Title: A Different Breed of Woman 3/?
Warnings: Language
Disclaimer: I don't own them; just want to use them. Don't sue me please, I have no money.
Author's Note: This is the continuation of my story A Different Breed of Woman. The Samantha character is mine, but feel free to use her. This isn't betad. Thanks to those that came up with names for the Seven's horses. No spoilers, I think.
"He can't be dead." Samantha's entire body shook and she had to lean against Chance for support. The gray stallion remained quiet and still for the first time that day, as if sensing his owner's emotional turmoil. She stared at Jose, her friend, his body bleeding out on the sandy ground.
Vin gently closed the Mexican rider's eyes. "Shot right through the heart. Nothin anybody could've done. I'm sorry Sam." Vin took off his hat as a sign of respect, and Buck, JD and Ezra followed suit.
Samantha's hazel eyes filled with tears and she bit her lip to stop their advance. She would not cry in front of these brave men. Buck and JD, who could easily have been the shooter's next victims. Her stomach lurched. "Oh God. I think I'm gonna be sick."
Ezra quickly stepped forward and relieved Samantha of her hold on Chance's reins. Sam rushed to a small gathering of brush, collapsed onto her knees and violently threw up the food she had consumed that morning.
Her back to the four men, she let a few tears slide down her face. Of all the things she thought could go wrong, losing Jose had never entered her mind. She had dreaded the thought that someone would find out that she and her husband Joseph were really one and the same; that she dressed like a man so she could race her prized horse. She worried that neither of her horses would come in victorious, ending her dream of owning a breeding farm in the Colorado territory. But losing Jose, this had never even entered into the realm of possibility.
Footsteps approached her from behind and she quickly wiped the tears from her cheek. She spit onto the ground, hoping to relieve the putrid taste from her mouth. A hand touched her shoulder and she flinched, a purely involuntary reaction. She looked up, and was met with the kind, blue eyes of the tracker Vin Tanner. "You all right? I mean, you gonna be able to get back to town?"
Samantha nodded slowly and stood on wobbly legs. "I'll be okay."
"We could ride back into town and come back later with the wagon!" Ezra called out from a few yards off. Chance was not taking kindly to the Southerner's restricting hold and was pulling him about. Ezra's emerald green eyes however, remained concerned and locked on Sam. "Buck and JD are heading back right now to tell Chris what happened."
"NO," she shook her head vehemently. "I'm won't leave him out here to be ravaged. He deserves more, he deserves better. He never deserved this."
"Completely understandable. We shall carry him back to town on Peso, because I believe him to be the only horse here calm enough to undertake the carrying of a dead body. Would you stand still you infernal animal!" Ezra shouted at the plunging gray. At that moment, the gambler tripped and the reins slipped from his grasp. Chance trotted over to Sam and stuck his nose in her chest, seeming concerned.
Samantha stroked his nose absent-mindedly. Ezra picked himself up off the ground for the second time that day and dusted off his jacket. "Oh God! Bonfire! I forgot. I have to go after him. If he gets hurt..." She shook her head and prepared to mount.
"Easy there girl. Buck told me Bonfire high tailed it back towards town. My guess is that he's in his stall right now. Just give me a minute and we'll all go back together. There is still a killer on the loose." Her fear momentarily subsided and she remained while Vin slung Jose over Peso's withers. With Ezra holding Jose's prone shoulders Vin was able to spring into the saddle. Peso merely grunted at the extra weight.
The trio began their march to town in a much different fashion than they'd left. No one spoke or joked. Ezra didn't smile and Vin concentrated on keeping his passenger on his horse. Samantha slipped away, retreating to some private place in her mind. Her expression was dull and vacant, and Even Chance who had been such a terror that morning walked lethargically back.
Ezra reined Chaucer back, slowing until he rode beside Vin. "Will you be returning to the ridge when we have our guest comfortably settled in her room?"
"Yep. Not that I expect to find much. The ground is hard and people have been riding all through there for a week. Unless she can shed some light on the whole thing I'd say we're stuck before we've started."
"Do you honestly believe she will be able to illuminate the situation further?"
"Not really Ez. Just gotta check is all."
Two hours later, Samantha was ready to wring someone's neck. Chris and Ezra had been peppering her with questions for over an hour. Nathan was poking and prodding at her, only managing to irritate her further. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!" She finally yelled. "Would you stop poking me?!"
"I've told you already. I don't know who would want to stop us from racin. I don't know who would want to hurt Jose and I don't know why you all keep asking me the same questions over and over! What about those two guys who were hasslin' Jose in the loft? Have you talked to them?"
Chris shook his head. "It's no good. Buck and JD asked around, and they both have solid alibis. Twenty people can account for the fact that they were at the field when the shots rang out. Are you sure there is nothin else you could tell us?" Larabee's eyes narrowed as he studied the young woman's expression.
Sam responded icily. "NO, nothin' else to tell. Can I go now?"
Chris nodded and backed away from the table. Sam stood and purposefully walked from the saloon. The sunlight stung her eyes and she realized that it could be no later than two or three in the afternoon. Odd, she mused, somehow this day seems very long. Like it should be done already. Her aimless wandering found her in front of the ramshackle church. She stared at it for a moment before opening the door and walking through.
A burly, tall man was standing at the front of the church with a hammer and some nails in his hands. He looked more like a handyman than a preacher. He turned when he heard the door. The woman he saw there looked hesitant, sad. He waited for her to speak first.
"I'm really not sure I should be here." She finally said, her voice flat.
"All are welcomed in the house of God." He assured her.
She twirled the dark hat she carried nervously in her fingers. "I haven't been to a service in years. Never was one to sit around listening to someone who knew nothing of what they preached. Didn't know God, didn't know the world. Seemed silly."
