Page 13 of Redeeming the Outlaw
“Not tonight. I have a few things I need to do.”
“Take these eggs. There aren’t many, but I can only eat so many, and the boys have begged me not to make any more for a while.”
Whit held up his hand. “I can’t take them with me tonight, but I can stop by tomorrow and pick them up.”
Mrs. Brown gave a half smile and a sad laugh. “It’s fine,” she mumbled.
“Is everything all right, Mrs. Brown?”
She nodded, and her lustrous dark hair swayed with the movement. Strands of loose hair caught the light, giving off a golden hue. Her complexion was flawless, but there was a sadness in her eyes which couldn’t be hidden. They were bright, yet tired from carrying the weight of her emotions. “I’ve just been worried about the trouble around town.”
“Trouble?”
“There have been rumblings about outlaws, and I’ve heard several steers have gone missing from the neighboring farms.”
Scratching the whiskers on his chin, Whit thought about a response. He didn’t want to worry the widow. “I don’t think they are missing. They have probably just wandered off. Will most likely be back in a day or two.” He knew it was a lie. Those steers had wandered right into the Richards gang’s bellies.
“What about the rumors of outlaws?”
“Nah.” Whit made his way over to his horse. “I think they are long gone by now.” Putting one foot in the stirrup, he lifted himself up into the saddle. “I’ll stop by tomorrow and check on you. Just don’t go outside after dark.”
“Sounds like trouble. Is there something I should be worried about, Mr. Moore?”
Whit tipped his hat to her. “No, ma’am. I’m not aware of any. I know Briggs wants you to be safe.” He tapped Topper on his flanks, and the horse started from the barn down toward the path to the river.
It was a full moon, which meant Brodie was going to want to ride for another steer. Whit could avoid most of the cattle thieving by being in town when it happened, but Brodie was getting suspicious. Whit had to partake in the last rustling operation when they took a yearling from the Pickett ranch. The young bull was enough meat to feed the men for nearly a week, and now they were grumbling they were hungry again.
Whit’s jaw clenched as Brodie continued to test him, but with each successful completion, Whit saw the trust growing in the outlaw’s eyes. One night, over a bottle of whiskey, Tom mentioned a big job coming up. Brodie immediately shut down any discussion about it, saying it needed to be quick andinvolve as few people as possible. Despite his curiosity, Whit couldn’t pry any more information out of Tom without risking his standing with the gang, so he reluctantly mentioned it to Briggs, the local lawman, who could do nothing without concrete details.
Whit rode through the chilly night air, pulling his jacket collar up to shield himself from the biting cold. His breath came out in hazy puffs as he guided Topper along the winding river toward the dense trees in the distance. It was a half-hour ride to reach the tall pines and tangled underbrush, which formed a maze of shadows, with their looming shapes casting eerie patterns on the ground. Whit could feel the crisp November air nipping at his cheeks and smell the familiar scents of pine and damp earth filling his senses.
The steady flow of the North Platte River could be heard in the distance, as it supported the wildlife inhabiting the area and acted as a hiding place for outlaws seeking refuge from the law. With his sharp eyes, he scanned the landscape, noting tracks left by deer and smaller animals. However, it was the faint traces of horse hooves and broken branches which caught his attention. He was getting closer. The Richards gang had chosen their hideout wisely, deep within the thick forest where nature itself formed a barrier, concealing their movements from prying eyes.
Whit followed the winding path to the gang’s hidden camp. As he rode, his thoughts turned to Esther. Though they barely knew each other, there was something about her which stirred him. He remembered when she first stepped off the stagecoach with her parents and sisters, her hair tousled from the bumpy ride.
Reverend Billings, her father, made a brief stop at the mercantile to introduce his family to the townspeople, and Whit lost his heart. He tried to act uninterested, but nothing could befurther from the truth.
How he wanted to approach Reverend Billings to ask for permission to court his daughter properly or ask to meet her after church on Sunday, bringing a basket of homemade treats to share at one of the town’s harvest events. Instead, he had to steadily build a reputation he knew her father would never accept.
Instead, he watched her from afar and relished the small conversations when they happened. If he had known she attended Marmee’s annual dance, he would have been there, even if it meant hiding in the shadows just to glimpse her beauty.
He didn’t know when he might see her again as the gang was going to move further north for the winter. Brodie mentioned something about meeting up with family and wintering closer to Lincoln, but Whit didn’t have any of the details.
He wondered how he could find out more information.
As he neared the camp, he dismounted, leading his horse through the last stretch of dense underbrush. The camp came into view, a crude assembly of tents nestled in a clearing by the river. Smoke from a campfire curled into the sky, blending with the evening mist. Men lounged around the fire, their laughter and rough voices breaking the tranquility of the forest.
Whit’s eyes scanned the camp, slipping over the tents and crates. His sharp eyes landed on a familiar figure bound to a tree near one of the larger tents.
It was Esther.
Her tear-streaked face was hidden beneath her usually neat hair, which had become matted and tangled. A grimy bandana had been shoved into her mouth, silencing any cries for help.
Whit noticed her purple paletot was torn and dirtied, but she didn’t seem to have any visible injuries. Fear filled her eyes asshe locked gazes with him, pleading silently for rescue.
Anger surged through him. A hot, searing rage threatened to consume his carefully maintained facade. He hadn’t known the gang had planned to take her. Her wide eyes and trembling hands spoke volumes about her fear. Her family must be worried sick.
With a deep breath, Whit stepped into the clearing and approached the fire without looking at Esther. He couldn’t give any emotion away. Adopting the swagger and confidence which earned him a place among the outlaws, he pushed Tom’s hat forward and gave the man a light slap on the shoulder. “Evening, Tom. Any grub left?”
