Forcing a smile onto my face as I would for any passing stranger, I started to turn. I flicked my gaze up and down the street. The sheriff's office and jail was beyond the stage coach office. Maybe Sheriff Worth was there, or even a deputy. In any event, I had to get there without raising the suspicions of the stranger.
As it happened, his suspicions were already raised. His hand moved to his pistol and he was thumbing the loop away. He was going to shoot me? In front of everyone? In the middle of town? Did he imagine he could get away with such a thing?
All of those thoughts raced through my mind in a matter of seconds. Some instinct made me dodge toward the alley that was on my left. Something—a bullet?—sliced across my right cheek as I moved. All I knew was that I had to keep moving until I was out of sight.
After all, a moving target is more difficult to hit.
Not that it made any difference to a person who knew how to hit said moving target.
The wood wall on my left splintered and I ducked my head once again. There were two large crates ahead of me and I threw myself behind them, pressing against the wood.
My heart pounded in my chest and my both of my cheeks throbbed with pain. When I reached up, I discovered several splinters embedded in my left cheek and a long graze on my right.
I certainly hoped Remy didn't just like me for my looks.
From where I was, there was no way for me to tell if the man was still shooting unless I peeked around the boxes. I wasn't about to do so. Closing my eyes, I prayed some of the numerous men on the street had taken notice.
A hand on my shoulder made me jerk around and open my eyes. An unfamiliar man, his mouth hidden by his long beard, stood their. He held his hands up in the universal gesture for he meant me no harm. If he said anything, I wasn't able to tell for his beard covered his lips, making it impossible for me to read.
Concern was in his eyes though as he stared at my face.
"I'm alright," I managed to say. My knees felt weak and my hands shook as I pushed myself up. "Is he gone?"
The poor man flinched. Was my voice too loud?WIth my nerves in such a state, I wouldn't have been surprised if I'd been screeching, though I didn't have the energy for that.
As I faced the mouth of the alley, I could see men running past, right towards the stage office. All of them had guns in their hand and among them I recognized my father.
"Father!"
At my call, Father came to a halt and returned to the front of the alley. The kind miner followed me as I rushed out. Father grabbed my arms when I reached him, his eyes wide with horror.
"Ivy, what are you....You're bleeding!" His gaze slipped past me. "What happened?"
His hands gesturing, the man explained. Or that's what I assumed he was doing. My attention was on the crowd that had gathered in the street. Of the man who'd shot at me, I didn't see any trace. Had he run? How had he gotten away?
A slight shake of my shoulders brought my attention back to my father. "What happened?" he asked, his eyes on me.
Before I could work out where to even begin, Father's gaze shifted away from me again. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Sheriff Worth running toward us. The sheriff had his gun in his hand, no doubt in case anything happened.
He sent a nod at Father before focusing on me. "What happened?"
Paper. I needed paper. My hands were shaking too badly for me to expect any coherency in signing, and the sheriff wouldn't have understood me anyway. At the same time, I didn't trust myself to even attempt voicing. Would my voice tremble and be incomprehensible? I wouldn't know.
I mimed writing, hoping it would be understood. Sheriff Worth gave a nod, though his expression twisted with impatience. He gestured of me to follow and then set off at a quick pace.
Father squeezed my hand and walked by my side as I followed the sheriff. It was impossible not to see the crowd that had gathered in the street. Of the stagecoach thief who had shot at me, I didn't see any sign. There was no body on the ground, or anything to indicate whether he'd been apprehended or if he'd got away.
The thought that he'd escaped sent a chill through me.
In the jail, Sheriff Worth placed a sheet of paper on his rough hewn desk. As I sat in the straight backed chair, he uncapped the ink and set it in front of me. Breathing out, I flexed my fingers to shake away my nerves and began to write out my account of what had happened.
I was going to mail a letter, so I walked to the stagecoach office. There was such a crowd with the stage just arriving, I stayed back. As I was looking around, I saw Anna and...
