Free Passage West by Ruth Ryan Langan Page A

she’d sensed he’d watched her all the while she was there.
     
    *  *  *
     
    Morning dawned dry and hot. No morning mist shrouded the ground. No cooling breezes ruffled the leaves of the poplars. Each footstep brought a cloud of dust that clung like powder to clothing, clogging lungs and throats and eyes.
    Abby watched as her aunt carefully wound strips of soft cotton around her arch and instep, then pulled on heavy knit stockings before lacing up her high shoes. Though she never complained, Abby had seen Violet soaking her feet after her first day on the trail. Still, her aunt insisted, walking was good for a body, made the heart pump, the lungs expand. Dear Aunt Vi, Abby thought with a gentle smile. She would always make the best of any situation.
    Carrie wasn’t nearly as flexible. Though her young body could adapt more easily to the rigors of this trek, she complained loudly at night about the blisters on her feet, until James reminded her that she wasn’t too old to have a few blisters inflicted on her backside as well. This morning she maintained a sullen silence as she dressed and ate.
    While Abby drained her coffee, she fought to calm the nervous flutters in her stomach. An entire day with the moody, mysterious Rourke. When the train was ready to roll, she saddled her father’s horse, lifted the rifle across her lap, and headed toward the lead wagon. As she drew abreast, Mordecai waved a cheery greeting, then called, “Rourke’s up ahead, Miss Abby. You can’t miss him.”
    Far ahead, she could see a lone rider. Gritting her teeth, she dug her heels into the sides of the mare and moved out at a faster pace.
    Though he heard her approaching, Rourke never slowed his pace or looked back. When her horse galloped up beside him, spewing dust, he angled his head, tipped his hat, and continued at an easy lope. Within minutes her mount altered his gait to keep pace. They rode that way, without speaking, for miles.
    At first Abby was tense, waiting for Rourke to grumble about having to put up with a female companion. When he continued to say nothing, she began to relax and take the time to look around her.
    Since leaving Independence, the landscape had been gradually changing. But here the changes were abrupt. Thick turf had given way to bunch grasses. The earth’s colors had gone from green to brown and tan. Even the sky had gone from deep blue, awash with fluffy clouds, to a blinding white light that made distances deceptive. Could she reach out and touch that boulder, or was it a mile away? And that mountain range. Would they reach it by nightfall? Or would they need several more days to even draw near?
    They passed unfamiliar animals. Bison, pronghorn, jackrabbits, prairie dogs.
    Without realizing it, Abby began to enjoy the view. When she had been forced to drive the team, she had felt a responsibility for Carrie and Violet and all their worldly goods. There had been no time to watch the passing parade. Now, unhampered by responsibility, she was free to simply enjoy.
    “Oh, aren’t they magnificent.” At the top of a rise, Abby reined in her horse to watch a herd of bison.
    Rourke drew up beside her. Lifting his hat, he wiped the sweat from his forehead, then replaced the hat, leaving the upper part of his face in shadow.
    “The way they’re being slaughtered, there’ll soon be none left.”
    “Oh, Rourke. There must be a hundred of them. It wouldn’t be possible to kill all of them.”
    “Wouldn’t it?” His voice was chilling. “You haven’t seen some of the kills I’ve seen. I’ve watched half a dozen men sit on their horses and bring down an entire herd in a matter of hours.”
    “How can they butcher that many animals?”
    “They don’t. They just leave them to rot in the sun.”
    “But why?” Without thinking, she reached out a hand to his arm and felt his muscles flex at her touch.
    Rourke turned to her. Sunlight played across her face, accentuating her high cheekbones, touching her