Page 16 of Cade’s Quest (The McIntyres #1)

Two of the other shoppers hurried to the woman.

Rain held back until the others had moved away but she got two loaves that were still warm from the oven.

Her mouth watered. She hadn’t had any fresh bread in a long time.

Unbidden memories rose of her mother baking bread in the outdoor oven in her village and the wonderful aroma.

At the English school, the bread had been mostly inedible and nothing but hard knots.

Several more items later, she approached her pile of purchases on the counter.

The clerk wearing an apron was a tall man, middle aged judging by the silver that streaked his hair, glanced at her. He had nice eyes. “Will this be all, Miss?”

“Add a box of cartridges and ring it all up.”

“I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you new to town?” he asked as he worked.

“Yes.”

“Are you living in the old Jessup place?”

“No, sir,” she murmured, wishing he’d stop with the questions.

“Well, no matter. Welcome to Saints Roost. We’re experiencing some troubling times at the moment so watch yourself.” He put everything into another burlap bag. “Be careful with those eggs. That’ll be a dollar fifty.”

Rain counted out the money. “Would you know of any goats for sale?” she asked.

“I’m not sure.” He scratched his head, smiling. “You might try the last house on the edge of town going toward Claude.”

“Thank you kindly, sir. Have a wonderful day.” She gathered the bags plus the tray lined with sawdust that held the eggs.

Rain wasn’t exactly sure how she’d get them back.

Maybe transferring them to the saddlebags would be best with the sawdust around them.

She’d figure it out. Her nephew needed the nutrition of the eggs, being as underweight as he was.

Oats for Buck occupied her mind, but she decided first to take her purchases back to where she left the roan.

She hurriedly tore off a big chunk of the bread and closed her eyes to savor the goodness as she chewed.

It was delicious and filled her hunger. Once she’d tied the bags to the saddle horn and checked on Buck, she strolled toward the stables.

The silhouette of a man in the doorway of the hotel sent chills up her spine. She walked faster but when she passed by, he grabbed her. She stared up into the scowling face of a man she’d prayed never to see again. The bread she’d just eaten threatened to come up.

Sheriff Luther Jones in all six feet of cruel hate, the kind that hurt and destroyed.

“Where you goin’, girl?” he snarled.

“I…nowhere,” she struggled to make her tongue work.

“Why aren’t you up at that school—the Hampton Indian School?”

“They…they let me go.”

“That’s a lie.” He glared under the brim of his hat, spittle flying from his mouth. “I think I’ll just telegraph them. How old are you?”

Her heart pounding like a locomotive making a steep grade, she inhaled and finally found her grit.

“I completed my studies, and they released me. You have no right to accost me.” She yanked free of his hold and gave him a big push that knocked the unsuspecting Jones sideways against the building.

Lifting her skirts, she fled down an alley.

The makeshift hat fell off immediately, but she didn’t stop. Nothing mattered except getting away.

Jones was on her heels, and she knew if he caught her, he’d hurt her bad.

At the school, the headmaster had summoned him to track down a runaway.

He’d brought the boy back and publicly whipped him until he was nearly dead.

Then, Jones had thrown the kid into an underground box.

Later, she’d learned the boy had died. In her opinion, Luther Jones was a pia mupitsi. A monster.

Please let me get away .

A quick glance showed him gaining on her. Her legs were almost spent but she had to keep going. She forced herself forward.

She knocked a barrel into his path to slow him down and kept running. Her lungs were screaming for air, but she didn’t slow. If she did, she’d be dead, just like so many of her people.

Ripples of cold fear raced up her spine as she raced down the alley, knocking various things into Jones’s path.

Up ahead a door opened, and a woman beckoned. “Come. Hurry.”

As Rain drew closer, the woman grabbed her, pulling her inside. She slammed and bolted the door. Rain collapsed on the floor, desperately trying to catch her breath.

Jones pounded on the door. “I demand you open up! Let me in! You’re breaking the law!”

The woman who’d saved her motioned for Rain to follow and they went into another room that held a printing press, tables, and stacks of paper.

It appeared to be the newspaper office and blinds were drawn over the windows. Maybe she’d be safe here until she could make it back to Buck.

Finally, Rain spoke, “Thank you for saving me. I’m Rain.” She glanced down at her trembling hands, trying to calm herself.

“I couldn’t let that disgusting man or his henchmen get you. This town has changed. Armed gunmen now roam the streets and no one feels safe. Have a seat. My name is Abigail Farnsworth. I’ll make us some tea.”

With a wealth of auburn hair that hung loose, Abigail’s age was a little difficult to ascertain. Maybe late twenties. Definitely older. But what struck her was Abigail’s courage to stand up to the horrible lawman.

The English and their tea. She wasn’t particularly fond of it, but she’d gladly take a cup.

“Will you be in trouble for helping me?” Rain asked.

Abigail laughed. “I’m always in trouble with someone. I print the truth and that’s not always popular.”

Rain followed the newswoman into a small kitchen area. “Will he hurt you?”

“Oh, he’d sure love to, that one, but considering that my father is a senator, Jones knows not to cross a line. He’s just a little bit afraid of the consequences. The wrath my father would bring down can be quite fearsome.”

“I’m glad he’s afraid of something.”

While the teakettle heated, Abigail studied her. “Where did you come from, Rain? You speak very good English however I can see Native American characteristics in your coloring and hair.”