Josiah smiled softly. "You might be right about that. But trust that I have seen the world. And don't worry about not going to service. Every person worships in his or her own way. This is merely a building. It isn't faith. Faith is your belief. And God loves all his children, no matter their faith."
Sam shook her head somberly. "Doesn't love me."
"Come now child, you can't mean that. He doesn't discriminate. He helps his flock."
The bitterness in her voice made Josiah ache. "He never helped me. He never came to me when I needed him. He left me alone! He lost this sheep and I lost my faith a long time ago!" The woman suddenly seemed aware of what she had said. "I knew I didn't belong here. This isn't for me, never was. I was wrong to come. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."
She slipped out the door. Josiah chased after her calling, "Wait!" But by the time he reached the entrance the woman was gone, vanishing as quickly as she had appeared.
Samantha ran through the crowded street to the livery. She needed to leave for a while, to be alone. She wanted to ride; to fly so fast her problems would be left behind her. Chance was nibbling on some hay when she approached his stall. He recognized her footsteps and stuck his head over the stall door. "You're my faith boy. We can do this. We can win for Jose. I believe in you and I believe in me. That's all I've ever needed.
The horse snorted and tossed his head as if to agree with her. The faintest hint of a smile crossed her lips and she moved to collect her tack. The stallion was saddled and ready to go in less than ten minutes. JD came in as she was leading Chance out. "Where are you going?"
"I need to find Joseph. He'll want to know what happened."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Don't worry about it. I have this." Samantha raised her Colt pistol for the young man to see and then shoved it into her saddlebag. With that Sam leaped into the saddle. Horse and rider burst into the sunlight at a fast canter. People scattered in front of them. Sam didn't notice.
She felt her horse stretch out, hooves scarcely touching the ground as he flew along faster and faster. She clung close to his neck, her face hidden by his blowing mane. She kept to a gallop until they were far beyond the reaches of Four Corners. Even when she stopped she only saw the path in front of her. Sam didn't even see the rider in Buckskins upon his black horse trotting after her. She just needed...something.
Jerry Weston was not prepared for a lone rider to come to the farm that day. He certainly did not expect it to be Sam and Chance. As far as he knew they were preparing for the race in Four Corners. He tipped back his hat and waited while Sam delivered the stallion to a stable boy.
"What are ya doin' back here? I thought you were gonna stay in Four Corners until after the race." Samantha came to him and whipped off her hat. Jerry had known Sam for the better part of twelve years, and he had never seen her in so much anguish. It ebbed and flowed around her like a veil. "What's wrong?"
Samantha shook her head and wrapped her arms around the older man's neck. "Everything is falling apart," she cried. "Jose, Jose died today Jerry." Weston stiffened, but said nothing. Jose had been his friend as well. He led her inside the ranch house and listened as the entire story poured out.
An hour or two later, Sam and Jerry sat together on the porch of the house sipping coffee. Letting herself cry had lifted an enormous weight from Christina's shoulders. She felt much more composed than when she had arrived, thankful to finally be with someone who knew her and who knew her secrets. It was refreshing. "I don't know what do Jerry."
"What are you talking about?"
She sighed and reached behind herself to release the irritating hairpiece. She laid it beside her had rubbed her fingers through her short hair. "Maybe none of this was meant to happen. Maybe what happened today was an omen you know? Maybe I was never meant to ride in that race Saturday."
"Don't be ridiculous Sam. You are more meant to ride in that race than anybody else. Every time I see you up on that ornery cuss of a stud I know following you out here was the right thing to do. Your father would be proud."
"My father died alone and poor Jerry." She scoffed.
"He was never alone Sam." He reprimanded her fiercely. "He always had you. He would have loved this. I remember the first time he ever sat you on a horse. He taught you to be the rider you are, the horsewoman you are. Never forget how proud he was."
Sam felt a tightness in her chest. "I won't. I promise, but maybe I should have stayed. I always held my own. I could've stayed. Out here," she shook her head, "I don't even have him."
Jerry scowled. "Don't even think it. What if he got really drunk one day huh Sammy? Huh? He woulda killed you one of these days and you know it. You know it even better than me. Bein alone is better."
Sam traced the scar on her cheek with her index finger. "You're right. You're right about everything." Then the two friends fell into silence. Sam's eyes swept over the farm, her farm. Sunlight glinted off something in the distance, and her eyes focused on its position. Then she saw him. At first she was sure that she was seeing things, but then she looked again. Far out into the plains she saw the rider on the black horse. She recognized the horse's bold white markings almost immediately. "Damn," she muttered under her breath.
"What?"
The horse disappeared from view. Samantha sat bolt upright in her chair. "I gotta leave Jerry. Get someone to tack Chance up for me. I'll see you Saturday." Samantha jumped up and kissed her dear friend's cheek. Then she grabbed her ponytail from the table and went back inside the house to collect her hat and jacket.
Samantha and Chance left the farm half an hour later. Sam rode at a steady trot, not trying to catch the rider she had seen earlier. She figured she could find him in town when she arrived there. Dusk had begun to settle, the night sky streaked by an array of red and orange.
Sam traveled in a relatively straight line. She veered from her course only when blocked by a large band of black heifers bearing a P on their flanks. She would have to make sure someone moved the stock off her land and fenced it off. She didn't want someone's stock to ruin her grazing land.
It was nearly eleven when she came within sight of the town. She visibly relaxed, no longer fearing an attack. The attack would come, she was sure, when she least expected it. It would come when she was not ready. A horse approached her from the left, its hooves making a racket in the quiet night. Her hopes rose momentarily, thinking that it might be the tracker. The rider drew closer and her hopes fell as she recognized Ezra's lively chestnut. The thoughtful frown returned to her face.
