Replacing the cooling rocks with hot ones when necessary, Bran lost all track of time. He didn’t know whether hours or days passed. But finally, when he was almost ready to collapse, he staggered out into the night and fell across the rock extending over the deep river below.
Overhead, the sky had cleared. Stars peppered the black night like a thousand eyes, watching him. The wind whipped across the mountaintop, slashing him with cold. Still he didn’t move, waiting for a sign.
But no sign came.
Back in Heaven, Hank took Lorraine away from Macky’s bedside. “Come outside with me. I want to talk to you.”
“But I can’t leave her.”
“You can’t do any more. Either she will live, or she’ll die. It’s out of our hands.”
Lorraine stood wearily, looking at Macky’s pale face, her chest barely moving, her eyes closed as if in death. Lorraine felt Hank throw a shawl over her shoulders and turn her toward the door. She’d never been in a situation where she felt so lost. “She is my friend, Hank.”
“She’s everybody’s friend,” he said, taking her hand and leading her away from the buildings and into the open prairie at the edge of town. This time he didn’t try to find a secluded spot, rather he slid his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest, holding her openly for all to see.
“Bran has become everyone’s friend, too.”
“I know,” Hank said. “When I first saw them I never expected it, but they’ve given so much of themselves.”
Lorraine shivered and moved closer. “Bran could have gotten away before the sheriff came, but he stayed. Even after Sheriff Dover told him he would have to arrest him for the soldier’s murder, he stayed at Macky’s side.”
“But then he left. Where is he now?” Hank asked.
“I don’t know. He said he’d return and the judge believes him. Surely they aren’t really going to send him to jail for killing someone who was beating his brother. And nobody believes he was in partnership with Pratt.”
“I don’t think Larkin’s charges will stick. Too many people will say that he was never a member of Pratt’s gang. And the murder warrant against Bran is fifteen years old. There’s talk about asking for a pardon. Macky is the one in trouble. She did take part in the holdup.”
Lorraine turned toward Hank. “I don’t believe that for one minute. She may have ended up with the money, but according to Bran she never got off her horse. She didn’t even know that banker had been shot. Oh, Hank, it’s all so unfair.”
“Look at the sky, Lorraine. The Big Dipper has moved.”
“So soon? I thought it waited until fall.”
Lorraine turned her eyes upward and clasped her arms around the neck of the man she loved.
“Nothing waits,” Hank said. “I was wrong about so many things, Lorraine. Life just moves on.” His arms went around her, his lips nuzzling her ear. “We have to grab it and hang on to what we can. Will you forgive me for not wanting the town to know what we feel?”
“I suppose I’ll have to,” she answered with a smile. “After all, everybody in Heaven can see us standing here in the open. You’re a ruined man.”
“I’m a man who has been restored, Lorraine. Will you marry me?”
“When Bran returns. I won’t go through a ceremony without him.”
“So? We’ll live in sin.”
“Oh, Hank, where is he?”
Hank leaned back, fighting the urge to kiss her. He rubbed her upper arms, spreading a gentle warmth with his touch. “He’ll be back. Wherever he’s gone, it was for a reason. I have the feeling that we’ll know soon.”
“I hope so. Macky is so very weak.”
Suddenly he looked up. “Look, Lorraine, a falling star.”
The streak of silver plunged to the earth and disappeared. There was something ominous about that. In the distance a coyote howled and Lorraine was glad she was in Hank’s arms.
Bran heard the wind, felt it stroke his body. He watched as the mist from the river below formed a black fog that spread across the valley, enveloping him.
Total blackness surrounded him, smothering him, tendrils of cottony fog filling his nostrils as he tried to breathe. Then the wind died and Bran felt as if he were suspended in the air, buffeted by a gentle motion, almost as if he were inside a living—no, a dying thing.
“Why are you here?” A voice spoke.
Bran didn’t answer. He could neither see nor sense another presence.
