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«You found me,» Whip said. «Now spit it out.»
«You have a woman called Sha
Whip was too surprised to answer.
«Let me put it this way,» Wolfe said sardonically. «If youknowa woman called Sha
«What? Where is she?»
Wolfe took off his hat, smoothed back his straight black hair, and settled the hat firmly into place once more. Whip had the look of a man on a hair trigger. Wolfe suspected that his next words would set his friend off.
«All Caleb said was the tracks went north and he couldn’t leave Willow alone to follow them,» Wolfe said. «Besides, Sha
Whip started swearing in a language none of the others had ever heard. But they knew it was cursing just the same. Whip didn’t have the look of a man strewing blessings.
He ran toward the corral, cursing fit to burn stone at every step.
«Stop by our place on the way,» Wolfe called out. «Jessi will give you a fresh horse to use along with your own.»
Whip jammed the rifle into the saddle scabbard and grabbed his bridle and saddle from the corral rail. He walked swiftly toward the hobbled horses that were a hundred feet away, grazing at the river’s edge.
Reno glanced at Wolfe. «Are you coming with us?»
«Do you need another gun?» Wolfe asked bluntly.
«Doubt it.»
«Then I’ll stay with Jessi.» Wolfe’s smile flashed, changing the predatory lines of his face to something much gentler. «She started losing her breakfast a week ago.»
Reno’s face lit up with an answering smile. «Congratulations! Other than losing her breakfast, how is Jessi taking it?»
«Just fine. Seeing Ethan born took away most of Jessi’s fears about childbirth. My biggest problem is keeping her from dancing around so much with joy that she wears herself out.»
Whip swung up onto Sugarfoot and cantered toward the house.
«Where should I meet up with you?» Reno asked.
«Avalanche Creek,» Whip said curtly.
«Which fork?»
«East!»
With that, Whip set his heels in the big gelding and headed out at a dead run.
16
Sha
«Nice-looking mule,» Cherokee said from the doorway.
Sha
«Last time I saw a mule like that was nigh onto two years ago,» Cherokee said, «when I dusted a Culpepper’s hat with two bullets from more than a thousand yards.»
«They thought it was Silent John doing the shooting.»
«Close enough. I used his long gun. Shoots true as a dying man’s prayer. I was grateful. No need to waste a fine mule with bad shooting.»
Sha
«After the ride from the Black ranch, Razorback was too tired to go another foot,» Sha
«Hell, gal, you been riding a dead man’s mule for years. Time you face up to it and get on with your life.»
Sha
«Sic Prettyface on that old boy. Bet Murphy’s ma
Smiling, fondling the dog’s big ears, Sha
«I better ride soon,» Sha
«Won’t be the first time she snowed in July,» Cherokee agreed.
«A tracking snow would be a godsend.»
Cherokee straightened, shifting her weight gingerly. Though she had wrapped her foot and applied every poultice she knew, her ankle was being stubborn about healing.
«Going hunting?» Cherokee asked.
«Sure am,» Sha
The old woman grunted, turned, and limped back into the cabin. When she returned, she had a box of shotgun shells grasped in her gnarled fingers. She held out the box to Sha
«Go on, take ’em,» Cherokee said impatiently. «I can’t hunt for a bit and there’s no sense in letting a good tracking snow go to waste. This way you won’t have to get so close to the critter you could skin it with a knife same as shooting it.»
«But I already owe you for doctoring Prettyface.»
«Oh, horseshit. It’s been share and share alike with us for nigh onto three years, and it was the same with Silent John and me for ten years before that. Take them shells and use as many as you need to bring back venison for us to eat.»
«But —»
«Now don’t go making me mad, gal. Prettyface wasn’t no problem at all. Skull like granite and a body to match. He healed hisself without no help from me. Didn’t you, you ornery mongrel?»
Prettyface looked at Cherokee, waved his tail, and turned back to Sha
As for Prettyface’s skull, Cherokee was right. Solid stone from ear to ear. Other than a furrow in the thick fur on the dog’s head, there was little to show of the bullet that would have killed a less hardy and hard-skulled animal, or one not lucky enough to be cared for by a woman skilled with herbs.
«Thank you for taking such good care of Prettyface,» Sha
Cherokee’s shrewd brown glance saw in Sha
«Well,» Cherokee said, «I guess you won’t be needing this after all, seeing as how you’re alone again.»
As Cherokee spoke, she pulled a stoppered jar from her jacket pocket. A small bag hung from the neck of the jar by a rawhide thong.
«What’s that?» Sha
«Oil of juniper and spearmint, mostly. The bag holds bits of dried sponge.»
«I’ll bet the oil smells wonderful. Why won’t I be needing it?»
«Because Whip’s a double-damned fool, that’s why. Or did he become your man and then walk out on you?»
Sha
«Whip isn’t anyone’s man but his own,» Sha
«Is there any chance you’re breeding?» Cherokee asked bluntly.
Sha
«You dead sure?»
«Yes.»
The old woman sighed and eased weight off her injured ankle.
«Well, I won’t need to worry about bringing on your monthly bleeding then,» Cherokee said, «any more than you’ll need that bottle of oils and such to keep from getting a babe that won’t have no pa to speak of.»
«Is that what you give Clementine and —»
«No,» Cherokee said, her voice curt. «Be a waste of time. If the oil’s go
Sha