Tightening his grip on the frame of the open window, Reno tried to keep himself from jostling around. He’d forgotten how impossibly rough the stagecoach ride would be. The unpaved road was nothing but deep ruts and deeper holes. A cloud of dust obscured his view and the sun beat down unmercifully, making the crowded coach feel like the inside of an oven. He glanced at Gentry and the other two passengers, wondering how in the hell they could sleep in such conditions. All he could think about was how different this ride would be in Journey’s car.
Gritting his teeth, Reno hung on, his body swaying from side to side. Thinking was almost impossible, but he had nothing else to do. What Gentry said about Ela’s son kept running through his mind. The wisdom Kota inherited from Ela would’ve come through this son. Reno wondered if the man would be willing to help him. When he returned from Georgia with Cole, he would pay the tribe a visit. That thought led to another – and another. Would Governor Pease stop the massacre? Would the tribe even exist upon his return? Surely, it would. If he failed in these attempts, of what use was the miracle of his journey?
The moment his mind formed the idiotic thought, he knew better.
The miracle of his journey was his wife and unborn child.
Even if all his efforts failed, the days he spent with his beloved were worth it all.
Leaning his head on the window frame, he closed his eyes. Just as he did, the stagecoach bounced as one of the wheels fell into another large hole. He couldn’t even sit still, much less sleep.
With more time to think, his mind turned to Cole. He couldn’t wait to see him. He couldn’t wait to tell him what he’d been through. They had so much catching up to do. As his train of thought continued, he hit a mental wall of stone.
Even if all went well and Cole was freed, his time with his brother was limited.
When he returned to Journey, he’d have to leave Cole behind.
“Hell!” he shouted, tearing his hat from his head.
“What is wrong with you?” Gentry asked, as the other occupants of the coach all eyed him with startled suspicion.
“Nothing. Everything. My whole body is sore. Riding this damn stagecoach is worse than being pummeled with rocks as big as my fist.”
“Well, I do apologize for any discomfort, Mr. Black. I know you’ve become spoiled to more comfortable accommodations.”
Hearing the royal sarcastically berate him for his complaints made Reno feel foolish. “Sorry. I’m a little out of sorts.”
“Understandable.” Gentry pulled his hat down over his eyes. “Just try to hold it down, will you?”
Neither of the other men commented. Although, the large man did give Reno a hard look. He was about to try and strike up a conversation when a shout from the driver drew their attention. The next thing they knew, shots were being fired.
“I’ll say, old chap, I think we’re being robbed.” Gentry drew his gun as he attempted to push Reno down and out of danger.
Resisting his friend’s attempt to protect him, Reno pulled his own gun. “Can anyone see anything?”
The younger man ventured to peer out his window. “It’s Injuns. I can see them.” His identification of their attackers seemed to be verified when war whoops could be heard right outside the window. “What are they after? I don’t have anything worth stealing.”
“Railroad payroll,” said the older man, pulling his weapon. “That’s why my partner and I are here. We’re Rangers, he’s riding shotgun and I’m the secret weapon.”
The man had no more than got the words out of his mouth before an arrow zipped through the window and hit him in the chest with a thud. With no more than a gasp, he slumped over dead.
“So much for the secret,” Gentry drawled as he shook his head with regret.
“What are we going to do?” the younger man yelled.
His question was answered when the stagecoach pulled to a stop. Soon, they heard the driver pulling the payroll box from the roof to hand over to the Indians. While Gentry was cocked and primed to shoot anyone who approached the coach, Reno was more inclined to see what was going on outside.
Without saying a word, he eased to the door with Gentry hissing his disapproval. Reno shook his head, needing to confirm his suspicion. With one hand on the handle, he was just about to throw open the door when it was jerked out of his hand. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
Reno bristled. He was right. He knew that voice. “Kinsella,” he spat the name like it was poison. Before he could move, the younger passenger was yanked out by his collar. Reno followed voluntarily, slamming the door behind him. He knew Gentry would get the idea and stay quiet – for now.
“Well, take a gander over here, Taylor. If it isn’t the disappearing Injun. How did you do that, redskin?”
Reno didn’t answer, he was too busy gauging his chances. Cutting his glance to the driver’s box, he saw the surprise on the other ranger’s face. He’d expected the attackers to be Indians and discovered they were rednecks. With slightly widened eyes, he met Reno’s gaze. He was probably expecting his partner to come charging out ready to fire. Luckily, the Englishman was still hidden.
“Get their guns and empty their pockets,” the one named Roberts instructed Kinsella as he forced the driver and the ranger from the roof.
As Kinsella moved forward to do his part, Reno wondered why they were going to the trouble
