The Dreaming Drifter

He really was abducting her. The full import of that thought sank in. In the back of my mind I had believed him capable of it, but the reality was still a shock.

For a fleeting moment, I wondered about Fulton. What was his part in the plan? What was their objective? Were they still in this together, or had Jory double-crossed him and simply decided to make off with Heather?

Then I dismissed all thoughts except overtaking them as quickly as possible. That dust cloud was growing bigger and thicker as the buffalo came closer. There was no way to get past the width of the herd before they overtook us. It seemed that Jory thought he could, but he was a fool.

“Come on, Bandero,” I urged again and again, and the horse responded each time with another burst of speed. We were steadily gaining.

I knew I was demanding nearly all the stallion could give, but I had to save Heather. If I could get her away from Jory, we would need immediate shelter. I tried to look around for something, but the wind burned my eyes and everything was a blur. I hunched over, close to the horse’s neck, and hung on.

The rumble of the approaching stampede evidently kept Jory from hearing my approach. Even though I was about to catch up with them, I still didn’t know what to do when I did. I hoped to be able to knock Jory off the horse without endangering Heather.

Reining in a little, I pulled my rifle from the scabbard and held it by the barrel. I was ready when Bandero came alongside Jory’s horse on the left, but before I could use the rifle to strike him, he saw me. He leaned to the right and kicked at me with his left foot. The toe of his boot gouged into my thigh.

His distraction in defending himself was sufficient to allow Heather to slow the horse down to a trot. Bandero matched the speed as I looped the reins around the saddle horn. Trying again with my rifle, I managed to hook the butt under Jory’s thigh. With a sharp, upward thrust, I unseated him. As he began to fall, he seized Heather by the shoulders in an effort to regain his balance. Though she fought to be free, they both went tumbling to the ground on the other side of Jory’s horse.

Heather was on her feet in an instant, while Jory lay on his back as if the wind had been knocked out of him. I put my rifle away and circled Bandero around. Coming up beside Heather, I reached out an arm. She was ready and grasped it with both hands. I swung her up behind me without slowing Bandero. We galloped away as Jory began to rise from the ground.

I didn’t know if he would pursue us or not, but I was less concerned about him than I was about the stampede. I turned Bandero north, and urged him on, but I knew it was asking too much of the horse to outrun the buffalo with a double load.

“Oh, Kyle,” Heather cried in my ear.

I turned to see that it was not Jory who worried her; he was mounted but riding westward. I couldn’t believe he still thought he could escape the stampede that way. Heather’s fearful cry was because the black mass of buffalo was now in plain view, moving at a rapid pace and churning up dust.

“Don’t look behind,” I ordered sternly. “Help me find shelter. Bandero won’t last much longer.”