Free Leather and Lace by DiAnn Mills Page B

time.
    Tomorrow I’ll see the beauty on the other side of the cliffs. The realization brought a spark of hope, fueling all her secret dreams, like wearing a dress and not a gun belt. She knew large patches of deep green pine and waving blades of grass stretched for miles. Beautiful. Utterly breathtaking. Perhaps solitude was the best form of freedom.
    Weary, she stopped for the night and gathered enough wood to build a small fire. When she finished eating leftover biscuits and bacon from the morning, she opened the Bible to Genesis and read by the dancing flames.
    “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth . . .” She read through the creation and on to the struggle between Adam and Eve’s sons. Reading about Cain killing Abel tugged at her conscience. She had read as far as Noah when her eyes closed.
    The following morning, Casey ignored the rumbling in her stomach to put miles behind her. She picked her way down through low brush and bluish-gray rock lining Nine Mile Canyon. The dry, bleached terrain spread nearly five times longer than its title.
    Carved into the stone walls were the signs of an ancient Indian civilization. Are you haunted? What stories are engraved in your rock? She stared at the tall, silent tombs. I’m not afraid. I’ve more to fear from men.
    Nine Mile Canyon eventually evened out onto the flats of the lower Colorado Plateau. Casey rested Stoney and took in one of the most majestic views of the country. Shielding her eyes from bright sun rays, she glanced eastward to see huge rock strongholds that stood as stepping stones to higher mountains.
    Slowly her gaze moved to the south. She dreaded the ride ahead through parched territory where rattlesnakes and scorpions would be her only companions. Deep gullies, jagged rock, and dry riverbeds invited death to all who attempted to find their way through the rock guarding the Green River.
    Many a gang led a posse into a dry canyon here, only to leave them to die from lack of food or water. Tim had once said the smartest men were outlaws, and the most cunning of lawmen had once been on the run. Jenkins had been a young officer for the Confederacy. He never liked losing.
    For five days, Casey wound through the treacherous, often confusing canyon lands. She camped near the Yampa and Dirty Devil rivers, then rode on again only to face extreme isolation across the barren flats, west to where the Green and Colorado rivers came together. Only the nighttime ritual of Bible reading offered any element of peace.
    Someday life will be better. She’d find her promised land.
    She dreaded the next hundred miles. Buzzards circled the sky, and desert fever threatened anyone who braved forward. Luckily the springs flowed freely, and she didn’t have to battle the blazing heat.
    At last she reached the part of her journey where the surroundings abounded in rich, earthy hues. Sand and clay formed the orange-red dry land, while greenish-gray sage, twisted pines, and junipers rose from remote spots. At times the clouds in the distance seemed to be outlined in tints of red, or perhaps she merely saw a reflection of the clay-baked earth.
    I can’t head into Robber’s Roost. How stupid of me to consider it. Every man there will be looking for Jenkins’s reward. I can sleep a few more nights with my saddle as a pillow.
    She studied the lookout points on all sides of the circular shaped hideaway, knowing more than one pair of eyes watched from behind huge rocks. Scanning the horizon line where two flat-topped buttes faced east and north, Casey hid her hair beneath her hat. Perhaps none of them would recognize the lone rider. Foolish thought. She had better sense. They already knew her horse, had heard the rumors.
    Lifting her rifle high, she waved to where she knew guards positioned themselves. They’d seen her coming for miles, but the formality of a signal offered them respect, if there could be honor among desperadoes.
    Morgan had been right. For a woman,