The Loner: Inferno

Chapter 9

The three scouts spread out to search the area on the other side of the pass. According to the prearranged plan, Dunlap had stopped the wagons before they entered the pass, and the vehicles wouldn’t proceed until he got the all clear from Harwood, Farnum, and The Kid.

As he rode along the bank of a small creek, The Kid scared up a small herd of deer, but that was the only life he saw other than a few birds in the scrub pines. He rendezvoused with Harwood and Farnum at the mouth of the pass and reported the lack of any threat that he found.

“Same here,” Farnum said.

Harwood nodded. “The valley appears to be empty. I’ll let Horace know. If you two want to stay over here and look around a little more, that’s fine.”

Harwood headed back through the pass. The Kid and Farnum stayed together as they rode deeper into the valley.

“I’m surprised nobody has settled this place before now,” The Kid commented.

“Well, it’s a long way from anywhere,” Farnum said, “and you got to travel through some pretty rugged country to get to it. You saw that for yourself the past few days. There’s no railroad in here and ain’t likely to ever be one. The soil’s good enough for farmin’, and there’s enough graze for a small herd of cattle, but nobody’s gonna get rich by settlin’ here. But if you’re lookin’ for a nice place to live, where a fella who’s willin’ to work hard can get by, Raincrow Valley fits the bill.” The scout gave The Kid a shrewd look. “How about you, Morgan? You lookin’ to settle down?”

The Kid shook his head. “Not hardly.”

A bark of laughter came from Farnum. “Reckon I knew that. You ain’t the type to ever let grass grow under your feet, are you?”

“I might have been ... at one time.”

“I won’t even ask you what happened to change things. Ain’t none of my business. I’m glad you came with us this far, even though it turned out we didn’t need your gun after all.”

They heard men calling to their teams and looked back to see the wagons emerging from the pass and starting the descent into the valley. The trail was an easy one. It was almost like the valley had been put here specifically for those immigrants.

Dunlap and Harwood led the wagons to a broad, level field next to one of the streams. The settlers would need a place to camp for a while, until they’d had a chance to explore the valley and decide where they wanted to build their cabins and ranch houses.

Later on, the camp might even serve as the site of a small community that was likely to grow up to serve the needs of the settlers. When word got around, it was possible more immigrants might arrive in Raincrow Valley.

For now, though, the most important thing was getting situated for the night. Dunlap had the drivers pull the wagons into the usual circle, for defensive purposes and also to shelter the livestock. As the shadows of dusk began to gather, cooking fires sprang up. The trees that grew along the creek provided fuel.

The Kid unsaddled his dun and picketed the horse with the other saddle mounts. He had been pushing the horse pretty hard the past few days, he thought. Although he had no intention of settling here, it might be a good idea to stay for a few days and allow the dun to rest.

That would also give him a chance to make sure the immigrants were settling in all right.

Dunlap caught The Kid’s eye and waved him over. “We’re still gonna post guards tonight. I figure those Apaches are back across the border by now. They stopped long enough to attack that freight wagon, but with the cavalry patrollin’, they’re gonna want to get back to their stronghold in Mexico.”

“You’re probably right,” The Kid said. “I agree that it’s a good idea to stay alert, though.”

“You’re gonna be here with us?”

The Kid nodded. “For a day or two. I don’t know for sure yet when I’m riding out.”

Dunlap clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. We’re much obliged to you for your help.”

“I didn’t do anything but ride along with you,” The Kid pointed out.

“Maybe so, but it eased my mind some knowin’ that we had a fella as handy with a gun as you are along with us.”

The Kid assured Dunlap that he’d be glad to take a turn standing guard again, then went in search of some supper. For some reason, his footsteps led him toward Jessica Ritter’s wagon.

He expected to find Harwood there, but he didn’t see the scout. Nor was Jessica visible outside the wagon.

The thought crossed The Kid’s mind that Jessica and Harwood might be inside the wagon. They were engaged to be married, after all.

He was about to back off and go in search of Violet Price, figuring she would be happy to share her family’s supper with him, when he heard a loud thud inside the wagon, followed by a yelp of pain.

That didn’t sound good, so The Kid stepped to the back of the wagon and called, “Everybody all right in there?”

Jessica pushed aside one of the canvas flaps that hung over the vehicle’s rear opening and looked out at him with an irritated expression on her face. The irritation wasn’t actually directed at him, though.

“I dropped my blasted dutch oven,” she said.

“Are you all right?” The Kid asked. “One of those things can break a toe.”

“I’m fine. It didn’t land on my foot. But when I jumped back so it wouldn’t, I banged my head on one of the iron ribs that hold up the canvas cover.”

The Kid nodded in understanding of what had happened. A bump on the head probably wasn’t too serious.

“Where’s Harwood?” he asked.

“Scott said he was going to scout around a little more before it gets dark,” Jessica told him.

“That’s probably a good idea. He’s devoted to his job.”

