There's no shelter to be found here, Jess."
Danny surveyed the scene with a rising sense of panic.
Already the sky was light.
If they were being followed, they would be easy prey in this wretched landscape.
"We can't go on."
Jessie slid from the saddle and led her horse, kicking at the debris.
"We can't stay here."
Danny glanced at his father, expecting him to agree.
Instead Jack Conway leaned forward in the saddle, his face nearly buried in the horse's mane.
His eyes were closed, his breathing labored.
"This was once a working farm. There must be..."
Jessie stopped and studied the tangle of vines on the far side of what was once the big sturdy house.
Stooping, she began frantically pulling at the vines.
"Here. Danny."
At her words, he ran to her side and stared.
Beneath the vines was a wooden door.
Both Jessie and Danny pulled on it with all their might.
Though the hinges protested, the door slowly opened, revealing a musty root cellar.
Jessie tied a rag to a stick and from her precious store of matches lit it.
Holding the torch aloft, she entered the cellar and peered around.
The dank, musty odor of rotted fruit and moldy earth pervaded the air.
Cobwebs hung from rafters.
Forest creatures had obviously discovered the treasures hidden here, and their tracks were visible in the earthen floor.
"There's room for us and the horses," Danny said behind her, "but what about food? We didn't even think to load our saddlebags with anything."
"I'll hunt a rabbit before going to sleep," she assured him.
"You make a small fire inside. We can let it simmer all day while we sleep. By the time we're ready to move out, we'll have enough food cooked for the next two or three days."
Danny nodded.
"I'll go get Pa and Thad."
Jessie watched as he strode away.
Minutes later she heard his frantic cry.
"Jess. Come quick."
With her gun in her hand she dashed from the cellar.
For a moment she gazed around in consternation.
There wasn't a rider in sight.
"What is it? What's got you so upset?"
"It's Pa, Jess."
She glanced at the figure in the saddle.
"Pa?"
Moving closer, she reached a hand to him.
"Pa? What's wrong?"
As she touched his shoulder, he toppled from the saddle and lay unmoving in the grass.
Rolling him over, Jessie touched a hand to the dark stain coveting the front of his cowhide jacket.
"God in heaven. Pa's been shot."
And from the amount of blood that had soaked through his clothes, he'd been bleeding profusely all night.
Chapter Twenty-Three
They rolled their father's big frame onto a blanket, and with the three of them pulling, pushing and dragging, they managed to get him into the musty cellar.
Once he was safely hidden, they hurried outside to cover their tracks.
Mindful that they were being followed, Jessie took pains to Sweep away every sign that the dust and debris of the old house had ever been
disturbed.
She scattered dirt over the trail left by the heavily burdened blanket.
She replaced pieces of chimney stone and charred wood until at last satisfied, the three hurried inside to see to their father's needs.
While Jessie cut away his jacket and shirt, Danny prepared the necessary supplies.
Rummaging through their saddlebags, he found soap and an old shirt that could be torn into strips.
In his father's saddlebag he located half a bottle of precious whiskey.
At the sound of horses' hooves above them, Jessie looked up.
"Horsemen.
Coming this way.
" Her eyes reflected the fear and dread she felt.
She hurried to the cellar door, opened it a crack and grasped a handful of vines, shaking them so that they would drift down over the door, then closed it carefully.
For long minutes the horses could be heard moving across the space where only a short time ago they had dragged their unconscious father's body.
Jessie clung to Thad's hand and found herself wondering if they had managed to erase all their tracks.
What if the horsemen could see the trail they had made with the blanket and its heavy burden?
What if someone saw a sign that the debris had been disturbed?
Worse, what if someone spotted the cellar door and decided to take a closer look?
They heard muffled voices, but were unable to make out the words.
Was one of the riders Cole?
He had been the one to teach them everything they knew about erasing any trace of their presence.
With his trained eye he would spot even the smallest detail out of the ordinary.
Jessie strained to identify the voices.
The deeper pitched voice had to belong to Marshal Smith, The other was higher pitched.
His deputy, she thought.
There were several other men cursing and shouting.
None of them was Cole.
Of that she was certain.
Had he gone on ahead to scout the terrain?
Or was he following with a second band of men?
She fought to shake off the terrible sense of loss.
Jessie glanced at Danny.
Though he had to be aware of the danger of being discovered, he continued to bind his father's wounds.
The lantern she had found on a shelf in the cellar cast flickering shadows on the earthen walls, magnifying and distorting each of Danny's movements.
She felt a welling of emotion.
He was so brave, this brother who had the gift of healing.
And somewhere along the trail he had become a man A man who could forsake his own needs to see to the needs of others.
She patted Thad's arm and walked back to assist Danny.
Picking up a rag, she mopped at the beads of moisture dotting her father's brow and was grateful that he had lapsed into unconsciousness.
He made no sound that might give away their presence in this underground shelter and alert the men who searched just a few feet above them.
when at last the sound of hoofbeats faded into the distance, Jessie threw open the door of the cellar and allowed the fresh clean air to enter the musty dwelling.
As bright morning sunlight penetrated the gloom, she studied the figure of her father.
The blanket upon which he lay was soaked with his own blood.
His skin was a sickly gray.
His breathing was labored, and as she bent closer she could hear the rattle of fluid in his lungs.
The fear that sliced her was sharper than any razor.
