Odessa Read online

  With Papa’s rifle slung over one shoulder and canteens hanging from the other, the food basket she carried in the crook of her arm held the blanket and bullets as well. She took one last look back then heaved a heavy sigh. “Time has come. I’m going now.” Speaking the words aloud affirmed her determination, but did little to quell her fear.

  Her stomach gurgled. At first, she considered hunger the reason, but as visions of what might lay ahead raced through her mind, she realized fright rumbled her innards. Tonight she wouldn’t have a wagon to hide beneath. She swallowed her fear one more time, held her head high and slogged through the undergrowth and out onto the trail. Her earlier vow to survive sustained her. If death came to claim her, she’d not be waiting for it.

  * * * *

  Odessa’s determined pace turned to trudging footsteps. The sun sat high in the sky and pummeled her with heated fists. Sweat trickled down her face and neck and soaked her chemise. Her parched lips longed for a drink but she denied the need, fearing she’d not find water again soon. Ahead, alongside the road, a boulder loomed. She hastened to it and sat in its shade. Dropping her load, she removed her hat and swiped her forearm across her brow. Her gaze scanned the lonely trail ahead; her spirits sagged.

  Keeping her rifle at her side, she rummaged through the basket. She needed to eat to keep up her strength. Beneath the blanket, she found another wrapped sandwich and an apple. The fruit might do more to quench both her hunger and thirst. She took a hefty bite. Sweet juice bathed her dry mouth and dribbled down her chin. She never remembered anything tasting so good and savored every bit, save the stem and seeds.

  Her canteens were still full. If she continued to ration the remaining water, she should be good for a few days. Along with her remaining sandwich, she ate some cookies, another apple, a couple of biscuits and some salted pork. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and sighed. “I’d trade it all for a horse.”

  By the sun’s position, she’d walked for half the day already. With night-time looming, dread sank like a stone in the pit of her stomach. What of night creatures and the dropping temperatures? Her heart quickened. Maybe someone would come along. Perhaps she’d find shelter. She shook her head and dropped her chin to her chest. The whimper she released sounded more like a shout in the silence around her.

  She straightened. “Stop being such a baby, Odessa. Papa would be ashamed.” Forcing herself to stand, she gathered her provisions, and with a sigh, stepped back onto the trail. Empty miles of dusty road lay ahead.

  Humming broke the monotony. A tune she’d heard drifting from one of the saloons in Tucson echoed in her head—Red River Valley. She’d only dared listen to part of the song before she’d skittered away, but had sung it repeatedly in her head until she remembered the words. She started to croon:

  From the valley they say you are going. We will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile.

  For they say you are taking the sunshine. That has brightened our path for a while.

  Come and sit by my side if you love me. Do not hasten to bid me adieu. But remember the Red River Valley and the cowboy who loved you so true.

  This time, the words did little to lift her spirits. She already missed Papa’s bright eyes and sweet smile. He’d been her sunshine, and now he was gone. Everyone was gone. She wiped a tear away, focused on the heat waves rising from the dust, and kept walking. Walking, walking, walking.

  The temperature soared. Little wonder that only scrub brush and cactus survived in this hell-forsaken wilderness. Odessa stopped and lifted a canteen to her lips. She took a sip and washed the liquid around in her mouth before swallowing. Even the water was hot. The weight of the rifle bit into her shoulder and sweat saturated the coarse canteen straps. Her skin rubbed raw from the added burden. If curling into a ball and crying would help, she’d gladly drop on the spot and lapse into tears. But despite having lost everyone she loved, she wanted to go on living.

  She grimaced at the woven imprint indented in her forearm by the basket’s handle. Lightening her load might help. She snapped the blanket out onto the dirt and dumped the food contents on top. After adding the canteens, she drew the four woolen corners together and created a makeshift saddlebag. With the blanket draped across her shoulders and the rifle in place, she set off once again.

