Savage Arrow Read Free

Before she spoke, she looked past them in thedirection where she had last seen Chief Thunder Horse. There was no sign of him.
    “Well? Where’s Tom?” one of the men said, bringing Jessie out of her thoughts to the morbid task at hand, for she had the terrible chore of telling these men that Tom had died at the hands of outlaws.
    “I’m so sorry,” Jessie said, her voice catching as she looked slowly from man to man. “Tom is dead. We were ambushed—”
    “Dead?” they all seemed to say at once.
    “Yes,” Jessie said solemnly. “The masked men seemed to come out of nowhere. They killed Tom, stopped the stagecoach, and—”
    “How did you live through it?” a man shouted.
    “I truly don’t know,” Jessie said, visibly shuddering. “Once they had the stagecoach stopped, all they seemed interested in was my trunk. They took it down, but when they opened it and saw that it held no valuables, they cursed, then . . .”
    She stopped before telling the truth of what had happened next, for to tell them that the outlaws had fired their guns into the air and spooked the horses would be to tell them Thunder Horse’s role in rescuing her.
    She knew it was not best to tell them that, although what he had done was valorous. He had saved her life.
    Still, she knew that Thunder Horse would not want to be mentioned. He would not want these men to know that a powerful chief was so close to their town.
    “I’ve never seen anything like it,” one of the mensaid, staring incredulously at Jessie. “A mere woman managed to get out of that fracas alive, and then drove a team of horses on into Tombstone.”
    Several others commented favorably about what she had done, while others quietly studied her, as though they suspected that she had left an important ingredient out of this tale.
    “And so they just rode away without another thought of you?” one of the men said, raising an eyebrow.
    “Seems so,” Jessie murmured. “When they saw that only my clothes were in the trunk, they were furious, but fortunately they didn’t shoot me. They were masked. I could never identify them.”
    “Yep, all masked men look alike,” one of the men said, kneading his whiskered chin.
    “Poor Tom,” another one said, then tightened his jaw. “We’ve got to go and get him.”
    “And I’ll send out a search party for the hooligans that did this to Tom,” the sheriff said, edging his way through the crowd until he reached Jessie’s side. “Ma’am, I’m sorry your trip to Tombstone was marred by the likes of these outlaws.” He removed his wide-brimmed cowboy hat and half bowed toward her. “My regrets are real, ma’am.” He straightened his back and plopped the hat back on his head. “While the men are getting Tom, some will retrieve your luggage. I’ll have it back to you before nightfall.”
    Then he idly scratched his brow. “Might I ask what brings you to our lovely town of Tombstone?” he asked, staring directly into her eyes. “Where can we deliver your luggage once we rescue it?”
    Jessie looked slowly around her at the men. Their attitude had changed at this question and their eyes seemed to glisten suddenly.
    She recognized their prurient interest in her. Did they actually believe that she was there to work in a saloon, dance hall, or worse . . . ?
    “I’ve come to Tombstone to live with my cousin Reginald Vineyard,” Jessie said, noting disappointment in some of the men’s eyes. Others seemed taken aback by the mention of her cousin’s name.
    “I’ve arrived on an earlier stagecoach than Reginald had expected,” she murmured. “Could someone among you direct me to his house?”
    “You won’t find Preach at his house right now,” the sheriff said, looking past her, down the long road, at the white church that sat at the far end. He turned slow eyes back to Jessie. “It’s Sunday. Preach is always at the house of the Lord on Sunday.”
    The men’s way of calling her cousin “Preach,” made