Faith's Mountain Home

by Misty M. Beller

  Nate straightened. “I’ve been living in there for a while now. Before that, I was staying in a tent on the southwest side of town, but nights have gotten colder. There’s a hot spring in a back chamber of the cave that keeps it pretty warm. An Indian girl and her injured grandfather showed up in the cave a few weeks ago. Doc Bradley treated the man’s injuries, and I make sure they have enough food and firewood. The girl is the one who’s seen the men come and go with the crates. She’s not made herself known to them, but she could describe them for you if you want more details.”

  His voice faded into the stillness of the tunnel as Marson studied him. Did he read truth in Nate’s words? The man had always been fair. Even kind at times, like when Nate had suffered his shoulder injury. But he’d also seen Marson rail into a worker who cut corners or slacked off. He showed little tolerance for those who spun tales to get out of work. Just the week before, he’d sent Danvers home without pay for two days because of ongoing tardiness in the mornings. Would he think Nate had come up with this story for some kind of personal gain?

  The man still regarded him. “How many crates of powder did you say?”

  “Twelve or thirteen. I didn’t take an exact count. I have no specific reason for thinking they were stolen. It just seems . . . strange. Thought I’d mention it in case anything’s come up missing.” Nate turned back to the charge of powder he’d set.

  “I appreciate you telling me. If anything more shows up, come get me straightaway at the widow’s boardinghouse, will you?”

  Nate turned back and nodded as he met Marson’s gaze. “Yes, sir.”

  Aaron was walking again.

  Nate’s breath blew white in the dim light of the quarter moon as he traipsed back to the cave after spending the evening at the clinic. Even his pleasure with Aaron’s progress and time spent with Laura didn’t ward off the frigid wind buffeting his body and slipping its icy fingers through the cracks between his coat and scarf.

  He still couldn’t believe Aaron had finally accomplished this milestone, but he was fairly certain they owed the excellent turn of events to Laura. Apparently, in the week since she’d finally recovered from her illness, she’d been an unrelenting taskmaster, ensuring Aaron did the leg exercises many times each day.

  Nate still couldn’t fathom why his brother didn’t take initiative to do them himself, since they were clearly what strengthened the leg enough to finally hold his weight.

  Lord, help my brother. Aaron seemed to be on the mend in his body, especially with Laura nearby to goad him into the necessary effort. But his spirits were still so low. So often, despair seemed to settle over him.

  Nate reached the edge of the trees and paused, staring up at the lofty peak that concealed the cave he now called home. God had provided shelter for him through the winter, although certainly not what he’d expected. Surely the Almighty could also heal his brother and bring him back to the man the Lord made him to be.

  Nate raised his eyes to the stars that peeked out around the clouds. “What do I do, Lord? How can I help him? Show me.” He waited, the pounding of his heart and the whistle of the wind the only sounds in the still night.

  He was still learning how to hear God’s leading. Reverend Vendor said the Lord’s voice often came so quiet that the message settled more like a feeling, like certainty and intuition, but he’d know it was God because of the peace that came with the thought.

  Nothing slipped into his mind that fit that description, but he kept his face upturned to the heavens. “When you’re ready, Lord, show me what to do.” He breathed in a lungful of frigid air, letting the burn saturate his chest. Then he exhaled, surrounding himself with a white haze.

  He’d best get inside now. Bright Sun would be waiting up for him. Eagle Soaring still slept a good deal most days, although during his waking hours, he seemed to be getting stronger. Nate wasn’t sure whether he should worry about all the sleep the man seemed to need, or if that was typical for a fellow of his years. He should ask the doctor the next time he saw him.

  After trudging up the rocky hillside, Nate gained the ledge and stepped carefully over the icy rock around the side of the cliff. As many times as he’d traipsed this path lately, he knew better than to get too confident about even one step. Each time he’d let himself believe he’d mastered the same skill as a mountain goat, he’d slip and add another bruise to his backside.