  She plodded for what seemed endless hours. Pausing, she whipped the hat from her head and let her hair fall free. Despite Papa’s Stetson, the sun and heat had burned her lips until they ached. Fiery warmth scorched her scalp. She’d always heard that black drew more heat, and the hat proved the rumor true. Her feet ached in her button-up boots and her legs felt like Granny’s jelly. Dampness plastered her petticoat to her legs. Defeat ate at her, but with each negative thought, she squared her shoulders and marched onward

  The sun pursued a downward trek. Soon the air would cool, but that meant darkness and danger. Her heart, pounding from exertion, skipped a beat. Maybe she was meant to die after all. Exhaustion consumed her. Her body ached and sinking to the ground sounded appealing. Instead, she shook her head several times to clear her mournful thoughts, and scanned around for any type of shelter. Even a boulder would do.

  Twilight soon tiptoed across the barren expanse. Despite the sunset still glowing on the horizon, stars appeared. She had to find a place to rest for the night—the dreaded night. A short distance ahead, a small boulder cropped from the scrub. More a large rock, but it’d have to do. At least it provided something to rest against.

  Odessa reached the rock, unburdened her weary body and cleared stones and prickly grass from her selected spot. With most debris removed, she spread her blanket on the sandy ground and collapsed. The sun’s heat still radiated from her stony backrest and drove away the creeping chill.

  As she munched a biscuit, her eyes trained on the eerie shadows. So far, she’d heard no familiar howl or night critters scurrying through the undergrowth. Her father’s Henry rifle, the new one in which he took such pride, lay close to her side along with the remaining ammunition. She whispered a prayer for God to see her through the night.

  * * * *

  Bright sunlight and growing heat woke Odessa. She bolted upright, her heartbeat roaring in her ears. How could morning be here already?

  A pain seared along her spine when she moved, and her neck refused to turn. Had she slept in the same position all night and fused all her muscles into a knot? A bit of discomfort was a small price to pay to wake up safe and alive. If a coyote had howled or a snake slithered across her, she’d not been aware of it.

  She stretched her arms over her head, shrugged her shoulders and yawned. Her grandmother had always complained about ague and rheumatism. Was this how she’d felt? Despite Odessa’s aching body, a ray of hope broke through her despair, if only for a fleeting moment. She smiled and found hope. Prayer held power; she’d lived to see another day.

  After finishing the last biscuit and a bit of salted pork, Odessa took a sip of water. She gathered her belongings inside the blanket, optimistic once again. Even with her stiffened joints and muscles, she’d had a good night’s rest and felt eager to get started before the sun rose higher. After a brief squat behind the rock, she arranged her hair back under Papa’s hat and set off, following a trail that twisted and turned then disappeared from sight. She hadn’t removed her shoes and socks for days for fear she wouldn’t get them back on again. Each step reminded her how far she’d come.

  The heat grew fierce. Odessa’s dress clung to her like bark on the old oak tree next to her house—or what used to be her house. Papa sold the home to the bank for very little profit. His desire to leave Tucson was more important than money.

  Money! She gasped. She’d left the small amount Papa had packed in his valise. The thought never occurred to her before now. Still, there was no way she’d backtrack to get it. Let whoever found her father reap the reward. Hopefully, they’d earn the few bucks by s
eeing to his remains. Guilt still gnawed at her for leaving him. She pushed onward, trying to think only of Aunt Susan’s smiling face and welcoming arms.

  Odessa’s legs turned leaden. Salty sweat dripped from her brow into her eye and burned like blazes. She knuckled at her closed lid and grimaced. Instead of her usual sip, she whipped the canteen up to her mouth and took a long draw. She felt faint and hoped the water would wash the feeling away.

  Ahead, everything blurred but not from rising heat waves. This was different. Dizziness clawed at her, making her unstable on her feet. Her head throbbed, and her neck sagged to her chest like a melting candle. The ground zigzagged beneath her gaze then rose to meet her. Helpless in a heap, her fingers stretched across the gritty dirt, searching for her rifle. She fought against the darkness that sucked her into an endless hole.

  “They say I killed six or seven men for snoring. It ain’t true. I only killed one man for snoring.”

