Mac grinned. “I’m glad.” He scanned the pages of the Bible and turned to the Twenty-third Psalm. The Lord is my shepherd. He mulled those words around. He’d read them so many times—repeatedly after Tilly’s death.
Urias started wiggling his feet.
“Cold?”
“Nah, I’m fine.” Urias sipped his tea.
Mac chuckled.
“What?”
“Nothing, just recalling how I had a hard time sitting still when I was your age.”
Urias frowned.
Definite mistake—he’d just equated himself with the older generation. And Urias wanted very much to fit in with the adults. The boy had seen more and done more than most others his age, but he still was a child. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t have the opportunity to escape adult responsibilities any longer.
Mac scanned the familiar psalm once again. What am I missing? I trust God with my life. I trust Him with my needs. What is it I’m missing here? He read on. “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.” Mac laughed.
“What?” Urias rose to his knees and tried to glance at the pages of the Bible.
“The verse I just read is: ‘Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.’ ”
Urias flopped back down and squinted his eyes, tilting his head to one side. “You’re a strange one, Mr. Mac.”
Mac couldn’t argue. “Tell me, do you belong in this barn, Urias?”
He looked toward the floor. “No.”
“In one sense, you’re Art Campbell’s enemy because you haven’t made friends with him and haven’t obtained his permission to sleep in his barn. How would he know that you’re not stealing from him? He’d see you as a thief, right?”
“I ain’t stole nothin’,” Urias defended himself.
Mac raised a hand. “No, Son, I’m not claiming you did. I’m just saying that’s what he would think if he found you in here.”
“I suppose,” the destitute youth mumbled.
“See, that’s what makes this verse kinda funny for you. You sat down at a feast last night in the middle of your enemy’s barn. God provided and took care of you and even blessed you with good, hearty food in your belly.”
Urias cracked a crooked grin. “And your enemy is Jasper?”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
The boy chuckled, then sobered. “Don’t think Mrs. Mac finds it too funny. She’s crying.”
“Crying, when?”
Urias whispered, “When I came down, I heard her. I didn’t say nothin’ ’cause I didn’t want to embarrass her.”
“Smart thinkin’. I’d better go check on Pamela.” Mac left the Bible open on the crate he’d been sitting on. He climbed up the ladder and found nothing but the mound of hay. “Pamela,” he called. She wouldn’t have gone out in this cold, would she, Lord?
“Pamela,” he called again. He kicked off the hay from the corner of the blanket and folded it over to the left side. He found her balled in the middle of the blankets, hiding. Crying. He dropped down to his knees and reached for her. “Pam, what’s the matter?”
She refused to look at him. He caressed her shoulder. “Pam,” he whispered. “Is it Quinton?”
Eyes blazing of fire stared back at him. Then he knew. She’d heard the entire conversation with Jasper. She knew he’d kept a secret from her. And now she knew he kept two.
“I’m sorry,” he fumbled, looking for the right words. “I didn’t want to scare you. I hoped you’d get a good night’s rest and we could get out first thing in the morning.”
“I’m not a child,” she spat back.
“I’m sorry. I was trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need your protection.” Her words stung.
“Fine. I’ll take you to Barbourville and you can hire another guide to take you the rest of the way.” Mac stormed out of the loft and returned to the fire.
Urias was no longer in sight. Neither was his gun. “Great, just great.” Mac dressed in his warm overcoat and slung his bow and arrows over his shoulder. Where’d the boy run off to in this weather?
❧
Pamela heard the barn door slam shut. Sleet and hail pelted the roof and sides of the barn. Why would he go out in this storm, Lord? He wouldn’t leave me here alone, would he? She rolled her eyes heavenward and groaned.
She straightened up the loft, dusting off the hay from the wool blankets and folding them. Downstairs, she made a cup of tea and baked a loaf of bread. Toast, covered with peach preserves on the warmed slices, sounded wonderful.
