He stepped outside and scanned the area more fully. The Sioux village stretched out in the valley to the left, and all seemed quiet there. A few children played on the larger boulders while women scraped hides nearby. None of their sounds reached him.
A glance at the passes to the left and the right showed the trail empty, and far too many tracks layered the ground in front of the fort for him to pick out any that had just come near. He’d had a number of customers throughout the day.
A glimmer of movement caught his attention, and he spun toward the pass leading to the Collins ranch. The motion wasn’t at the pass. Something shifted just beyond the corner of the fort wall.
Tanner strode that way as apprehension knotted his belly. He should have grabbed the rifle from behind the trade counter. He had his knife, but his aim wasn’t nearly as good with that weapon as with a gun. Maybe he should investigate from within the fort walls. That way he could keep an eye on Curly and the mule.
But he would just sneak around the corner and see who had come. It might be Lorelei, and then he would have no need for weapons.
The thought loosened some of the tension. He hadn’t really expected her to come today, not as weak as her sister had looked last night. Perhaps the root White Horse sent hadn’t helped a great deal.
He reached the corner and eased his head out just enough to see. Two horses stood near the gate. No riders.
He studied the animals. Neither looked like the mares Lorelei or Rosemary usually rode, but sometimes they came on young mounts from the ranch that needed exercise. Since there were two, her sister must have come with her. Probably thinking he and Lorelei shouldn’t be allowed much time alone. And rightly so.
The visitors had already entered the gate, so he strode quickly to catch up with them. If by chance this wasn’t Lorelei and her sister, he needed to get inside there and clear out whoever it was.
His empty hands clenched into fists. He should have gone back for the rifle. Better to be prepared for every possibility.He had another rifle in the cabin that would be closer to grab now, but he would have to go inside the fort walls to get to it. That fusee wasn’t his faithful Hawken, but it would get the job done if he had to fire a warning shot.
As he neared the open gate, the knot in his belly tightened. Lorelei would not have left the gate unlatched so Curly or the mule could escape. And she usually removed her horse’s bridle so it could graze instead of leaving the animal to stand. Perhaps she only planned to stay a few minutes. She might have only come to lay eyes on the wounded animals and see if anything different should be done with them.
At the opening, he eased around the frame far enough to see.
Two men stood in the courtyard, their arms around Curly, trying to lift him onto a horse.
Panic swept through Tanner. “Hey!” He pushed off the gate post and sprinted toward them.
One of the men spun toward Tanner, and recognition dawned. Anderson, one of Purcey’s men. The skinny one. The fellow he’d shot in the leg.
Clearly the man had recovered.
Anger surged through him. Would these scoundrels not leave him alone? They must have realized how valuable Curly was and taken their sights off stealing the rifles.
As he covered the ground between them, the men scrambled to heave the calf up onto the saddle. Amidst Curly’s bawls and kicking hooves, the horse sidestepped.
As he reached the horse, he stretched up to grab the calf’s back legs. Something slammed into his side, knocking his feet out from under him and toppling him onto one of themen. Quigley, the bald man, grabbed his legs, locking them in a tight hold.
Tanner’s hands were free, though, and he turned to slam his right hook into the man’s temple, a place that should knock him senseless. His fist collided with flesh-covered bone, sending a shot of pain through his hand and wrist.
The grip around his lower half loosened, and Tanner scrambled to crawl away. The other man had climbed aboard the horse behind Curly, and they were galloping through the gate.
He stumbled to his feet and sprinted after them, but by the time he reached the opening, the man, horse, and buffalo calf were galloping westward—the same direction they’d gone the last time.
He had to go after them. The man here might regain consciousness any minute, and for that matter, Purcey, the leader, was probably searching for the rifles.
But he couldn’t worry about those. He had to get Curly back.
Spinning, he covered the two strides to the horses and grabbed the reins of a bay. The animal stood quiet while he swung up into the saddle.
He dug his heels into the animal’s sides, and the horse lurched forward. Tanner was a decent horseman, though not as skilled as Lorelei. He’d never leapt on a strange mount and kicked for all he was worth.
The horse tottered forward at first, and Tanner gave another hard nudge. The bay finally broke into a trot, and with more encouragement, he pushed into a lope. Perhaps Tanner had chosen the wrong mount, but he was on his way now.
Anderson and the calf had a strong head start on him. The pair was just disappearing into the trees in the distance. Tanner kicked his horse harder and managed to work him into a full canter.
He had to catch up with the man. This buffalo calf meant the world to Lorelei, and to a great many other people too. He couldn’t let it remain in the hands of men so unscrupulous. Who knew what they would try to do for money or power? They could have entire Native villages groveling at their feet in exchange for the calf. One wrong step and Purcey could start a battle with the Natives that would shed far too much innocent blood.
He couldn’t let them get away with Curly. If only he’d thought to stop for his rifle.
