Only 06 - Winter Fire

Cricket returned to grazing.
    â€œJust a lonely song dog, huh?”
    He holstered his six-gun and went back to sitting on his heels. Since he wasn’t planning on stalking anyone at the moment, he was wearing riding boots instead of moccasins.
    There was no fire to give warmth and comfort to the cold dawn. His breakfast was as spare as his camp—jerky, hard biscuits, and water from the seep where he had found Sarah Kennedy hiding.
    Ab knows about her , Case thought uneasily. He knows where she is. He knows all she has to defend her is an old outlaw, a whore, and a boy .
    â€œMaybe I should stop dogging Ab’s trail and waiting for a chance to get the Culpeppers all at once,” he said to Cricket.
    Grass ripped off by strong white teeth was Cricket’s only comment.
    â€œMaybe I should hang out in that rawhide little settlement over to the river. That’s where the boys let off steam. What do you think, Cricket?”
    Whatever the stallion thought, he kept on grazing.
    â€œI could take cards in another poker game,” Case said. “Sooner or later one of the Culpeppers will call me out, just like their kin Jeremiah and Ichabod did down near the Spanish Bottoms.”
    He didn’t talk about the fact that Ichabod had been almost as fast on the draw as Case himself. He had come very close to dying that night.
    It hadn’t mattered too much then.
    Now it bothered him a bit. Not the thought of dying.The war had burned that emotion out of him along with the others.
    But he couldn’t help feeling responsible for Sarah.
    He knew with gut-wrenching certainty just how cruel Ab could be to women. Case had seen the results of Ab’s work, and that of his kin, scattered from Texas to Nevada. The more helpless the victim, the better the Culpeppers liked it.
    Even children weren’t safe.
    Ted and little Em , Case thought. They would still be alive if I hadn’t talked Hunter into going off to war to fight for honor and nobility and Rebel pride .
    At fifteen I was all hellfire and brimstone, ready to kill Yankees from dawn to sundown to dawn .
    At fifteen I was a real horse’s butt .
    There was no heat in his thoughts, simply acceptance. He had taken Hunter away from family and off to war, leaving the little children in the hands of their mother, a woman who wasn’t fit to raise a pup, much less a child.
    No one had been there when the Culpeppers descended on Ted and little Emily.
    Water under the bridge , he told himself. Or it will be when I shovel dirt on the last Culpepper grave .
    â€œSooner I start, sooner I finish,” he said aloud. “Then I can stop burying garbage and get on with what’s important—finding the right place for a ranch.”
    He swallowed the last of the water from his tin cup, hooked it onto his belt, and stood.
    Dawn spilled over the land in a silent golden wave. Pillars, buttes, pinnacles, mesas, and plateaus of solid stone condensed out of the dawn in every shade of red and darkness.
    As though summoned by daybreak, a long wind stirred. Clean, cold air curled around Case like a lover, ruffling his black hair and caressing his face. The air was scented with time and distance, stone and ancient sunrises.
    The song dog called again.
    The wind answered.
    â€œI’ll build my ranch in a place like this,” he said softly. “These stone battlements were here long before Adam. They’ll be here long after the last man is nothing but the taste of ashes in God’s mouth.”
    For a few moments longer he stood and watched the land being born from the womb of the night. Something close to peace softened the hard line of his mouth.
    â€œThe land abides,” he said. “No matter how foolish or evil men are, the land is born clean again each day.”
    The coyote sang once more, then was silent.
    â€œAmen, brother. Amen.”
    His mind made up, he turned away from the haunting beauty of the dawn. With an economy of motion that spoke of long practice living out of saddlebags, he rolled his bedding in a tarpaulin, tied it, and set it aside.
    The saddle was upside down over a rock so that the sheepskin lining could dry out. So was the saddle blanket, which doubled as extra bedding for Case when the weather was bitter.
    As soon as he reached for the saddle, Cricket started grazing faster. The stallion knew they would be on the trail soon. Grass in the stone desert wasn’t easy to come by.
    The horse