Mac’s Bible lay open on a crate. Picking it up, she closed it and moved it to the bench seat of the wagon. She noticed his pack was still there. Her shoulders relaxed. He’d be coming back. Then where did he go?
The boy. “Urias?” She scanned the entire area.
“It’s freezin’ out there,” Urias said, squeezing through the loose board and wiping the sleeves of a tattered wool jacket two sizes too big for him.
“Where were you?”
“I had to…” He looked down at his feet. “You know.”
What could he possibly have to do in this storm? “No, I don’t. What is so important that you’d go out in this weather? And why did you use the loose panel?”
“You know, morning stuff,” he mumbled.
Then it hit her. The very need she had herself and had been putting off as long as possible. “Oh.” She felt her cheeks flush.
“Why didn’t you use the door?”
“’Cause old man Campbell could see me. And it ain’t like I’ve been invited to use the barn.”
“Oh.” The child had a point. “I’m baking the bread and planning on fixing myself a couple slices of toast with peach preserves on them. You’re welcome to have some. I’ll fix us some bacon and eggs when I return.”
“Buckle up and cover your face. The wind’s blowing the ice real hard,” Urias warned.
“Thanks for the tip.”
“Welcome.” He sat down with anticipation. She dressed and opened the door. A wave of arctic air stole her breath. Pulling her coat tight, she stuck her hands under each arm. Leaning into the wind, she struggled to make it to the outhouse.
When she returned to the barn, she discovered Urias had set a pot of water on the stove to warm and had removed the fresh loaf of bread. “Thank you, Urias.”
“Welcome. Figured you’d like warm water. The barn and stove help, but it’s still cold in here.”
“Yes.” She lifted the canvas over the back of the wagon. She prayed they had enough wood for the rest of the day and evening. They could purchase some from the Campbells, but who would want to go out and collect it? She shivered just thinking of the short trek to the outhouse.
With little effort, she had the bacon sliced, a couple of potatoes chopped and frying in the bacon fat, and eggs ready to cook after the potatoes were done.
Urias returned from taking apart his bed. “Smells great. Where d’ya suppose Mr. Mac went?”
“I don’t know.”
“You two fight often?”
Pam gave a quirk of a smile. “More than I’d care to admit.”
“Don’t be too hard on him. Us men try to protect our women.”
“Oh? Just how much did you hear?”
“Enough to know that it was the best time to visit the outhouse.” He leaned closer to her. “I don’t know what Jasper’s problem is with Mr. Mac, but I can tell the man is afraid of him.”
“I noticed that, too.”
“’Course, Mr. Mac’s the largest man I ever seen. When I saw him come runnin’ at me, I almost wet my pants.”
“My reaction wasn’t too different from yours.” Pam smiled, removing the hash browns. Each egg sizzled as she dropped it on the hot frying pan.
“He’s a good man, once ya get to know him. Don’t think I’d want to be on his bad side, though.”
Pamela already was, and she ached to set things straight with Mac. She’d overreacted. He had a
right to have a past. He should have told her about Jasper, but his past with his wife was none of her concern. After all, they weren’t married as everyone thought.
The door creaked open. Mac entered, covered in ice, his long black hair laden with icicles.
“What happened to you?” She ran over to him and helped him out of his coat.
“I was looking for the boy.” He shook as he stood resolute, staring at Urias.
“Me? Why?”
Pam noticed Mac’s hands were blue. “Come warm up by the stove. I’ve fixed some breakfast. He went to the outhouse.”
Mac closed his eyes.
“Sorry, Mr. Mac. You two were…well, it seemed like the best time to go.”
Mac shook his head. Pamela picked off the ice as it started to melt from his hair and pant legs. “Sit down. I’ll get you some hot tea.”
Urias finished his breakfast and brought his dirty dishes to the small basin used for cleaning.
Pamela whispered in Mac’s ear, “I’m sorry, Mac. I do trust you. I don’t know what came over me.”
❧
Mac’s body stung from the cold as he began to thaw out. He reached to put his arm around her waist and bring her to his chest, then caught himself. “Knowing Jasper’s warm next door doesn’t set well with me, either.” He winked.
