Ed Thornton shook his head in disgust as they rode back down to the valley. He knew if Blue got hands on that young woman, he would end up beating her near to death to get off. Blue had never been able to hold up his end without violence.
“That saloon girl last year died within two days of the beating she got while Blue was with her.” Ed thought as they rode in silence.
Silently watching the men return to the valley, Shannon mounted and followed a short distance to make sure they were giving up. A quarter mile down the trail, she turned and made her way to the cabin at the edge of the tree line of the mountain to join Cal.
* * * *
Two weeks later, Shannon and Cal were running low on everything. Snare lines garnered most of the small game within easy walking distance, but the pair constantly moving about the area had spooked all the rest, large and small, into moving further away for safety. Clean burning dried firewood, which in the beginning kept their hideout nearly smokeless, had been replaced with wet deadfall or green winterkill. The smoke that issued was a dead giveaway to anyone still searching.
They abandoned the cabin and moved down the mountain to camp near a field of wild oats with a snow melt rivulet through its center. While Cal was out checking and removing the snare line he set the day before, Shannon packed their meager possessions and prepared for the slow ride ahead.
The weather had cleared and warmed. The only snow remaining now was above the tree line. The green of new growth slowly replaced the gloomy grey that came with winter. She grimly set her mind to face whatever they would find at the Hill farm. Both she and Cal decided it was time to go into the valley to see what remained of their lives.
They took a trail through the deepest part of the forest and stayed off the main track down the mountain they used two weeks earlier. It would take longer, but both knew places to rest the horses and themselves. As they rode, letting the horses pick the best footing, neither was in a mood for conversation. Finally Cal broke the silence.
“What we find, Shannon, may not be pretty. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yeah, Cal, I know.”
“What are we gonna do then? I mean, it’s been two weeks, and all that may be left is us. Damn, what do we do?” Cal’s agitation was beginning to surface. He was clearly more upset now than during their self-imposed exile at the cabin.
“Stop it, Cal. You know as well as I do that we go on as best as we can.” Stopping the stallion in front of him, she turned and saw he was crying.
“Look,” she said, her tone softening, “if we find that the worst has happened, we take care of it and move on. I don’t like this anymore than you do but it’s all we have. I miss my folks too. Probably as much as you miss Red and Patti, but that won’t stop me from making whatever life I can for myself. Listen to me now. You get this out of your system and make up your mind to face it. I’m going to go up that rise over there and take a look into the valley. We move on when you are ready, okay?”
Leaving the nineteen-year-old to sort out his problem, she rode up onto the rocky ridge overlooking the valley. Looking out over her father’s homestead for any sign of movement, her mind was so focused on the valley that she set her natural caution aside, missing the fact that one of the outlaw gang was hiding among a cluster of cedar trees nearby.
A shift in the wind brought the scent of his horse to the stallion. The huge animal suddenly turned to face the threat, alerting Shannon to danger. She folded forward over the saddle horn just as a bullet whizzed over. A split-second sooner and it would have taken her in the middle of the back.
Kicking the stallion into action, she rode directly into and over the shooter waiting beside his horse, not giving him the chance to fire a second time. A hoarse scream let her know that he was down. Turning the stallion, she rode over him again. Her horse, angered at the man writhing on the ground, beating at his legs, reared and came down hard, lashing out at the intruder, crushing his head like a ripe melon.
Sitting atop the quivering animal, Shannon was looking at the bloody mess on the ground. She was surprised that she felt no remorse over the killing. Looking to the man’s mount, she saw that it was her mother’s roan gelding. Anger replaced caution and she dismounted. She carefully avoided the gore and walked toward the animal. The bark exploded from the trunk of the Birch tree the horse was tied to.
“Damn it, Shannon, get down!” Cal shouted as he rode hard up the hill toward the concealed gunman.
She spun around and crouched at his warning. She saw smoke from the muzzle of a rifle, the sound of the shot registered in her mind, and Cal clutched his side and crumpled forward before falling from his saddle. Instinctively she pulled her Winchester up and fired. She sighted on a movement where she had seen the gun smoke. A man ran from the cedar bush to a nearby tree, seeking new concealment; she fired again. The man went down hard and rolled into a stream running down the slope of the hill.
She leaned against a downed tree and retched. She just sat there, shaking. Her mind and body wouldn’t respond even though she knew that to stop moving could mean her death.
Minutes later, she recovered enough to seek out her horse and check on Cal. She saw him go down and feared he was done. A slight movement let her know he was still alive and she ran to his side. The bullet entered between the ribs just below his left armpit.
“Hi, Shannon,” he said with ragged breath. “Guess I really screwed up.”
She gathered his body close to hers and held him. Tears were coursing down her face now. As she held him close, he looked into her eyes and smiled.
“Boy, I never saw anything like that before. You were like one of them avenging angels. Or a Tempest storm that springs up so suddenly nobody has time to get out of the way.” Grinning, Cal closed his eyes. “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt anymore, Shannon. Please don’t cry.” He let out a soft sigh and went limp in her arms.
