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At the top, we took a breath of good, clean air. Sige said, ‘They sure do stink when they die, don’t they Dusty?’

I was scanning the horizon and getting a bearing on where we were. I glanced at him and agreed. ‘Yes. Unfortunately, it’s some sort of pheromone or defense mechanism they have. It lets other centipedes know it’s in danger. That’s why I wanted to leave as soon as possible. We need to wash, but we don’t have water to spare. Maybe we’ll be ok though.’

From our vantage point, we could see parts of the canyon as it wound around, following the course of the dried-up river that caused it. I looked west where we had come with the wagon, and then east to where we were headed. I pointed myself east and began to march. ‘This way,’ I called out to Sige.

‘Where are we going?’ he asked.

‘We are going to get our horses back, of course. Tracks led east and I want to see where they exited the canyon road.’

We walked for several hours, keeping the gorge on our right side as we walked on relatively flat terrain. There was no shade though, and we were already short of water, just what we had in our canteens since the water barrel was destroyed in the attack. It wasn’t long before we started to feel the heat.

We trekked on while I scanned the ground by the canyon edge. Eventually, we came to a wide pass that ascended from the canyon floor. It was wide enough for two riders to travel abreast of each other. I told Sige to stay behind me and began to look for tracks. Sure enough, I found some, including our horse with the new shoe and odd canter.

I pointed out some features to Sige, and he bent down to look. He was curious, and so far hadn’t complained even when he was vomiting his breakfast over the edge of the wagon. As this was his first mission with the rangers, I wanted to show him the ropes as best I could in case we made it out of this mess alive. I was starting to like him.

Suddenly we heard the jingle-jangle of a bit and bridle. I stood and turned to look behind us. A lone rider was heading directly for us, galloping on a mule. I swung my crossbow around to the front where I could put it to action quickly and we waited.

As the rider drew closer, I could see it was an older gentleman with a wide-brimmed hat riding a brown mule. When he was in bow shot I saw that he held the reins with one hand and a crossbow in the other, supported across his saddle, ready. His eyes and mine locked as he came to a stop near us.

He stared at us, and we at him, sizing each other up without making any subtle moves. He sat on a simple saddle and had a rope tied to its side. He wore a brown hat in a cattleman’s crease and had a bushy mustache. I thought his face was honest looking but hard as flint as he settled his eyes on me. He looked at my hat and then in my eyes. He frowned and then broke the silence. ‘Who are you?’

‘Depends,’ I said.

‘On what?’

‘On what your intentions are with that there bolt-shooter,’ I replied.

‘My intentions,‘ he said, stressing the word, ‘is my own business for now.’

‘Fair enough,’ I replied and we kept eyeing each other. I was getting tired of this but beings of my stature have to stand tall or else be looked down on. So I met his gaze and held it without getting too twitchy.

He examined us again and then blew out a breath. ‘You don’t seem like bandits,’ he said.

‘No sir.’ I replied. ‘Neither do you. Who are you?’ I asked.   

‘Depends.’

I smiled at that. ‘Ok, mister. I’ll go first. My name is Lieutenant Dusty Thorngage with the 2nd Rangers out of Brackenridge Falls. This here is Sige, also with the 2nd.’

He sighed and his face softened a touch as he said, ‘Well that’s a relief. I figured as much when I saw your grey lid there,’ he said, gesturing to my hat. It was the uniform of the cavalry units in the Sumadean army, including my unit, though we were irregulars.

“My name is Nigel Gaines. I own the Diamond G. Two days ago my daughter Freddy was taken and I’m tracking the sons of bitches that did it,’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?’ He asked again. The flint had left his face and his voice, replaced with concern for his daughter.

I made a judgment call that he wouldn’t be trouble. ‘Oh? Our wagon so happened to be waylaid earlier today and we are tracking the sons of bitches that did that. But I don’t know anything about your daughter, Mr. Gaines. What can you tell me about the bandits?’

He shifted himself in the saddle and slung his crossbow so it hung off the saddle horn. I slung mine back across my shoulders, and we both kept our hands visible.

‘Nigel will do. I was out with the sheep in the west forty a ways from the house, and my daughter was helping me in the milking barn when four of them from the outfit called the Fangs came up on the far side by the barn. I heard a scream and turned and saw them running out of the barn with her over one shoulder. They threw her on a horse, while two of them, seeing me running I guess, opened the coral and let out my horses. Then they mounted and rode off this way,’ he concluded.

‘How do you know they were called the Fangs?’ I asked him.

‘On account that I shot one of them for rustling sheep and have had trouble with them ever since. They wear boar tusks and saber teeth around their necks and think they are king roosters. Their leader, a big half-orc-looking bastard named Brutus, was the one carrying my daughter.’

I thought for a moment. ‘I saw a big half-orc-looking bastard myself with this crew that ambushed us,’ I said. ‘You reckon we are after the same people?’ I asked.

He agreed and got off his mule. We were both fully relaxed now and the three of us exchanged stories in fuller detail. He noticed our water was low and offered to share some of his, for he had several sheepskins hanging on his saddle filled with it. We obliged but only took a sip. Water is precious out in the desert and mountains of Sumadea, and we needed to conserve every drop.

‘Why would Brutus kidnap a girl?’ Sige asked.

Nigel shrugged, ‘Revenge for me getting some of his gang kilt, is what I reckon.’

‘Not to mention trafficking and slavery,’ I added. Nigel flinched at that but didn’t say anything. Sige grew solemn and I could tell he was working out the implications.

We didn’t have much daylight left so we made camp under some saltbush that we managed to hang bits of our tattered tarp over for cover. We ate a cold supper of biltong and hard tack, but Sige found some cactus paddles and we sliced the spines off of those and ate the pulp, which helped with the thirst.

I asked Nigel if he knew where the bandits operated from and he said he thought he had an idea. There was a cave system not too far away, about half a day’s walk from here. That was his hunch. He said whenever he had run-ins with them, they seemed to be headed to or from this direction. I concurred that the tracks we were following led this way as well. We agreed to join forces for a time and see if we could kill two griffins with one javelin, as they say.

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This is part four of “Love’s Sendero.” Click here to read the next part. If you like these free stories, please subscribe. If you REALLY liked them, please consider leaving me a tip by purchasing it on Kindle for .99 (the cost for 1/3 of a cup of coffee).