“I happened to be in Billings when you shot a man in self-defense.”
“The sheriff called it murder.”
“You were nothing more than a kid, and the man pulled a gun on you. Besides, you didn’t kill him.”
She knew that man died. She’d seen it on a wanted poster. “Sounds like you watched the whole thing or had firsthand news.”
“I told you before, I was in Billings. Remember the heat and the storm that stopped the posse?”
A vague recollection taunted her mind—a young woman in a light blue dress and a man dressed in a dark suit and shiny boots. “What were you doing in Billings?”
“Getting married.”
Maybe this man did know a lot about her. But why? “Why aren’t you home with her?”
“She’s dead.”
“No young’uns?”
Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll ask the questions.”
Casey held her tongue. No point in making him mad.
“Tim’s riding with ’em,” Morgan said. “I saw him with Jenkins yesterday. In fact, he and the boss looked real friendly.”
“Leave my brother out of this.” She clenched her fists. How had Morgan learned so much about her? Newspapers seldom printed the truth, and wanted posters never got any of it right. Too late to change anything. Only remorse sealed her fate.
Casey emptied the coffee grounds onto the frozen earth. Just like my life—useless. I despise this miserable emptiness. I hate sleeping with one hand on a gun and always having to look over my shoulder. Casey took a deep breath. Soon this will be behind me, or I’ll die trying to free myself from the whole sorry lot of them.
“We’d best get going,” Morgan said. “We’re wasting time, and I don’t entertain the thought of another blizzard coming through.”
She studied the stranger’s face, then turned her attention to the looming blackness behind him. Could Jenkins and his men be hiding among those trees that seemingly stretched to the sky? Were they laughing and thinking about what they’d do to her? She shook her head and refused to dwell on the outlaw and the others. The nightmares would drive her mad.
Right now she needed to concentrate on this Morgan fellow and how to outsmart him. Until then, she’d be traveling down an icy mountain path, weary and nursing the pain of wretched memories.
“We’re wasting time, girl. I have plans.”
A gust of bone-chilling wind whipped across her face and took her breath away.
Chapter 2
Daylight stole through the clouds in shades of dusty pink and purple. Casey and Morgan inched their way down the treacherous, narrow trail laden with ice and snow. Steep, glassy canyon walls stood between them and Willow Creek, hours more of gripping the reins and relying on the sure-footedness of her spotted gelding.
At times, her horse stumbled to his knees, then slowly struggled from the quicksand of snow to carry her on. Led by the faint light of a quarter moon and the stranger ahead of her, Casey wondered if she’d ever shake free of this night. The thought of plunging over the side of a cliff kept her rigid in the saddle and breathing deeply. If they ever reached Willow Creek, she’d find a way to break free of Morgan during the eight-mile trek south to Green River.
The gelding shook his head. “Easy, Stoney.” She patted his neck and pulled her bandanna down from her nose and mouth. “You’re doing good.”
Her chest ached from fighting the cold and trying to breathe the thin, high mountain air, and her eyes stung from lack of sleep and watching the trail. If only she could have slept a few hours before beginning this descent. Fear of frostbite needled at her, and she wished she had a little kerosene to rub on her hands—hard to pull a trigger without fingers.
Her mind twisted with the unknown identity of the man who was using her to get to Jenkins. No need to ask why. The outlaw had hurt and killed more folks than many saw in a lifetime. One haunting memory after another crept in unbidden, but those memories were why she’d rather die than go back to the gang.
Sunrise lifted over the horizon, a flicker of color rising to a myriad of candles blending into one across the eastern sky. The cliffs behind them and the lower elevation brought warmer temperatures, while trees, bent with the weight of winter, gladly shed their crystal cocoons. With the hint of warmer temperatures, Casey anticipated budding plants and lush patches of green. This might be April’s last grim reminder of winter.