  —John Wesley Hardin

  Chapter Three

  Zach Johnson kept his horse at a steady pace along the rutted trail leading towards Charleston. He’d left Phoenix before sunup yesterday. Swiping a sleeve across his sweaty brow, he arched his back away from the saddle cantle. Too much time had passed since he’d made a long trip by horseback.

  With no end to the cactus and scrub brush, his mind whirred. Was he a fool getting involved with the outlaws? He had played poker with a friend of Pete Spence, a known fugitive from Texas, when the man passed through Phoenix and stopped at the saloon. He seemed a nice enough fellow, but too much corn whiskey made Zach loose-lipped about needing money to keep the bank from reclaiming his father’s ranch. By day’s end, Zach lost what little money he had in the game, and driven by desperation, accepted the offer to join Pete and his cohorts in a holdup.

  The sun raged like a fire in a baker’s oven. Squiggly lines drifted upwards from dirt hardened by lack of rain, then dissipated into the sky. Zach squinted at a strange-looking dot up the trail and shook his head. People frequently lost their belongings that way. Whatever lay in the road most likely had little or no value. He pulled his canteen up and took a swig.

  The spot in the road grew larger as he neared. The image resembled a heap of clothing until he closed the distance and realized he’d found a person. He widened his eyes. The red and white gingham wasn’t just discarded rags. The material was a dress worn by a woman—and a very young one it appeared. After reining in his horse, he dismounted and yanked his canteen from the saddle horn.

  Zach knelt and cradled her head in the crook of his arm, then removed her oversized hat. Blonde hair spilled out and dusted the ground as he fanned her. She still had color in her face, but didn’t move. He bent and put his head to her chest and listened. Her heart beat slow and steady. Straightening, he released a pent up breath. She was alive. His gaze traveled the length of her.

  Scuffed, dusty boots poked out from the tattered hem of her dress and the hands at her sides bore scrapes and cuts. Dirt stained the once-white cuffs at her wrists and smudged her cheeks. A rifle lay close by, along with a half-filled canteen, judging from its weight. Where had she come from? He scanned around for a hint but saw nothing but endless desert.

  Although she looked young, the slight rise and fall of her bosom showed ample development. At least she breathed. Was she injured or just a victim of the unrelenting heat? A quick scan revealed no blood on her clothing although she had a small cut above her eye. He chewed his bottom lip. The last thing he needed was to be someone’s hero. He’d given his word to join Pete Spence, and from what he’d heard, he wasn’t the type you double-crossed.

  Zach lifted his canteen to the girl’s cracked lips and drizzled water onto them. She sputtered and gasped, and eyes bluer than the sky flew open and stared up at him. “Who…who are you?” Her voice was a mere whisper.

  “Zach Joh… Zach’ll do fine.” He thought twice about giving his full name. After all, he was on his way to rob a stage… if he could find someone to pawn her off on. “Better question is, who are you? What’re you doin’ out here in the middle of nowhere by yourself?”

  “O-Odessa Clay,” she muttered. “Father, dead… wagon turned over.” She blinked several times then her eyes closed again. Her head lolled to the side.

  “Shit!” He peered down at the unconscious girl in his arms. “Well, Odessa Clay, what in the hell am I supposed to do with you?”

  Clearly, she was in no condition to travel. He’d have to make camp for the night and turn back to Phoenix in the morning. Charleston was farther away, and he wasn’t certain they had a doctor. He stared down at her angelic face and wondered why he’d decided to join up with the Spence gang in the first place. Zach wasn’t an outlaw. Hell, even this strange female set him to trembling.

  His gut twisted into a knot. At twenty-one, this was the first time he’d lied to his pa—used getting a job with the stage line as a reason to leave town. The little fib years back about the spilled bucket of milk didn’t count. Pa believed the cow had kicked the container over.

  The girl in his arms moaned and interrupted his thoughts. Her eyes opened again, and her blank look showed confusion. He rested her head on his thigh, untied the kerchief from his neck and wet the cloth with water from his canteen. While blotting the dust from her cheeks and brow, he forced a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna take care of you. You’ll be fine.”

