Chapter Two

Ance rode alongside the wagon and ignored the sweat tricking between his shoulder blades. The sun overhead was hotter than he could ever remember it being this time of year. 

He was beginning to regret taking this job. A soft whore and a cool beer sounded much better just now than being on this horses back with eleven men who’d been in the sun too long all around him. Then he remembered that five hundred dollar payday awaiting him and decided that the whores and beer could wait. 

Barnaby rode up front on the wagon and the other men milled around, falling back and going ahead before swinging back around. Ance knew it would a good five days before they got where they were going and it was going to be a tense few days waiting for an arrow or a bullet to be sent into their backs. 

Ance pulled his horse to a stop beside a grove of small maples and poplars with a nice cool pool of water beside them. 

“What are you doing, Ance?” Barnaby called out. 

“Taking a break,” Ance replied. “My horse is thirsty.” 

Barnaby called a halt to all the men and everyone seemed thankful for the rest as they led their horses to the water and splashed their own faces and necks as the beasts drank their fill. 

Ance walked a fair distance away from everyone else and took a seat beneath a tree just beside the wagon. He pulled out a cigar and took a long slow draw as he enjoyed the quiet corner he had found. 

A scuffling sound came from the wagon. Ance frowned and glanced over his shoulder but didn’t see anything moving around. He shrugged it off, relaxed once again and pulled his hat low. 

He nearly jumped from his skin when the banging started. Ance got to his feet, put out his cigar and strode to the back of the wagon. He looked down at the crate as it moved slightly and that banging continued. Ance saw the lock so he pulled his gun and used it as a hammer to cause the clasp to break away. If there was a critter holed up in this heat then Ance was going to let it out. Ance didn’t like seeing critters mistreated. 

Ance was about to open the crate when Barnaby was suddenly beside him. The gray-bearded man put a hand on the lid and stopped Ance from lifting it up. “What are you doing, Ance?” Barnaby demanded, the good-humor normally in his voice a bit less than usual as anger edged in. “You owe me a lock.” 

“You can take it out of my pay,” Ance replied, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest. “You got a critter locked up in that cage?” 

Barnaby studied him for several long moments as if determining whether or not to trust him. The thudding had stopped and the crate had gone eerily quiet. Finally Barnaby grinned and took a step back, resting his hands on his large belly. “Go ahead and take a peak, my boy, at the critter that’s going to bring me a small fortune! The Indians pay top dollar for ones like this one!” 

Ance’s black brow quirked upward. What in the world would make the Indians pay hard stolen money for a critter? Ance was pretty sure the wilderness they lived in was crawling with them. 

Ance lifted up the lid and his blue eyes widened at the sight he was met with. 

Brown eyes, wide with fear, stared up at him from a pale, freckled face. Tears had left streaks down dirty cheeks and a dirty white cloth was tied tight over the mouth to ensure the so-called critter didn’t scream. 

“Barnaby, that’s a goddamn little girl,” Ance stated. The girl’s blond hair was a tangled mess and hair stuck out of her braids at all angles. 

“The Indian’s like ones like her. I got her at a steal too! Apparently her mama wants her a new life with a new man without the memories of the old life hanging around.” 

Ance bristled. 

Women were monsters. 

His mother had been a monster and this little girl’s mother was apparently cut from the same damn cloth. 

The girl couldn’t be more than six or seven. She was all cramped up in that crate. She had a metal brace on one leg and it was clear to see that her bones were crooked and deformed. Her hair was limp and wet with sweat around her face and Ance shook his head. “Don’t you think you should get her out of there and give her food and water?” 

“Why do you care?” Barnaby laughed. “I didn’t think you’d care one way or the other.” 

“I don’t,” Ance shrugged and closed the crate lid, happy to no longer have those brown eyes staring up at him so imploringly. “But the Indian’s probably won’t pay as much if she’s dead.” 

With that Ance walked away and settled himself back beneath the trees. A few moments later he saw Barnaby open the crate once again and he pulled off the girl’s gag to give her water and a biscuit. 

“Let me go home!” she screamed, her voice hoarse and weak. “I want my mama!” 

A sharp smack filled the air as Barnaby struck the girl. Ance felt his blood heat. “Your mama don’t want a crippled little brat anymore, girl! That’s why you’re with me,” Barnaby laughed. Ance’s blood damn near began to boil. 

It surprised him. He shouldn’t give a damn about some girl in a crate. Bad things happened every single day and everyone went through tragedies. Why should she be any different?

“My mama loves me….” she whimpered. 

“She’s not here, is she? She’s not saving you” Barnaby taunted. “Now shut up and I’ll leave the crate open so you can have some air while we travel.” 

Ance saw Barnaby replace the gag on the girls mouth and suddenly her brown eyes found him again. Their gazes locked for several long moments before Ance broke the contact and relit his cigar. 

The Indians would like her. They would like her blond hair and her freckles. They would like the fact that she had a crippled leg because it would mean she couldn’t run away from them. They would use her up until there wasn’t anything left of her. 

Ance shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t give two hoots in hell. 

So why was he already contemplating exactly how he was going to get her out of that crate and away from Barnaby?

***

“I need you to guard the critter tonight,” Barnaby said as he approached Ance after the group had stopped for the night. 

“I’m not a guard dog,” Ance countered, not wanting anything to do with that girl. What happened to her was no concern of his. Besides she belonged to Barnaby and to steal from Barnaby Wallace was to sign your death warrant--Ance didn’t want to die that badly. 

Barnaby laughed, “Yes, but you’re the grumpiest dog in my kennel!” Ance raised a brow simply chewed on his cigar as he studied the man. Barnaby sighed. “I’ll add fifty dollars to your pay if you’ll simply sleep by the crate and stop anyone from taking her or her from getting out.” 

“She’s tied up ain’t she?” Ance grumbled. 

“Yes, but I don’t want to take any chances. She’s my bread and butter this trip.” 

“You’ve got ten other men, get them to watch her. Or better yet ,you watch her yourself.” 

Barnaby’s blue eyes narrowed slightly, “Now, Ance, I like you. Let’s not have that change.” 

“Barnaby, I really don’t give a damn what you think of me,” Ance replied honestly.

The two men stared each other down and it was Barnaby who broke first. “Fine, I’ll get Vern to watch her. Can’t believe you’d pass up an easy chance at fifty dollars.” 

“I ain’t too keen on playing nanny,” Ance stated. “Not even for fifty dollars.” 

Barnaby laughed and slapped him on the back. “I guess I should have expected as much!” he said good naturedly and then he walked away to tell Vern about this newest duty. 

Ance settled himself down beneath an oak and pulled out a tin of cookies he’d swiped from a windowsill a couple of days before. He felt eyes on him and his gaze went to the wagon to find that the little girl was once again staring at him. Her brown eyes seemed hungry as she looked down at the cookie in his hand. 

With a grumble and a heaving sigh, Ance stood and walked to her. She curled up as small as she could in that crate and stared up at him fearfully. “I ain’t gonna hurt you, dammit. I ain’t that type of man,” Ance assured her. 

He reached out and pulled her gag down. She opened her mouth to speak but Ance quickly shoved a chunk of the cookie into her mouth before she could get a word out. She chewed it eagerly and swallowed it down and Ance quickly replaced it with yet another chunk. Once that bit was down he put his canteen to her lips and let her take several good swallows of water. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

Ance snarled and shoved the gag back into her mouth before striding away and settling himself once again beneath the tree. He truly didn’t give a shit about the little girl--he just hated to see anyone die of thirst or hunger.