For a moment, I paused. Once I put down on paper what I had seen, there would be no undoing it. I had to do though and continued to write.
...a man who looked to be a cowboy. I was surprised to see them in an embrace, but since it wasn't the first time I'd seen my step-sister with a gentleman, I assumed it was her beau. When he started across the street, he acted as though her recognized me but his face was unfamiliar.
I wrote how I noticed the man's boots and the pattern on the leather. As I explained that I had seen the pattern before, had sketched them, I couldn't remember whether I had shown that sketch to the sheriff or not. In any event, I knew exactly where it was in my collection of sketches at home.
The next thing I know, he was reaching for his gun and I just ran. That's all I know.
There were more ink blotches on the paper than I would have normally left, but it was more or less legible. I set down the pen, confident I had set down all the necessary details. Sheriff Worth snatched the paper up and Father stepped over read over the sheriff's shoulder.
It was Father I kept my eyes on. His face paled as his eyes moved across the page. This would be the second time I was the one who had to tell him something negative about Anna.
While they were occupied with my explanation, the door of the jail swung open. Simon skidded to a halt two steps in. "Ivy," he said, his gaze landing on me.
There could be no doubt my appearance was a mess with blood on my face. Simon hurried to me, concern written on his face. "I heard...shots. Are you alright? What happened?"
"I am well," I signed and mouthed at the same time. It wasn't precisely true. My face stung with every movement and I felt weary all the way down to my bones. I gestured to the paper Father and Sheriff were reading and trusted Simon would look to them for more answers if he wanted them.
He stepped over to the men, and from his body language, I guessed that he was asking for the details. I took the opportunity to close my eyes. No more than half an hour could have passed since I stepped into town, and yet, it seemed as though it had been an entire day!
How close I had come to losing my life!
And was I still in danger from that man? What was Anna thinking?
A hand on my shoulder made me start. When I opened my eyes, I found Simon in front of me. "Come...take you home."
Of course. Father would be needed at the store. He could not afford to be absent for long, not after having been closed not so long ago. Relief flooded through me as I realized I would not have to make the journey back to the ranch alone.
With a nod, I pushed myself out of the chair. The sooner I returned home, the safer I hoped I would feel.
When, exactly, had the ranch become home in my mind?
Was it when Remy was so kind to me? Or when Simon began to warm up to me? I couldn't point to a specific moment, but knew it to be true. The school wasn't home anymore; the Montana territory was
Simon allowed me to go out first as we walked out of the sheriff's office. In the street, I saw at least fifteen men on horseback. I couldn't make out anything they were saying to each other. They seemed to be waiting for someone or something, and I couldn't work out what.
My brother's arm came around my shoulders and then hurried me along the boardwalk. Whatever was going on, Simon didn't want me near it. We stopped for a brief moment, just long enough for my brother to untie the reins and then we walked in the street, leading the horse with us.
We went to the blacksmith's shop. By a horse trough, Simon pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it into my hand. He left me there and hurried into the shop.
Leaning over the trough, I stared at my reflection. Blood oozed on my right cheek and there were flecks of blood on the opposite side. Dipping the handkerchief into the water, I dabbed at the blood, flinching at the splinters that were still in my flesh. I would have to find someone to pull them out.
Now that the adrenaline was long gone, I felt exhausted and frail. I leaned against the edge of the trough, using it as a support. My knees were weak, and I couldn't stop my hands from shaking.
Who would have thought after so long, in a territory as vast as Montana was, I would come face to face with the man who held my stage? How long had he been in the town? What was Anna thinking? Had she seen him attack me?
So many questions and no hope of answers any time soon.
Simon came out from behind the blacksmith shop, leading his own horse. My eyes shifted to his waist where a gunbelt now hung. Where did he get that? Was the situation so bad it was necessary?
Without a word, Simon came to me and gestured for me to go to the horse I had ridden into town. He helped me mount and then he pulled himself into his own saddle. At a trot, we left the town streets and headed east to the ranch.
