Chapter 3

The smile on Abigail’s face turned to a frown as the happy thoughts of the past changed to the worst day of her life. The memory of her short time with her late husband went from joy to sorry. She remembered that fateful day as if it had been yesterday rather than over fourteen years ago.

Abigail had been tending the vegetable garden. Dressed for ranch work, she had worn a boy’s long sleeve shirt and denim trousers. Her hair was tied up with a ribbon to keep out of her face and tucked inside the Stetson hat that protected her face from the sun. She had been on her hands and knees pulling weeds when she heard the clip-clop of horse hooves. At first, she had thought it was her husband returning from searching for cattle that had wandered off, but as soon as she saw two horses she knew it wasn’t him.

Abigail jumped to her feet. Her first thought was to run to the house for the rifle Wyatt had taught her to shoot. But the fast approaching riders would be in front of the house before her. Not wanting to show fear, she stood in the vegetable garden waiting to find out what the men wanted. They never had visitors. Maybe the two were simply lost.

“Boy, is this Wyatt McCade’s place?” one of the cowboys asked.

Boy? Abigail automatically looked down at herself. She was dressed in boy’s clothing and had boyish hips. The baggy shirt hid her small breasts. Her hair was underneath the large hat. And her pregnancy wasn’t showing yet.

“There is no McCade here. You fellas got the wrong ranch.”

“That’s not what we heard,” the other cowboy said. He stood up in the stirrups and looked around before sitting back down in the saddle.

“You heard wrong,” Abigail said and crossed her arms.

“Boy, you are a feisty one,” the first cowboy said and chuckled. “You better mind your elders or I’ll tan your hide.”

Abigail lost her bravado. Her arms dropped to her sides. “I’m telling you the truth. Never heard of any McCade around these parts.”

“Maybe your daddy has. When is he coming back?”

“Don’t know. Maybe not today. He sometimes camps out if he’s busy and it’s getting late.”

“Is your mama here?”

“She’s dead.”

“Got a sister?”

“No, I’m alone.”

“Too bad. We’ve been without lady’s company for some time.”

“There are women in town who will take care of that.”

The cowboy eyed Abigail. “How do you know about that stuff? Boy, how old are you? You can’t be more than ten.”

“I’m fourteen.”

“Well I’ll be damned. They sure grow them small out here.”

“Buck,” the other cowboy said, “let’s get going. There’s a town a ways from here. Maybe someone there knows something.”

Buck grabbed the saddle horn as he leaned over the side of his horse to be closer to Abigail. “Boy, wanna come to town with us? I’m gonna find one of those dirty whores you say is there and get between her fat legs and fuck her ‘til she can’t walk. For two bits I can get her to fuck a young’un like you since you won’t last long. I’d like to see that.”

Abigail wanted to lash out at the crude man. He was talking about women like her mother. But she bit her tongue and dug her chin into her chest.

Buck guffawed. “Didn’t think so, boy. You talk big, but you’re just a scared little boy.” He turned to his partner. “Let’s skedaddle. Time’s a wasting.”

Buck yanked his reins hard to the side, turning the horse’s head, and dug his heels into the horse’s sides. “Giddy-up.” The horse took off with the other one galloping after him.

Abigail watched the clouds of dust fly into the air behind the horses’ hooves and float into nothingness. The riders got smaller and smaller. Her heart beat fast, her hands were clammy. She pulled a bandana from her back pocket and wiped the sweat off her face. Thank god they had thought she was a boy. Her mother had told her about men forcing themselves on women. At least they were gone.

As she gazed at where she had last seen the two men, she wondered who Wyatt McCade was. Whoever had directed them to her ranch probably made the mistake because of the same first name. Not many people knew them. Wyatt didn’t really like people. He was a loner. And Abigail learned to love that life. They had each other. They didn’t need other people.

Abigail returned to her vegetable garden. There was always something to do on the ranch and none of it got done by itself. In the few months she had been there, Abigail had learned a lot about ranching. Caring for the animals and, her favorite, the vegetable garden. She even helped her husband repair fences and the like.

Sounds of a horse clip-clopping struck fear in Abigail, but when she turned, a smile spread across her face. It was Wyatt. She jumped to her feet and ran to the barn where he was heading. By the time she got there, he had removed and stored the saddle and blanket and hung the bridle up. Since it was getting late, he was putting the horse in the barn stall instead of taking the mare to the coral.

“Two riders came here,” Abigail shouted as she ran into the barn.

“Who were they?”

“Don’t know.”

“What did they want?”

“They were looking for a Wyatt McCade. They came here by mistake.”

Abigail had never seen the look on her husband’s face she now saw.

“What did you tell them?” Wyatt asked.

“That there is no McCade here and I don’t know any McCade.”

“Good, good. Let’s go into the house.”

Wyatt walked so fast that Abigail had to keep breaking into a trot to keep up. When they entered the house, Wyatt went directly to the place he kept his six-shooter. He strapped on the holster, drew the Colt, checked its cylinder to make sure it was fully loaded, and then dropped the revolver back into the leather holster. Abigail stood just inside the closed front door gawking at him.

“What are you doing?” Abigail asked.

“Just being careful. I don’t like strangers coming here.”

“But they came to the wrong ranch. They left for town.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“I watched them on the trail un—”

The door burst open, slamming into Abigail’s back. She screeched and went flying, landing hard on her shoulder and rolling twice on the floor. The two men who had come to the ranch earlier charged into the room with guns drawn. Wyatt drew his Colt and fired. The bullet hit the first man in the chest. The second man was ready. As the first man crumbled to the floor in front of him, Buck fired. The bullet hit Wyatt in the side, shattering a rib. The pain stunned Wyatt. That gave Buck enough time to wildly fire again. That bullet went through Wyatt’s shoulder, causing a shooting pain down his arm to his fingers. His Colt slipped from his hand and clattered on the wood floor. The smell of gun smoke filled the room. Wyatt grimaced as he dropped to a knee to retrieve his revolver with his other hand. Buck was on him in a second. With the heel of his boot on Wyatt’s shoulder, Buck shoved him onto his back. Then he kicked Wyatt’s Colt away from him.

When Abigail went flying, so did her Stetson. And her rolling on the floor caused the ribbon holding up her hair to come undone. She scrambled onto her hands and knees, with her loose hair hanging over her face, and crawled to her husband’s writhing body.

“Wyatt!” Abigail cried out. “Oh, Wyatt!”

Buck grabbed Abigail around the waist and hoisted her small body into the air.

“Well look what we got here,” Buck said as her arms and legs flailed wildly.

Wyatt started to get up. Buck dropped Abigail like a sack of potatoes, placed a foot on her chest to keep her down, and cocked his revolver, pointing it at her face.