“Yes,” she said with an edge in her voice. “Very devoted.”

The Kid wasn’t sure what that meant, but he didn’t suppose it was any of his business.

“Let me give you a hand with that oven,” he offered.

For a second Jessica looked like she was going to refuse, but then she nodded her head. “All right. Thanks.”

The Kid lowered the tailgate, stepped up on it, and climbed in to the wagon. With the sun already down, it was pretty dim inside, under the arching canvas cover. He saw the dutch oven and bent to pick it up.

Jessica reached for it at the same time. “I said you could help, I didn’t say you had to pick it up by yourself.”

Their hands brushed together and stopped short of the dutch oven, with skin pressed to skin. The Kid expected Jessica to pull her hand away, but she didn’t.

“I can get it—” he began.

She turned, put her hand on the back of his neck to hold him still as she came into his arms and pressed her mouth to his.

The kiss was unexpected, but The Kid didn’t pull away. Since his wife’s death, he hadn’t sought out any romantic relationships, but a few of them had come his way and he hadn’t turned them down. Not all of them, anyway. He still enjoyed the feel of a woman in his arms and the taste of her lips.

But this was just asking for trouble he didn’t need, and The Kid knew it. He’d instinctively put his arms around Jessica, but moved his hands to her shoulders and tried to ease her away from him.

She clung to him with obvious need and desperation. When he finally succeeded in breaking the kiss, she whispered urgently, “Damn you, Morgan. Why did you have to come riding along and get me all mixed up like this?”

“If you’re mixed up, it’s because of you, not me,” he told her. “You’d be better off thinking about your fiancé—”

“Stop it! I don’t want to think about him. He’s not thinking about me right now, I can promise you that. The only thing he’s thinking about is finding some Apaches to kill!”

“That sounds to me like a good way of staying alive,” The Kid said. “I’m sorry if there’s trouble between the two of you, but I’m sure as hell not the solution.”

A shudder went through her. She was close enough to him that he could feel it.

“I’m not going to marry him. I decided that even before you came along, Kid. I only agreed because I ... I’d known him for so long, since before my husband died. I guess I was scared to face things alone.”

In the time he had known her, Jessica hadn’t acted like much of anything scared her. But there was no way of knowing what went on inside a person’s heart and mind, where their true self was found.

“You’ll have to work that out without my help.” He started to turn away.

She clutched at him again. “Kid, please—”

From the wagon’s tailgate, Scott Harwood roared a curse and flung himself toward them. “Let go of her, you son of a bitch!” He tackled The Kid and knocked him away from Jessica. Both men crashed to the floor of the wagon. Harwood started throwing wild punches in the gloom.

“Scott, stop it!” Jessica shouted. The collision’s impact had driven her to her knees nearby. “Stop it!”

Harwood ignored her and kept flailing away at The Kid.

Biting back angry curses of his own, The Kid blocked as many of the punches as he could, but some of them got through and landed on his chin and jaw, jerking his head back and forth, stunning him. His arms sagged.

With a shake of his head, he threw off the effects of the punches and reached up to grab the front of Harwood’s shirt. A sudden heave sent Harwood crashing into the wagon’s sideboards. The Kid rolled away from him and came up on a knee.

“Blast it, settle down!” The Kid said as he held out a hand toward Harwood, as if to ward off the scout’s attack.

It didn’t do any good. Harwood scrambled up and launched himself at The Kid again. As they crashed together, they rolled toward the rear of the wagon, through the canvas flaps, and right off the lowered tailgate.

The fall to the ground was a good four feet, and the awkward landing broke them apart. People had heard the shouting from Jessica’s wagon and were hurrying toward it to see what was wrong. Surprised exclamations went up as the two battling men emerged.

The Kid wasn’t one to run from a fight, but as he got to his feet he backed off. It was a pointless struggle that shouldn’t have happened in the first place. He was just thankful that so far Harwood had only used his fists. If the scout had reached for his gun, that would have been real trouble.

“You’ve got it all wrong, Harwood,” The Kid said as he tried to talk some sense into the furious man. “There’s nothing between Mrs. Ritter and me.”

Harwood had reached his feet, too, his chest heaving and his eyes blazing. His fists were clenched at his sides. “You’re a damned liar! I saw the two of you together. You either attacked her, or you’re trying to steal her away from me!”

“Scott, stop it,” Jessica said again from the rear of the wagon. “Mr. Morgan didn’t do anything. It was me, all me!”

Harwood lifted his head, and an even bleaker look settled over his face. “What are you saying, Jess?”

She swallowed hard. “You heard me. I’m sorry, Scott, but I ... I can’t marry you.”

Silence fell over the people who had crowded around Jessica’s wagon as Harwood stared at her uncomprehendingly. Finally, a grim realization settled over his face. “I was right,” he said quietly. He turned his head to look at The Kid. “You did this.”

And with that, he twisted his body and grabbed for the gun on his hip.