  This time, he managed to make it to the cave without incident and ducked inside. Thick darkness settled around him as he crouched down to where he kept the lantern just beside the entrance.

  A scuffing sounded behind him, and he turned to look for Bright Sun among the shadows.

  A blow slammed hard into his head, knocking him sideways. His breath jerked out of him as light exploded in his vision. Another blow to his back threw him forward. His head smashed into the rock wall.

  Pain radiated through his skull, even after the darkness closed in.

  Twenty-Four

  Something wasn’t right.

  The thought had niggled at Laura throughout the night, waking her more than once with an overwhelming sense of dread. She’d even risen from bed and walked through the house and clinic, just to make sure someone else wasn’t up and suffering.

  All seemed quiet, except the gentle snoring drifting from the Bradleys’ chamber. The common areas were empty. But now as she stood outside Aaron’s chamber, no sounds came from within.

  Not Aaron’s steady snore that always murmured from inside when he slept. Was he up and searching for laudanum again? Lord, no. I thought we were through this.

  But addiction’s cruel claws gripped its targets with a relentless hold, rarely letting go with only one bout.

  She tapped on his door. “Aaron?” If he was skulking through the house, seeking Doc Micah’s new hiding place for the medicine, he wouldn’t answer.

  “What?” The voice from inside didn’t sound drowsy, as if she’d awakened him. Nor slurred, like it would if he’d found the laudanum.

  Relief eased through her, and she pushed open the door enough to poke her head in. He sat on the edge of the bed, fully dressed and the coverlet straightened. “Are you all right?”

  His brow wrinkled. “Yeah.” But his expression bespoke the lie.

  She pushed the door wider and leaned against the frame. “You’re up early.” Was he hurting again? Maybe he was after walking for the first time last night. She didn’t dare ask him, though. She still wasn’t sure how much of his supposed pain was real and how much was his attempt to get laudanum.

  His brows sank lower. “Can’t sleep.” Then he looked at her, as though finally seeing her. “You’re up early, too.”

  She wrapped her hands around her elbows. “I couldn’t sleep either. Something doesn’t feel right.” And saying it out loud gave urgency to the knot in her stomach. “All seems well in the house, though. I wonder if something’s wrong at the cave?” The thought tumbled out of her mouth before she stopped to examine it.

  He studied her. “I was thinking the same thing. Not that I can do anything about it.”

  Purpose sluiced through her. She pushed away from the wall. “I’m going up there. Just to make sure they’re all right. If you hear the doctor or Ingrid stirring, will you let them know where I’ve gone?”

  His mouth pinched. “Maybe I can go with you.”

  She barely bit back a snort. “You took your first steps last night. There’s no way you can walk all the way to the cave, even with walking sticks.” She pulled the door behind her as she went for her coat and her possibles bag. “I’ll just check on them and be right back.”

  The wind gusted around her as she stepped off the porch and set off in long strides toward the mountain. Snowflakes began falling before she left the outskirts of town.

  Would Nate be working in the mine yet? He said he started just after sunrise, so maybe he was only now entering the darkness of the tunnel. Would he be warm enough in there? She’d heard that mines dug down below ground gre
w excessively hot inside. But the place where he worked had been hacked sideways into a mountain cliff, which probably wasn’t nearly as warm. She should ask if he needed any extra clothing sewn. Maybe a scarf, too.

  She was halfway to the cave when movement ahead caught her focus. Through the falling snow, Laura could make out a dark figure. She tensed, but then she made out the form of someone too small to be a man. Bright Sun?

  She plunged forward to close the distance between them, her heart racing. What had happened? She’d never seen the girl outside of the cave.

  “What is it?” Upon reaching the child, Laura took hold of her shoulders and pulled her into a quick hug, just to assure herself the girl was real.

  Then she pulled back and studied Bright Sun’s face. “What’s wrong? Is it Nate? Your grandfather?”

  Bright Sun usually guarded her expressions so they could be impossible to read at times, but this wasn’t one of those times.

