Charles West - Lawless Prairie

She knew he was right, she could not go with him, but she would have gone with him had he asked her to. They spent the rest of the afternoon on their special island. She gave herself in tearful passion, knowing that it was uncertain when, or even if, she would ever see him again. When finally it was time to go, he helped her on her horse and rode with her until they reached the corner of her uncle’s property. He pulled up short of the path to the house. “I don’t know how your folks will take it now that I’m a convict on the run again,” he said.

“Clint, they know you’re a good man, especially my father. He would never turn you away. Besides, you’re not asking for anything that doesn’t already belong to you. And if you’re worried about me, don’t. I don’t care what they think.” She nudged her horse and led the way.

When she entered the house, Bertha was already in the midst of making supper. “I was beginning to worry about you,” Bertha remarked. “I was about to send John to look for you.”

“I’m sorry,” Joanna replied softly. “I guess I just lost track of time.”

Usually observant, Bertha was startled when she glanced beyond her niece to discover Clint coming in the door behind her. Standing wide-eyed in astonishment and left speechless for once in her life, she looked to Joanna for an explanation.

“Clint’s just come for some of his things,” Joanna started. “He’s not going to stay.” Then while her aunt gaped at her and then at Clint, then back at her again, Joanna explained Clint’s unexpected appearance. Before she finished, the men came in from the lower field, equally astonished to find Clint there—overjoyed in young John’s case—and the story was repeated, this time by Clint.

As Clint had feared, the situation created some concern for Frederick Steiner. He wasn’t quite sure what his Christian position should be in the case of a fugitive from the law. Before, when the deputy marshal had come to the house, and Clint had agreed to return to serve his sentence, Frederick was satisfied that things were in proper order. Now he stood a little uncertain. He would not deny Clint hospitality, but he was not comfortable with it. This was not the case with his brother, Karl. Joanna’s father had seen Clint in action when he and his daughter were in grave danger. He had discovered Clint’s character in the responsibility he assumed to guarantee Joanna’s safety. There was no hesitation on his part; he would help Clint on either side of the law. John’s position was already known, but he was too young for his advice to be given serious consideration.

Bertha listened patiently during the second explanation to the men. She watched Joanna’s face when Clint told them about the trial in Cheyenne and his decision to escape. Her heart went out to her niece, for her major concern was for Joanna, and she could see no happy ending to a life on the run with a fugitive. As much as she genuinely liked Clint, she felt she must speak against any ideas Joanna might have in mind. “Clint,” she finally interrupted, “I understand completely why you did what you did, but if you care for Joanna, you must know you can’t take her with you.”

“I know that, ma’am,” Clint replied. “I wouldn’t ask her to.”

“I knew you had a good head on your shoulders,” Bertha said.

“Well, why don’t you women get some supper on the table?” Karl interjected. “The man’s probably half starved.”

“I could use somethin’ to eat,” he admitted, “if it’s not too much to ask.”

“Of course you can have something to eat,” Bertha said. “I’m not going to send you off hungry.”

“I’m obliged,” Clint drawled with a shy little smile in Joanna’s direction. “Then I’ll be goin’ as soon as I get my horse loaded.”

“You might as well stay until morning,” Frederick said. “It’s kinda late to get started tonight.”

Joanna gave her uncle a grateful smile, then followed Clint out to the corral while he made his selection of the horses he had left in John’s care. His choice was one of the Indian ponies, a pinto, to use for his packhorse. Figuring he would be depending upon his rifle for most of his food, he loaded all the spare ammunition he had. He unrolled a spare shirt and took the money he had left there for safe-keeping, and put it in his packs, along with his cooking utensils and his coffeepot. Then he set the packs beside the stall to be loaded upon the pinto in the morning. Joanna helped with the packs and then walked him back to the house, holding his arm in both of hers.

It was an unusually quiet supper. No one seemed inclined to offer the usual lighthearted conversation so typical at Bertha’s table. It was as if they expected the law to knock on the door at any second. It was a relief for Clint when it was finished and he said his good-byes. Joanna walked to the door of the barn with him and kissed him good night. “Be careful,” she said as he left her.

Unable to sleep for most of the night, Joanna finally gave up a little before dawn and went to the window. As she stood staring out into the dark barnyard, she saw a shadowy figure on a horse emerge from the barn, leading his packhorse. Her first impulse was to run to the door to say good-bye, but she hesitated, knowing that it would be easier for both of them if she didn’t.

Chapter 14

Maggie Pitts took a long look at herself in the mirror, then touched her cheek with another dab of rouge. It was getting harder and harder to hide the years that had eroded the youthful appearance she had once thought would never fade. She stepped back to examine the full-length image, turning to study one profile, then turning to judge the other. She squinted critically at the beginnings of a wattle beneath her chin and reached up to pull the loose skin back with her fingers. Nothing I can do about that , she thought, unless I wear dresses cut low enough to distract male eyeballs. Sighing helplessly, resigned to the facts of nature, she finished dressing, took one last look in the mirror at the completed package, and went into the kitchen.

Times had been hard these last months, and now that winter was approaching, they would be harder still, although, typically, she usually picked up more short-term boarders in the winter, usually lonely men who lived most of their lives in temporary camps, caves, or rough cabins. A week at Maggie’s big two-story house, eating in a dining room, and if financially able, enjoying the extra benefits offered by the madam, was their reward for surviving the rest of the year in the wilderness. If the customer was not able to afford the delights of the owner of the house, there were always the offerings of Maggie’s cook and housekeeper. Half Irish, half Blackfoot, Corrina was compensated with free room and board, and earned her casual money by servicing occasional drifters.

It had been an equitable arrangement, but Maggie was keen enough to see the handwriting on the wall. She was staring life’s advancing years in the face, and her sights were always set on finding her financial salvation. The big house that her late husband had built for her—at the time the finest structure in Big Timber, and still the largest—was now in a state of sad despair and in need of repair. And Maggie’s chief assets were her feminine charms and friendly disposition, both of which were losing value every year.

For these reasons, Maggie was particular about her appearance on this early-fall day. Her two new boarders, though rough in appearance, seemed to be flush with money, judging by the size of the rolls they displayed when they paid a week in advance for not one, but two rooms. This might not be the opportunity she hoped for, but it certainly warranted looking into. And not that it mattered, but the big one wasn’t that hard to look at. A bath and shave might be enough to make him presentable. The skinny one looked a little too much like a weasel to suit her, but when it came down to her needs, she would make either one do. She had been a prostitute when Frank married her. She was the same now, although she liked to think of herself as a property owner and entrepreneur.