Ezra and Chaucer drew up along side her. "That," Ezra stated, "is not the expression of a person happy to see my visage."
Sam had to smile. The way the genteel southerner talked was too much for her to keep a straight face. "Evening Ezra. Do you find this a pleasant night for a ride, or were you just following me?"
"Neither actually. Mr. Sanchez has relieved me of my watch. I was on my way back to the saloon, my cards, and my soft feather bed. Meeting you was purely chance."
Samantha threw him a sidelong glance. "Somehow I doubt that. Do you think Vin will be around tonight? I need to speak with him."
For the briefest instant the gambler's face fell, but his Poker face quickly reassembled itself and his features were once again blank and emotionless. "I am not certain," he drawled. "Perhaps if Mr. Tanner is feeling particularly social... But he is quite adverse to all the people in town, so I suspect he is camping out in his wagon tonight. I'm sure you'll be able to find him in the morning."
"Good to know." The two dismounted in front of the livery.
Ezra held Chaucer's reins loosely as they continued their conversation. "Where were you coming from so late yourself? There isn't much out in the direction from which you came, only the Johansson farm and the Prescott Ranch."
His words registered in Samantha's mind, but her attentions were fixed on his horse. The chestnut had moved around his owner so that he was close to Chance. Using a talent Sam was sure was born from years of experience; the chestnut began to pull at the straps of Chance's bridle.
"What on earth is that horse doing?" She asked, amused.
Ezra looked at his horse and gave a quick tug on the reins. "I'm sorry, Chaucer has the uncanny ability to work buckles with his teeth. Actually, he has a thing about his mouth in general. He tends to place it where and when it does not belong. He has even managed to escape from his stall and let all the other horses loose at once. You can imagine the stable boys surprise when seven horses raced from the stable one morning. Of course, we rectified that by placing a bolt on his door where he cannot reach. Not that it stops him from trying."
Samantha raised an eyebrow and followed Ezra inside the livery. "Your horse," she paused, "is very...odd."
"Only misunderstood, I assure you. Chaucer tends to get bored if one does not keep his mind occupied." Ezra lifted the saddle from the horse's back and placed it on its rack on the back wall. "You still have not answered my previous query. Where were you tonight?"
"I went to find Joseph. I needed to tell him about Jose. He's coming in Friday night." She brought her saddle to her trunk, clearly wanting to avoid the subject of her friend's untimely demise.
Ezra groomed Chaucer quickly and fed him an apple, his favorite treat. "Will you be staying?"
Samantha shrugged. "For a while. I want to finish grooming him, feed and oil my tack before I go to bed. Night Ezra."
"Good night Mrs. Hunter." Ezra tipped his hat to her and left, heading in the direction of the saloon. Sam watched him go.
When the con man left her field of vision, Samantha returned to her tasks. She fumbled around in the darkness, bumping her shin on a trunk and silently wishing for better lighting. The stable was dark to begin with, and the only light offered was by the crescent moon and solitary kerosene lamp.
As she herself had predicted, she was not ready when the attack came. The man came out of the darkness, from an empty stall. Samantha was fumbling with a bale of hay when a figure rushed at her. She managed a single, short cry before the man drove her to the ground.
Ezra was half way to the saloon when he heard the high-pitched cry echoing down the empty streets. "Damn." He muttered. He pulled his Remington from its holster and ran back to the livery.
Sam's attacker dragged her to her feet as Ezra arrived. The gambler could barely see, but he did notice the moonlight flashing off of a deadly looking hunting blade. The steel was pressed close to Samantha's throat, so close she dared not swallow for the chance that the blade would pierce her skin.
Ezra raised his pistol, leveling it carefully. He could see the fear in Samantha's eyes, the protruding muscles of her neck. Her attacker remained quite still, moving neither right nor left, shrouded in the shadow of the loft.
"Let her go. If you kill her I will most assuredly put all six bullets of this gun in your worthless hide before you can blink. And no, word over my accuracy has not been exaggerated. Believe me, that despite this darkness I will not miss. Let her go." Ezra's voice remained calm and steady, despite the fact that he could hear his heart pounding like a drum inside his chest.
The man holding Sam didn't blink, didn't utter a word. He backed further into the shadows until his form was completely obliterates. Ezra dared not take a shot. There was a thump of someone hitting the ground and feet as they ran from the stable. Ezra holstered his weapon and rushed forward. "Samantha?"
"Don't yell, I'm all right." He found her clutching her shoulder in the straw pile. Blood seeped from between her fingers.
"You're bleeding." He announced dumbly.
"I noticed."
"I'm going to get Nathan."
"No!" Sam cried out. Seeing Ezra's shocked expression she continued. "I don't want anyone else knowing about this. Chris and the others already think there is someone trying to eliminate us from the race."
"Well it appears their assumptions were correct."
"If they find out about this Ezra they won't let Chance race. Chris hinted at that already today. He doesn't want anyone else getting hurt, and I don't blame him. But I know Joseph and I know myself and I'm telling you right now that we have to race. Please. The only life at risk here is mine."
Ezra stared at the woman in disbelief. Then he sighed. "I can't imagine why I'm agreeing to this. If Nathan knew he'd have my hide. Come on, we'll fix you up in the saloon." Samantha smiled and rose to her feet.
They snuck into the saloon through the back doors and up the stairs to Ezra's room. He sat Samantha down on his bed and began to root through his desk drawers. He came up triumphant, a flask, some bandages and scissors in his grasp. He poured fresh water into his wash bin.
