Beauty From Ashes

by Lynnette Bonner

  “What a mess.” Joe dropped a hand on Kin’s shoulder. “You did the right thing. But that fire’s been going for some time now. Likely an explosion would have happened already. Nitro is pretty volatile. I’ll go back in and—”

  Across the lawn, Mrs. Hines screeched. “Davey! Davey? Has anyone seen David?” She lifted her skirts and twirled around, searching faces.

  A low murmur lifted from the townsfolk as everyone glanced around trying to find the boy.

  Jerry Hines leapt onto a stump and searched over everyone’s heads for his son. “David, lad? Where are you?”

  A queasy feeling suddenly dropped into the pit of Joe’s stomach. He pictured the small freckled hand easing out from beneath the tablecloth and fumbling to find the plate of cookies.

  “Dear Lord!” He offered the prayer even as he turned toward the church, but Tess was already disappearing through the double doors. “Tess! No!” Joe took the steps two at a time.

  He landed on the top step, and reached for the brass handle on the righthand door.

  BOOM!

  A wall of hot air blasted him backward off the steps. He hit the lawn on his back, tumbled over a few times, then lay limp.

  Joe fought for breath. Unnatural silence. Ringing ears. Smoke.

  Everything…black.

  The explosion knocked Liora off her feet. It took her a moment to be able to move. She rolled to her hands and knees and gave her head a shake. The grass was cool beneath her palms.

  So much smoke.

  She coughed, settled back against her ankles, and tried to see through the haze.

  All around her, townsfolk who’d also been knock down, clambered to their feet. Beside her, Rose and Dixie helped each other stand. Dixie had a trickle of blood running down her face from a cut near her hairline. Rose cradled one arm.

  A gust of wind cleared the haze momentarily and Liora blinked at the chaos all around. The Kings were just helping each other to their feet. Ewan McGinty, long hair all askew, had one hand to his forehead and was staring all around, mouth hanging open in shock. And in the background, the church burned.

  Joe.

  His name settled into her heart and mind like a little piece of home in a time of war.

  Where was he?

  Ewan reached down a hand to help her up.

  He said something, but she couldn’t make it out through the ringing in her ears.

  Where was Joe? She couldn’t think for the need of him.

  And Tess?

  They’d both been— Her gaze flew to the front steps of the church. Or more accurately, to where they used to be. Nothing remained now but a mangled mound of broken boards and jagged edges. She inhaled a gasp. The lungful of smoke bent her double with coughing.

  A gap in the swirling smoke revealed Reagan and Charlotte running toward the church from town.

  Sound crashed over Liora in a sudden wave. Screams. Cries. Wails. And the crackling of the ugly orange flames consuming the steeple that lay on the lawn a few feet away.

  And through it all, only one thought, one need, pounded at her.

  “Joe!” Liora lurched forward, staggering around clumps of people huddled together. “Tess?!”

  The haze of smoke settled in again.

  She waved a hand in front of her and squinted at each visage that came close enough for identity. “Joe?!”

  She bumped into someone. The woman stood alone, sobbing, hands over her face.

  Liora put an arm around her shoulders. “Everything’s going to be all right.” The rote words poured from her with no foundation of hope.

  The woman looked at her, and with shock Liora realized it was Pricilla Hines.

  Tear tracks streaked soot on the woman’s face. “I can’t find them,” she sobbed. “Jerry…and David. I can’t…”

  Liora kept her grip around Pricilla’s shoulders. “We’ll find them. I’ll help you. Have you seen Joe? Or Tess?”

  Pricilla shook her head.

  Liora searched the church lawn again. Some of the haze had dissipated now. And across the way, silhouetted by a backdrop of billowing smoke and orange flames, Liora spied Mr. Hines.

  She nudged Pricilla. “There is Jerry. See?”

  Just then a barrel of ten-year-old energy slammed into Pricilla’s legs. “Ma!”

  “Oh, Davey! Where have you been? We have to let your pa know you’re all right.” Pricilla rushed forward and Jerry cried out with joy and threw his arms around them both for a moment before he hoisted his son and cradled him against his shoulder. Pricilla wrapped them both in her arms and rested her head against Jerry’s shoulder.

