the
same time. And the coat she wore over a cotton shirt to hide her breasts
scratched her skin. And for all that trouble and suffering, her disguise would
only fool the most casual observer.
The blacksmith had assured her she should be able to make the
journey in seven or eight hours.
She had to get there before dark. Being on this road in this
wilderness after dark filled her with dread which she swallowed, along with all
of the other fears and doubts that welled up inside her. But nothing could be
as difficult as the trip from New Orleans to Beaumont-could it?
“…you're getting into Indian territory once you leave Ubiquitous,”
the annoying young man’s words returned to her, and her gaze skimmed the
horizon as it had all morning. She was alone except for the infrequent cotton
wagons that rumbled past, leaving a trail of cotton in their wake that looked
like snow on the ground.
What would she do when she got to Eagle Pass? At least the
stagecoach went that far. But after that… Beyond that lay Mexico. How would she
manage there? She didn't know the language or even exactly where she was going.
She took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on something
else – anything else. Fear could destroy her if she let it. There was no
turning back. There was no choice. Either she would find the gold or… she
didn't want to think about what might happen if she couldn't find the money to
go on, to eat, to pay for shelter.
She carried a deck of cards in her running bag, and she knew
how to use them to relieve men of their money and make it hers. But once she
started down that path, she would be committing to a hard, risky way of life, one
she knew all too well. Better to risk everything on one impossible quest than
to live with uncertainty for the rest of her life.
A sigh of exhaustion escaped her lips. She couldn't remember
the last time she'd gotten a good night's sleep. Right now she could sleep for
a week. The heat of the day, the monotony of the terrain, the rhythmic swaying
of the wagon contrived to lull her. If not for the frequent deep ruts that
jarred her to the marrow, she could easily have nodded off.
And then, without warning, a violent, erratic movement from
one of the horses shattered her boredom. She pulled back on the reins as the
horse on the right reared and bumped into its companion. The other horse took
up the panic, and they both leaped forward, nearly jerking her from the seat.
Terror tingled down her arms and set her heart pounding. They
were galloping across the barren terrain, leaving the road behind as they cut
across the wild land to the right.
The wagon lurched and bucked over the uneven ground, throwing
her out of the seat and sending her crashing back down on it, tossing her from
side to side as she fought desperately to stop the frenzied horses.
She remembered the brake at her left. If only she could reach
it. Carefully she inched across the seat, lifting her left foot, slamming it
against the lever, screaming when it broke off.
In the next instant, the back end of the wagon flew into the
air. A back wheel broke off and rolled away across the dry ground. She braced
herself to keep from being thrown out. The wagon tilted dangerously toward the
missing wheel. She lost her seat and nearly flew from the careening vehicle.
Wood began splintering as the wagon hit another bump.
As the horses broke free, she had the presence of mind to let
go of the reins to avoid being pulled from the wagon and dragged to her death.
Dust settled slowly around the wagon, but she was unaware of
anything except the fact that she had somehow survived. Her heart thundered in
her breast, the breath hissed between her teeth. She fought the trembling that
possessed her, and the sobs that ripped through her.
Tears formed in her eyes and she steeled herself against
them. It gave her something to concentrate on other than the fact that she had
almost been killed. If she hadn't let go of the reins... if the wagon
same time. And the coat she wore over a cotton shirt to hide her breasts
scratched her skin. And for all that trouble and suffering, her disguise would
only fool the most casual observer.
The blacksmith had assured her she should be able to make the
journey in seven or eight hours.
She had to get there before dark. Being on this road in this
wilderness after dark filled her with dread which she swallowed, along with all
of the other fears and doubts that welled up inside her. But nothing could be
as difficult as the trip from New Orleans to Beaumont-could it?
“…you're getting into Indian territory once you leave Ubiquitous,”
the annoying young man’s words returned to her, and her gaze skimmed the
horizon as it had all morning. She was alone except for the infrequent cotton
wagons that rumbled past, leaving a trail of cotton in their wake that looked
like snow on the ground.
What would she do when she got to Eagle Pass? At least the
stagecoach went that far. But after that… Beyond that lay Mexico. How would she
manage there? She didn't know the language or even exactly where she was going.
She took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on something
else – anything else. Fear could destroy her if she let it. There was no
turning back. There was no choice. Either she would find the gold or… she
didn't want to think about what might happen if she couldn't find the money to
go on, to eat, to pay for shelter.
She carried a deck of cards in her running bag, and she knew
how to use them to relieve men of their money and make it hers. But once she
started down that path, she would be committing to a hard, risky way of life, one
she knew all too well. Better to risk everything on one impossible quest than
to live with uncertainty for the rest of her life.
A sigh of exhaustion escaped her lips. She couldn't remember
the last time she'd gotten a good night's sleep. Right now she could sleep for
a week. The heat of the day, the monotony of the terrain, the rhythmic swaying
of the wagon contrived to lull her. If not for the frequent deep ruts that
jarred her to the marrow, she could easily have nodded off.
And then, without warning, a violent, erratic movement from
one of the horses shattered her boredom. She pulled back on the reins as the
horse on the right reared and bumped into its companion. The other horse took
up the panic, and they both leaped forward, nearly jerking her from the seat.
Terror tingled down her arms and set her heart pounding. They
were galloping across the barren terrain, leaving the road behind as they cut
across the wild land to the right.
The wagon lurched and bucked over the uneven ground, throwing
her out of the seat and sending her crashing back down on it, tossing her from
side to side as she fought desperately to stop the frenzied horses.
She remembered the brake at her left. If only she could reach
it. Carefully she inched across the seat, lifting her left foot, slamming it
against the lever, screaming when it broke off.
In the next instant, the back end of the wagon flew into the
air. A back wheel broke off and rolled away across the dry ground. She braced
herself to keep from being thrown out. The wagon tilted dangerously toward the
missing wheel. She lost her seat and nearly flew from the careening vehicle.
Wood began splintering as the wagon hit another bump.
As the horses broke free, she had the presence of mind to let
go of the reins to avoid being pulled from the wagon and dragged to her death.
Dust settled slowly around the wagon, but she was unaware of
anything except the fact that she had somehow survived. Her heart thundered in
her breast, the breath hissed between her teeth. She fought the trembling that
possessed her, and the sobs that ripped through her.
Tears formed in her eyes and she steeled herself against
them. It gave her something to concentrate on other than the fact that she had
almost been killed. If she hadn't let go of the reins... if the wagon
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