Liberty Belle by Patricia Pacjac Carroll Read Free Book Online Page B

Sheriff.” Ben shrugged. “Sorry, ladies. You’ll be sharing the coach with a couple of unsavory characters. I’ll have the driver watch out for you. I promise that.”
    “Th-thank you, but really, I am sure we will be fine.” Libby cringed at the thought of riding for days with that gambler. Brushing dust from her blouse, she sighed. Her independence was apparently not going to come easily.

Chapter 7
     
     
    Startled, Wade sat straight up from a deep sleep. Shots rang out, but he wasn’t sure if the distant echoes were from his recurring nightmares or real. Even though the east showed the first wink of daylight, the land west still rested in gray shadows. The boom of more shots drifted on the early morning breeze.
    Wasn’t a dream .
    Wade shed himself free of the saddle blanket and pulled on his boots. Banjo, head up and ears twitching, gave proof that he, too, heard the noise.
    More gunshots moved him to saddle Banjo and stow the gear. Thankfully, the gelding’s leg was no longer hot or swollen. The extra days at the creek had let the little mustang recover.
    The gunfire lessened. Whatever the trouble, it was coming to an end. A black plume of smoke spiraled into the sky from the hills to the west. Wade kept a wary gaze on the horizon, mounted Banjo, and rode toward trouble.
    His father had told him many a time to never get into another man’s fight, but that wasn’t Wade’s way. If someone needed help, he’d do his best to go to their aid. A nudge to Banjo’s flanks set the gelding into a lope. Wade shoved aside the accusations in his head that condemned him for helping the Phelps instead of staying home that night. Maybe he’d have been killed too, but at least he would have been there to fight for his own family.
    He kept Banjo at an easy pace. If there was trouble, he didn’t need to be on a lame horse. It took him almost an hour to close in on the scene. Smoke, gray now, still rose from beyond the small rise ahead of him. Wade stopped the gelding, dismounted, and led the horse up the last of the hill. Wade dropped to his knees and edged to the crest.
    Below were three wagons. One on its side and burning. He listened but heard nothing. Not a groan or yell. He hoped one of the bodies below belonged to Taylor, and yet a twinge of regret nudged him, warning that the revenge he’d ridden for might be denied.
    He saw no evidence of life. Just bodies. A ghostly reminder of what he’d found at home that horrid night. Wade frowned. It hadn’t been meant for him to save those below or if he was honest, his own family. But that thought did nothing to lessen the hot fist in his stomach that demanded revenge.
    The sight of spears and arrows gave evidence that Indians, probably Kiowa, were responsible. Renegade raiding parties, known for their quick in-and-out attacks, were the probable culprits. Still, his father hadn’t raised a foolish son. He’d wait and watch to make sure the Indians didn’t return.
    Toward a creek, maybe a hundred yards from the gruesome scene, the grass shook and swayed against the wind. Coyotes? The prairie was thick with the varmints.
    “Well, Banjo, I think the Indians are gone, and it looks like we need to go bury those poor souls before the scavengers get to them.”
    Wade vaulted into the saddle, pulled out his rifle, and set out toward the grisly scene. He watched the movement in the meadow and then scanned the hills while keeping the mustang to a slow trot. Not wanting to fire his weapon, Wade hollered. Better to scare off the critter than warn any distant Indians.
    Instead of a coyote, a boy stood up, his head and shoulders barely reaching above the prairie grass. Eyeing the kid, Wade turned Banjo toward him. Blond hair proved him white. Could be a trap. He clicked and the horse broke into a canter. Wade made a wide circle, watching the surroundings before making his way to the boy.
    The kid limped to him.
    Wade dismounted and opened the canteen.
    The boy collapsed into