  Fear swam in her dark eyes. “They took him.”

  Nate wriggled his wrists, trying to loosen the cord strapping them behind his back. He had to be careful not to let his efforts show to the three men tucked with him in this tiny burrow dug into the mountainside.

  After a long, miserable night on the cave’s hard floor, his head pounding, Sloane and Danvers had moved him here just before first light. Hiram Mathers had been sitting here waiting for them, the quiet mine freighter who’d given him rides to town. Nate had never imagined the man would be part of a crime like this.

  And from the commands he was giving, it sounded like Hiram was more than just a freighter who transported the stolen goods away from this part of the country. He was also the mastermind behind the whole scheme, probably paying Sloane and Danvers for whatever they could steal for him, or maybe giving them a cut of the profits.

  Now Sloane and Hiram were facing off like two bulls in the springtime. Even with the dugout open on one side, the place was way too small for this much tension in the air.

  “I thought you said the cave was empty. No one knew about it.” Hiram’s gravelly voice was low as he narrowed his dark eyes. The weathered lines on his face deepened.

  “It was empty when we first checked it out. There’s only the two rooms, and not a soul was in either one. Not even an animal.” Sloane spat his response. “He can’t have been livin’ there long.” He shot a glare at Nate.

  They’d not questioned him once, just bound his hands and feet and tied a foul-tasting piece of leather around his mouth. For the walk from the cave to the hideout, they’d had to untie his legs, but securing them again was the first thing Danvers did after pushing him down to sit in a back corner of the dugout.

  Now the big man leaned against an opposite wall, rifle pointed loosely in Nate’s direction. He kept his focus mostly on Nate, but an occasional glance at Hiram or Sloane proved he was keeping up with the conversation.

  Hiram turned back to glare at Sloane. “What about the Indian man and girl? Are they still there?”

  Nate steeled himself not to cringe at the words. How had these two men overheard him tell Marson his story at the mine? The tunnel he’d been working in was plenty long enough that his voice wouldn’t have carried to the main shaft. One of these two must have crept close enough to hear the conversation. But why? Had they suspected something? Or had they simply been in the right place at the wrong time?

  His chest squeezed. Nothing was outside of God’s control, and surely God wanted these thieves to be brought to justice. From what he could gather, Hiram had a whole chain of thieves working for him, stealing supplies from mines all through these mountains. He went from one to the next with his freight wagon, picking up blasting powder and any other supplies they tucked away for him in hiding places. How long had Sloane and Danvers been working for him?

  “We didn’t see ’em when we were there just a bit ago.” Sloane’s voice came out almost a whine.

  “Did you look?” Hiram was losing patience. That couldn’t be good.

  Sloane darted a glance at Danvers. “We didn’t go back in the room with the spring in it, but we’d have heard ’em.”

  Hiram spat an oath as he spun away to stare out through the thickly falling snow at the wagon. The poor mules were covered in a tall crust of ice.

  The man straightened, apparently having made a decision. “We’ll have to kill them.” He jerked a glance at Nate. “All three of them. I want it done before I leave so I can make sure you don’t turn yellow.” This time he sent a pointed look to Danvers.

  The man paled at the words, his jowls hanging lower than before. He eyed Sloane, then Nate, not meeting his eyes.

  Sloane shifted his feet. “That’s the other thing. There’s no way we can keep takin’ from the mine here now that Marson knows. We wanna ride out with you. Thought maybe we can get on with another outfit down the trail and keep workin’ for ya.”

  Hiram’s breaths came hard as his stare slid between the two lackeys, and a vein on his temple rose high enough for Nate to see, even in the dim light. At last, he seemed to regain control of himself. “Fine. But we take care of these three first. I won’t leave behind someone who can identify me.”

  Danvers straightened. “If we just put out this fire, he’ll freeze to death in a couple hours. It’s cold enough.” He motioned the gun toward Nate.

  “Tryin’ for the easy way out again, are ya?” Hiram puffed out another hard breath. “Let’s go. Put out the fire and be quick about it. You won’t get off so easy with the Indians, though.”