“I speak to you, Eyes That See in Darkness. Answer.”
“Who calls me by my Indian name?”
“I am all those who’ve gone before, and are yet to come. I answer your plea. You are prepared to offer yourself as a sacrifice to save her life, but it cannot be.”
Bran let out a low moan that carried with it the pain of all those he’d failed. His voice grew louder, its anguish filling the heavens above, its agony churning the river below.
“Nooooo! You cannot take her. She must not die. Take me, but let her live.”
His cry fell across the emptiness, dying into a profound silence.
Then there was another voice, soft, lost, and afraid. “Bran? Where are you, Bran?” A voice he knew too well.
“Macky? Is that you, Macky?”
“Oh, yes. Bran, I need you. Please …”
The darkness didn’t change, but Bran focused on her need, on Macky who was calling out for him. Then the darkness was pierced by a sharp slant of sunlight.
“Use your power,” the first voice said. “If you wish to, you will see her. It was foretold in your naming vision. The power is yours to use, but only once.”
And then he saw her, lying so cold and still, barely breathing. Around her shimmered a haze of silver, almost as if the essence of life were being contained within a net stretched around her.
“Macky,” he whispered. “No. You can’t leave yet. I haven’t told you that I love you.”
Even in his state of half consciousness, he saw her eyelids quiver and open.
“Bran?”
“Yes, Macky. It’s me.”
“But I can’t see you.”
“No, it’s my spirit speaking to you. Feel its strength, Macky. Know that I am with you, loving you, keeping you from harm.”
“How is that possible?” she whispered.
“I do not know. Only that you are the vision I did not see as a boy. I see you now. I am the comfort you sought. Be strong, Macky. I give you my strength, my life; and my heart.”
And the dark roiled in, surrounding Bran, and he knew no more.
“You’re awake!” Lorraine let out a cry of joy and rushed to Macky’s bed. “I don’t believe it.”
Macky looked around, her mind still fogged by the dream. Or was it? She could remember the coldness. Then a voice, Bran’s voice. It spoke to her as if he were with her. She looked around again.
“Bran?”
“He isn’t here. He disappeared over a week ago. The sheriff from Promise is out looking for him.”
“He’ll be back soon,” Macky said confidently.
Lorraine looked at Hank and then back at Macky. “How do you know?” she asked.
“I just do. He loves me, Lorraine. He told me. Bran told me that he loves me.”
“That can’t be. Bran hasn’t been here, Macky,” Hank said. “We don’t know where he is.”
“Neither do I, but he’ll be back and I have to get well. I know what I have to do. Get me something to eat and some clothes.”
“Macky, you may be filled by the Holy Spirit, or by the spirit of love, but you’re not moving from that bed. You hold her down, Hank, while I get some broth.”
But Macky didn’t attempt to move. She merely lay there, a secret smile on her lips.
“What really happened, Macky?” Hank asked.
“I don’t know but I heard Bran’s voice. He said that he loves me. That he’s coming back.”
“He ought not to,” Hank said. “The judge will have him arrested. There’s
something you don’t know.”
“There are probably a lot of things I don’t know. What I do know is the most important thing.”
“The marshal is dead.”
“I know. I killed him.”
“And they found Pratt’s silver-trimmed saddle in his office, along with a bag of gold from the Sylvia.”
Lorraine returned with the broth and sat down on the bed. Macky opened her mouth to protest, and found it filled with soup.
“You can probably preach a sermon and mine for gold. But this is my saloon. You’re in my bed. And if I’m going to give it up, I run the show.”
“What day is this?” Macky asked.
“It’s Sunday. You’ve been delirious for ten days.”
Macky swallowed the thick, meaty liquid and tried to concentrate. “Is the judge still here?”
“No, he’s gone back to Denver,” Hank said. “Do you want me to get him?”
“I certainly do.”
“And suppose he decides that you’re well enough to take off to jail, Mrs. Kate Adams?” Lorraine said, filling the spoon once more.