“Damn it, Cal, why didn’t you run for it? We could have met at the cabin again. Now look what you have done.” She shouted at the corpse as if scolding a child over a broken toy. Tears blurred her vision.
Chapter Three
Shannon led her stallion, Cal’s body lying across the saddle, up onto the hill. Under the massive Birch tree, looking out over the valley, she used a sapling and her hands to clear away deadfall and scrape out a shallow grave. Darkness and exhaustion overcame her before she could lay Cal in the grave. She rested his head in her lap and silently held his body close to her through the night. Morning would come and she would let the spring sunshine light his path as she buried him.
Sleep overtook her during the night and she awoke to a spectacular sunrise over Justice Peak. The valley was still as it lay in the shadow of the mountain. While she reflected on all that happened the day before, an awareness of not being alone suddenly overwhelmed her. Looking around, she saw three men standing quietly, watching her. A fourth was laying wood in an improvised fire ring.
“Good morning,” one of the men said to her. “My name is Tucker Prophet. Looks like you had a rough time of things, Miss. May we help take care of your friend?”
“Here, youngster.” Another man handed her a wet cloth and a canteen. “You kinda got stuff all over your face. I know gals want to look their best when saying goodbye to a friend.” His scarred and wrinkled face was soft with concern, but it was the sadness in his eyes that made her trust him and the rest. “My name is Lou. That one over there with the horses is Terry and by the fire is Stan.”
“We heard all the shooting from the trail below and rode as hard as we could to come up and help out,” Tucker explained. “By the time we arrived, those bushwhackers were done for and you were moving the boy up here. With the sun going down, we figured we should leave you be and come in at sunrise. We’ll help if you will let us. Stan, why don’t you and Terry go drag those other bodies up here and we can bury them, too.”
Taken aback by the vehemence of the woman’s anger, he put his hands out in front to show his compliance.
“Whoa now, Miss. If that’s the way you want it, that’s fine by me. I just thought of the Christian thing to do.”
“What they done to me and Caleb wasn’t in any way Christian, just leave them to the mountain. It’s all they deserve.”
“All right, why don’t you come over to the fire and warm up a bit, then we’ll bury your friend.”
“Thank you. I can use the help. I’m sorry for the outburst. My name is Shannon Hill and this is...was, Caleb Baker.” Her tears came again.
“Miss Shannon, come on over to the fire like Tucker suggested and warm up some. Coffee will be ready shortly,” Stan said.
After a quiet cup of coffee, the four men dug the grave deeper. They wrapped the body tightly with the blanket from Caleb’s bedroll and moved him to his final resting place. Prophet offered a prayer after he and the others backfilled the grave. He watched as tears rolled down Shannon’s face during the funeral. The men separated and attended to their own needs.
She was lost in her own thoughts a short time later. She walked down the hill a short way to look out across the valley she had grown up in. Tucker Prophet walked up behind her and gazed at the panoramic view.
“Your home?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Looks too quiet.”
“A gang of outlaws was at the farm two weeks ago. They chased us back up the mountain and we hid in a cabin at the tree line. Cal and I were headed back to see if we could find out what happened to our families. It’s probably a good thing he didn’t make it. He was really upset about what we might find.”
“You’re not?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“My father and mother settled here during the war. They held this valley through everything nature and the Indians could throw at them. I learned from them how to fend for myself and face reality. No, if they were alive, at least Papa would have come to get me, I know he would. Since he didn’t, I think it means that either everyone is dead, or they think Cal and I are.”
“Well, all I can say is they done a fine job in the way you were raised. Come get some breakfast. Then we’ll go see what’s down in the valley.”
Laying a gentle hand on her shoulder for comfort, he left her there and walked back to the fire to speak to Lou. A few minutes later, as she was returning, Lou was mounted and he rode down the mountain.
“I sent Lou down to scout the farm for you, Miss Hill. He is the kind of man that can get into places the rest of us couldn’t. I hope you will rest a while. Lou will be back when he gets back.”
Two hours later the Ranger rode back into camp. The look on his face told the story. After dismounting, he talked with Tucker Prophet for a moment before joining the others at the fire.
Shannon was sitting near the fire, tearing bits off a slice of rock hard jerky and washing it down with a cup of coffee. She listened to the conversation, but her concentration was wholly somewhere else, she only caught bits and pieces of what the men were saying. Understanding the little she did hear, she rose to her feet without saying a word to anyone, went to her stallion and started tacking him out. Prophet walked up behind her.
“Mister Prophet, thank you for all your help and thoughts but I’m going to attend to my family. Now that I know the worst has happened, I am going to hunt these bastards down and, one way or another, I’ll kill every mother’s son of them. They attacked my home; murder has been done and they have intruded into my very soul. Please don’t worry about me or try to interfere; my father taught me very well and I know these mountains better than anyone.”
“Why don’t we see what is left down there before you make a decision like that?” Prophet suggested.
“No. I’ve made up my mind. I have to go. Can you understand?”