  Jerry pushed David back from him. “Where were you?”

  David pointed across the lawn to where a group of boys still huddled, staring at the burning church with jaws agape. “I was with the fellas.”

  Liora could only feel relief that he’d been found. She left the family to their joyous reunion and continued to search faces. And that was when she saw him.

  “Joe!” Liora lifted her skirts and pushed past Bill Giddens. Smoke swirled in to block her view again, but the image of Joe laying limp and unmoving on the church lawn, jaw slack, was seared indelibly into her memory. Liora pushed through the last of the crowd, then fell to her knees by his side.

  One leg, bent at the knee, was pinned beneath him. And something had cut a long swath down one of his forearms. The arm rested across his chest, and blood pooled on his shirt beneath it.

  “Joe, I’m right here. Doc!” she yelled, unable to take her eyes off the man she loved. She covered as much of the gash on his arm as she could with her palms and applied pressure. “Joe, don’t you die on me, you hear? Doc!”

  Someone knelt at her side. It was Jerry. “I think he thought David was in the church.” Jerry set to rapidly undoing the buttons of his shirt.

  Liora searched the lawn for Flynn.

  Pricilla sat on the grass nearby with David cradled in her lap. Her focus was on Liora, and for the very first time ever, Liora felt no censure in the look. Only sorrow. Compassion.

  Flynn bent over someone not far away, handing them his folded handkerchief.

  “Doc!” Liora called again.

  He looked up.

  “It’s Joe!”

  He nodded. “Coming!”

  Jerry stripped off his shirt. And Liora had only the briefest of instants to wonder what he was doing before he wadded the material into both his hands and then leaned over Joe’s arm. He wanted to clamp his expensive store-bought shirt against Joe’s wound.

  “Thank you.” Liora removed her hands and Jerry immediately applied pressure to the cut.

  Liora looked next to Joe’s leg. “His foot is pinned. Should we move his leg?”

  “Yes.” Flynn’s deep baritone, coming from right behind her, filled her with reassurance. “Good thinking, Jerry.” Flynn gave Jerry and his shirt a nod as he sank to his knees beside Liora. “Here. Help me roll him toward Jerry a bit and we’ll get this leg straightened out.”

  Together they rolled him, until they could free his pinned foot. Flynn felt Joe’s leg all up and down and bent it this way and that. He gave a relieved sigh. “I don’t think anything is broken. He just landed on it awkwardly when he fell.”

  Tears of relief filled Liora’s eyes. “Thank God.”

  Flynn moved to Joe’s head next. He probed the skull from every angle and then sat back against his ankles.

  Liora searched his face. “Will he wake up?”

  Flynn gave a non-committal wag of his head. “I don’t feel any obvious fractures but—”

  Joe moaned. Rolled his head to one side. Fluttered his eyes open, and then frowned.

  “Joe!” Liora leaned over him and cupped his stubbled cheek in one hand. “You’re awake.”

  “What happen—”

  “Joe, are you all right?” Reagan was suddenly there, leaning over them.

  Kin stood behind him, a worried pinch to his pale lips.

  Joe waved his good arm. “Everyon
e, please, back up.”

  He took hold of the hand Liora offered him and sat up slowly. He glanced around.

  Jerry was still clumsily trying to hold compression against Joe’s arm.

  Joe’s focus swept over Jerry’s undershirt, and then dropped down to the material pressed against his wound. “Thanks, Jerry. I’ve got it now.”

  Jerry backed off, and Liora was thankful to see that Joe kept the material in place with his free hand. “What happened?” He blinked at the chaos all around, confusion and pain darkening his eyes.

  “There was an explosion. You were knocked unconscious,” Flynn offered.

  Jerry sank down beside Pricilla and put his arm around her. He bent forward and placed a kiss against his son’s tousled head.

  Joe’s gaze landed on the boy, and then his eyes widened. “Tess and I thought David was in the church. She went back in to find him. Where is she?”

  A hushed silence settled as everyone stood and looked around.

  “Dear, God.” Reagan exclaimed the prayer. “Flynn, help me.”

