THE CHIEF'S DAUGHTER HAD A SECRET THE COWBOY NEVER EXPECTED
The Price of Crossing the River
The first thing Caleb Mercer saw was the fire.
It burned on the far side of the river, a small orange glow trembling against the darkness.
The second thing he saw was the bodies.
Three horses lay beside the trail.
A broken wagon rested against a cottonwood tree.
Caleb pulled his reins tight.
His horse, Ranger, stopped immediately.
Caleb's hand moved toward his revolver.
He had spent fifteen years learning that a quiet trail was sometimes more dangerous than a noisy one.
He studied the darkness.
Nothing moved.
No birds.
No insects.
Even the wind seemed to have disappeared.
That was what bothered him most.
Caleb had ridden through Apache country, fought cattle thieves in Kansas, and once spent three frozen nights hiding from a band of men who wanted him dead.
Silence had always meant someone was waiting.
He slowly dismounted.
"Easy, boy."
Ranger snorted.
Caleb crossed the trail toward the wagon.
One of the dead horses still wore a leather harness. The animal had been shot through the neck.
Not robbed.
Not killed by Indians.
Shot.
Caleb crouched beside the wagon wheel.
There were boot tracks in the mud.
Six men.
Maybe seven.
All wearing boots.
That meant this wasn't an Indian attack.
He stood.
Then he heard it.
A faint sound from beneath the wagon.
A breath.
Caleb drew his revolver.
"Come out."
Nothing.
"I know you're there."
A small hand appeared first.
Then a woman crawled from beneath the broken wagon.
She wore a torn blue dress covered in mud. Her dark hair hung loose around her shoulders. Blood stained one side of her face.
She raised both hands.
"Please."
Caleb lowered his revolver slightly.
"Are you hurt?"
She looked toward the trees.
"They're coming back."
"Who?"
Her eyes met his.
They were dark and strangely calm.
"My father's enemies."
Caleb glanced toward the woods.
"Your father?"
She nodded.
"Chief Red Elk."
Caleb's jaw tightened.
He had heard the name.
Everyone in the territory had.
Red Elk was the leader of the Black River Nation, a man the army considered dangerous and the settlers considered worse.
But the woman standing in front of him didn't look dangerous.
She looked frightened.
"What is your name?"
She hesitated.
"Elena."
"Elena what?"
She looked away.
"Just Elena."
Caleb knew immediately that she was lying.
Before he could ask another question, a gunshot cracked through the darkness.
The bullet struck the wagon beside her head.
Caleb grabbed Elena and pulled her behind the wheel.
"Stay down!"
Another shot.
Then another.
Caleb fired toward the muzzle flash.
A man cried out.
Ranger reared.
Elena pressed herself against the ground.
"How many?" Caleb whispered.
"Five."
"Six?"
She shook her head.
"Seven."
Caleb looked at her.
"How do you know?"
"Because I know them."
She grabbed his sleeve.
"We have to cross the river."
"That's suicide."
"If we stay here, they'll kill us."
Caleb looked at the dark water.
The river was swollen from spring rain, moving fast beneath the moonlight.
He had crossed worse.
But not with a wounded woman.
"Can you ride?"
"Yes."
"Good."
He ran to Ranger.
Elena followed.
Caleb lifted her into the saddle.
Then he mounted behind her.
Ranger stepped into the river.
The current immediately pushed against the horse.
Caleb leaned forward.
"Easy."
Behind them, men shouted.
A bullet struck the water.
Another passed over Caleb's shoulder.
Elena grabbed his arm.
"Don't stop."
"I wasn't planning to."
Ranger struggled toward the opposite bank.
Halfway across, Elena suddenly stiffened.
Caleb felt something beneath her dress.
Something hard.
Metal.
He looked down.
A small silver box was tied against her waist.
"What are you carrying?"
Elena said nothing.
"Elena."
She turned her face toward him.
For the first time, Caleb saw something in her eyes that wasn't fear.
It was determination.
"If I tell you," she whispered, "you'll wish you had left me beside the wagon."
Before Caleb could answer, Ranger reached the opposite shore.
Elena looked toward the distant mountains.
"My father is going to war."
Caleb stared at her.
"And you?"
She touched the silver box beneath her dress.
"I am the reason he may lose."
The Woman from the Black River
They rode until dawn.
Caleb didn't ask many questions.
Elena didn't volunteer many answers.
The only sound between them was the rhythm of Ranger's hooves and the occasional cry of a night bird.
By sunrise, they reached an abandoned mining cabin hidden between two ridges.
Caleb had used it before.
It was little more than four walls, a stone fireplace, and a roof that leaked in three places.
But it was safe.
For now.
Elena dismounted.
Her knees nearly gave way.
Caleb caught her.
"You've lost blood."
"I'm fine."
"That's what dying people say."
She gave him an irritated look.
"You always speak this way?"
"Only when someone is trying to get themselves killed."
He carried her inside.
The wound was a cut along her upper arm.
Not deep, but ugly.
Caleb cleaned it with whiskey.
Elena clenched her teeth.
"You could warn me."
"You'd still complain."
"I might."
"Good. Complaining means you're alive."
For the first time, she smiled.
It lasted only a second.
Caleb noticed.
He had not expected her to smile.
He had expected fear.
Maybe arrogance.
Maybe hatred.
But not warmth.
He wrapped the wound.
Then he stepped back.
"Now tell me who you really are."
Elena looked toward the window.