The Wildest Heart

I would be away for ten days. I told myself that I would not think beyond the actual preparations for my journey. It was unlike me. I could feel myself changing, growing less sure of myself; I hated the change in myself.

“If Mr. Bragg should arrive, will you tell him where I’ve gone?” I said to Marta. “Tell him it is most urgent that I should meet and talk to him.” But even while I was giving her these instructions I felt in my heart of hearts that Mr. Bragg would not turn up. He was lying somewhere, in a nameless grave, murdered because he had tried to help me. Whenever I thought about him I felt a return of the sick, frightened feeling I had had when Mark said to me, “Don’t you think it strange that Mr. Bragg has not shown up himself?”

Lucas Cord had come instead, using Mr. Bragg’s name to gain my trust, using even the name of my dead father who had befriended him in order to excite my curiosity. “Out here we shoot rattlesnakes before they have a chance to bite,” Mark had said with a note of grimness unusual for him. I knew what he wanted me to do, but I would not discuss it.

“He’ll never turn up,” I said. I repeated those same words during the last part of our long and tiring journey across the plains and mountains, past Santa Rita, and into Silver City which, as its name implied, was a prosperous mining town.

We had a cavalry escort from Fort Cummings for most of the journey, and when we stopped to rest at Santa Rita the SD men who had gone ahead of us with Todd Shannon took over.

I was surprised at their number, and the arsenal of weapons they seemed to carry.

“Pa’s Texas gunslingers, that’s who they are!” Flo Jeffords said with a sniff. With a look of contempt for me she added, “Did you think they were ordinary cowhands? You’ve only got to look closely at their clothes, and the way they wear their guns. Pa’s own unofficial army!”

She gave a shrill laugh, and I wished, not for the first time, that I had not been forced to travel cooped up in this little carriage with her. Only when Mark, who preferred to ride outside, joined us occasionally did Flo fall silent, gazing sullenly out of the window and pretending that our conversation bored her. I wondered what she was thinking.

As we drew closer to Silver City, though, some of Flo’s sullenness fell away and she displayed some animation, her eyes shining with excitement. “You’ve never seen a mining town? This one’s bigger than most. The governor’s here to help them celebrate finding the silver that gave the town its name. It’s not exactly a city, of course, but for this dull part of the world it’s got plenty of excitement to offer.” She gave me a slanting, sideways look. “There are gunfights almost every day, of course. Mostly between cowboys and miners, or cowboys and homesteaders. You seen a gunfight yet?”

The shine in her eyes took on an almost unnatural brilliance, and it flashed through my mind that she had once seen two men killed in a fight over her. Was she remembering the same thing?

“I hope I never have to see grown men fight each other with guns!” I said firmly.

She giggled again. “Stay in Silver City long enough and you’re bound to, like it or not!”

It was shortly after this that Mark and I had our conversation, for Flo declared she had to stretch her legs, as the motion of the carriage was making her quite dizzy. Mark offered to let her ride his horse for part of the way.

I noticed that he was frowning as he stretched his long legs before him.

“I don’t like the way Flo’s been acting,” he said bluntly. “Did she strike you as being… well, overexcited?”

“I don’t know her or her moods well enough to judge,” I said cautiously.

“But I do, unfortunately! I have the feeling she’s up to some kind of mischief.” He rubbed at his clean-shaven jaw morosely. “Darn it, I wish I knew what to do! I don’t dare drop a word of warning in my uncle’s ear without betraying your confidence, and then he’d fly into one of his rages and we’d have a war on our hands.”

“A war? All Todd’s Texas gunmen against one man?” I don’t know what made me say it, but I caught Mark’s sharp look.

“Don’t forget that as part owner of the SD your money helps pay their wages too,” he reminded me.

“But why do we need a small army to protect us?” I was just as glad to get off the subject of Lucas Cord, and I’m sure Mark sensed it, for he gave me a reproachful glance as if he knew I was deliberately evading an issue.

“I thought you’d have realized by now that it’s necessary. Why do you think even the Apaches hesitate to attack us? I’ve heard of other, smaller spreads being overrun and looted—if not by Indians, by the renegades this territory seems to attract.”

“A show of force?” I said thoughtfully, and Mark gave a pleased nod.

“Exactly! And the money spent is worth it, in terms of safety.”

“I think I see what you mean.” I sighed, and gave Mark a level glance. “I think I can guess what you are thinking too,” I said ruefully.

“Rowena, it’s got to be faced! We have to be prepared, just in case. You do understand that, don’t you?”

“I carry that little derringer you gave me in my purse at all times,” I reminded him, and laughed. “I even sleep with it tucked under my pillow.”

“You’ll have a man guarding your door too!”

“And how will you explain that to your uncle?”

“He’ll see to that himself, as a normal precaution. Silver City has a reputation for being a rough town.”

“Well, then, we have nothing to worry about, have we?”