¤¤¤¤
My brother's body remained tense as he rode ahead of me. His head was constantly moving, keeping watch for anything out of the ordinary. Every now and then, he would jerk around, letting me know he must have heard something. I never saw anything, though.
Of course, this meant that my return trip was directly opposite to my relaxed journey into town. I couldn't relax my shoulders and every time Simon reacted to a noise, I did as well even though I couldn't hear a thing.
As soon as we rode into the yard, I saw Remy working with the black horse in the corral. He twisted around and glanced in our direction. Whatever Simon called out caused him to climb over the fence and then come towards us at a quick pace.
His eyebrows went up as he drew closer. "Ivy! You...hurt?"
"I'm fine," I said and signed as best I could with one hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Susan come down the porch steps and Cordelia come out of the house. Good heavens, how loud had Simon shouted? I would have prefered a few moments to clean my face some more before facing my stepmother.
I'm sure she would find some way to blame my disheveled appearance on me.
Simon swung out of the saddle, and his hands gestured wildly as he began to speak. Remy, though, came to my side and raised his hands. He helped me to the ground, his dark eyes studying my face with a concerned frown. His fingers brushed against my cheek.
"I'm fine," I repeated as it seemed he wasn't convinced.
"That..not look fine," he said to me. He glanced towards my brother, clearly paying attention to Simon's explanation of what had happened in town.
Susan came running to my side, her eyes wide. In an almost motherly gesture, she patted my arm as she peered up at my face. She grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the porch. Once she reached the steps, she let go of my hand and gestured for me to stay. Susan took the stairs two at a time and then vanished into the house.
Standing above me, Cordelia had her arms crossed in front of her. The expression on her face was one of disbelief. "..has to be...mistake," she said. She waved her hand in my direction. "She is mistaken."
Why was I not surprised? I could only guess that she believed I was mistaken about Anna.
Bowl and cloth in hand, Susan came out onto the porch. She stepped around her mother and came to me. Realising her intention to tend to my face, I sat on the step to be more on her level. Susan set the bowl down, wet the cloth, and began to dab at my face.
Cordelia's skirts brushed against my back as she spun. From the corner of my eye, I saw her stride back into the house. Simon stared after her for a moment and then shook his head. He grabbed the reins and led the horses to the barn.
Much to my horror, Katie came running around the corner of the house. The last thing I wanted her to see was my face bloody. I must have made some kind of sound for Remy spun around. He caught Katie and kept himself in between her and me so that she would not be able to see.
Somehow, he managed to herd the girl back around the side of the house. Susan spent quite some time in tending my face. I tried not to flinch when she used a pair of tweezers to pull the small, annoying splinters from my flesh. Simon joined us once he'd put away the horses, which surprised me.
Was he staying on the ranch until Father returned? Was there some kind of danger he was meant to protect us from?
My thoughts went round and round my head until Susan was finally done. Both of my cheeks felt as though they were on fire and every movement hurt. It was relief, though, to not feel blood caked on.
As Susan moved to stand up, I grabbed her hand. I brought my hand up to my lips and moved it outwards. "Thank you," I mouthed at the same time.
She gave a nod, her expression unreadable. Without a word, she tossed the water into the yard and then carried the bowl into the house with her.
My youngest sister was a mystery to me. She scarcely ever spoke to me, but had never been as cruel as her sister or mother. What did she think of the situation? Did she long to be old enough and escape the atmosphere of our family life, as Simon had done?
Katie climbing into my lap pulled me from my thoughts. Simon caught the girl's hand before she could poke at my face. "Ivy hurt," she said, her eyes round.
Looking a little shamefaced, Remy came hurrying toward us. How had Katie managed to evade him? He was normally observant and careful.
"She...like a fish," he said, spreading his hands out.
As Katie squirmed in my lap, I couldn't help but smile at the analogy, even if it did hurt. She puffed her cheeks and made a fish face. Beside me, Simon shook with laughter. A grin spread across Remy's face.
For a moment, I was able to forget about what had happened and simply enjoyed the moment.