“How long has it been since you trimmed this hair?” she asked.
“Ages.”
“You don’t know when your husband last trimmed his hair?” Urias asked.
Pamela’s gaze locked with Mac’s. She silently implored him to tell the truth.
“Pamela is not my wife. She’s a recent widow. Her husband died a few days back on the trail. I came upon them right after the accident.”
“But I thought…” Urias clamped his mouth shut.
“Most people assume like you. Even Jasper assumed, and we’ve been letting him hold that assumption for Mrs. Danner’s protection.”
“Ah.” Urias looked at Mac, then glanced over to Pamela. “But ya fight like you’re married.”
Mac roared. “Mrs. Danner and I can get into a good row every now and again.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” Urias went to the woodstove and tossed a couple fresh logs in it.
Pamela cleaned up the dishes while Mac ate the semiwarm food quickly and drank two mugs of hot tea. Why hadn’t he checked the outhouse before he ran off in the storm?
“By the way, the storm’s just about blown its course. Down in the valley I could see the edge of the bad weather. I’d say another hour or two at the most.”
“Should we get back on the road or wait until tomorrow morning?” Pamela asked.
“We’d have trouble making Barbourville before nightfall. I’m inclined to stay.” Actually, Mac wanted to flee the territory and get Pamela as far from Jasper as possible. And he wasn’t too comfortable about Jasper getting ahead of them. There were far too many places on the road where he and his men could jump them. “Urias, what are your plans, Son?”
“Ain’t got none. I guess I’ll head back toward Barbourville and try and find me some work.”
Mac also didn’t like the idea of the boy being on his own. “I have a winter cabin east of the gap. You’re welcome to come and live with me.”
“Really?” The boy jumped up. “You mean it?”
“Wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it. You can go on to the cabin and wait for me to return, if you like. There’s plenty of wood cut, and if you hunt around the cabin, you’ll find plenty of food. An old friend of mine, Black Hawk, is staying there right now. You won’t be able to see him, so you’ll have to yell out a message from me. Then he’ll know you’re free to stay there.”
“I can do that. How can I find your cabin?”
“You can’t. But I’ll give you directions to some folks who know how to find it.” Mac ruffled the boy’s fire-red curls. “I’ll teach you how to hunt and live off the land.”
“I’d like that.” Urias smiled.
“Good. But I need a favor from you.”
“Sure, what can I do?”
Mac leaned down and placed an arm around the boy’s shoulders and in a low voice told Urias his plan.
❧
As evening approached and the storm stopped, Urias went outside. Mac came up beside Pamela. “Pamela, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you Jasper was here.”
“Mac, I prefer to hear the bad news rather than be left in the dark.”
“I understand.”
Pamela reached out and took his hand. “What happened to your wife?”
He pulled his hand away. “You heard?”
“All I heard was something akin to a threat about your second wife meeting the same fate as the first. And seeing how Jasper thinks I’m the second wife, I’m kinda wondering what he might have in mind.”
Mac took a step back. “Jasper had nothing to do with my wife’s death.” He could feel his chest rise with each intake of breath. Calm down. Relax. Closing his eyes, he took in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly.
Pamela reached out and placed her hand on his forearm.
“Mrs. Danner, I think it best if we don’t go further with this discussion.”
“Why are you afraid to talk about your wife’s death?” she asked.
Mac counted to three. “Why do you avoid talking about your husband’s death?”
Pamela blanched.
That should stop this dangerous discussion.
Mac stepped away just in time to hear a scuffle going on outside. He went to the door and opened it and saw Jasper holding Urias by the collar. “This thief says he’s with you.” Jasper kept the boy at arm’s length. Urias tried to wriggle out from his grasp.
“He’s with me. You can let him go. What did he steal from you?”
“Nothing, just caught him snooping around the Campbells’ house.”
