dissipate, telling The Kid the canvas-covered vehicles had come to a stop. He turned and rode back toward the train. It didn’t take long for the wagons to come into view.
When he looked to the sides, he saw Harwood and Farnum angling in toward the wagons, too.
The Kid hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast, only an occasional sip from his canteen, so his belly was empty. Horace Dunlap waved him on in. “Mrs. Ritter said for me to tell you to come on back to her wagon. She’ll have food for you and Scott.”
“Much obliged,” The Kid said with a nod for the wagonmaster. He was a little surprised Jessica had volunteered to feed him. She seemed to be a walking contradiction, interested in him one moment, and sharp and angry with him the next.
When he reached the wagon he saw that Scott Harwood had beaten him there. In fact, Harwood was standing at the rear of the vehicle, next to the lowered tailgate where Jessica had spread a cloth with some thick sandwiches on it. He had a hand on her shoulder, and the stance was definitely intimate.
Harwood moved his hand and stepped away as he saw The Kid coming. “Horace told me you’d been out there scouting this morning. See anything unusual?”
The Kid shook his head. “Just a lot of miles of nothing. This is pretty empty country.”
“That’s true,” Harwood agreed.
“Did you know the Apaches were raiding on this side of the border when you started out here?”
Jessica said, “You can talk about the Apaches later. Right now you both need to eat.”
The Kid took the sandwich she gave him. It was a chunk of roast beef between two thick slices of bread smeared with butter, and he thought it was good. Not the sort of gourmet fare he’d been accustomed to in his former life as Conrad Browning, but a lot better than gnawing on a hunk of jerky.
One of the other women brought them cups of hot coffee. By the time The Kid finished the meal, he felt revitalized and ready to ride out again.
Scott Harwood took out his pipe and began packing it with tobacco from a leather pouch with a fancy design worked into it. When he had the pipe lit, he puffed on it for a moment, then answered the question The Kid had asked earlier.
“No, we didn’t know the Apaches were raiding again. We didn’t just start out blindly from El Paso and hope for the best. Horace and I both talked to officers at Fort Bliss who assured us this part of New Mexico Territory was peaceful at the moment. I guess the reports of the raids just hadn’t reached them yet.” Harwood took another puff on the pipe and added, “The Apaches can move pretty quickly when they want to.”
The Kid nodded. He recalled his father telling him that an Apache warrior could run forty miles a day in a ground-eating lope if he had to. As a rule, the Apaches weren’t horse Indians, like the Sioux and the Comanche and the Cheyenne, along with the other Plains tribes. The Apaches preferred to travel on foot.
But on a long raid across the border, they would be mounted. However, if they planned to attack the wagon train, they might hide their horses and make their approach on foot, since that was the way they were used to fighting.
“Maybe they’re already back below the border,” Jessica said. “We don’t know that they’re not.”
“That’s true,” Harwood said. “We can’t count on them being gone, though.”
“No, of course not. We still have to be ready for trouble.”
“A few more days and we won’t have to worry about that anymore,” Harwood said with a smile. “We’ll be in Raincrow Valley, and we can start making our new home there.”
Jessica returned the smile. “I’m looking forward to that.”
The Kid figured that was his cue to leave. “I’m much obliged to you for the meal, Mrs. Ritter. It was very good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You’re risking your life by riding with us, Mr. Morgan. The least we can do is feed you.”
“It would be even more risky for him if he was
When he looked to the sides, he saw Harwood and Farnum angling in toward the wagons, too.
The Kid hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast, only an occasional sip from his canteen, so his belly was empty. Horace Dunlap waved him on in. “Mrs. Ritter said for me to tell you to come on back to her wagon. She’ll have food for you and Scott.”
“Much obliged,” The Kid said with a nod for the wagonmaster. He was a little surprised Jessica had volunteered to feed him. She seemed to be a walking contradiction, interested in him one moment, and sharp and angry with him the next.
When he reached the wagon he saw that Scott Harwood had beaten him there. In fact, Harwood was standing at the rear of the vehicle, next to the lowered tailgate where Jessica had spread a cloth with some thick sandwiches on it. He had a hand on her shoulder, and the stance was definitely intimate.
Harwood moved his hand and stepped away as he saw The Kid coming. “Horace told me you’d been out there scouting this morning. See anything unusual?”
The Kid shook his head. “Just a lot of miles of nothing. This is pretty empty country.”
“That’s true,” Harwood agreed.
“Did you know the Apaches were raiding on this side of the border when you started out here?”
Jessica said, “You can talk about the Apaches later. Right now you both need to eat.”
The Kid took the sandwich she gave him. It was a chunk of roast beef between two thick slices of bread smeared with butter, and he thought it was good. Not the sort of gourmet fare he’d been accustomed to in his former life as Conrad Browning, but a lot better than gnawing on a hunk of jerky.
One of the other women brought them cups of hot coffee. By the time The Kid finished the meal, he felt revitalized and ready to ride out again.
Scott Harwood took out his pipe and began packing it with tobacco from a leather pouch with a fancy design worked into it. When he had the pipe lit, he puffed on it for a moment, then answered the question The Kid had asked earlier.
“No, we didn’t know the Apaches were raiding again. We didn’t just start out blindly from El Paso and hope for the best. Horace and I both talked to officers at Fort Bliss who assured us this part of New Mexico Territory was peaceful at the moment. I guess the reports of the raids just hadn’t reached them yet.” Harwood took another puff on the pipe and added, “The Apaches can move pretty quickly when they want to.”
The Kid nodded. He recalled his father telling him that an Apache warrior could run forty miles a day in a ground-eating lope if he had to. As a rule, the Apaches weren’t horse Indians, like the Sioux and the Comanche and the Cheyenne, along with the other Plains tribes. The Apaches preferred to travel on foot.
But on a long raid across the border, they would be mounted. However, if they planned to attack the wagon train, they might hide their horses and make their approach on foot, since that was the way they were used to fighting.
“Maybe they’re already back below the border,” Jessica said. “We don’t know that they’re not.”
“That’s true,” Harwood said. “We can’t count on them being gone, though.”
“No, of course not. We still have to be ready for trouble.”
“A few more days and we won’t have to worry about that anymore,” Harwood said with a smile. “We’ll be in Raincrow Valley, and we can start making our new home there.”
Jessica returned the smile. “I’m looking forward to that.”
The Kid figured that was his cue to leave. “I’m much obliged to you for the meal, Mrs. Ritter. It was very good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You’re risking your life by riding with us, Mr. Morgan. The least we can do is feed you.”
“It would be even more risky for him if he was
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