"Let's see if we can't fix you up. You're lucky this isn't too deep or you'd require stitches. You are also fortunate that I myself hate to visit our resident medical expert unless absolutely necessary."
Samantha sat quietly on the edge of the mattress while Ezra wiped the wound with a cloth doused in water. With every swipe of the cloth, a new surge of blood came to the surface of her arm. She watched in keen interest. "Do this often?" she joked.
"In my profession one makes enemies readily. I have, on occasion, put these practices to good use."
They lapsed into silence. "My father," she eventually blurted out.
Ezra stopped cleaning the wound. "Your father what?"
"My father was the person who taught me how to play Poker. At one time he was a dealer on a Riverboat in Memphis. Taught me every trick in the book, and then some. Took me all of it to best you today."
"Flattery will get you nowhere. I will still have to irrigate this with liquor."
Sam smiled softly. "I know. Just thought you'd like to know is all. He taught me all I know of riding too. He raised me alone practically since birth. Probably would have liked you."
"And your mother?"
"She wasn't around much. Wasn't around at all really. She left my dad when I was five. I'd see her every few years but we never really bonded. Didn't like the way I chose to live my life."
Ezra grunted. "I can relate. Now hold still. I want to waste as little of this whiskey as possible. This is a very fine liquor indeed." He raised the flask above her wound, but Sam grabbed it before a drop spilled. Very purposefully she took a long swallow before handing it back to Ezra. He grinned.
The whiskey felt as if it were burning her skin, melting her arm. Samantha bit her lip as the fire crept down her arm into her fingertips. A loud hissing cry escaped her lips. Ezra slapped a hand over her mouth. "Do you want to wake the entire town?" he admonished.
"That hurts."
"I realize..."
Sam cut him off. "You don't realize, it's not your arm." She hissed fiercely. She latched onto the lapel of his jacket and pulled his head close to hers, her eyes ablaze.
Ezra found himself staring into Samantha's eyes, unable to look away. He felt her breath sluice over his features. Warning bells sounded in his head. She was married. She was unavailable. "Samantha," he began.
"Bandage the arm," she told him quietly, releasing her grip on his jacket. Ezra did so and the two exchanged no more words. As soon as he finished, Sam rushed from his room. She could have kicked herself. Married, married, married, she repeated the words in her head over and over as she raced down the hall into her room. She locked the door behind her and threw herself facedown on her bed. "Ah shit." And with those unpleasant thoughts still running through her head, Sam fell into a worried, dreamless sleep.
She woke the following morning early, feeling less than rested. The sun had yet to rise over the horizon and the town looked asleep. Samantha changed and hurried from her room, careful not to wake the sleeping gambler. She pushed all thoughts of the previous night from her mind and concentrated on what she needed to do.
Bonfire was ready to go in under ten minutes. She had heard some of the townsfolk say that the tracker camped near Lomita Ridge, and that was where she was headed. This time though, her pistol remained where she could access it easily.
She rode at a steady lope across the plain toward the mountains. She spotted Vin's beaten up wagon a quarter mile off. She came closer and saw the dim glow of a fire. Peso stood by the wagon without his saddle or bridle, munching happily on a patch of grass. Sam rode quietly into the camp and dismounted. She wondered where Vin could be. Peso looked up from his breakfast and nickered. She froze as she heard the Winchester being cocked behind her.
"Turn around," he ordered, "nice and slow." Sam did as she was told and upon seeing her face, the tracker's shoulders relaxed and he lowered his rifle. "Samantha."
"Vin. We have to talk."
"Yep," he answered. "We do." He gestured with his hand that she should sit, which she did after hitching Bonfire to the back of the wagon.
"You know." Sam told him calmly.
"That depends on what you're talking about. I know a lot of things."
"Damn it Vin quit playing around. You're not going to tell anyone are you?"
"Not really sure yet pard. Seems like it's your business, but I have a duty to these townsfolk. First tell me why."
Samantha grunted and rubbed her temples. "Seems pretty obvious don't it. They don't let women race. I thought it might be different out here, but its not. Chance is the fastest thing with four hooves anywhere, but I can't prove it unless I ride. And I can't ride as a woman. Don't really seem fair does it? I know something so well, but because I was born this way I can't do it."
"Life," the tracker paused, thinking of his own problems with the law, "is rarely fair. I think all of us know that to some degree."
"This is the last time Vin. I retire with Chance. But unless I win this race it's all over. No farm, no future. I'm out of money. If I don't ride there's nothin left for me to do but go home, and I can't do that."
Vin studied her eyes. They held a look he knew well, like she was haunted, or hunted. He shook his head slowly and held out his hand. "You have my word."
"Thank you." She grasped the tracker's warm hand and shook it firmly. Samantha stood and retrieved Bonfire. She stopped while untying his reins and shot Vin an odd look. "You know, this whole town seems consumed by race fever, except you and Chris. I know why he objects. Why do you? Do you not want to race?"
"Wanting and bein able to are different things. Sure, the thousand bucks would be nice, but I'm not deluded enough to think that I could win on Peso. Don't get me wrong, I mean, he's a great little horse that will go all day, but he ain't fast. And I got this thing about losin."
An idea was forming rapidly in Sam's mind. "You know," she began, "I did pay the entry on Bonfire. I'd have a better chance of winning that money with two horses in the race don't you think?"
Vin followed her train of thought and nodded. "Maybe."
"And Bonfire is plenty quick. I only need $750. You could have the rest. What do ya think?"
Vin's eyes shone and he smiled. "I think you just got yourself a rider."
The End: Part 3
I swear, only one more part to go. Please give me feedback. Positive, negative, I just want to know what you think.
