Free Valley of the Gun (9781101607480) by Ralph W. Cotton

and recollection came upon her. She looked at the smoldering coals barely glowing in the campfire. She saw Sam’s gloved hand extended down to her and she took it and rose, keeping the blanket around her.
    The Ranger reached out a boot and crushed the already struggling coals. He rubbed the fire site around in the dirt as it gave up its last waning puffs of smoke.
    â€œNo coffee this morning,” he said. “If all’s clear at the water hole, we can stop after sunup and build a breakfast fire up in the rocks.”
    She only nodded, dropping her blanket on her saddle lying on the ground. In the grainy light of a half-moon, she adjusted the rifle into the crook of her arm and looked at the Ranger.
    â€œOld habits,” she offered, even though he had made no mention of her sleeping with the gun.
    â€œI understand,” he said.
    She stared at him. No, he did not understand, she told herself.
    With no more on the matter, Sam turned and walked to their horses. The copper dun chuffed under its breath as he walked closer. He pitched the saddle blanket, then the saddle atop the dun’s back. Cinching the saddle, he shoved his rifle into its boot and led both horses over to where Mattie stood tying her rolled blanket behind her saddle on the ground.
    She stepped over to her horse, saddle in hand. Sam watched in silence as she readied the animal for the trail. Feeling his eyes on her, she wondered if she had cried out in her sleep. She would not ask, of course. Instead, she cinched the horse and took the reins from Sam.
    â€œReady when you are,” she said.
    The Ranger noted a tightness in her voice, but he let it go.
    â€œWe’ll walk them down to the trail,” he said, turning, leading the copper dun behind him.
    â€”
    Dawn lay in a long, thin glow beneath the dark eastern horizon as the two reached the water hole. While the animals drank their fill, Sam sank six canteens into the water and stepped back from the edge while they filled. Without speaking, he reached out, touched Mattie’s arm and motioned for her to move away from the water’s edge.
    As she stepped back beside him, he nodded toward the water, the shine of moonlight on its glassy surface rippling slowly now, disturbed by the horses’ muzzles. A reflection of the moon wavered on the slightest ripple.
    â€œYou’re easier seen against the water,” he whispered.
    She nodded without reply.
    Sam looked around on the ground for any sign of hoofprints. He understood that Orwick’s men might have bypassed the water hole, having split away from one another on the hillside. But it struck him as stranger that the guards from the mines had not been here. They would have had time by now, and they would have most certainly followed the robbers down here from the mine trail.
Unless something had prevented them from following,
he thought.
    Whatever the case, this was not the time or place to consider it, he decided—not here with darkness their only cover.
    He stepped forward, stooped and capped the canteens without raising them from the water. When the canteens were all capped, he lifted them at all once by their straps, keeping them close to the surface until they had shed their excess water quietly.
    Mattie watched as he stood and hooked all six canteens to the dun’s side for the time being. Stepping back from the water’s edge, he handed her the reins to her horse, turned and stepped up into his saddle. In a moment the water hole lay behind them and they were headed back into the cover of rock along the stretch of flatlands.
    As they rode along at an easy gallop, Sam sidled up close, reached over and hooked three of the canteens onto her saddle horn.
    â€œIn case we get separated,” he said.
    Mattie nodded as they rode on.
    As daylight seeped over the horizon, they stopped amid a cluster of larger boulders and built a fire of brush and twigs. They made coffee and ate more heated elk from their knife