The Whippoorwill Trilogy - Sharon Sala Page 0,64

up the slope of the land and out onto the rolling prairie. It was then that they took time to rein up and look behind them. All they could do was stare in growing horror at the pillar of black smoke rising into the sky, and then below, to the layer of fire beneath.

“Are we safe?” Charity asked.

Beau couldn’t help himself. He reached out and cupped the side of her face where the scratches still bled. Her blood was warm beneath his fingers.

“Not yet, girl,” he said softly. “But we will be.”

Mehitable looked back at where they’d been.

“I reckon that squirrel’s gonna be a mite too done to eat,” she muttered.

They looked at each other and then, because they were still alive to do the deed, laughed until tears made clean tracks down their cheeks. Filled with the joy of being able to breathe, Beau yanked his hat from his head and waved it high in the air.

“Yeehaa!” he shouted.

Charity’s heart swelled at the sight of him there; undefeated, indomitable, and fell the rest of the way in love. But there was no time to dwell on the fact that Beau James was not a man who would take another man’s leavings.

“Let’s ride!” he yelled.

Neither the horses or the Doone sisters needed a second urging. The horses leaped forward, taking them all out of danger.

The elation that came with outrunning the fire soon dissipated. The next few days became a series of frustrating failures. At each way station they came to, their inquiries netted the same results. Yes, a preacher had been on board, but he’d taken the next stage south. By their best guess, they were about five days behind him, but closing in. Trail weary but determined, they kept on moving.

And then everything came to a halt.

The stage line ended in a place called Thomasville and when Randall Howe was nowhere to be found, they had to face the fact that his trail had come to an end.

Beau James was fit to be tied, cursing himself up one side and down the other for not following his inclinations and striking out on his own. If he had, the bastard would already be rotting in the ground.

Mehitable was disappointed beyond words. She kept staring at the distant horizons with her customary squint, as if trying to conjure up an image of where the man could have gone.

Charity was strangely quiet. Her days on the road had been healing for her in more ways than one. Channeling her anger into a purpose had been healthy. But anger wasn’t the only emotion that she’d begun to channel. After the way the preacher had tossed her aside, she’d planned to hate all men. But the days and nights she had spent in the company of Beau James had changed that forever.

His quiet ways and cold handsome face intrigued her. His kindness charmed her. And ever since the prairie fire, there were times when she caught him watching her. It was those moments, more than anything else, that made her wish she could turn back time. If only she’d noticed him before. Before she’d committed her unpardonable sin.

So here they were, stuck in Thomasville with no idea of where to go next. Without benefit of a hotel, they made camp at the creek outside of town. The night was hot, made hotter by their campfire and the rabbits Beau had shot earlier sizzling over a makeshift spit. The air was still. Nearby, horses stomped nervously, as if sensing the trio’s dilemma.

“I think we should just give it up,” Charity said. “We’ve been gone too long. There’s the ranch to run and things to do.” She couldn’t look either Will or Mehitable in the face as she continued. “After all, it’s not as if he killed me. I’m still breathing.”

Beau stood up with a jerk. “Well I’m not breathin’ so easy. And I won’t be until I get him in my sights.”

Mehitable sighed. She was torn between wanting to avenge her sister and worrying about her beloved ranch. Granted she had good hired help, but things still happened.

She looked at Charity then, seeing the changes that the days on the trail had brought. Gone was the fussy young girl with the flyaway dreams. In her place was a hard-eyed young woman who rarely smiled. She remembered Charity’s smiles. Virginity wasn’t the only thing Randall Howe had stolen from Charity. He’d taken her joy, as well. It was that alone that made Mehitable say what