Warnings: Language
Disclaimer: I don't own them; just want to use them. Don't sue me please, I have no money.
Author's Note: This is the continuation of my story A Different Breed of Woman. The Samantha character is mine, but feel free to use her. This isn't betad. Thanks to those that came up with names for the Seven's horses. No spoilers, I think.
"He can't be dead." Samantha's entire body shook and she had to lean against Chance for support. The gray stallion remained quiet and still for the first time that day, as if sensing his owner's emotional turmoil. She stared at Jose, her friend, his body bleeding out on the sandy ground.
Vin gently closed the Mexican rider's eyes. "Shot right through the heart. Nothin anybody could've done. I'm sorry Sam." Vin took off his hat as a sign of respect, and Buck, JD and Ezra followed suit.
Samantha's hazel eyes filled with tears and she bit her lip to stop their advance. She would not cry in front of these brave men. Buck and JD, who could easily have been the shooter's next victims. Her stomach lurched. "Oh God. I think I'm gonna be sick."
Ezra quickly stepped forward and relieved Samantha of her hold on Chance's reins. Sam rushed to a small gathering of brush, collapsed onto her knees and violently threw up the food she had consumed that morning.
Her back to the four men, she let a few tears slide down her face. Of all the things she thought could go wrong, losing Jose had never entered her mind. She had dreaded the thought that someone would find out that she and her husband Joseph were really one and the same; that she dressed like a man so she could race her prized horse. She worried that neither of her horses would come in victorious, ending her dream of owning a breeding farm in the Colorado territory. But losing Jose, this had never even entered into the realm of possibility.
Footsteps approached her from behind and she quickly wiped the tears from her cheek. She spit onto the ground, hoping to relieve the putrid taste from her mouth. A hand touched her shoulder and she flinched, a purely involuntary reaction. She looked up, and was met with the kind, blue eyes of the tracker Vin Tanner. "You all right? I mean, you gonna be able to get back to town?"
Samantha nodded slowly and stood on wobbly legs. "I'll be okay."
"We could ride back into town and come back later with the wagon!" Ezra called out from a few yards off. Chance was not taking kindly to the Southerner's restricting hold and was pulling him about. Ezra's emerald green eyes however, remained concerned and locked on Sam. "Buck and JD are heading back right now to tell Chris what happened."
"NO," she shook her head vehemently. "I'm won't leave him out here to be ravaged. He deserves more, he deserves better. He never deserved this."
"Completely understandable. We shall carry him back to town on Peso, because I believe him to be the only horse here calm enough to undertake the carrying of a dead body. Would you stand still you infernal animal!" Ezra shouted at the plunging gray. At that moment, the gambler tripped and the reins slipped from his grasp. Chance trotted over to Sam and stuck his nose in her chest, seeming concerned.
Samantha stroked his nose absent-mindedly. Ezra picked himself up off the ground for the second time that day and dusted off his jacket. "Oh God! Bonfire! I forgot. I have to go after him. If he gets hurt..." She shook her head and prepared to mount.
"Easy there girl. Buck told me Bonfire high tailed it back towards town. My guess is that he's in his stall right now. Just give me a minute and we'll all go back together. There is still a killer on the loose." Her fear momentarily subsided and she remained while Vin slung Jose over Peso's withers. With Ezra holding Jose's prone shoulders Vin was able to spring into the saddle. Peso merely grunted at the extra weight.
The trio began their march to town in a much different fashion than they'd left. No one spoke or joked. Ezra didn't smile and Vin concentrated on keeping his passenger on his horse. Samantha slipped away, retreating to some private place in her mind. Her expression was dull and vacant, and Even Chance who had been such a terror that morning walked lethargically back.
Ezra reined Chaucer back, slowing until he rode beside Vin. "Will you be returning to the ridge when we have our guest comfortably settled in her room?"
"Yep. Not that I expect to find much. The ground is hard and people have been riding all through there for a week. Unless she can shed some light on the whole thing I'd say we're stuck before we've started."
"Do you honestly believe she will be able to illuminate the situation further?"
"Not really Ez. Just gotta check is all."
Two hours later, Samantha was ready to wring someone's neck. Chris and Ezra had been peppering her with questions for over an hour. Nathan was poking and prodding at her, only managing to irritate her further. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!" She finally yelled. "Would you stop poking me?!"
"I've told you already. I don't know who would want to stop us from racin. I don't know who would want to hurt Jose and I don't know why you all keep asking me the same questions over and over! What about those two guys who were hasslin' Jose in the loft? Have you talked to them?"
Chris shook his head. "It's no good. Buck and JD asked around, and they both have solid alibis. Twenty people can account for the fact that they were at the field when the shots rang out. Are you sure there is nothin else you could tell us?" Larabee's eyes narrowed as he studied the young woman's expression.
Sam responded icily. "NO, nothin' else to tell. Can I go now?"
Chris nodded and backed away from the table. Sam stood and purposefully walked from the saloon. The sunlight stung her eyes and she realized that it could be no later than two or three in the afternoon. Odd, she mused, somehow this day seems very long. Like it should be done already. Her aimless wandering found her in front of the ramshackle church. She stared at it for a moment before opening the door and walking through.
A burly, tall man was standing at the front of the church with a hammer and some nails in his hands. He looked more like a handyman than a preacher. He turned when he heard the door. The woman he saw there looked hesitant, sad. He waited for her to speak first.
"I'm really not sure I should be here." She finally said, her voice flat.
"All are welcomed in the house of God." He assured her.
She twirled the dark hat she carried nervously in her fingers. "I haven't been to a service in years. Never was one to sit around listening to someone who knew nothing of what they preached. Didn't know God, didn't know the world. Seemed silly."