“Well, hold on then and we’ll go in with you. Lou said that the place is a mess. Let us help just this one more time, please?”
“As you wish, Mister Prophet. If you want to come with me, you know the trail down the mountain; it’s clearly marked and well traveled. I will not wait until you get ready. If not, please don’t try to stop me.”
“You are a headstrong young lady. Give us twenty minutes. We’ll let you go in alone if that’s what you want.” He turned, lost in his own thoughts. He was about to issue orders to break camp.
Shannon rested her head against the withers of her stallion as her anger cooled. After considering what Tucker had said, she turned to him.
“Wait, please,” she said softly. “You’re right, I was acting with too much haste. My father would have been ashamed of me if I had simply ridden blindly in. We’ll go down together.” So saying, she returned to the process of saddling her horse.
* * * *
Winding down the mountain into the valley below, the group studied every aspect of the trail leading into the valley. As they neared the edge of the tree line, the sound of metal striking something solid reached them on the slight breeze. Lou broke into a gallop and rode hard to the right with Stan riding hard to the left.
Terry reined in and pulled his carbine from its case, as did Shannon with her Winchester. Tucker Prophet kicked his horse into a run and rode straight in toward the burned out cabin. Guns ready, Shannon and Terry walked their horses the last two hundred yards to the homestead. Prophet met them twenty yards from the rear of the cabin.
“You go on around, Shannon, I don’t expect any trouble,” he told her with a look of sadness on his face.
“What is it? What did you find?” she asked, her voice rising.
“It’s okay, you just go on in.”
Shannon saw a woman standing next to a fresh grave in front of her parent’s cabin. Walking the horse up to her, Shannon could only imagine the suffering Maryanne Hill had gone through. She dismounted and walked over to stand beside her mother at the grave.
Her mother’s dress was torn open and hanging loose, exposing a large bruise on her chest. Large chunks of her hair were missing and dried blood could be seen on her face, arms and legs. Her wrists bore the marks of rope burns, as did her ankles.
Maryanne stood rooted to the spot, staring down at the grave and marker. Not a tear showed on her face and not a word did she utter. Seemingly unaware of her daughter standing beside her, she began rocking back and forth and shaking uncontrollably.
A low, deep keening was beginning to emerge from her as the enormity of her visit to hell and the painful return back to reality began to sink in. Louder and louder it became, until she was screaming every curse she knew at the heavens she raised her face to. As abruptly as it began, Maryanne Hill’s ranting ceased; she suddenly spoke more softly.
“He fought them with everything he had, baby.” she said. “He gave his life so I could get away but it wasn’t enough. It didn’t stop them; it didn’t make them go away.”
“Mama, come away and rest. Papa is going to be okay now and you are safe with me.”
“Oh, baby, nobody is safe anymore. The house is still here, but our home is gone. John is gone. They took me away and made me …” Her voice broke. “Everything we once had is gone now. No! Nobody is safe.
“It took me all morning to dig the grave. I would dig for a while and rest. Then I would come out and dig some more. Why does it take so long to dig a hole in the ground? Why did it have to be John? He only wanted to live in peace. He only wanted to be happy. Why, baby?” The questions poured from her like water rushing over the rocks of Preacher’s Creek.
“I don’t have any answers, Mama. You did everything you could. You did
well, Mama. You and Papa always took care of each other. You did what was natural to you, Papa would be pleased.” Shannon comforted her mother. “Come with me now, Mama. Let’s get you over there and sit a while. I brought some help. Come with me.”
As Shannon was trying to get her stubborn mother to move away from the grave, Terry walked up, wrapped a blanket around the old woman’s shoulders and gently took her in his arms. He never said a word but somehow he knew what she needed and was there to offer his strength and share her grief. Together they walked over to a bench near the fire-gutted cabin. They sat and he simply let her lean on him and vent her grief with healing tears.
Tucker walked up beside Shannon and they both watched as the pair grieved. Looking down at the grave, he bowed his head and his lips moved in a silent prayer. Without another word he turned and left to join Lou and Stan sitting their horses a short distance away, leaving the young woman standing alone at her father’s grave.
She looked at the grave of John Hill and tears began to slide down her cheeks as she remembered each and every event she had shared with her father while he still walked among the living. Looking over at her mother, her pent-up anger took control once more and she made a decision that would change her life forever.
Turning and walking to her stallion, she took one last look around the only home she had known and silently said goodbye.
Mounting, she turned and kicked the huge black animal into a run and rode away toward the mountain. She was taking a storm to the men responsible for killing her father and it would affect everyone in her path.
Chapter Four
Carmen Hobbs was crying again. The shame she felt bottled up inside was driving her slowly insane. Looking over at Patti Baker, sensing, almost feeling the hate seething within her ‘one time’ best friend, for the pain, suffering and death she had helped to bring to the valley, was more than Carmen could take.
“Why can’t Patti see that they would have killed me and still attacked the farms?” Carmen thought.
Prophet's Rest Page 3