As he walked through the hills looking for the horses, Frank tried not to think about the fact that Meg was Palmer’s prisoner. He knew she was good at taking care of herself, and he told himself that she would be all right until they could catch up to her and her captor.
If she wasn’t, he would kill Palmer himself, even if it took him the rest of his life to track the man down.
A feeling of frustration grew stronger in Frank as he continued to search without finding any of the horses. Palmer might have taken several of the animals with him, but he couldn’t have led all of them away. Some of them had bolted in panic from all the shooting after Palmer turned them loose. They ought to still be around here somewhere.
But he didn’t see any, and when he stopped and turned around to scan the hills around him, he realized that he was out of sight of the camp, too. He didn’t want to go too much farther. Like most Westerners, he wasn’t used to walking when he could ride. His feet already hurt.
Disgusted, he turned around and started back toward the camp. He could search again later. In the meantime, it was possible that some of the horses would wander up on their own and save him from having to look for them.
When he reached the camp, he saw that Salty was awake and propped up against a log. Reb knelt beside him, holding a canteen. The young man looked back over his shoulder at Frank and asked, “Any luck?”
Frank shook his head. “Nope.”
“I was afraid that was what you were gonna say, when you didn’t bring any of the horses back with you.”
Frank sat down on the log. “How are you feeling, Salty?”
“Like I been shot,” the old-timer replied. “Hurts like Hades, too. How bad am I hit, Frank? Am I gonna die?”
“Not from that bullet crease in your side,” Frank said with a smile. “You’re weak because you lost some blood, but you’ll be all right.”
Salty took the canteen from Reb and swigged down a long drink of water. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and said, “I sure wish I had a drink right about now. Danged if I don’t.”
“Reckon that’ll have to wait until we get back to civilization,” Frank told him.
“Civilization … bah! Civilization’s full o’ crooked varmints like Palmer and fiendish contraptions like them devil guns and a bunch o’ skunks who ain’t got nothin’ better to do than stir up a whole heap o’ trouble. Why, for a nickel I’d chuck the whole blamed thing and go live in a cave somewheres like a danged ol’ hermit!”
“Then you’d never get a drink,” Reb pointed out.
Salty scratched at his beard. “Well, that’s true,” he allowed. “I reckon there’s a few good things about civilization … but mighty dang few!”
By now the sun was well up. Frank said, “We need to get some breakfast going.”
“I’ll handle that,” Reb offered. He patted Salty on the shoulder. “You just sit there and rest, old-timer.”
Reb bustled off to gather more wood and prepare a meal. While he was doing that, Salty said quietly, “The boy tells me Palmer ran off with Meg. Is that true, Frank?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Dadgum it! You got to get after ‘em. You and Reb just leave me here and get on the trail. I’ll be all right. I can take care o’ myself.”
“I’m sure you can,” Frank said, “but we don’t have any horses.”
“Well, then, you’re just gonna have to go after ‘em on foot. You can’t leave Meg in that bastard’s hands, Frank. You just can’t.”
“I’m not going to,” Frank promised. “But we’ll never catch up on foot. We’ve got to find some horses somewhere. Maybe there’s a trapper’s cabin or a little ranch around here. I’ll have a look again later.”
“I don’t like it. That son of a bitch could be doin’ ‘most anything.”
Frank nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m trying not to think about it right now, until I can actually do something about it.”
“One thing we can count on,” Salty mused. “Ol’ Meg ain’t gonna cooperate with him. If there’s one thing that gal knows how to do, it’s put up a fight!”
The blonde took Palmer by surprise, kicking him in the chest as soon as he untied her wrists from the saddle horn. He had thought she was only half-conscious after the long, hard ride and not really a threat.
But suddenly her boot thudded into him and the impact sent him staggering back a couple of steps. A rock rolled under his foot, and his balance deserted him. He went down, sprawling on the ground.
The wicked kick had thrown the woman off balance, too. She grabbed at the horn, and even in his pain Palmer knew that if she stayed in the saddle, she could gallop away from him and might succeed in escaping.
Her hands were still lashed together with her belt, though, and that made her grab an awkward one. Her fingers slipped off the horn, and she toppled to the ground with an angry cry.
Like a flash, she was up and running. Palmer struggled to his feet and went after her.
She was fast, and Palmer wasn’t in the best shape in the world. She began to pull away from him.
He ought to just let her go, he thought. Out here alone and on foot, with no gun and no supplies, she wouldn’t last long.
But she would be a loose end, and he didn’t like those. He thought he might still be able to get some use out of her, too, even if it was just to warm his blankets. Looked like he wasn’t ever going to get any comfort from Charlotte Marat, so he might as well take it where he could find it.