Josiah smiled softly. "You might be right about that. But trust that I have seen the world. And don't worry about not going to service. Every person worships in his or her own way. This is merely a building. It isn't faith. Faith is your belief. And God loves all his children, no matter their faith."
Sam shook her head somberly. "Doesn't love me."
"Come now child, you can't mean that. He doesn't discriminate. He helps his flock."
The bitterness in her voice made Josiah ache. "He never helped me. He never came to me when I needed him. He left me alone! He lost this sheep and I lost my faith a long time ago!" The woman suddenly seemed aware of what she had said. "I knew I didn't belong here. This isn't for me, never was. I was wrong to come. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."
She slipped out the door. Josiah chased after her calling, "Wait!" But by the time he reached the entrance the woman was gone, vanishing as quickly as she had appeared.
Samantha ran through the crowded street to the livery. She needed to leave for a while, to be alone. She wanted to ride; to fly so fast her problems would be left behind her. Chance was nibbling on some hay when she approached his stall. He recognized her footsteps and stuck his head over the stall door. "You're my faith boy. We can do this. We can win for Jose. I believe in you and I believe in me. That's all I've ever needed.
The horse snorted and tossed his head as if to agree with her. The faintest hint of a smile crossed her lips and she moved to collect her tack. The stallion was saddled and ready to go in less than ten minutes. JD came in as she was leading Chance out. "Where are you going?"
"I need to find Joseph. He'll want to know what happened."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Don't worry about it. I have this." Samantha raised her Colt pistol for the young man to see and then shoved it into her saddlebag. With that Sam leaped into the saddle. Horse and rider burst into the sunlight at a fast canter. People scattered in front of them. Sam didn't notice.
She felt her horse stretch out, hooves scarcely touching the ground as he flew along faster and faster. She clung close to his neck, her face hidden by his blowing mane. She kept to a gallop until they were far beyond the reaches of Four Corners. Even when she stopped she only saw the path in front of her. Sam didn't even see the rider in Buckskins upon his black horse trotting after her. She just needed...something.
Jerry Weston was not prepared for a lone rider to come to the farm that day. He certainly did not expect it to be Sam and Chance. As far as he knew they were preparing for the race in Four Corners. He tipped back his hat and waited while Sam delivered the stallion to a stable boy.
"What are ya doin' back here? I thought you were gonna stay in Four Corners until after the race." Samantha came to him and whipped off her hat. Jerry had known Sam for the better part of twelve years, and he had never seen her in so much anguish. It ebbed and flowed around her like a veil. "What's wrong?"
Samantha shook her head and wrapped her arms around the older man's neck. "Everything is falling apart," she cried. "Jose, Jose died today Jerry." Weston stiffened, but said nothing. Jose had been his friend as well. He led her inside the ranch house and listened as the entire story poured out.
An hour or two later, Sam and Jerry sat together on the porch of the house sipping coffee. Letting herself cry had lifted an enormous weight from Christina's shoulders. She felt much more composed than when she had arrived, thankful to finally be with someone who knew her and who knew her secrets. It was refreshing. "I don't know what do Jerry."
"What are you talking about?"
She sighed and reached behind herself to release the irritating hairpiece. She laid it beside her had rubbed her fingers through her short hair. "Maybe none of this was meant to happen. Maybe what happened today was an omen you know? Maybe I was never meant to ride in that race Saturday."
"Don't be ridiculous Sam. You are more meant to ride in that race than anybody else. Every time I see you up on that ornery cuss of a stud I know following you out here was the right thing to do. Your father would be proud."
"My father died alone and poor Jerry." She scoffed.
"He was never alone Sam." He reprimanded her fiercely. "He always had you. He would have loved this. I remember the first time he ever sat you on a horse. He taught you to be the rider you are, the horsewoman you are. Never forget how proud he was."
Sam felt a tightness in her chest. "I won't. I promise, but maybe I should have stayed. I always held my own. I could've stayed. Out here," she shook her head, "I don't even have him."
Jerry scowled. "Don't even think it. What if he got really drunk one day huh Sammy? Huh? He woulda killed you one of these days and you know it. You know it even better than me. Bein alone is better."
Sam traced the scar on her cheek with her index finger. "You're right. You're right about everything." Then the two friends fell into silence. Sam's eyes swept over the farm, her farm. Sunlight glinted off something in the distance, and her eyes focused on its position. Then she saw him. At first she was sure that she was seeing things, but then she looked again. Far out into the plains she saw the rider on the black horse. She recognized the horse's bold white markings almost immediately. "Damn," she muttered under her breath.
"What?"
The horse disappeared from view. Samantha sat bolt upright in her chair. "I gotta leave Jerry. Get someone to tack Chance up for me. I'll see you Saturday." Samantha jumped up and kissed her dear friend's cheek. Then she grabbed her ponytail from the table and went back inside the house to collect her hat and jacket.
Samantha and Chance left the farm half an hour later. Sam rode at a steady trot, not trying to catch the rider she had seen earlier. She figured she could find him in town when she arrived there. Dusk had begun to settle, the night sky streaked by an array of red and orange.
Sam traveled in a relatively straight line. She veered from her course only when blocked by a large band of black heifers bearing a P on their flanks. She would have to make sure someone moved the stock off her land and fenced it off. She didn't want someone's stock to ruin her grazing land.
It was nearly eleven when she came within sight of the town. She visibly relaxed, no longer fearing an attack. The attack would come, she was sure, when she least expected it. It would come when she was not ready. A horse approached her from the left, its hooves making a racket in the quiet night. Her hopes rose momentarily, thinking that it might be the tracker. The rider drew closer and her hopes fell as she recognized Ezra's lively chestnut. The thoughtful frown returned to her face.