In a muted whisper she said, "You've done all you can, Danny. Now you and Thad must sleep."
"What about you, Jess?"
"I'll find something for our supper. Then I'll join you."
"I'll start a fire."
Though he made a move to help, Jessie noted that Danny's movements were slow and awkward.
"No. You've done enough. Sleep. Without it, we're all lost."
She watched as Danny and Thad curled up beside their father.
Within minutes they were asleep.
Picking up the rifle, she made her way to the thicket in search of game.
When at last rabbit meat simmered in a pot over hot coals, Jessie climbed into her bedroll beside her father and gave in to the overwhelming weariness that enveloped her.
Before she drifted off to sleep, her last thoughts were of Cole.
Cole.
Jessie's heart contracted.
She had loved him, truly loved him.
But he was a lawman sworn to do his duty, no matter what.
And she had chosen the other side of the law.
They were forever divided.
There would be no going back now.
He was lost to her forever.
The sun hovered on the horizon, casting ribbons of fire across the land.
The air was still, with no breeze to stir the leaves.
Jessie watched as her father struggled to sit up.
"You'll tear open that wound if you move, Pa," she scolded.
"We're leaving," he said through gritted teeth.
"if we stay here another day, they'll find us."
"if you try to ride, you'll bleed to death."
"I'd rather bleed to death in Texas than die in this godforsaken hole.
You heard me, girl.
We're riding.
She glanced helplessly at Danny and saw him shake his head.
They both knew the danger of trying to travel before the wound had healed.
But Pa knew it, too.
And he was willing to risk dying rather than stay here another night.
If there was one thing she was sure of, it was that none of them would win in an argument with Pa.
He was the most stubborn man ever born .
"All right, Pa," she said grudgingly.
"We'll ride. But as soon as you start to bleed, we stop. Agreed?"
He nodded and bit down on the pain as he struggled to stand.
Jessie saw him blanch before pulling himself to his feet.
She packed their food into saddlebags and helped Thad saddle the horses.
When everything was ready, their father, leaning heavily on Danny's arm, came slowly from the cellar and pulled himself into the saddle.
Jessie saw him wince and knew what it was costing him to attempt to ride.
Though she wanted to cry out in protest, she kept her silence.
Texas.
Home.
It was the one thing that kept Pa going.
It was what kept all of them going.
With Danny leading, they headed out into the darkness.
They rode by night and slept by day, using any shelter they could find.
Each night Danny tended his father's wound.
And though her brother said little, Jessie knew that the wound was not healing properly.
Without prolonged rest Jack Conway's body couldn't fight the infection.
The strain of hours in the saddle caused the wound to bleed anew each night.
And the loss of so much blood was draining the once vigorous body.
But though he suffered unbearable pain, they never once heard their father complain or ask to rest.
At Caldwell they spotted a fresh body hanging from the tree.
Jessie felt her skin crawl as they rode past the gruesome sight. · Seeing it renewed her determination.
They had done the right thing for her father, she knew.
The only thing.
Leaving Caldwell behind, they plunged into Indian Territory.
By dawn, Jack Conway was too weak to sit in the saddle.
When they stopped in the shelter of a rock ledge for the day, they found that he had dug his, hands into the horse's mane and held on by sheer willpower alone.
As soon as the horses halted, he fell to the ground and lay motionless.
"Pa."
Danny leaned clo
se with his ear to his father's chest.
At Jessie's worried look, he nodded his head to indicate that he had found a pulse.
It was faint and thready, but still there.
"Pa. Can you hear me?"
"Don't...stop."
Jack Conway began coughing, and Jessie watched with horror as a fresh trickle of blood oozed through his shirt.
"We have to stop, Pa," Jessie said, kneeling beside him.
"It's daylight. We have to rest here until dark."
Her father's hand found hers and grasped it painfully.
Despite his wound there was surprising strength there.
"Promise me," he whispered, "that we won't stop until we reach Texas."
“You need to rest, Pa.
" Jessie knew she was close to tears, but she couldn't seem to control her emotions." If you don't give yourself time to heal, you'll never see Texas.
“I’ll. see. Texas. " The hand holding hers went slack. She realized that once again he had slipped into blessed unconsciousness.
The sun hovered on the horizon, a brilliant orange globe that seemed to ignite the sands.
Jessie shifted and sat up, rubbing her eyes.
Beside her, Danny and Thad were still asleep.
They had slept the entire day.
As she turned to study the figure of her father, she caught a sudden movement out of the Corner of her eye.
Instantly she reached for her gun, then froze.
A Comanche sat astride a spotted pony.
Beside him two braves straggled to fasten something to her father's horse.
"Runs-Like-Antelope."
She stood facing the cousin to Two Moons, who had given them safe passage on their earlier trek through Indian Territory.
Immediately Danny and Thad awoke and sat up.
Beside them their father stirred and tried to rise.
Wincing in pain, he fell back and was forced to listen helplessly.
"You must move quickly," the Comanche chief said.
"The white men who follow you are not far behind."
"My father is gravely ill."
He nodded towards the poles covered with hides that were being affixed to her father's horse.
"It will carry him."
She stepped closer.
"Thank you. I can't give you anything in payment."
"I know of your kindness to one of The People. Morning Light is daughter to my father's brother. There are no debts between us."
She felt the sting of tears at his kindness.
"We'll leave as soon as it's dark."
"No."
Runs-Like-Antelope held up his hand.