The Gunslinger's Daughter

Chapter Seven

"Did you hear that?" Shae asked.

Sheriff Dane squinted his eyes and looked into the distance, in the direction that Shae gestured.

"I didn't hear anything," Chloe said, still working the last traces of sleep from her voice.

Only twenty minutes in the saddle and she was longing for the uncomfortable bedroll and the angry rocks that kept her up most of the night. Twenty minutes prior to that she had been looking forward to the saddle. She could see it was going to become a vicious cycle.

For the first time since laying eyes on Dane, she found him looking disturbed. She did not like it. He put his hand up to silence her before she could do more than open her mouth to frame a question. Her mouth closed again.

"We're coming up on the old Indian trail. Could be restless spirits," Dane whispered conspiratorially.

The statement created goose bumps on Chloe's arms and set the hair at the nape of her neck on end. She caught herself looking around nervously, her anxiety doubled when she caught sight of Shae in the saddle next to her, looking piqued.

In an effort to quell the riot of nerves, she made a bold statement, "There are no such things as restless spirits."

Both of the men cast her a sidelong glance. "Don't go making them angry, miss O," Shae warned sternly, which seemed to herald Sheriff Dane's peel of laughter.

"Lord almighty, it's just the wind, Shae," Dane said.

His talents were wasted there. No one else seemed to appreciate his fine acting skills.

"You shouldn't frighten miss O," Shae replied disapprovingly, again.

"It isn't the girl I need to be worried about spooking, if I didn't know any better," the sheriff responded coolly, with the last traces of amusement evident in his voice.

Chloe watched as the two bickered back and forth over her wellbeing. Then something caught her eye and her attention was spirited away. They had run out of road.

"What is that?" Chloe asked. Her question disrupted their minor feuding.

"It's called a bridge. You mean to tell me they ain't even got bridges where you come from?" Dane answered and Chloe's brow furrowed.

They had crested a rolling hill when the offending bridge came into view. They drew to a walk before the massive gorge with only one rickety, old rope bridge tethered on both ends to span it. The distance looked to be forty feet across, by Chloe's estimation.

The bridge was made up of wide planks, with enough width for a small wagon to cross. Upon closer inspection, more than a few boards were missing, and several more looked questionable. They had the look of dry rot about them.

"Not happening," Chloe stated flatly.

"Huh? Oh. That bridge has held up since I was a kid, it'll be fine. 'Sides, it was your idea to take this route," Dane spoke with nonchalance.

"You failed to mention that there was a dilapidated bridge-of-death involved," Chloe stopped Snowdrop just a handful of yards from the mortal danger in question.

"That's... a what now? Speak plain, girl," Dane said.

"Chloe," she corrected.

"What?" Dane asked.

"Call me Chloe. Not girl. And we're going around this gorge, because I'm not insane."

"Fine, Chloe," Dane responded before dismounting his steed. He took Honor by the reigns, leading him to the bridge. He stepped out onto the first planks and did a little jump that made Chloe wince. The boards creaked in protest, but they held.