ride.” He urged Two Bit into an easy lope. They rode from the shelter of the trees and headed west. A few minutes later, he glanced over his shoulder to check Lucy’s progress.
She kicked at the old horse’s side and slapped at the animal with the end of the reins. The horse managed what might pass for a jog.
“I can walk faster than that.” Someone had not gotten a good bargain on horseflesh.
He waited for the struggling pair to catch up. Lucy looked about ready to chew a handful of nails for breakfast. “Where did you get that old hay burner?”
The look she shot him made him winch. “Mr. Peterson gave her to Roy.”
He sputtered with surprise then the humor of it hit him and he roared with laughter. Two Bit perked up his ears and danced sideways. Roy clung to his waist. Wade wiped his eyes and continued laughing despite Lucy’s pinched look.
“Did you think we stole her?” she demanded.
Wade managed to choke back his enjoyment of the idea of someone persuading Roy he was doing him a favor though he couldn’t stop it from circling his words as he spoke. “Mr. Peterson saved himself the price of a bullet and left Roy with the responsibility of feeding the old thing. Got to admire a man with such business savvy.” Even free was too much for this sorry piece of horseflesh. He whooped with laughter.
Lucy fixed him with a hard, unyielding frown.
Wade forced himself to put on a sober face, though inside he continued to chortle. “If we hurry we might make the rail station by nightfall.” He reined toward his destination, knowing now he could hope for nothing more than a plodding walk.
The pair of them seemed to think a walking glue factory was a wondrous gift. It amazed him. Delighted him. Filled him with admiration for the kind of spunk his Lucy showed.
His? Was his brain addled from surprise and too much laughter? She wasn’t his. Never would be. She had only agreed to accompany him because she needed to get away from Smitty. Would she stay on the ranch any longer than it took to say “Hello, Father. Goodbye, Father.?” Then reality hit him square between his eyes. Lucy couldn’t ride away after a hurried goodbye. Not until Smitty had been locked behind bars. The idea of that man posing a threat to Lucy or Roy made his fists coil.
They inched across the flat prairie. Although he took a circuitous route that kept him away from town, he felt as exposed as the sun. His skin itched at how easy it would be for someone to spot them and ride after them. Running from pursuers was impossible. But getting back to Dry Creek and catching the train was equally impossible. By the time they got there, Smitty would have every way in and out of town guarded by one of his cohorts.
He pulled up. “This ain’t going to work.”
Lucy’s shoulders drew back. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
He chuckled at her determination. “You planning to push that nag all the way across Dakota?”
Her eyes sparkled. “Now, how gentlemanly would that be? If someone is to push…” She left the rest unsaid. But he understood her message. If anyone had to do the pushing, she expected it to be him.
He eyed the tired old horse. “I could try riding her. Maybe I could convince her to go a little faster. Otherwise, we’ll be spending the winter out in the open plain.”
Lucy scowled. “You’d whip her, I suppose?”
Roy dropped to the ground and rushed to the old nag’s side. “You can’t hit her. She can’t help if she’s old.”
“Don’t suppose either of you thought to bring wheels?”
Two pairs of eyes regarded him suspiciously.
“The way I see it…” He pushed his hat back on his head and leaned over the saddle horn as if contemplating one of the universe’s darkest mysteries. “Either we plan to inch across the prairie—easy for anybody to see us, easier for them to chase us down—or we put wheels under that thing and I’ll drag her.”
“’Course we didn’t bring any wheels.”
He sighed. “I feared that might be your answer. Like I said, this isn’t going to work.”
They all stared at the horse.
“She happen to have a name?” Somehow, it might be easier to deal with her if she was more than a nameless pile of skin draped over protruding bones.
Roy wrapped his arm around the sorry animal’s head. “’Course she has a name. It’s Queenie. ’Cause she’s like a queen.” His tone dared Wade to question the name.
In order to restrain his laughter, Wade drew his lips in tight hoping he looked thoughtful. He slanted a look at Lucy and when he saw her eyes brimming with merriment, he had to bite the inside of his lip.
But their lack of speed was no laughing matter. They had to find some other way of getting across this open land. He studied the landscape trying to come up with a solution. Wheels were not the answer. Unless…he stared southwest. “We’ll go that way.”
“We aren’t going back, are we?”
“Lucy, we’re going to find some wheels.”
“Who’s going to push?”
“The iron horse.”
“A train?”
“Yup.” He’d planned on catching the new SOO line that was direct to Minot and from there they would ride. But if he dropped down to the Northern Pacific line and the less direct route, it might serve their purpose even better, make it a little harder for any pursuers to know for sure where they were headed. And the line was considerably closer if his reckoning was right.
Lucy brightened faster than the sun that now sat several degrees above the horizon, promising another searing day.
Wade eyed the flat land. Being out on the unprotected prairie didn’t seem like the best plan a man could devise. “Come on, Roy. Climb on.” He reached out a hand.
“Will we get breakfast when we get there? I’m awfully hungry.”
“Roy, you’re always hungry.” Lucy’s tone warned him not to complain.
Wade lifted the boy to the back of his horse. “I’m feeling kind of hollow myself. I’m sure we’ll be able to rustle up something.” If he was correct they should connect about the same place as the little town of Anders. They’d find food there. Plus water and relief from the unrelenting heat.
Three hours later, the heat shimmered unmercifully and between them they had downed his entire supply of water.
Wade began to wonder if they’d missed the line entirely and were doomed to wither into nothingness in the baked grass.
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