Free Adventures of Cash Laramie and Gideon Miles (Cash Laramie & Gideon Miles Series) by Edward A. Grainger Page A

marshal smiled. "Oh, we came from Charlie Brewer's spread on the other side of the mountain. He mentioned you were here and asked if we could stop in to check on you."
    Delilah smiled, "That's just like Uncle Charlie, always thinking of me. Can I get you men some jam and biscuits?"
    The handsome black lawman to Cash's left leaned forward on the saddle horn. "No thank you, ma'am. It sure sounds appetizing, but we need to keep moving. We would be much obliged if we could get some water for us and our horses."
    "Of course, I'll fetch a couple of buckets. The pump is to the side of the house."
    Cash and Miles guided their steeds to the well while Delilah went back to the porch and snatched a pair of wooden pails from the other end.
    As she rounded the corner of the house, Delilah overheard Cash talking to his partner, "She shouldn't be living out here alone."
    Miles nodded, working the pump handle until water trickled then gushed forth. He cupped his hands under the stream, filling them with the life-sustaining liquid.
    Delilah walked forward, pretending not to hear, and smiled as she held out both buckets for Cash. "Here you go."
    While Cash filled the first, Miles withdrew a wanted poster from his saddlebag. He unfolded it in front of her. "Ma'am, have you seen this man?"
    "Please, call me Delilah." She looked down at the placard and blurted, "An Indian."
    "Só'taeo'o, to be precise," Cash said.
    "Pardon?"
    "Só'taeo'o, the Cheyenne tribe."
    Delilah looked to the flint arrowhead dangling from the white lawman's neck on a leather thong and smiled again. "Of course."
    Her eyes traveled back to the wanted poster. Brave Coyote wanted for murder and theft. He had striking good looks with a slight scar running under his left eye. She ran her finger over the scar, remembering.
    "Who did he kill?"
    "Another Indian, a kid who was half-starved to death." Miles said.
    She looked between the two lawmen.
    "And this would involve the marshal service, how?"
    "According to Brave Coyote, he caught the kid breaking into a general store in Casper. He tried to stop him but in the scuffle, the gun went off, killing the boy," Cash said giving a bucket to one of the horses and began filling the second.
    Miles placed some oats in a feedbag for each of the horses and picked up telling the narrative. "Folks have raised quite a ruckus over what they consider Indian lawlessness in the territory and Brave Coyote was convicted as a result." The local sheriff asked us for assistance tracking him.
    "But he was trying to do a good thing, wasn't he?"
    "No witnesses," Cash said. "And Coyote was caught with some of the stores pilfered goods. He's been sentenced to hang. He's escaped and is considered dangerous."
    Delilah looked at the face on the poster. "I'm all for taming this land but I'd hate to see an innocent man jerking at the end of a rope."
    "Ma'am one of us could ride with you to your uncle's. You'd be safer staying with him until Brave Coyote is caught," Cash said.
    Delilah shook her head handing the poster back. "No, this is my land, my husband is buried here. I'm not leaving it un-guarded."
    Cash and Miles exchanged glances. "Ok, but if you see him, take extra provision," Cash said. "He's on the run, and not just from us. The kid's father—a man named Askook—is tracking him too. He's apt to react like a cornered rattler if anyone gets in his way of revenge."
    With the horses fed and rested, the two marshals saddled up. "Ma'am," Miles said, "we should be back in a week, maybe sooner if we catch him. We will stop back through to check on you."
    "Thank you, both." The men tipped the brims of their black Stetsons in unison and turned west, riding away.
    * * *
    As the Deputy U.S. Marshals disappeared over the ridge, an empty feeling settled within Delilah. She turned to the rambling, shingle-roofed abode with the half-finished porch and wondered why she bothered to stay. Her eyes flicked to the wooden cross under the elm and she chided herself for