Gold Dust Widow: The Story of an Outlaw's Revenge

Chapter 19: Clara

I watched Jasper working from the corner of my eye. The line of people waiting for medical attention seemed to be filled with women, their expressions hollow as they let him apply the treatment.

He was very gentle, and took his time with each person, organising them by urgency. Watching him work, I could only assume that he spent a long time watching his father working, if he wasn't confident with his application, he wasn't showing it.

I turned back to my work, the oxen were scattered and their yokes were broken. There were also several damaged wheels. We'd righted all the fallen wagons, but many weren't in condition to continue the trip. So I chose the sturdiest ones and had the families move all their things from their inoperable ones to the strongest ones.

It was long and laborious work, but the folks seemed happy to do something to help, to clean up, and to organise. Despite whom was telling them to do so.

I walked over to where the graves were being dug. There were only three bodies, three men, who I'd been told, died trying to defend their women.

I had very little doubt about what had happened to these folks, the sunken expressions on the women's faces and the grim determination of the men made it evident. And I had even less doubt about who had done it.

Rhett Mealy was always one to let his men have fun with women. Everywhere I had tracked him, I'd found hollow-eyed women with bloody, torn skirts. I was itching to jump onto Lady and race after him in the North. The devastation left in his wake was getting too much.

Seeing their faces made me wonder if it was a blessing that Ma and Liana hadn't lived with the pain for that long. Then I shook my head. No. They deserved to live no matter what.

Forcing myself to look away from Jasper again, I lifted my hat to wipe the sweat off my brow. Despite the cold wind, I had been working up a sweat carrying broken yokes and wheels across the camp.

"Ma'am," I heard a deep voice from behind me. I turned to see Thomas, as he'd told me his name was. He was a young man, tall and lean, with shaggy blond hair and a pair of dark brown eyes. A 38. Colt rested on his thin hips.

He strode towards me, his dark eyes trained on me as he wiped his dirty hands on his trousers.

"They took most of our food, if the next town is three days away, I'm going hunting. Would your husband mind if I used yer rifle? Mine was taken," he asked, glancing towards Jasper, who seemed very concentrated on stitching a poor woman's forehead.

"I don't lend my rifle," I answered. "Not that it's my Winchester," I grumbled. I noticed he was staring at me.

"There might be some grouse around here, but not a lot. I'll come with you," I suggested and let out a small whistle and Lady totted towards me, tossing her mane.

There were still hours of work to do to get the wagon train moving again anyway.

Thomas looked doubtful, glancing back at Jasper.

"I don't think that's a smart idea, ma'am. These parts are dangerous for a pretty woman like you. I think you should ask your husband," he insisted.

I pulled myself up into Lady's saddle and grabbed my rifle. "He's not my husband. Now do you want help or not?"

Thomas was scowling.

"Alright, but I won't be responsible when that US Marshal comes for me," he growled as he grabbed at his gelding's reigns.

I watched him pull himself up into the saddle.

Ares circled Lady's feet.

"Ares stay," I ordered, and the dog seemed to pout back at me. Thomas and his gelding lurched forward, I pursed my lips, giving Lady her head to take us out of the camp and towards the plains.