  Liora turned to look in the direction his attention lay fixed. Her heart stuttered to a stop. “No! Oh, Jesus, please no.”

  In the midst of the pile of jagged boards that had once been the church steps, a piece of material fluttered in the breeze. It was the cornflower blue color of Tess’s new dress.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Liora paced in Dixie’s dining room, doing her best not to crumple into a heap of blubbering misery. Several of Wyldhaven’s men were still digging Tess’s body out from the lumber. Flynn and Reagan had uncovered her enough to confirm she had no pulse, but a heavy timber had prevented them from being able to extract her body right away.

  Joe and Kin had wanted to stay and help with the task, but Flynn had insisted they come here and allow him to doctor them. They had both been upstairs getting cleaned and stitched. She had heard Kin come down and go out just a moment ago, but Joe still hadn’t come down.

  Liora felt hollow. Shallow. Used up. Numb.

  All her efforts to help Tess. And for what? She’d actually gotten the girl killed. If Liora hadn’t rescued her, hadn’t angered John Hunt, none of this would have happened.

  “Oh Jesus, what have I done?” Liora sank into a chair. It was the only prayer she had to offer. Nothing else would come to mind.

  Dixie bustled back in with the tea she’d gone to fetch. She set a steaming cup before Liora, but the tea held no appeal.

  Dixie sank into the seat beside her and reached over to cover Liora’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  Liora nodded. Everyone was sorry. The table blurred beneath her gaze. “I killed her.”

  “No! You did not! You can’t think like that. This was not your fault.”

  “I’m the one who angered John Hunt. The one who brought Tess to live with me. She wouldn’t have been in that church if it wasn’t for me. John Hunt wouldn’t have blown the place up, if it wasn’t for me.”

  Dixie shook her head. “Liora—”

  Joe stepped into the dining room, his arm in a sling, his head bare, hair tousled. “You ready?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Liora stood. Gave Dixie a hug. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime.” There was a sad look in Dixie’s eyes. Liora knew that her friend was worried about her, but she had nothing to alleviate that worry at the moment. Not a particle of reassurance to offer.

  She followed Joe out onto the porch in front of the boardinghouse.

  In the street, several men stood talking. Reagan was there along with Zane Holloway. Kin and the parson, flanked Ewan McGinty and Washington Nolan.

  In the distance, Liora could see Ben King and Jerry Hines lifting Tess’s body into the back of a wagon. They laid her down gently. Covered her with a blanket Pricilla handed up to them. Liora entertained the fleeting bitter thought that they were giving her more respect in her death than they ever had while she lived.

  Joe looked down at her and she realized she had taken hold of his arm and was squeezing it like she never planned to let go. “Where will they take her?”

  He swept one hand down his face. “To the livery. Doc said Bill Giddens is already making the coffin.”

  Coffin. Such an unwelcome word. One that shouldn’t have intruded on this day that was meant to be nothing but celebration.

  “Give me just a minute?” Joe asked.

  She withdrew her hand. Fiddled with her gloves. “Yes. Of course.”

  Joe walked over to the group of men in the street as the wagon started toward them from the church.

  Liora watched the wagon start their way.

  Dixie stepped out onto the porch, and stood next to her.

  “Dixie, can I—”

  “Yes. I’ve already prepared for it. We’ll clean her up. And Jacinda is finishing the hem on the last dress you ordered for her. We can put her in that.”

  Liora’s throat tightened up so that she could barely get out, “Thank you.”

  She stepped forward and met the wagon in the middle of the street, directing the men to carry Tess inside.

  Tess may not have had much in this life, but Liora intended to see that she was buried proper, just like any other citizen of Wyldhaven would have been.

  “What?!” John Hunt picked up a chair and hurled it across the saloon, an action he immediately regretted. For where this conversation had been a quiet, unnoticed affair before, now every eye in the room was on them.

  He motioned for Samuel to follow him outside.

  “You mean to tell me that only one person died?”

  “Yes, sir. The girl, Tess.”

  Hunt grunted. “Well, at least she got what was coming to her for running out on me. Still… How is that possible?! All those lawmen are supposed to be dead!”

