Page 56 of West Wind

“Hello, the camp.”

They turned to face the friendly call. Shelley was correct, there were three of them. Three dusty, bearded men riding slowly toward their camp.

“Got any coffee?” the man in the lead asked, smiling as if to an old friend.

“Nearly a full pot.” Shelley smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes. He didn’t convey his tension to the intruders, but she saw it. “Bring your cups and sit with us for a spell.”

If there was any truth to intuition, they were in trouble. The three men made her so nervous she could barely speak. Shelley introduced himself as Travis Johnson, and she as his wife Annie. With a grin he told the three men they were headed to Salt Lake City for a visit with relatives. When asked if they were Mormon, Shelley laughed and told them one wife was plenty enough for him. All three of the intruders laughed a bit too loudly in response. She stood close to Shelley, as close as she reasonably could, as the strangers helped themselves to coffee.

All three men wore six-shooters at their hips, slung low. They’d introduced themselves by name, but she couldn’t remember even one of them. In her mind they were The Fat One, The Skinny One, and The Ugly One. The Ugly One was truly ugly. His nose had been smashed almost flat, his face was scarred and pitted. One eye was set slightly higher than the other, so slightly that she’d had to study his face for a while to figure out what was wrong with it.

Those skewed eyes lit on Shelley’s pistol more than once.

It was The Ugly One who spoke directly to her. “What’s that around your neck, Mrs. Johnson?” he asked politely.

She gave him a poor smile. “This?” With a trembling hand she lifted the medicine bag Red Wolf had given her. “It was a gift.”

“Looks Injun to me,” he said with disgust. “Looks like one of them magic doohickeys.”

“Medicine bag,” Shelley said casually. He didn’t like the intruders any more than she did, but was much better at hiding his feelings. “It’s a good luck charm.”

The Ugly One gulped his coffee and wiped his wet mouth with the back of his hand. “Mighty good coffee ma’am. Hit the spot.”

She tried to smile in response, but couldn’t maintain it.

Shelley refilled his own cup. “Where you boys headed?”

“Cheyenne,” The Ugly One answered.

His companions sat directly behind him, sipping hot coffee. Ugly was obviously the leader of their small group, and the only one who cared to open his mouth.

His eyes kept lighting on her, making her even more uncomfortable.

Shelley stood and paced in front of the fire, never turning his back on the three men. “We’ve just come from that way. Good traveling weather.”

Ugly nodded his head as if this were important information.

Shelley did his best to place himself between the men and her, as he took small steps in front of the fire. His senses were sharper than hers; it scared her to think that he considered them a threat.

Her hope that the men would move on when they’d finished their coffee was shattered when the leader stood and stretched his arms over his head. “You wouldn’t mind if we bedded down close by, would you? I’m bushed.”

Shelley smiled and assured him that it would be just fine to have some company nearby. As the fire died he led her to their bedrolls, side by side a short distance from the fire. They watched the three men prepare for the night in a similar way.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered in her ear as he lay down beside her. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”

“All night?” She looked across the dying fire to the perfectly still men. “Why didn’t you tell them to leave? What if you fall asleep?”

“If I’d told them to leave we’d have to worry about them approaching from all sides. This way I have all three of them in sight.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I won’t fall asleep, but you can.”

She couldn’t. Even knowing that Shelley was beside her and wide awake, she couldn’t close her eyes. Long after the fire had died and they were surrounded by darkness she lay there, her heart pounding, the blood rushing through her veins. Fear. She knew what fear felt like, and this was it.

Sleep finally overtook her when she least expected it, her exhaustion and Shelley’s presence allowing her to drift into a dreamless sleep that was all too short. His hand on her arm woke her. She opened her eyes to darkness, the black of the night complete with no fire.

Shelley drew his gun and palmed it. His right hand rested between them; he nudged her gently to make certain she was awake. Moving slowly Annabelle placed her hand over the derringer at her waist and slid it free. Still she heard nothing.

Then there it was, a shuffling sound, a man’s boot sliding across the dirt. As her eyes adjusted to the dark she was able to make out three forms approaching from the other side of the camp. Shelley kept a stilling hand on her arm, making no sound until the men were almost upon them.

He rolled away, shoving her in the opposite direction, then rose up onto one knee to take aim at the outlaws. Two guns were pointed at him. One man came for her.