Authors: Tracey Bateman
Blake stretched out fully on his bedroll and stared into the vast expanse of a starlit night. The beauty of such a moment could be shared with someone special, but never explained. Even the most eloquent poet couldn't capture the magnificence of a prairie sky on a clear night.
A deep sense of peace settled over Blake. This would be his last train, and at the end of the trail, after years of delivering hundreds of pioneers to their land of promise, it was finally his turn to settle.
It was his turn to build a life, a home, a family of his own. He'd been eyeing some of the single young women in the train, Edna in particular. Not seriously, but taking stock just the same. Might be smart to stake his claim and find a wife before all the men out West started speaking up. The ratio of men to women was three to one, and if a man went west without a ready-made wife, it was only the luck of the draw whether he'd find one or not.
He knew the kind of woman he wanted. Someone soft,
sweet, kind. The sort of woman a man could look forward to finding at home after a full day of working in the fields. A woman he could count on for a nice meal, a hot cup of coffee, and a well-kept home. And eventually, a passel of young'uns, boys mostly, to help out on the farm and carry on the name of Tanner. Edna's boy, Miles, was a strapping lad, four years old, polite, and smart. So Blake knew she was the sort of woman who would provide the children he longed for. That was his dream. He'd been saving almost every penny he'd earned over the past five years. Within a few months he could hang up his wanderer's hat and begin building his life.
Crack.
Instinct yanked Blake from the ground to his feet before his head registered the sound of a rifle fire. He snatched his Colt from its holster next to him as he stood. Men were already starting to come out of their tents and wagons before he had passed three campfires. He had to find the source of that shot before things grew chaotic. Where in thunderation was Sam?
His feet led him toward the first place that flashed to his mind: Fannie's wagon. A high-pitched, child's scream split the air, and he knew he was headed in the right direction. Blake increased his speed until he reached his destination. A group had already gathered by the time he arrived. He elbowed his way through the bystanders and stopped short at the sight of Katie, gripped in the meaty hands of a man of enormous girth. Her small body shook with fear, and tears poured down her cheeks.
“What's going on?” Blake demanded. He knew he had to
tread carefully. This man could snap Katie's neck without any effort whatsoever.
“Nothing you need to worry about, mister,” the man snarled.
Fighting against his sudden anger, Blake knew he had to maintain control of what could turn into a volatile situation. But there was no way he was letting this man kidnap Katie or anyone else. “Let's just pretend it
is
something I need to worry about. What are you doing manhandling that little girl?”
“Like I said”âthe man kept a firm hold on Katie's bone-thin arm and moved forwardâ“it ain't none of your never mind. But just so's there ain't no trouble, this girl and her brother and sister is indentured to me.”
“It's not true,” Kip said, pulling against the other man, tall and bald, with the longest neck Blake had ever seen. A gun flashed against Kip's side, but the apparent danger didn't seem to deter the boy in the slightest.
The fat man's face reddened in anger. “You callin' me a liar, boy?”
“That's what you are,” Kip spit back.
The man turned to Blake with a cajoling smile that showed a gap where his two front teeth had once hung in his mouth. The grin only boiled Blake's blood.
Katie found her voice. “D-don't let him take us back, Mr. Tanner.”
The man shook her arm, making her whole body vibrate with the movement.
“Shut up,” he growled before looking back at Blake, clearly tired of making the attempt at civility. “I paid me fifty dollars
fair and square to their pa. Now hand Fannie over to me, and we'll just be headin' back to Hawkins.”
Movement from the wagon behind them caught Blake's attention. Pale and trembling, Fannie appeared at the canvas opening. “Don't believe him, Mr. Tanner,” she said, gasping with pain.
Blake stepped forward and extended his hand, half-assisting, half-carrying Fannie down from the wagon. “Are you saying this man doesn't have a right to you and the twins?”
“That's exactly what I'm saying.”
“Lyin' scrap of a gal. You know dern well I paid for you fair and square.”
Fannie turned angry eyes on the man, but even in the protection of Blake's arm, she trembled in fear. It didn't take much deduction to figure out this man had been the source of the beating she'd received.
