say anything,” Jack called back. “He understands.”
After a long moment of deliberation, the Indian surprised her by holding up his palm in a no gesture. “You don’t want it?” How silly to ask aloud since he couldn’t understand what she was saying. She offered up the ring again, but the Indian shook his head and pointed. She turned to see where he gestured. It appeared to be Jack McCoy’s horse, grazing nearby, saddled and ready to go.
Ben Longren emitted a long, low whistle. “Now, that ain’t right. You can’t give him your horse, Jack.”
“He doesn’t want my horse.” Jack walked to the horse he had just saddled. On one side hung his rifle, on the other, wound in a circle, hung his whip. Jack untied the whip from the saddle. Without hesitation, he walked to where the Indian sat high and proud atop his horse and held it up. With his other hand, he made the same give-and-take gesture. The semblance of a smile flitted across the bronze face of the Shoshone. He nodded. With what sounded like a grunt, he detached the necklace from amid the feathers of his headdress, took the whip, and gave Jack the necklace in return. With a nod to the others, he wheeled his horse around. Next minute, amid a cloud of dust, the Indians disappeared down the trail.
“How can I thank you?” Luzena cried when Jack handed her the necklace.
“Happy to do it.”
Luzena held the necklace lovingly to her cheek. “What do you think it means?”
Jack took his time before he answered. “I don’t know, Mrs. Bryan. If I were to guess, I’d say it’s a good sign. Today you found something that belonged to Florrie. Tomorrow, who knows?”
* * * *
Later, as Jack and Ben followed the wagon along the trail, Ben kept shaking his head, as though he couldn’t believe what happened. “What’s your problem?” Jack asked.
“Wasn’t that whip one of your prized possessions? You gave it to that Indian like you didn’t care, like it was just a piece of trash.”
“I got the necklace back, didn’t I?”
“Why should you care? You ain’t beholden to the Bryans.” Ben quirked an eyebrow at his friend. “Ain’t it time we moved on? That gold won’t be lying around the streets forever.”
“I told you—”
“I know what you told me. You’re not after the gold, but whatever you’re after, if you stick with this slow-as-molasses wagon, it’ll be the next century before we even get there.”
Jack didn’t answer. Maybe Ben would keep his mouth shut, but no such luck.
“It’s that girl, that Sarah, ain’t it, Jack?”
“You’re crazy.” Jack nudged his horse forward. He didn’t want to hear anymore from Ben, especially since the old man got it right. The whip that now made up part of the Shoshone’s fancy gear wasn’t just any whip. He’d made it himself, leather-wrapped handle, nine-foot thong. After years of practice, he could cut a card at 10 paces, for what that was worth, and it wasn’t much. He’d never struck an animal with the deadly metal tip. The sharp, cracking noise alone kept an animal in line. Well, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t herding cattle anymore. That life was behind him now. At least Luzena got the necklace, although what good it would do her, he couldn’t say. As for Sarah…
Ben rode up beside him. “Did you see how the girl got her courage up? I surely admired the way she walked right up to that Injun and offered him her ring. Most girls wouldn’t have the guts to do that.”
Jack gave a non-committal grunt. He’d noticed, all right. She’d surprised him. After all that talk about how all she cared about was an ordinary life and never wanted to take chances, he never expected she’d be that bold. Maybe he was mistaken about Mrs. Sarah Gregg.
Maybe Mrs. Sarah Gregg was mistaken about herself.
* * * *
That night after supper, Sarah noticed her father had drawn Jack aside and had a chat. She wasn’t sure why until she went to hobble her horse for the night. High in the
After a long moment of deliberation, the Indian surprised her by holding up his palm in a no gesture. “You don’t want it?” How silly to ask aloud since he couldn’t understand what she was saying. She offered up the ring again, but the Indian shook his head and pointed. She turned to see where he gestured. It appeared to be Jack McCoy’s horse, grazing nearby, saddled and ready to go.
Ben Longren emitted a long, low whistle. “Now, that ain’t right. You can’t give him your horse, Jack.”
“He doesn’t want my horse.” Jack walked to the horse he had just saddled. On one side hung his rifle, on the other, wound in a circle, hung his whip. Jack untied the whip from the saddle. Without hesitation, he walked to where the Indian sat high and proud atop his horse and held it up. With his other hand, he made the same give-and-take gesture. The semblance of a smile flitted across the bronze face of the Shoshone. He nodded. With what sounded like a grunt, he detached the necklace from amid the feathers of his headdress, took the whip, and gave Jack the necklace in return. With a nod to the others, he wheeled his horse around. Next minute, amid a cloud of dust, the Indians disappeared down the trail.
“How can I thank you?” Luzena cried when Jack handed her the necklace.
“Happy to do it.”
Luzena held the necklace lovingly to her cheek. “What do you think it means?”
Jack took his time before he answered. “I don’t know, Mrs. Bryan. If I were to guess, I’d say it’s a good sign. Today you found something that belonged to Florrie. Tomorrow, who knows?”
* * * *
Later, as Jack and Ben followed the wagon along the trail, Ben kept shaking his head, as though he couldn’t believe what happened. “What’s your problem?” Jack asked.
“Wasn’t that whip one of your prized possessions? You gave it to that Indian like you didn’t care, like it was just a piece of trash.”
“I got the necklace back, didn’t I?”
“Why should you care? You ain’t beholden to the Bryans.” Ben quirked an eyebrow at his friend. “Ain’t it time we moved on? That gold won’t be lying around the streets forever.”
“I told you—”
“I know what you told me. You’re not after the gold, but whatever you’re after, if you stick with this slow-as-molasses wagon, it’ll be the next century before we even get there.”
Jack didn’t answer. Maybe Ben would keep his mouth shut, but no such luck.
“It’s that girl, that Sarah, ain’t it, Jack?”
“You’re crazy.” Jack nudged his horse forward. He didn’t want to hear anymore from Ben, especially since the old man got it right. The whip that now made up part of the Shoshone’s fancy gear wasn’t just any whip. He’d made it himself, leather-wrapped handle, nine-foot thong. After years of practice, he could cut a card at 10 paces, for what that was worth, and it wasn’t much. He’d never struck an animal with the deadly metal tip. The sharp, cracking noise alone kept an animal in line. Well, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t herding cattle anymore. That life was behind him now. At least Luzena got the necklace, although what good it would do her, he couldn’t say. As for Sarah…
Ben rode up beside him. “Did you see how the girl got her courage up? I surely admired the way she walked right up to that Injun and offered him her ring. Most girls wouldn’t have the guts to do that.”
Jack gave a non-committal grunt. He’d noticed, all right. She’d surprised him. After all that talk about how all she cared about was an ordinary life and never wanted to take chances, he never expected she’d be that bold. Maybe he was mistaken about Mrs. Sarah Gregg.
Maybe Mrs. Sarah Gregg was mistaken about herself.
* * * *
That night after supper, Sarah noticed her father had drawn Jack aside and had a chat. She wasn’t sure why until she went to hobble her horse for the night. High in the
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