“Oh, that’s all right, as long as Bran isn’t arrested. And the only way I can be sure of that is to talk to the judge before Bran gets back. In the meantime, I’ll just lie here and drink soup.”
Two days later Macky was going crazy with boredom. Finally, after promising that she was only going to walk down to the general store, Lorraine allowed her to leave the saloon.
The short walk from the saloon to the store took what seemed like forever because of the number of times Macky had to stop and assure the townspeople that she was going to live. Finally, almost light-headed from her ordeal, Macky reached the store and sank down on the seat outside.
“Mrs. Adams, I’m so glad you’re all right.” The woman standing beside her was Mrs. Pendley. The shy little girl who’d claimed Macky’s heart climbed up on the bench beside her, while the mother shared her news.
“We heard about what happened, and my Lars and me, we decided that maybe you was being punished for helping us out. Lars, he decided that if you got well, we’d do the right thing.”
Macky swallowed back the ever-present lump in her throat and stared at the woman. “Right thing?”
“Yep. We’re going to get your man to marry us proper. We’re going to have another baby and we want to join your church.”
“I’m sure that my husband—I mean the preacher will be pleased to say the words over you, when he gets back.”
Mrs. Pendley glanced around. “Oh. He ain’t here?”
“No, he’s away on business. Say, I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give me a ride home in your wagon, would you?”
“Yes, ma’am, we’d be pleased to help you.”
On the way, the little girl told Macky about her ordeal in the woods. “It was like you said, I knew that the angel would help me, just like he helped Gingerbelle draw the water from the well. I just waited. But the puppy felled in the water and I had to help him out.”
“Angel?”
“You said Solomon helped Gingerbelle. ’Member? Well, I knew what you was talking about ’cause mules they don’t know how to draw water from the well. It was my story from the Bible. My mama read it to me. That’s where she got my name, Rebekah.”
Macky searched her memory. “Rebekah?”
“Rebekah drew water from the well and give it to a strange man. The man was really an angel and God sent him to love her. I just waited for the angel to come and find me.”
Macky gave the child a smile and hugged her. She’d reread the story of Rebekah at the well someday. In the meantime she hugged the little girl. Calling Solomon an angel was stretching things. But even her father had said that God worked in mysterious ways.
If he’d just find Bran and send him back, she’d never ask for anything else again.
“I’m really sorry I have to do this, Miss Calhoun, or should I say Mrs. Adams, but until we get to the bottom of this, I have to follow the law.” Sheriff Dover’s regret was as genuine as his curiosity.
“Just call me Macky. And don’t worry, I understand I have to be arrested. I was at the bank and I did keep the money. But I always intended to take what my father was cheated out of and send the rest back.”
“I’m sure it’s only a matter of getting the prisoner from Promise to confirm your story and the judge will let you go. Once he learns that Larkin and Pratt are dead, he’ll sing like a bird to protect himself. I have to bring him here, then we’ll leave for Denver for the trial.”
“Why Denver?”
“Because I don’t want to be lynched and that’s what will happen if I try your case here. I need the judge’s protection.”
“Just put me behind bars, Sheriff. It doesn’t matter where.”
“Well, technically you are under arrest, but I can’t put you in a jail cell,” the kindly man standing in her doorway said. “I already have a male prisoner there. I’ve arranged to house you at Lorraine’s until we leave.”
The sheriff took a long look at Macky before adding, “You know you didn’t have to stay away from Promise. Nobody blamed you for your brother’s troubles. I might have been able to help.”
“Thanks, Sheriff Dover, but I didn’t know how to ask. After Todd moved into town, it was better if I stayed away.”
“So you grew up out there on that pitiful piece of land all by yourself. I don’t think I would have recognized you if I’d seen you that day in town.”
“I wasn’t by myself. My father was there.”
“Still, I feel bad about what happened. I’ll try to make this as easy as possible for you now.”
