Charles West - Lawless Prairie

He nodded patiently, and stood up in the stirrups to look around them. “Judging from the direction of their trail before we lost it back there, I’d say we need to go south.” Then without waiting for further discussion, he turned Rowdy in that direction. Riding with the dark outline of the Black Hills on their left, they had progressed no more than two or three miles when Joanna spurred her horse up beside him. “There!” she exclaimed, pointing ahead. “There’s the fork with this river. I remember that!”

There were more than a few game trails leading down from the mountains to the river. They all looked the same to Joanna. She could not say which trail was the one her abductors had taken down to the river. Clint examined each likely prospect for sign, but could find none. Finally, he decided to follow the one that looked to be the most used, and they started up through the pines. It was late in the afternoon when the trail turned and led them back toward the river. The second trail they picked seemed more promising when it led up over a small ridge and then took them down into a long narrow gulch that cut deep into the mountains. “We came this way!” Joanna exclaimed as the gray rocky walls closed in to form a narrow passageway, and memories of that dark horrible night returned to her. Her throat tightened as she recalled those terrifying moments.

Seeing the terror registering in her face, he tried to reassure her. “Well, that’s good,” he said softly. “We’ll have you home soon, and you’ll be back with your husband and your father.”

She nodded and the moment of anxiety passed. Pointing up the trail, she said, “It’s not far now, just on the other side of that ridge.” The worry of seconds before was replaced by anticipation of her reunion with her husband and father, and she pushed ahead of Clint, anxious to go home.

Karl Steiner looked over the supplies he had gathered to take with him. They seemed meager to set out with on a trip that could last for a long, long time. Seeing the small quantity of flour and coffee beans, he said, “I shoulda opened those packs that son of a bitch had on his horse,” thinking of his son-in-law’s sudden departure. “He damn sure took a generous share.”

He paused to listen when his horse whinnied in the corral, but made no effort to investigate until he suddenly heard a horse lope into the clearing. He dropped the sack of coffee beans and grabbed the rifle propped against the table. Running to slam the open door, he was stopped in his tracks, hardly believing his eyes.

“Papa!” Joanna cried breathlessly when she saw him. Sliding from her horse, she almost stumbled in her excitement to reach her father.

Stunned almost to the point of collapsing, the old man had to grab the doorjamb for support until he realized that it really was Joanna returned from the dead. “Oh, baby girl,” he repeated over and over as he looked at his daughter’s bruised and swollen face. Pulling her close in his arms, he whispered, “You’re home, you’re home.” Still holding his daughter tightly, he glanced up to discover a man slowly walking his horse into the clearing. Astonished, he asked, “Who’s that?”

Without relaxing her embrace, she said, “Clint Conner, he’s the reason I’m back home safe.” Releasing him then, she asked, “Where’s Robert—at the claim?” The moment of joy for Karl was suddenly lost, replaced by one of reluctance. Seeing the baleful look in her father’s eyes, she exclaimed, “Is Robert all right?”

Knowing of no way to tell her that would not devastate her, he came out with it. “Robert’s not here. He packed up and went back east.”

“What?” she gasped, unable to understand. “Why?”

“Why? I don’t know,” he said, not wishing to tell her that her husband didn’t want her after she had been with the Indians. “Because he ain’t fit to wear men’s clothes, I reckon. It’s good riddance I say.” He motioned toward the supplies covering the table. “I was fixing to go search for you again, but he wouldn’t even do that.” He held her by her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “It’s better you found out what he was made of now, instead of later on,” he said.

Joanna was staggered, her brain reeling as much as it did from the physical blows she suffered from the broad-shouldered warrior. Robert gone! She felt all the blood drain from her head, and had to sink to the floor to keep from fainting. With the unspeakable abuse she had endured, she expected to need some time for herself to recover. But if she never spoke of these things, she had hoped Robert would understand, never question her or press for details. There had never been any thought that he might abandon her. It was not her fault she had been abducted. How could Robert blame her, and look upon her as soiled? He didn’t even wait around to find out for sure.

A silent observer to the tragic homecoming, Clint found himself furious for Joanna. In the few days they had traveled together, he had known her to be a fine and decent woman, and deserving of an understanding husband. As his fury subsided, he felt a wave of compassion for the jilted woman, but there was nothing he could think of to alleviate her pain. So he turned Joanna’s horse out in the small corral and left the grieving father and daughter to their sorrow without the intrusion of his presence.

He was checking the buckskin’s front hooves when he heard Karl Steiner coming up behind him. He stood up to face him. “Mr. Conner,” Karl greeted him, and extended his hand.

“Clint,” Clint corrected him, shaking his hand.

“Clint,” Karl repeated, talking with a thick German accent. “I apologize for my lack of hospitality, but it was a bad time for my daughter. I had to tell her some bad things.”

“Yessir,” Clint responded. “I couldn’t help but overhear. I’m real sorry for Joanna. She deserves better. I’m sorry about your wife, too. I expect I’d best get along and let you folks have your privacy.”

“No, sir,” Karl replied emphatically. “I wouldn’t hear of it. Joanna told me what you did for her—and for me. I have you to thank for giving me back my daughter. No, sir, I insist you stay with us. Joanna’s strong. She’s in the house now, starting supper, and she would never forgive you if you didn’t stay.”

“I don’t wanna be in the way with her feelin’ so bad right now,” Clint said.

“Clint, she wants you to stay. She feels she owes you for her life. Hell, man, I owe you for bringing my daughter back. Anything you want that I can give, I owe you.”

Clint nodded his surrender. “A cup of coffee’ll do, I reckon.”

“Well, I can certainly manage that,” Karl said with a wide grin. “Put your horses in the corral with mine and come on in the house.”

As soon as her father left to go talk to Clint, Joanna went to her room and changed out of the dirty torn dress she had been wearing since she was taken. She told herself to be strong, that she could live with the stigma of being discarded, and she was determined to show a strong resolve for Clint’s sake. She was burning the dirty dress in the fireplace when the men came in. It could have been washed and mended, but she would never wear that dress again, and she didn’t want it around to remind her.

“I hope that wasn’t supper,” Karl said, not really having seen what was going up in flames.

Clint got a glimpse of the material he had been seeing every day, and knew at once the significance of the cremation. Joanna glanced in his direction, but would not meet his gaze lest he saw the redness from crying. “Sit down, Clint,” she said. “I’ll get you some coffee.” There were so many things troubling her mind, her mother’s death, her captivity, her husband’s desertion, but she was determined to remain strong at this moment. There would be time later, when alone in her bed, when she could succumb to her grief.