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Chapter Two
West Texas, 1878
Sam glanced up at the windless sky, and smiled. “Nice mornin’ Nodog, don’t you think?” He looked down at his half-wolf who trotted along beside him. Nodog whined at him and wagged his tail. He’d been traveling for days now and enjoying the nomadic country of the wilder side of Texas.
Sam regarded Nodog, and smiled. “Kinda barren country, ain’t it?”
Nodog barked at him. Sam laughed.
Not more than an hour later, Sam Tanner stared at the dead man hanging from the tree as tears rolled down his cheek bringing back a memory he thought he’d long forgot. It had been twenty years since his father hung from a tree, and ever since he couldn’t stand seeing anyone hang. The wind whistled through the branches, making music with the rope as it swung. Such a forlorn sound. He pulled his pistol from his holster and shot the rope into. Then as though it were commonplace, he slid off his horse and began digging a grave. He didn’t acknowledge the tears or the man, the less involved he was the better. He swatted the tears away as he dug into the hard dry earth. He didn’t know the man, but whoever he was he deserved a better life than this. Everyone deserved better than this in Sam’s books.
Nodog sniffed the body, then ran to the bushes and growled.
“Relax Nodog, this man ain’t gonna hurt anyone. But I got to get him in the ground; he must have been hangin’ a while. He’s stiff as a board. Wonder what the poor fella did, if he did anything.”
Nodog whined as he lay down beside the grave and eyed the bushes.
Not five minutes later, Nodog raised his head and growled once more, as a young woman rushed out of the bushes and moved toward the dog with purpose. Without a word, she put forth her hand for the animal to smell, then relaxed and looked at Sam who had stopped digging and glared at her.
“You got any water?” she asked, almost panting.
“There’s a canteen on my horse there.” Sam pointed.
“Thanks…” She scrambled to the horse and jerked the canteen down, thrusting it in her mouth and taking one long swig at a time. Sam knew from the way she was guzzling it, she hadn’t had a drink in some time. But his mind was busy with questions. Where did she come from, and what was she doin’ out here in the middle of nowhere?
“Oh…what’s this?” She held up the beautiful dream catcher that Hattie had given Sam some time ago.
“It’s a dream catcher,” he answered, wondering how curious this woman could get.
“It’s beautiful. What is it for?”
Sam sighed heavily, wondering if she’d laugh when he explained, “It’s to catch all your bad dreams with and cast them away from you.”
“You’re kidding, right?” She glanced at him.
He frowned. “No, I’m not; now please put it back. It’s very special to me.”
“Okay, sure…it is lovely. And that’s a lovely idea. Just sounds a little funny coming from a man.”
“It comes from the Indians.”
“Oh.” She hung the dream catcher on the saddle once more and smiled. “How come a black man knows so much about the Indians?”
“I lived with them…that’s how.”
Sam noted the dark shiny hair, men’s clothes, and big blue eyes staring at him, those innocent eyes seemed to look right through him.
“That’s Jason Wells.” She hollered eyeing the stiff body on the ground. Her glance colliding with his when he looked at her over the rim of the canteen.
The intensity of her low voice washed over Sam like velvet smoothing over skin. He hadn’t expected such a deep voice by such a little lady. ‘Course he hadn’t expected a lady either, not out here in the middle of nowhere.
Sam glanced at the girl, overlooking her clothes; he couldn’t overlook the sweat and dust that covered her. His curiosity got the best of him.
“You know this man?” Sam asked, surprised to see anyone out here in the middle of nowhere, without a horse or buggy. Nodog relaxed and laid back down, Sam noticed. Whatever, or whoever she was, she was no threat.
“Sure do, he used to work for me ‘til he got enough money to run his own place,” she answered after she swigged down some more water. “He had a small ranch not far from here. I wonder why they hung him.” The girl came closer and stared down at the dead man as though she couldn’t quite believe what had happened. “He was a right nice fella.”
“A thief maybe.” Sam ignored her for the moment and kept digging the grave. “Do you know who did this?”
