Part 6 (2/2)

Whoever had entered her cabin had not looked vicious. He had not looked at all like the man Sam called the Boss. While that man was dark and heavyset, this man was tall and lithe. He was much fairer, too. His eyes were blue rather than almost black.

But the memory of those piercing blue eyes made her s.h.i.+ver again. She longed for the return of Sam. It was frightening enough to be held captive, but to have to face a new guarda.

Ariana shook her shoulders slightly and wrapped her arms close to try to hold at bay the fear that had overtaken her being. This new guard had brought food. She must eat if she were to keep up her strength. Surely the day would come when she would find some way to escape from her prison. She must be ready.

In spite of her fear and her lack of interest in the bland plate of food, her stomach growled. She forced herself to her feet and moved toward the shelf with its basin.

She splashed the fresh water over her face and washed her hands as best as she could. Without soap, she always felt she hadn't really washeda”simply rinsed. Still it felt refres.h.i.+ng, if nothing else.

She dumped the used water into the pail beside her feet. It was full.

He hadn't emptied the slop pail.

Laramie had never felt so disturbed in all his life. First of all, the secrecy of his father's plans and mission had bothered him. Then the strict orders on the importance of guarding the prisoner, leading the whole camp to believe they had somea”some armed desperado or high-ranking official in the south cabin. And now this. A girl. A mere girl. A girl did not belong in a camp of men. Any camp of men. And certainly not in their camp of men. He shook with anger. He had never questioned his father beforea”but he was going to demand some answers now.

He had to calm himself. He was in no condition for either a confrontation with his father or another visit with the prisoner. He took the path through the woods to the spring where they got their water, glad for the pail in his hand that gave him a good excuse.

Not calmed down by the time he reached his destination, Laramie stared at the spring. The small pool had frozen over again during the night, and he picked up the axe, relieved to be able to expend some of his anger in strenuous activity.

He made a hole large enough to dip in the pail and still kept chopping. The silver slivers of ice flew with each swing of the axe, sprinkling the new blanket of snow that lay on the surface.

Why had his father done it? Why? What was behind this fool scheme? Surely this bit of a girl was worth nothing to the gang. Or was she? Was she some wealthy rancher's daughter? Was there a large ransom on her head? If so, he hoped that it quickly would be paid so she could be returned to wherever she belonged.

He knew nothing of women, but he didn't like the thought of one in the camp. Instinctively he knew that this eventually would mean trouble.

He finally laid aside the axe and dipped the pail. But he was not prepared to see her again. Not yet. He was still shaking from the last encounter. She was so young. Soa”so delicate. And her hair hung about her shoulders likea”

He s.h.i.+vered and pushed away the memory. He didn't want to even think about it. He emptied the pail back into the pool and hung it on a tree limb. He'd care for his horses first. Maybe by then he'd have himself back under control.

”I'd like to talk.”

Laramie stood before his father in the main cabin that the gang shared during the daylight hours. All the men were there except for Shadow, who was taking the morning watch. Seven pairs of eyes lifted at the simple words. There was something different in the voice.

”Alone,” he added.

Will Russell did not look up from his game of solitaire, simply nodded. The men, without question or further orders, began to rise from wherever they sat and leave whatever they were doing, to file from the room, grabbing needed wraps from the pegs by the door.

At another nod from his boss, Sam took his log seat again. Laramie made no objection.

A few of the men dared to curse under their breath as they went. The day was not warm even though it was sunny, and some had been in the middle of a game of cards. McDuff was grumbling along with the curses. ”Jest when I had me a good hand,” Laramie heard him mutter. They could not take the game along with them like Curly was doing with his whiskey bottle.

The door closed and the room became silent. Will Russell continued his game. Sam shuffled uneasily, then pulled his plug of tobacco from his s.h.i.+rt pocket and began to cut off a large chew.

”What's on yer mind?” Will growled, still not lifting his eyes.

Laramie took a deep breath to control his emotionsa”his voice.

”I've got a feelin' thet ya know,” he responded.

They had never played games with each other. The father looked up now and met the steely eyes of his son.

”The girl?” he asked simply.

Laramie nodded.

Silence hung heavy in the room. Will played a few cards.

”What's she doin' here?” asked Laramie, his voice controlled and hard.

Will looked up quickly. ”You questionin' me, boy?” asked the man, his black eyes growing darker.

Sam s.h.i.+fted on his log seat again.

”Jest askin' fer a little informationa”man to man,” Laramie replied coolly.

The father appeared to calm himself. He returned to his cards, laying a ten of diamonds on a jack of spades.

”Pa?” Laramie prompted.

Will shoved back from his card game and looked up at the tall young man. He nodded toward another log section that stood upright near the table, and Laramie knew he was to take a seat. Obediently he pulled the log forward and straddled it.

”We gotta git us some more chairs,” growled the big man.

”The girl,” reminded Laramie.

”Pretty little thing, ain't she?” said the father, and Laramie felt his cheeks grow hot. It was a new experience for him to flush with anger. His father misunderstood the reddened cheeks and haw-hawed heartily, slapping Laramie on the back and making ogling eyes at Sam.

Laramie's flush deepened. So this was how it would be with a girl in camp.

He fought for calm. He had to remain cool and level-headed.

”She's pretty,” he agreed so as to distract his father, but he tried hard not to think of the head of tumbling curls, the frightened eyes.

”How long she gonna be here?” asked Laramie.

Will looked up and exchanged glances with Sam. ”Well, now,” he drawled in his raspy voice. ”That there depends.”

”What's she here for?” asked Laramie.

”Boya”you sure are full of questions, now ain't ya?” said the big man. He was beginning to sound irritated. Laramie knew better than to make his father angry.

”I jest figurea”bein' part of the ganga””

<script>