“Fine.” Listlessly Macky climbed the ladder to the loft where she exchanged her dress for her brother’s clothes. Without Bran, none of this mattered anyway. She had no future and she’d burned her past. This was as good a place as any for a woman like her.
She allowed her fingertips to caress the green gingham dress one last time, then placed the garment in her portmanteau. Next she added her mother’s cameo and Bran’s silver feather. She’d joined Pratt’s gang as a boy and she’d go to jail as a boy. The redhead who was the preacher’s wife would be left behind with the fancy clothes and crinoline petticoat.
She heard Sheriff Dover leave the cabin, while she laced her boots and braided her hair, giving her a moment of grateful solitude. The tiny cabin had been her home—their home—for only a few days, yet she didn’t want to leave. She’d never experienced such joy anywhere else. Now there was only pain.
She couldn’t complain; she’d been lucky. Many women never knew the happiness Bran had given her. And she didn’t regret one moment of what they’d shared. But as the days passed, she’d given up hope that Bran would return. Without him she was only half a person.
With a deep sigh, she looked around again. Time to go, she decided and stepped out the cabin door where the sheriff waited with an extra saddled horse.
“Mrs. Mainwearing was glad to get her coins back, Mrs. Adams. You know the explosion in her mine repositioned the vein and she’s lost it.”
“I’d think that she’d be well off if she never found another ounce of gold.”
“No. It seems that she’d followed Moose’s instructions and grubstaked most of the prospectors in these mountains. That and the charitable contributions she made to some home for wayward women in San Francisco took a lot of her money. She can live comfortably, but she’s determined not to let Moose down.”
“What about the gold the marshal stole?”
“Except for one bag that Pratt managed to steal, there’s been no sign of it or the deeds and IOU’s. Until we go through all the banking records in the territory, we won’t know where he deposited any of it.”
“Does that mean that the prospectors’ claims are also missing?”
“Looks that way. Judge Hardcastle seems like a man with a good head on his shoulders,” the sheriff observed. “He’ll probably rule in absentia for the people who were cheated
.”
“And Mrs. Mainwearing?”
“Looks like the judge may take care of her future as well. Good man, the judge. I predict that he’ll have a lasting influence on the legal system in this country. A hundred years from now, we’ll still be hearing about a judge named Hardcastle.”
They were almost back to town when Macky remembered what the judge said about putting her under house arrest at Lorraine’s. “Who do you have in jail now, Sheriff Dover?”
“A man who is determined to be punished in spite of the possible consequences.”
That didn’t make any sense. “What consequences?”
“Well, for one thing, my popularity is already at an all-time low. Now the good folks of Heaven will probably make up a necktie party with the judge leading the mob.”
There was something about the tone in his voice that told Macky he was hiding something. He almost sounded as if he were teasing her. “Who? Who have you arrested?”
“He says his real name is John Brandon Lee. But the folks in Heaven call him Night Eyes.”
“You have Bran in jail? You bully! He isn’t guilty of anything except doing your job for you. Where did you find him? When?”
“Now, wait a minute. I didn’t find him. He found me. And he’s been there since early this morning.”
“But why? You don’t have any reason to hold him. Pratt held up the bank. I was there. I saw him. I confessed.”
“Do you really think that a judge could accept the word of a man’s wife? Maybe under normal circumstances, but to believe that this man’s wife just happened to ride into town with the gang because she was going to miss her stage?”
“But I’m not his wife, Sheriff. Honest, you have to believe me. My name is McKenzie Kathryn Calhoun. You’ve known me for ten years. You know I’m not married. And you know I don’t lie.”
“True enough. And maybe you could testify. Still, it isn’t that simple, Macky. The preacher isn’t being held for murdering the banker. It’s for the killing of that army officer back on the reservation. And Bran has confessed. He did it and he swears he’d do it again.”
The Redhead and the Preacher: A Loveswept Historical Romance Page 29