about to give up when she spotted an entry.
Emory Stanton aka Stanton Black, Author.
“Emory!” Journey couldn’t believe her eyes. “I’d forgotten you were a writer.” At one point, she and Reno had discussed searching for his work – but so much had happened. “The pen name would have thrown me off.”
Excited, she began a search for his work. After several failed attempts, she finally located a reference to a book of short stories. True Tall Tales of Texas. “How interesting.” Immediately, she attempted to track down a copy. The book was long out of print, of course. Journey was just about to give up hope when she found a copy for sale in a mom and pop bookstore in Marshall, Texas. Without hesitation, she got on the phone, called the shop, and gave them her credit card number. The owner promised to put it in the mail to her the next day. “Okay, Emory, we’ll see what you have to say.” While the book might contain no mention of Reno at all, even this tenuous link to the past made Journey hopeful.
* * *
As the stagecoach headed out of Waco, Reno took note of their companions. Both were already in their seats and seemed to be asleep when he and Gentry climbed aboard. One was a young man wearing an ill-fitting suit and the other was a big fellow with his hat pulled low enough on his face to completely obscure his features.
Tightening his grip on the frame of the open window, Reno tried to keep himself from jostling around. He’d forgotten how impossibly rough the stagecoach ride would be. The unpaved road was nothing but deep ruts and deeper holes. A cloud of dust obscured his view and the sun beat down unmercifully, making the crowded coach feel like the inside of an oven. He glanced at Gentry and the other two passengers, wondering how in the hell they could sleep in such conditions. All he could think about was how different this ride would be in Journey’s car.
Gritting his teeth, Reno hung on, his body swaying from side to side. Thinking was almost impossible, but he had nothing else to do. What Gentry said about Ela’s son kept running through his mind. The wisdom Kota inherited from Ela would’ve come through this son. Reno wondered if the man would be willing to help him. When he returned from Georgia with Cole, he would pay the tribe a visit. That thought led to another – and another. Would Governor Pease stop the massacre? Would the tribe even exist upon his return? Surely, it would. If he failed in these attempts, of what use was the miracle of his journey?
The moment his mind formed the idiotic thought, he knew better.
The miracle of his journey was his wife and unborn child.
Even if all his efforts failed, the days he spent with his beloved were worth it all.
Leaning his head on the window frame, he closed his eyes. Just as he did, the stagecoach bounced as one of the wheels fell into another large hole. He couldn’t even sit still, much less sleep.
With more time to think, his mind turned to Cole. He couldn’t wait to see him. He couldn’t wait to tell him what he’d been through. They had so much catching up to do. As his train of thought continued, he hit a mental wall of stone.
Even if all went well and Cole was freed, his time with his brother was limited.
When he returned to Journey, he’d have to leave Cole behind.
“Hell!” he shouted, tearing his hat from his head.
“What is wrong with you?” Gentry asked, as the other occupants of the coach all eyed him with startled suspicion.
“Nothing. Everything. My whole body is sore. Riding this damn stagecoach is worse than being pummeled with rocks as big as my fist.”
“Well, I do apologize for any discomfort, Mr. Black. I know you’ve become spoiled to more comfortable accommodations.”
Hearing the royal sarcastically berate him for his complaints made Reno feel foolish. “Sorry. I’m a little out of sorts.”
“Understandable.” Gentry pulled his hat down over his eyes. “Just try to hold it down, will you?”
Neither of the other men commented. Although, the large man did give Reno a hard look. He was about to try and strike up a conversation when a shout from the driver drew their attention. The next thing they knew, shots were being fired.
“I’ll say, old chap, I think we’re being robbed.” Gentry drew his gun as he