He ran both horses for a good distance until he was at the edge of the aspens. Out in the valley behind, he could see a cloud of dust. Captain Neill and the others were well on their way. Several loose horses ran in haphazard directions.
A man peeked his head over the hillside and Jim ignored him. Then he started the Appaloosa through the trees. Let them see him. Let them see their gold and let them see where he went. He’d lead them on a merry chase.
“We’ll show them some country, won’t we?” Jim patted the Appaloosa’s neck.
* * * *
As she had every evening since her children had been stolen, Ellen Heston waited by the door and stared into the fading sun. Another day had gone. Another day without Walt and Alma and now her husband, too. Would they ever come back?
“Have faith,” Delphi said from behind her. “It just takes time.”
Fine words and Ellen appreciated the sentiment, but it wasn’t Del’s children or husband that were out there. That wasn’t fair, Ellen knew. Captain Neill was a fine man; Del obviously cared for him deeply, and she had no one else. Certainly no one in California.
She’s even more alone here than I am.
“I know,” Ellen said. “But I wish they were home.” She moved away from the porch and into her cabin. “I have this dream that they’ll all three come riding in one evening. All together and all safe.”
“And I’m sure they will, with James and your brother alongside,” Del said. “But it might not be tonight.”
“You’re right, of course, but I don’t know how you can be so calm about it.”
“Practice,” Del said. She looked up from the quilt she’d been stitching. “During the war, James and all the young men went off to fight, some of the old as well, while we women had nothing to do but wait and hope.”
“Captain Neill said you knew each other before the war.”
“We grew up together. His father’s place bordered ours. Lots of balls and parties and dances. James is a fine dancer.”
“Did you love him then?” Ellen asked. “Before the war, I mean?”
Del smiled. “I did. We’d pledged to marry when he came back.”
“And what happened?”
“The war ended and James didn’t come home. We thought him dead—his parents, mine, and after a time, even me. There were other men. I was courted by several, but life in the South had changed. By the war’s end we were broke, everyone was, and there were no more balls or parties or dances. It was a bleak time, bitter and gray.”
“He came home, though. Eventually.”
“Eventually,” Del agreed. “Three years after the war ended, he just showed up one day. He wasn’t the same man, of course. He’s always been courteous, but the happiness was gone. A cloud lay over him.”
“He was like that on the trail at first, and then he slowly changed as we traveled west.”
Del gave her a curious look. “I heard he crossed the trail many times, but instead of coming home, he went back to Kansas to start over the following year.”
There was an unspoken question there, and Ellen wasn’t sure if she should be the one to answer it.
“We asked him to stay here and build with us, but for whatever reason, he suddenly decided he needed to be home. Jim told me they were not the best of friends when they left Kansas, but over the trail Jim came to respect Neill a great deal. When Donovan died, it was the two of them who held the caravan together. They brought us through.”
Del opened her mouth to speak, but one of the horses stirred outside.
Ellen’s heart hammered against her ribs. Were they back? Were they safe and whole? She would die if one of them were hurt or worse.
Or what if it was Bannen and his men?
She scooped up the rifle and leaned out around the door. Picking up her own weapon, Del took a position at the window.
Ellen looked into the night. She held her breath, hoping to hear something, anything. Jim’s voice. Walt or Alma’s laughter. It seemed an age had passed since she’d last heard them. Her shadow stretched out as if reaching for the incoming riders. Her shadow. She frowned down at it. The lantern. They’d left the lantern burning. It would outline them to whoever came through the trees. Jim had warned her about that.
She dashed into the room, blew it out, then went back to the door.
The rifle felt heavy in her hands. She opened the action enough to see that it was ready to fire. Jim told her to keep it that way. Though she dared not close her eyes, she prayed he was out there.
Deep in the trees, the shadows moved. Whoever it was, they were almost at the cabin. A cloud lay over the moon, and between the soaring pines, the stars gave fragmented hints of the sky. She’d liked their peaceful cabin. She’d been glad when Jim built it away from the bustle of the growing town. But tonight, with the candle out and the world cast in darkness, she feared and hated it.
Ellen lifted the barrel. Her finger found the trigger; she took a second to glance over at Del. She, too, had her rifle up. They were as ready as they would ever be.
Whoever was out there was close now. Ellen heard the jingle of their spurs, the creak of thick leather, the heavy rhythm of their horses’ breathing.
She could stand the suspense no longer. “Who’s out there?” she called.
“Mama?” The voice sounded so small against the deep night.
“Walt?” Her reserve shattered, and she ran out to him. “Walt, are you all right?”
Then he was in her arms and safe. Safe. She sobbed against his shoulder.
“Oh, Walt, I was so…so worried.” Then Alma was beside him and Ellen included her in their embrace. “Alma. Both my darlings. Thank God you’re both home and safe.”
She looked up. Colton and Captain Neill were there. Delphi, too, had run from the house. Neill held her close. Ellen craned her neck to see better. “Jim? Where is Jim?”