“If Miss Caldwell says you're lying, I'm inclined to believe her, mister. I suggest you and your friend release the children and leave the way you came. We don't want trouble.”
“Now, lookee here, mister.” He dropped Katie's arm, and the little girl ran to Fannie, burying her head in Fannie's side. Blake dropped his arm from Fannie's shoulders and braced himself for what could turn into an ugly incident. He knew there were at least six members of his wagon train with rifles pointed at the two intruders. But if he could resolve the matter without gunfire, without bloodshed, he would prefer it. Still, he figured it was this man's choice.
“I said, I don't want trouble,” Blake said, giving the man a cold, even glare. “But if you want some, I'll be happy to oblige.”
“All I want is what's mine.”
“I'm not letting you take these three without proof they belong with you.”
A look of pure stupidity slid across the man's face. “What kind of proof you talkin' about?”
Was this man as dumb as he appeared to be? “Indentured servants enter into a contractual agreement. Do you have a document proving your claim?”
A frown creased the wide forehead. “You mean a piece of paper sayin' I bought 'em?”
Indignation formed a black shadow across Blake's heart. “You can't buy children in this country. Not white children anyway.”
“Mr. Tanner?” Fannie's weak voice spoke up once more. “He paid my stepfather fifty dollars to keep us indentured for two years.”
“There,” the fat man said with smug self-assurance. “She admitted it.”
Blake frowned and turned to the young woman. “Fannie?”
She shook her head. “He's kept us as his slaves for three years. The way I figure, he owes me a year's salary.”
From outside the wagon circle, a limb snapped. They turned as another stranger entered the camp, pistol drawn and cocked. “The girl's right.”
“Hank!” Toni finally spoke up. “What are you doing?”
The woolly man looked familiar, but Blake couldn't quite
place him. For now anyway. He knew it would come to him eventually.
“Miss Toni,” he said, “I saw these men ride out and figured they was up to no good.”
The man still holding on to Kip gave a snort. “Shoulda knowed you'd be behind this, Hank.” He turned to the fat man. “That fool smithy's been sweet on my girl for years.”
Smithy. Now Blake remembered why he looked familiar. The man was the town of Hawkins's blacksmith.
“I'm not your girl, George. I worked for you,” Toni said, her voice cracking with nerves. “I'm free to leave Hawkins if I choose.”
The man's eyes glittered dangerously, and he leaned closer to her. Toni shrank back even though she had to know there was no real threat with six men ready to plug this fellow should he make one false move.
“I think we've heard enough.” Blake turned to the fat man. He was barely able to keep from punching the sweating pig of a man. “Fannie clearly has no obligation to you any longer. And Toni has made it plain she doesn't intend to return to Hawkins, so I suggest you men clear out.”
“We ain't clearin' outta nowhere without what belongs to me.”
“We don't belong to you, Tom. We fulfilled our obligation a year ago.” Fannie's face was pale, and even in the firelight of the lanterns held by several of the bystanders it was pretty clear she was about to faint. “I'm not taking my Kip and Katie back to that stinking town no matter what. So you might as well do as Mr. Tanner said and clear on out of here.”
Without a word, the man moved with surprising speed, hauling his enormous frame toward Fannie. She sidestepped, as though accustomed to the move, and he lunged forward, narrowly catching himself before plunging headlong into the wagon.
Sam finally showed up, looking disheveled and in pain, but holding his Colt out in front of him. “Mister, if you know what's good for you, you'll take that advice.”
Tom glanced around, finally realizing he was badly outnumbered and outgunned. “Let's go, George.”
George shoved Kip forward. He glared around at the group of at least fifty that had gathered in the commotion. He pointed a filthy gnarled finger at Toni. “You ain't never gonna be any better than what you are, Toni. You was nothing when I found you. Hungry and skinny and half-dead. This is the thanks I get for taking you in and savin' your life?”
Shaking her head, Toni met his angry gaze head on. “
Thank
you? You made me what I became. But, no more. Do you hear me? Never again.”
He sneered. “You ain't never gonna be no more than you are, girl. And that's a fact.”
