Men? What kind of men? Miranda felt sick and lonely, but she was determined not to show any fear or concern if Jennings left her at the trading post. She would get the Winchester out of her trunk and make sure every man there knew he had better leave her alone!
She blinked back tears. An owl hooted somewhere nearby, and it seemed only to accent her despair. She walked farther out into the prairie grass, found a flat rock in the moonlight, and sat down. Her feet ached from a long day’s walk, and she reached down and removed her high-button shoes. She rubbed at her feet, and it was then she heard the dreaded rattling sound.
It all happened in the matter of a second. She realized what was lurking under the rock, and in that same sudden thought, before she could react to the sound of the rattler, she felt the horrid pain in her left foot and knew she had been bitten. She gasped with the pain, knew something had to be done quickly. She also knew from her father that a person bitten by a rattler should never run, but panic took away all reasoning. She clung to her shoes and ran back to the camp, collapsing when she reached the fire.
“Ssssnake!” she managed to get out before things began to go black on her.
She felt someone fussing around her foot, heard Hap Dearing tell someone to get him a knife. “…suck out the venom as best I can…” she thought she heard the man say.
“Oh, dear God, what is going to happen next?” It was Opal’s voice.
“Maybe it’s God’s punishment on her for being bad,” Clarence said with a sneer.
I’m going to die, Miranda thought, suddenly feeling very calm. I’m going to die out here and be buried in an unmarked grave. No one will ever know what happened to me. Not Wesley…not even Jake. Why did the thought of Jake not knowing hurt the most?
Good-bye, Jake. She saw his face, saw his smile as he rode away from her. It was her last thought before she fell into total unconsciousness.
Eight
Jake urged a weary Outlaw toward the trading post, wondering how much longer his two horses could keep up the pace he had forced them to endure for the past two weeks. He had been careful not to ride them so hard that they gave out on him, but he had not been nearly as easy on the animals as he would normally have been.
For two weeks he had searched among the travelers he passed heading west. None had seen or heard of the Jennings clan, so he knew that they still had to be ahead somewhere. Hope had sprung anew when he found a trader at Fort Kearny who did remember the reverend and his family, as well as the lovely young widow woman traveling with them.
“Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” the man had commented, bringing a warmth to Jake’s heart he was not accustomed to feeling.
“Did she seem all right?” Jake asked.
“Believe so,” the trader had answered, “except that preacher and his family she was travelin’ with, I don’t know, they didn’t seem to be too friendly to her. Maybe it was just my imagination. You know her?”
“I know her. How long ago were they here?”
“Oh, maybe five, six days.”
Jake had ridden the horses even harder since then. There was no doubt now that he had to be getting close. Again he had checked with every group of travelers he passed, but none knew anything about the party Miranda was with, which meant he was still behind them. He didn’t like slowing down now, but he needed supplies. He decided he would stop at the trading post just ahead and see if they had what he needed. Maybe someone here had seen the Jenningses and could tell him how close he was.
Now that he was in dangerous, lawless country, Jake had decided to wear his revolvers again. Both were strapped on, and his rifle and shotgun rested in their boots at either side of his saddle. He knew better than most that a man couldn’t be too careful, especially a wanted man. The poster back at Independence still haunted him, and he had been sure to shave every day since seeing it.
As he approached the trading post, he scanned his surroundings, a man ever alert. A bearded, dirty-looking, heavyset man stood inside a corral of horses, removing riding gear from one of them. He glanced at Jake and nodded but did not smile. Jake nodded in return, thinking what a pitiful-looking post this was. Two other men sat near an open fire to his left, watching a hunk of beef that was hung over the flames to roast. They, too, looked filthy. All kinds of trash cluttered the area, from broken-down wagons to rusted pans. Chickens clucked and fluttered about the area, and there was a general bad smell about the place.
Jake could not imagine that the Jennings clan had stopped at a place like this, but then if they needed supplies bad enough, they might have. The post consisted of five small buildings, two log and three sod, all with sod roofs. The biggest one had a sign that read Supplies, another read Saloon, and yet another Bath House. Jake supposed the two smallest buildings were living quarters for whomever ran the meager operation. Outside the supply store were stacks of baled hay and sacks of potatoes, as well as a few buffalo skins and some blankets.