Free Dorothy Garlock by Leaving Whiskey Bend

not to think that he’d survived through the grace of some sort of miracle. He’d been given a chance, a chance to make right all the things that had conspired to strike him low. In the end, he knew that one chance was all he would need.
    As laughter broke across the saloon, he laughed along through the pain.

Chapter Seven
    “W HY CAN’T WE stop here?”
    “Because it ain’t safe, Hallie,” Pearl explained. “There ain’t but a couple of saloons and a store down there. There ain’t even a church. I’ve heard of this place. It ain’t nothin’ but a nest of
rattlesnakes.
Their eyes would pop right out of their heads if they saw three women coming into town. We’d not stand a chance there, no more than we’d had in Whiskey Bend. You know that.”
    Hallie frowned and turned her gaze back to the small town. From where the wagon had come to a stop at the top of a high hill on the northern slope of the long valley, the view was breathtaking. Nestled between two towering crags as if it were a baby in its mother’s arms, the town of Lancaster was as pretty as any picture; a small stream wound and curved lazily, and tall stands of trees dotted the countryside. The sounds of birdsong and the smell of pines drifted on the cool breeze. Even the clumps of dark clouds that mottled the sky, like deep bruises on a pale blue skin, did nothing to take away from the beauty of the scene.
    In short, it seemed the perfect place to settle and build a new life.
    “I don’t know any such thing,” Hallie protested.
    “Yes, you do. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”
    Hallie wasn’t sure if it was that she was too stubborn, but she was certain she was
tired
enough to admit to just about anything. It had been five long days since they had left Chester Remnick writhing in the dirt, his curses chasing them into the distance. They’d only made stops to cook a hot meal, to rest the horses, or to grab a few fitful hours of sleep. On and on they had moved, fear nipping at their heels as if it were a pack of wolves. The thought of bringing their travels to an end was appealing.
    “We don’t know that it’s not safe,” Hallie continued to argue even if her heart told her that Pearl was probably right. “How can Chester follow us, let alone manage to track us all the way here? Not after what you did to him.”
    “Do you want to take that chance?” Pearl prodded her friend. “It’d be one thing if you wanted to risk your own hide or even mine, but do you really want to put Mary’s life on the line? She’s suffered enough without us stoppin’ on account a bein’ tired.”
    As Hallie let her friend’s words sink in, she stole a glance at the rear of the wagon. Mary lay huddled amid the blankets and their other belongings, her head turned in such a way that she might have been listening, but Hallie couldn’t be certain. The woman’s shoulders were slumped, her hair a tangled mess, and her eyes were smudged with deep, dark rings. Thankfully, she’d begun to eat a bit but like a bird, pecking at this and that and consuming very little. Her sobbing and crying, while still a daily occurrence, had lessened. More disturbing was the way in which she still spent all of her time staring into the distance behind them.
Was it in fear that Chester could be coming after them?
Hallie wondered.
    “We can’t run forever,” she finally said.
    “You’re right.”
    “What place is ever going to be safe enough?” the younger girl continued. This was the question that had been plaguing her for days, nagging at her when she was most tired, hungry, or fearful.
    Pearl sighed deeply, her eyes turning to the sky for a moment, as if she were looking for some kind of divine inspiration. When she spoke, her voice was calm but as firm as a preacher’s. “I don’t know the answer to that, Hallie. I really don’t.
    “There ain’t a lot I do know in this here life,” Pearl continued, “but what I’m sure of is that this place,” she