  As his words echoed through Nate’s core, Hiram stalked out into the snow.

  Sloane motioned toward Nate. “Make sure he’s tied good and tight. I’ll put snow on the fire.”

  Nate had to rein in his anger as Danvers’s big paws jerked at the leather binding him. His heart raced as the men grabbed the last of their belongings and stomped out toward the wagon. He had to get to the cave before they did. Bright Sun and Eagle Soaring would be no match for these three and their rifles. They wouldn’t know to leave before the men came, not unless he could warn them.

  It took every bit of his control to stay still until the wagon rumbled out of sight through the curtain of snow. But he used the time to scan the area for something sharp enough to cut his ties. Nothing presented itself, but surely he could find a sharp edge once he was up and moving.

  The moment the dark form of the wagon disappeared through the falling white, he attempted to get to his feet. He had to twist to get himself upright with his hands and feet bound, and the numbness in his legs made him totter sideways. He braced himself against the wall until he found his balance. The stinging in his feet and legs brought his entire body to life.

  But he didn’t have time to waste coddling himself. He scanned the area once more for something sharp, then hopped toward the fire, straining to see anything other than coals and ashes and the snow they’d used to douse the flame. Was there enough heat left in the coals to sear through the leather bindings?

  He turned and bent low to feel with his hands tied behind him, but he was able to touch the embers with no problem. Sloane had kicked so much snow on them that they were barely warm. He let out a frustrated groan.

  “Give me wisdom, Lord.” He’d been silently praying those words with every other breath, but now he mumbled them around the binding still covering his mouth.

  One more hard look around the dugout showed nothing that could help free him. He couldn’t spare any more time looking.

  He had to get to the cave.

  After hopping out into the snow, he paused to get his bearings. The men had taken him northwest of the cave, farther away from town. He could just barely see the peak of the mountain containing the cave, rising up through the falling snow, which was finally beginning to lighten.

  He started hopping that way. Hopefully, whatever road the men were driving would be roundabout, and he could reach the cave faster moving in a straight line through the woods.

  But he wouldn’t make much time ho
pping like a rabbit. His legs burned with the effort, and his sore shoulder throbbed from having his arms strapped behind him for so long. Would all this activity knock the joint out of place again? God, no. He couldn’t get to Bright Sun and Eagle Soaring in time if he had to fight through that pain, too.

  Maybe he could find a rock to scrape the leather bindings against. He’d have to find a sharp one—and quickly. Help me, Lord.

  Every part of his body ached as more strength drained out of him with every jump. Would he be faster crawling? But he couldn’t crawl with his ankles tied and his hands bound behind him. Maybe he could roll? No, he’d be soaked from the snow and he’d have to maneuver around trees.

  The burning in his thighs and hips felt like a fire raged inside him. He barely had the strength to stand upright any longer, much less keep driving himself forward.

  Maybe if he rested, just for a minute, he could keep going.

  He dropped to his knees, but his traitorous body refused to stop him there. He tottered forward and landed nose first in the snow. Frigid ice stung his face, but the pain brought a blessed distraction, cooling the flames leaping through his lower body.

  “God, please. Help.” He’d never be able to do this.

  He was too weak. Too impotent.

  An innocent man and child would die, and there was nothing he could do to save them. Help them, Lord. Use someone else. Whatever it takes.

  Twenty-Five

  Laura clutched Bright Sun’s hand as they ran, weaving around trees, ducking under limbs, and leaping over fallen logs. The story the girl had told, in quick frantic bursts, intensified every fear she’d harbored all morning. Now instead of vague wonderings, images filled her mind—Nate struck by two men, bound and gagged on the cave floor all night while captors took turns sleeping and standing guard.

  Bright Sun and Eagle Soaring had watched it all from the entrance to the other cavern. How the poor girl must have worried, not just for Nate’s life, but for her own and her grandfather’s as well. No child should be subjected to such fear and violence.