“I was taken from my village by force and made to attend the English Hampton Indian School. I left there several months ago.”

Abigail’s eyes lit up. “I’m writing a piece about the horrors of those schools, and I wonder if you’d tell me about them.”

“I don’t mind since you’re stuck with me until Jones goes away. But I do need to get back to my little nephew. The friend I left him with is expecting me.”

“I’d be ever so grateful to get a first-hand account for whatever time you have. Let me get my pad and pencil and we’ll get started right now.” Abigail hurried to a desk in the other room and rummaged around in a drawer before returning.

A clock on the wall said eleven. She could spare an hour but no more.

The timepiece ticked off the minutes as Rain detailed an account of her time at the Hampton School, including Luther Jones’s part in it. “They whipped us severely if they even caught us whispering to one another in Comanche. They wanted all traces of our Comanche heritage gone from us.”

“This is exactly what I was hoping for.” Abigail scribbled furiously on her pad for several quiet minutes before glancing up. “I have a little money to pay you for your time.”

“No need. I don’t want your money. Just publish the truth about that place in your paper. That’s payment enough. Maybe someday, the white government will end the practice.” Rain listened but couldn’t hear anything beyond Abigail’s door. “Do you suppose Jones has left? I really should be going.”

“I don’t know but I can check. Stay here.” Abigail went out the front door that opened on the street. In a few minutes, she returned. “He’s over by the telegraph office, talking to our sheriff Maxwell. It looked as if they’re having words. What else do you need to do before you leave town?”

“I have to get a sack of oats and try to find a goat for sale.”

“I have a goat I’ll give you, Rain. She’s a nuisance and I’ve been trying to get rid of her. I’ve had her two years and she destroys everything she sees. She eats the oddest things—any kind of paper, that’s her favorite. She’s also very fond of leather and fabric.”

“No matter. I’ll pay you. My nephew needs the milk.”

“You’ll do no such thing. The goat is a gift from one friend to another. Please accept it.”

“Then I shall with deepest thanks.” Rain rose from her chair. “I really must go.”

“I just had another thought.” Abigail’s eyes twinkled. “Let me fetch the oats while you stay here where it’s safe.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind? You’ve done so much already.” The note Cade had given her to deliver to Sheriff Maxwell crossed her mind, but she couldn’t ask yet one more favor of the woman.

Besides, Abigail’s long strides had taken her out the door anyway.

Rain sat down to wait, scolding herself for taking advantage of the woman’s good nature.

While she waited, she glanced at a few copies of the newspapers.

One about a bank robbery caught her attention.

It appears a gang rode into town while the sheriff and deputy were out chasing down some rustlers.

It seemed similar to the story that Cade had told her.

When Abigail returned with the oats, Rain offered to pay her for the newspaper.

“You’ll do no such thing,” Abigail declared. “I’ll not take your money. You’re welcome to the paper.”

“Thank you. I’ll go after my roan.” Rain’s knees shook at the thought of Jones catching her again and taking her back, but she couldn’t stay there. She had to get back to Ten Bears.

“Wait.” Abigail clutched her sleeve. “You go out wearing that and Jones will be sure to spot you. I have some things to disguise you.”

The kind woman pushed through a curtained area into her living quarters and disappeared. She returned a few minutes later with her arms full.

“These will work, I think. We’re about the same size. I wear them on occasion, when I don’t want to be recognized.”

It didn’t take long to change and Rain giggled when she looked in the mirror. The trousers were a pretty good fit. She only had to roll the legs up a little. The calico shirt was common and over it all, Abigail had thrown a colorful serape over her shoulders.

“I can’t believe the change.” Rain leaned closer to the mirror. “Hopefully, everyone will think I’m a man. This is very good, Abigail. Thank you.”

“One more thing.” Abigail went to a floppy hat on a nail. “Put this on.”

The hat was perfect for obscuring features.

“The transformation is complete. It seems I’m always thanking you, but I truly mean it.”

Abigail gave her a warm smile. “I know you do. Now, get going. And good luck.”

Rain hurried to Buck and rode him to the newspaper office. Then, collecting the goat and tying the oats on behind the saddle, she bade Abigail goodbye. Tears bubbled up, blurring her vision. “I’ve never met anyone like you. Thank you so much for all your help.”

“Stay safe, Rain. If you’re ever back in town, stop by. I’d love to see you.” Abigail’s hug was warm.

“I will.”

Rain lost no time in bidding the town goodbye. She kept a sharp eye out for Jones and his henchmen, feeling very exposed. The sooner she got back to the dugout, the better. With Matilda walking next to Buck, they reached the edge of town.

She’d gotten everything they needed, even managing to take one of Cade’s wanted posters and put it safely in her saddlebags. Maybe he wouldn’t be too upset about the note she was unable to deliver.

And as she left town, she caught sight of Jones huddling with a group of men. That spelled trouble for someone.

The goat would slow her down because it had to walk beside Buck but hopefully she wouldn’t lose too much time.

The day had held many surprises, and she was especially grateful to have met Abigail Farnsworth.

Skin color meant little between true friends.

Abigail had saved her life, no doubt about it.

Rain’s success wasn’t because of the English clothes or the way she spoke.

It was in finding someone worthy of calling a friend. And that was priceless.