Ezra and Chaucer drew up along side her. "That," Ezra stated, "is not the expression of a person happy to see my visage."
Sam had to smile. The way the genteel southerner talked was too much for her to keep a straight face. "Evening Ezra. Do you find this a pleasant night for a ride, or were you just following me?"
"Neither actually. Mr. Sanchez has relieved me of my watch. I was on my way back to the saloon, my cards, and my soft feather bed. Meeting you was purely chance."
Samantha threw him a sidelong glance. "Somehow I doubt that. Do you think Vin will be around tonight? I need to speak with him."
For the briefest instant the gambler's face fell, but his Poker face quickly reassembled itself and his features were once again blank and emotionless. "I am not certain," he drawled. "Perhaps if Mr. Tanner is feeling particularly social... But he is quite adverse to all the people in town, so I suspect he is camping out in his wagon tonight. I'm sure you'll be able to find him in the morning."
"Good to know." The two dismounted in front of the livery.
Ezra held Chaucer's reins loosely as they continued their conversation. "Where were you coming from so late yourself? There isn't much out in the direction from which you came, only the Johansson farm and the Prescott Ranch."
His words registered in Samantha's mind, but her attentions were fixed on his horse. The chestnut had moved around his owner so that he was close to Chance. Using a talent Sam was sure was born from years of experience; the chestnut began to pull at the straps of Chance's bridle.
"What on earth is that horse doing?" She asked, amused.
Ezra looked at his horse and gave a quick tug on the reins. "I'm sorry, Chaucer has the uncanny ability to work buckles with his teeth. Actually, he has a thing about his mouth in general. He tends to place it where and when it does not belong. He has even managed to escape from his stall and let all the other horses loose at once. You can imagine the stable boys surprise when seven horses raced from the stable one morning. Of course, we rectified that by placing a bolt on his door where he cannot reach. Not that it stops him from trying."
Samantha raised an eyebrow and followed Ezra inside the livery. "Your horse," she paused, "is very...odd."
"Only misunderstood, I assure you. Chaucer tends to get bored if one does not keep his mind occupied." Ezra lifted the saddle from the horse's back and placed it on its rack on the back wall. "You still have not answered my previous query. Where were you tonight?"
"I went to find Joseph. I needed to tell him about Jose. He's coming in Friday night." She brought her saddle to her trunk, clearly wanting to avoid the subject of her friend's untimely demise.
Ezra groomed Chaucer quickly and fed him an apple, his favorite treat. "Will you be staying?"
Samantha shrugged. "For a while. I want to finish grooming him, feed and oil my tack before I go to bed. Night Ezra."
"Good night Mrs. Hunter." Ezra tipped his hat to her and left, heading in the direction of the saloon. Sam watched him go.
When the con man left her field of vision, Samantha returned to her tasks. She fumbled around in the darkness, bumping her shin on a trunk and silently wishing for better lighting. The stable was dark to begin with, and the only light offered was by the crescent moon and solitary kerosene lamp.
As she herself had predicted, she was not ready when the attack came. The man came out of the darkness, from an empty stall. Samantha was fumbling with a bale of hay when a figure rushed at her. She managed a single, short cry before the man drove her to the ground.
Ezra was half way to the saloon when he heard the high-pitched cry echoing down the empty streets. "Damn." He muttered. He pulled his Remington from its holster and ran back to the livery.
Sam's attacker dragged her to her feet as Ezra arrived. The gambler could barely see, but he did notice the moonlight flashing off of a deadly looking hunting blade. The steel was pressed close to Samantha's throat, so close she dared not swallow for the chance that the blade would pierce her skin.
Ezra raised his pistol, leveling it carefully. He could see the fear in Samantha's eyes, the protruding muscles of her neck. Her attacker remained quite still, moving neither right nor left, shrouded in the shadow of the loft.
"Let her go. If you kill her I will most assuredly put all six bullets of this gun in your worthless hide before you can blink. And no, word over my accuracy has not been exaggerated. Believe me, that despite this darkness I will not miss. Let her go." Ezra's voice remained calm and steady, despite the fact that he could hear his heart pounding like a drum inside his chest.
The man holding Sam didn't blink, didn't utter a word. He backed further into the shadows until his form was completely obliterates. Ezra dared not take a shot. There was a thump of someone hitting the ground and feet as they ran from the stable. Ezra holstered his weapon and rushed forward. "Samantha?"
"Don't yell, I'm all right." He found her clutching her shoulder in the straw pile. Blood seeped from between her fingers.
"You're bleeding." He announced dumbly.
"I noticed."
"I'm going to get Nathan."
"No!" Sam cried out. Seeing Ezra's shocked expression she continued. "I don't want anyone else knowing about this. Chris and the others already think there is someone trying to eliminate us from the race."
"Well it appears their assumptions were correct."
"If they find out about this Ezra they won't let Chance race. Chris hinted at that already today. He doesn't want anyone else getting hurt, and I don't blame him. But I know Joseph and I know myself and I'm telling you right now that we have to race. Please. The only life at risk here is mine."
Ezra stared at the woman in disbelief. Then he sighed. "I can't imagine why I'm agreeing to this. If Nathan knew he'd have my hide. Come on, we'll fix you up in the saloon." Samantha smiled and rose to her feet.
They snuck into the saloon through the back doors and up the stairs to Ezra's room. He sat Samantha down on his bed and began to root through his desk drawers. He came up triumphant, a flask, some bandages and scissors in his grasp. He poured fresh water into his wash bin.