  “It was the kid, sir.” Samuel’s face paled a little and he kicked his toe into a rut on the street. “Kin Davis. He escaped. Stole a horse and arrived in time to warn everyone to get out.”

  Hunt cursed Kin and then he turned the full ire of his anger on to Samuel. “You said he’d be dead by morning!”

  Samuel trembled. “He must not have been as bad off as I figured. You want I should bring him around for a visit?”

  Hunt cuffed Samuel upside the head. “No! You dolt. The kid can be dealt with any time. Right now we have bigger problems. All this trouble is because of that woman! And now the law is going to come snooping around.”

  “We could just lay low, sir. Nothing points back to you yet. Well…” His words trailed away as his eyes widened a little.

  Hunt felt a pain in his chest as he cursed again. “Unless the kid talked.” He slugged Samuel in the gut. “Do you think the kid talked?” He grabbed Samuel by the lapels of his collar. “Of course the kid talked!” Hunt thrust Samuel from him with all the emotion he was feeling. The man reeled backward and tumbled into the street, arms curled around his head. Hunt kicked a rock after him, and watched it careen down the street. “I trusted you! Took your word that the kid was already half way into boot hill. Now I have to think of a plan.”

  Samuel swallowed. Sat up slowly, not yet daring to rise. “We could just leave them be? Losing one or two women isn’t going to hurt your business none. You head for the hills and lay low for a couple years and pretty soon they’ll forget about you.”

  Hunt poured every ounce of hatred and anger he was feeling into a snarl. First he kicked his boot into the man’s chest, knocking him onto his back, then he fell to his knees by his side and grabbed the man by his throat. “Are you a saphead?!”

  Samuel’s eyes bulged and he clasped at John’s hand, gaping for air.

  With a growl, John let him go. He would gladly have killed the man, but he still needed the dullard to do a few things for him.

  Samuel coughed and gagged.

  John rose and dusted himself off. He paced, kicked more rocks, ran through idea after idea in his mind, tossing them aside one by one. And then just as he was about to give up and start considering his man’s ide
a that he make a run for it, the answer came to him.

  Hands propped on his hips, he froze. Considered. Smiled.

  He turned to face Samuel, stretching out a hand to help him off the ground.

  Uncertainly, Samuel accepted his hand. Hunt could tell from his expression that he didn’t know if he was being restored to his position or about to be killed. Good. Let him wonder.

  Hunt dusted some dirt from the front of Samuel’s shirt, and straightened his jacket by the shoulders. He smiled placatingly at the man. “If I let even one or two women go free, word will get out and soon they’ll all be fleeing like rats from a sinking ship. Total control. It’s the only way to run an empire such as the one I’ve built! And I’ve lost it. But I know just how to get it back. Now get me my horse. And get yourself one too. I need you to ride into Wyldhaven.”

  Liora sank down at one of Dixie’s tables, and this time she did accept the tea Dixie placed in front of her.

  They had done all they could. Washed Tess. Done up her hair. Dressed her in the fine, navy blue dress Jacinda had completed, and then laid her out carefully in the coffin Bill Giddens had constructed.

  The service would be first thing in the morning. Surprisingly, not one person had protested when Liora requested that she be buried in the church’s cemetery.

  Dixie paced to the window and tugged the curtain aside. “Looks like they are still talking.”

  Joe and the Wyldhaven menfolk had been discussing strategy on how to capture John Hunt. Most had been ready to simply take the fight to Hunt. Give him a taste of his own medicine. But Reagan, Joe, and Zane had calmed the posse down and insisted they should do things by the letter of the law. They would ride out to Camp Sixty-Five and conduct a thorough search for evidence or witnesses who might testify to Hunt’s involvement. Arrest him proper. Have a trial and pray to God he would hang like he deserved.

  Dixie pressed her face closer to the window. “Looks like they are about to ride out.”

  Liora sighed. Best she go find Joe and say goodbye. Her heart pinched at the thought that it might be the last time she would need to do so. What if something happened to him? Her mind rebelled at the idea. Surely the Lord thought they’d all suffered enough today with Tess’s coffin not five feet away and the church nothing but a heap of blackened debris across the street? Thankfully, the church had stood far enough apart from the other buildings of town that the fire hadn’t spread.