“I wasn’t doin’ nothin’ wrong, Mr. Mac, I swear.” Urias took a step toward Mac and ducked when Mac reached out to him.
He’s been beaten more than once. Mac had seen the signs earlier, but this confirmed it.
“Heading out, Jasper?” Mac asked casually.
Urias let Mac loop his arm across his shoulders.
“Yeah, work’s a-callin’. Heard some Injins left the reservation. Good bounty in catchin’ ’em. Ain’t no man better than me for trackin’ in these mountains.”
Mac held back his judgment. Jasper and his men left a trail wider than a herd of buffalo. He gnawed his inner cheek. So, how’d I miss it? “Good luck.”
“Ain’t no luck. Pure skill.” Jasper barked out an order for his men to saddle up. As soon as they went inside, Mac whispered to Urias, “Did he hurt the Campbells?”
“No, Sir.”
“Good. Go inside and protect Mrs. Danner. I’m going to make sure the Campbells are fine.”
Urias slipped through the door while Mac strode toward the long front porch of the farmhouse. Art met him out front as he approached. “That kid with you?”
“Now he is. Been spending a few nights in your barn. Anything missing?”
Art grinned. “Nothing that me and the missus didn’t leave for him to find.”
Mac chuckled.
“We’re fine. Jasper even paid two bits. Helped that more folks were staying and that you were in the barn.”
Art sobered without warning. “He says you killed your wife.”
Ten
Pamela woke for the second morning in her cocoon of hay. This day, however, started with greater promise. Jasper was after Indians, and she and Mac were on good speaking terms. Good terms about everything except the subject of his wife’s death. Her own deception added to the limitations of their honesty. But what did it matter? This was a temporary union, a business arrangement. In a couple weeks she would say good-bye and never see him again. Though, admittedly, it would be a much nicer trip if they remained cordial.
She primed the woodstove and started the bacon and the last of their eggs cooking. Normally she b
artered with the folks she stayed with for additional food, but the Campbells didn’t appear to be the friendly sort. Even after Jasper and his three men left, they didn’t invite Mac, Urias, and herself in. Odd, she’d thought at the time. This morning she was even more certain of it. What had Jasper said about them to make the Campbells so nervous? It didn’t matter. The barn was comfortable and, without the ice storm, actually quite warm.
Breakfast ready, she took two quarters from her purse and proceeded to the big house. As she approached, a young couple came out. “Morning,” they said in unison.
“Good morning. Is Mr. or Mrs. Campbell in?”
“Missus is in the kitchen. Can’t say where Mr. Campbell is,” the young man, around her own twenty-three years, replied.
“Thank you.”
Pamela knocked on the front door and waited. The shuffle of feet sounded behind the door before it slowly opened. “Can I help you?”
“Mrs. Campbell?”
The short, stout woman with gray hair nodded.
“I’d like to thank you for the use of your barn and give you a little something for the hay our horses ate.”
“Ain’t necessary.” She reached out and took the money. Pamela suppressed a grin.
“Thank you again. You’ve been most kind.”
Mrs. Campbell knitted her eyebrows together, then relaxed them. Looking to her left, then to her right, she leaned toward Pam and motioned with her forefinger for her to come closer. “You be careful, young lady. I hear your husband killed his first wife.”
“What?” The question slipped out before Pamela realized she’d spoken.
“Mr. Smith, he said so.”
Pamela shook her head. “Mr. Smith is not who he appears to be, Ma’am. Mac actually had to keep a watch on you folks to make certain he didn’t rob you. But it’s one man’s word over another, I guess. Good day, Mrs. Campbell, and ask folks about Nash MacKenneth, Mac, as he’s known by most. I wager you’ll hear a very different story.”
“That’s just it, Dear. We have heard rumors about the crazy mountain man who killed his wife because she wanted to leave and return to the city.”
Pamela felt dizzy. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. She didn’t say a word but walked straight back to the barn and sat down on the wagon’s bench seat. Was Mac the man she felt in her heart? Or was he the man who others apparently believed him to be?
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