"Let's see if we can't fix you up. You're lucky this isn't too deep or you'd require stitches. You are also fortunate that I myself hate to visit our resident medical expert unless absolutely necessary."
Samantha sat quietly on the edge of the mattress while Ezra wiped the wound with a cloth doused in water. With every swipe of the cloth, a new surge of blood came to the surface of her arm. She watched in keen interest. "Do this often?" she joked.
"In my profession one makes enemies readily. I have, on occasion, put these practices to good use."
They lapsed into silence. "My father," she eventually blurted out.
Ezra stopped cleaning the wound. "Your father what?"
"My father was the person who taught me how to play Poker. At one time he was a dealer on a Riverboat in Memphis. Taught me every trick in the book, and then some. Took me all of it to best you today."
"Flattery will get you nowhere. I will still have to irrigate this with liquor."
Sam smiled softly. "I know. Just thought you'd like to know is all. He taught me all I know of riding too. He raised me alone practically since birth. Probably would have liked you."
"And your mother?"
"She wasn't around much. Wasn't around at all really. She left my dad when I was five. I'd see her every few years but we never really bonded. Didn't like the way I chose to live my life."
Ezra grunted. "I can relate. Now hold still. I want to waste as little of this whiskey as possible. This is a very fine liquor indeed." He raised the flask above her wound, but Sam grabbed it before a drop spilled. Very purposefully she took a long swallow before handing it back to Ezra. He grinned.
The whiskey felt as if it were burning her skin, melting her arm. Samantha bit her lip as the fire crept down her arm into her fingertips. A loud hissing cry escaped her lips. Ezra slapped a hand over her mouth. "Do you want to wake the entire town?" he admonished.
"That hurts."
"I realize..."
Sam cut him off. "You don't realize, it's not your arm." She hissed fiercely. She latched onto the lapel of his jacket and pulled his head close to hers, her eyes ablaze.
Ezra found himself staring into Samantha's eyes, unable to look away. He felt her breath sluice over his features. Warning bells sounded in his head. She was married. She was unavailable. "Samantha," he began.
"Bandage the arm," she told him quietly, releasing her grip on his jacket. Ezra did so and the two exchanged no more words. As soon as he finished, Sam rushed from his room. She could have kicked herself. Married, married, married, she repeated the words in her head over and over as she raced down the hall into her room. She locked the door behind her and threw herself facedown on her bed. "Ah shit." And with those unpleasant thoughts still running through her head, Sam fell into a worried, dreamless sleep.
She woke the following morning early, feeling less than rested. The sun had yet to rise over the horizon and the town looked asleep. Samantha changed and hurried from her room, careful not to wake the sleeping gambler. She pushed all thoughts of the previous night from her mind and concentrated on what she needed to do.
Bonfire was ready to go in under ten minutes. She had heard some of the townsfolk say that the tracker camped near Lomita Ridge, and that was where she was headed. This time though, her pistol remained where she could access it easily.
She rode at a steady lope across the plain toward the mountains. She spotted Vin's beaten up wagon a quarter mile off. She came closer and saw the dim glow of a fire. Peso stood by the wagon without his saddle or bridle, munching happily on a patch of grass. Sam rode quietly into the camp and dismounted. She wondered where Vin could be. Peso looked up from his breakfast and nickered. She froze as she heard the Winchester being cocked behind her.
"Turn around," he ordered, "nice and slow." Sam did as she was told and upon seeing her face, the tracker's shoulders relaxed and he lowered his rifle. "Samantha."
"Vin. We have to talk."
"Yep," he answered. "We do." He gestured with his hand that she should sit, which she did after hitching Bonfire to the back of the wagon.
"You know." Sam told him calmly.
"That depends on what you're talking about. I know a lot of things."
"Damn it Vin quit playing around. You're not going to tell anyone are you?"
"Not really sure yet pard. Seems like it's your business, but I have a duty to these townsfolk. First tell me why."
Samantha grunted and rubbed her temples. "Seems pretty obvious don't it. They don't let women race. I thought it might be different out here, but its not. Chance is the fastest thing with four hooves anywhere, but I can't prove it unless I ride. And I can't ride as a woman. Don't really seem fair does it? I know something so well, but because I was born this way I can't do it."
"Life," the tracker paused, thinking of his own problems with the law, "is rarely fair. I think all of us know that to some degree."
"This is the last time Vin. I retire with Chance. But unless I win this race it's all over. No farm, no future. I'm out of money. If I don't ride there's nothin left for me to do but go home, and I can't do that."
Vin studied her eyes. They held a look he knew well, like she was haunted, or hunted. He shook his head slowly and held out his hand. "You have my word."
"Thank you." She grasped the tracker's warm hand and shook it firmly. Samantha stood and retrieved Bonfire. She stopped while untying his reins and shot Vin an odd look. "You know, this whole town seems consumed by race fever, except you and Chris. I know why he objects. Why do you? Do you not want to race?"
"Wanting and bein able to are different things. Sure, the thousand bucks would be nice, but I'm not deluded enough to think that I could win on Peso. Don't get me wrong, I mean, he's a great little horse that will go all day, but he ain't fast. And I got this thing about losin."
An idea was forming rapidly in Sam's mind. "You know," she began, "I did pay the entry on Bonfire. I'd have a better chance of winning that money with two horses in the race don't you think?"
Vin followed her train of thought and nodded. "Maybe."
"And Bonfire is plenty quick. I only need $750. You could have the rest. What do ya think?"
Vin's eyes shone and he smiled. "I think you just got yourself a rider."
The End: Part 3
I swear, only one more part to go. Please give me feedback. Positive, negative, I just want to know what you think.