Jordy said, “We’ve got to be moving on. We’re counting on you to get Sierra’s horses to the Lucky Five, but we expect to be there three or four days before you are.”
“We’ll bring the horses in, Jordy. Count on it.”
“And Irish,” Sierra said. “Please tell She Who Speaks I’m sorry I didn’t have time for a proper goodbye, but that I will be writing to her at Fort Sill.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll do that.”
Jordy swung his buckskin stallion around and headed for Castle Gap, his spare mount following on the lead rope. Sierra soon fell in beside him, leading her extra horse. He wondered if she was making her point that she was with him, not behind him. It didn’t matter. She did not realize how much he welcomed the feisty young woman’s company. Rudy had told him Sierra was just a spirited filly but warned him that some could never be broken. Well, Jordy had no interest in “breaking” any woman.
After leaving the gap behind, Jordy and Sierra found that trailing Jack would be an easy enough task. The narrow span of the dog cart’s wheels left distinctive tracks, falling in between the ruts dug by normal wagon traffic. They identified rest stops from big paw prints where Thor had likely been turned loose to sprinkle the dry earth some. One such spot was marked by a healthy mound of dog excrement.
Early afternoon they caught sight of one of the slow-flowing streams where they had stopped before and then noted that the cart tracks veered off the trail and angled toward the stream. They dismounted and led their horses to the stream to drink. Jordy retrieved some hardtack and dried fruits from a bag of rations that Rudy had collected for them, and the two sat down by the stream to share a meager lunch.
“This is what we will be living on for a spell,” Jordy said. “No pots and pans. We have a coffee pot and a few tin cups.”
“Maybe we can shoot a rabbit or, better yet, a deer and roast some meat.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“You are sort of a pessimist, aren’t you?”
“Expect the worst. Then you won’t be disappointed.”
“You poor man. That’s why you are a moody sort.”
“A moody sort?”
“Not always. But sometimes you are like Grandpa. You drift off someplace in your head and seem rather taciturn, shut out folks around you. Maybe it’s contagious, you being with him these past years and all.”
“Taciturn, now that’s an interesting word,” Jordy said. “Well nobody’s going to accuse you of being taciturn. You don’t let silences last too long.”
“I don’t know if that’s an insult or not.”
“Whoa. Not an insult. I’m not looking for a fuss. I’m just saying that you are more likely to spill out what you are thinking. That can be a good thing.”
“Or not,” she said. “It all depends.”
Jordy said, “If I’ve been quiet, it’s because my mind is on Jack. I keep picturing him lying on the trail up ahead. Dying or maybe even dead.”
“Now there you go, expecting the worst again. I’m sure he’s doing okay but would do better if he had some company and a little help. He is determined to get to this Tess woman. I just want to see that he reaches her.”
“We can agree on the goal.”
Sierra asked, “Do you think we are gaining ground on him?”
“I can’t say, but the signs tell us he is taking three rest stops for each one we take. He’s dragging that cart, and that will slow him some. It’s not the weight, but that thing, light as it is, won’t trail very well if he goes too fast. Too much saddle time is murder to his back, and if the fever is still with him, he will have to sleep some. We don’t need to push our mounts. If we keep riding steady, I think we can catch him tomorrow morning at the latest.”
Chapter Fifty
Jack lay curled up in a fetal position on the parched ground, the sun’s rays baking him like heat from a kitchen woodstove. Maybe he had died and made the trip to hell. But he didn’t hurt right now, so that was a fair enough trade-off. He would rather be hot than hurt like that. Then he felt the wetness swiping across his face. Was somebody trying to put the fire out? He was dead, so why should he care? Then he saw Tess with her hand reaching out, calling to him. And Thor, Jordy, and Sierra clustered around Tess.
He opened his eyes and found Thor licking his face and felt the unending bolts of pain running the length of his leg. He was off the edge of the trail, and Pokey stood by with the spare gelding’s lead rope hitched to the saddle horn. He must have passed out and fallen from his saddle. How long had he been lying there? He rolled over on his back and looked skyward. The sun said it was midmorning. If he recollected correctly, last night had been his second on the trail. He could not recall sunrise. He must have been here for some hours. Any horse but Pokey would have deserted him by now, but Thor, on the other hand, would likely have herded the mount back.
Suddenly, Thor swung around and bared his teeth, a low growl rolling from his throat. Jack could see that the dog’s eyes were focused back down the trail they had just traveled. He pushed himself up to a sitting