  Dread filled him. What was he thinking? Outlaws weren’t known for being patient men. Besides, Zach needed money before the first of the month. He brushed a wayward hair from the girl’s mouth then clenched his hand into a fist. “Damn, I can’t just leave you here.”

  He saw fear in her eyes.

  Zach had passed an old adobe not far back. It had no roof, windows or door, but would provide a place to hide off the beaten path. He wasn’t afraid of the dark, but there was no telling who might pass by during the night. He placed her hat beneath her head and left her lying on the ground while he gathered her belongings and secured them to his saddlebags. Her rifle fit into the scabbard, along with his own.

  Scooping the girl from the ground, Zach propped her in the saddle and scrabbled up behind her, clutching her hat against her. One arm held her tight while he searched for the reins with the other. She stiffened for a moment before her head fell back and rested against his shoulder. Her hair smelled of dust mingled with something sweet. He couldn’t place the odor. Nor could he explain why his groin tightened at her nearness. A breath fluttered past his lips and he nudged Storm onward.

  At the adobe ruins, he slid to the ground and pulled her from the saddle, leaving her hat on the horn. He cradled her in his arms and was taken aback to see her gazing up at him. Something about her eyes stirred unfamiliar emotions in him. “How are you feeling?” he asked amidst his awkwardness.

  Her brow puckered and she turned rigid. “Do I know you?” She sounded weak and scared. “Where am I?” She kicked and struggled.

  “Whoa!” He readjusted his hold on her, jostling her in the air to find the crook in her knees. “We’ve met. You just don’t remember. Zach’s the name and you’re safe with me. I promise.”

  She relaxed in his arms, but sighed. He sensed her gaze and peered down into eyes filled with distrust. Her gaze darted from side-to-side. “I’m still in the desert, aren’t I? I hoped I was having a bad dream.” She frowned.

  Despite her cracked and swollen lips, he suffered a sudden urge to kiss her. Instead, he jerked his chin up and stared forward. “Yep, unfortunately you’re still here.”

  Zach carried her to the other side of the standing wall. A weathered bench sat among broken pottery and rusted utensils. An old coffee pot, dented and missing its lid, lay next to a pile of ashes left by fires of previous travelers. He sat her down on the rickety wooden seat. “Will you be all right while I get our gear?”

  She nodded, lowering her head and making a
futile attempt to brush the dirty stains from her skirt. “I suppose.”

  When he returned, laden with his bedroll and her pack, and both rifles slung across his shoulder, the bench was empty. His breath caught in his throat. He whipped his gaze around and didn’t see her. She couldn’t have gone far.

  Storm nickered loudly. Zach dropped everything and dashed back to where he’d left his horse. Odessa struggled with the reins, trying to lift her foot into the stirrup. Storm snorted and reared. The girl jerked and stepped back when flying hooves clawed the air close to her head.

  Zach snared the reins that now dragged the ground. “Shhh, it’s all right, boy. Calm down.” Storm snorted again and pulled against him.

  “What the hell were you…?” His harsh tone faded when he noticed her eyes were wide as silver dollars, her chest heaving.

  “I’m sorry.” Tears clouded her eyes. “Please don’t have me hung for being a horse thief. I don’t even like horses. I just…” Her chin sagged to her chest and she sobbed.

  “Oh, don’t cry. I hate it when you women do that.” Zach clucked his tongue against his teeth. “No one’s getting hung, so stop your caterwauling.” This wasn’t exactly the reward he expected for his good deed.

  She sniffed and swiped her sleeve across her nose. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t even know how to ride and I’ve always been afraid of animals bigger than me. Maybe the sun has baked my brain. I should be thanking you instead of trying to leave you stranded. Can you forgive me?”

  Those eyes again. How could he say no? He lowered his gaze and kicked at a pebble then looked up. “I guess I can, but how do I know you won’t try to flee again? Am I gonna have to tie you up?”

  Her mouth gaped. “You wouldn’t?”