Hank Moore stepped between George and Toni. His eyes glittered dangerously as he stared the man down, heedless of the six-shooter in George's hands. “You heard the wagon master, George. It's time for you and Tom to go.”
“You'll be sorry, Hank. You know she ain't never gonna care for you like you care for her. Ain't you spent enough on her?”
Hank said nothing, and finally George spun and walked
toward a red sorrel mare. He swung himself into the saddle and galloped away without a backward glance. Hatred glittered in Tom's eyes. Blake braced himself for trouble. Surely the fool wouldn't try anything stupid. Tom looked from Fannie to Blake, indecision clouding his simpleminded expression. “You going to cause trouble, Tom?”
At the sound of Blake's veiled threat, Tom finally made up his mind and backed down. He hauled his girth to his poor horse's back, the man's behind so large the saddle was hidden beneath his layers of fat. Disgust rolled through Blake as he watched the two men ride away.
He spun on Sam. “I thought you were supposed to be looking out for them.”
Giving a humble nod, the scout raked his fingers through shoulder-length hair. “I was distracted and didn't hear them. They jumped me and knocked me out cold.”
“They did?” If Blake had known that, he wouldn't have let them off so easily. “You okay?”
“Head's a mite sore. But I guess I'm none the worse for wear. Nothing a good night's sleep won't cure. Unless you want me to keep watch again?”
Blake gripped his rifle. “No. I'll stand guard over Fannie and the rest.”
“I'll stand guard over my own wagon,” Kip growled, thrusting out his chest and rising to his full height.
“I take it you're the one that fired a shot?” Blake eyed the lad.
“That's right.”
“Good job. If you hadn't alerted the wagon train, they
would have snuck in and stolen all of you away, including Toni.”
The boy beamed beneath the praise. “Weren't nothing much,” he mumbled.
“It was. And I'm glad to know I can count on you to look after the women. But you have a full day ahead of you keeping watch and attending to your chores. A boy your age needs plenty of sleep so your bones will grow.”
Kip's eyes squinted with distrust. “What about you? You don't need sleep?”
The kid had a point. And a sharp mind. Blake liked that. “As someone who is much older, I've slept years longer than you already. I'm better suited to lose a little sleep. Besides, I'd feel better if you're watching over your sister from inside the wagon while I look after the outside.”
Kip's eyes brightened with understanding. “Yeah, if ol' Tom gets past you, he's going to have to deal with me.”
Blake's lips twitched. “Exactly.”
“If you two have it all worked out,” came Fannie's weak voice, “I'm going to say good night.”
“Kip, climb up ahead of your sister,” he instructed. Kip did as he was told.
“Put your arms around my neck, Fannie.”
“Not in a million years, mister,” she said, her stubborn bravado shadowed by the weakness of her words.
“Aw, Fannie,” Kip said. “Do as he says.”
“Mind your own business, Kip,” she said, her voice so soft, Blake feared she'd pass out any second. “I don't need his help.”
“Well, you're going to get it anyway.” Without waiting for permission he knew would never be granted, he swung her tiny body into his arms. Inches from her face, he looked into her eyes. Up close, they were even more alluring than from a distance, and Blake couldn't help the ideas swarming his mind. Only her weary sigh brought him back to reality and kept him from making a fool of himself. As carefully as he could, he lifted her into the wagon bed while Kip took hold of her to keep her steady.
“Thank you, both,” she said, clearly in pain. “Good night.”
Blake turned to Toni. She seemed to read the request in his eyes, for she came forward. “I'll take care of her, Mr. Tanner.”
“Thank you.”
She nodded at Sam. “Good night again, Mr. Two Feathers. Take care of that knot on your head.”
An embarrassed smile quirked Sam's lip. “I will, Miss Toni.”
“Good night, Hank,” she said to the smithy. “Thanks for coming to the rescue again.”
The burly blacksmith squeezed his battered hat between his beefy hands. His face cracked into a smile. “My pleasure.” The canvas flap lowered behind her, leaving Blake and Sam to break up the gathering of onlookers. “Morning's coming awfully early, folks,” Blake announced. “I suggest everyone turn in for what's left of night.”