If it was the last thing he ever did, Reid meant to make Weems pay for David dying.
The next morning at first light, Reid led his horse to the top of the rise then paused to take a look back at the cabin. The last of the melting snow lay in ruffles at the edges of the roof. A sheen of rose and gold skimmed the puddles in the yard. The fields were broken and dark, the clods of earth frosted with a filigree of white. This place was the haven Reid never thought he'd find. The people who welcomed him home were the ones he'd grown to love.
He hadn't told either Livi or Tad where he was going. It wouldn't do for them to know, in case he failed. In his way, he was protecting them.
If he succeeded in finding Weems, maybe Reid could convince himself that he deserved the home and family that had been entrusted to him here in Kentucky. If he paid the debt of honor he owed to David, maybe he could accept that Livi and the children and the happiness were his to keep.
Either way, the confrontation with David's killers was inevitable. He'd put it off for far too long.
Chapter 21
Livi knew trouble when she saw it, and the men who rode into her little valley a fortnight after Reid had left were trouble. There were six of them, four Indians and two white men dressed in mismatched pieces of British Army uniforms.
While every instinct clamored for her to bolt into the cabin and bar the door, Cissy and Eustace were off somewhere in the woods gathering early greens, and she couldn't leave them to fend for themselves.
"Tad," Livi shouted, dropping the bucket of water she was carrying across they yard, "bring your father's rifle. We've got visitors."
Scrambling up the steps into the breezeway, she grabbed the gun from her son and raked back the striker. Tad took his place beside her at the edge of the breezeway with David's pistol in his hand. Just then Patches came hightailing out of the woods, yelping at the top of his voice.
"What do you suppose they want?" Tad asked.
"I don't know—but damn Reid Campbell for heading off without telling anyone what he was about. Doubtless they're looking for him."
"It's going to be all right, Ma." Tad offered, though he was watching the men approach as warily as she. "At least with them riding in like this, we know they aren't raiders."
Livi gave the slightest of nods. More often than not, it was the Indians you didn't see who did the most damage. Still, the appearance of either Indians or British soldiers boded ill for homesteaders. Livi hoped she could handle whatever came.
The little band pulled up not five feet from her door. The man in the lead, a big swarthy fellow with a hawk nose and hooded eyes, inclined his head.
"Mistress Talbot?" His low, cultured voice sent a shudder down her back.
"Yes."
"Captain Martin Weems at your service, ma'am."
Livi took a shaky breath. "I'm afraid you're miles south of anywhere you'd be welcome, Captain Weems. What is it you want?"
"I was hoping you would help me."
"I'd be happy to give you directions back to the Ohio River."
Weems's mouth lifted in what might have passed for a smile. "The river's not what I'm looking for."
Livi waited, letting her gaze slip from Weems to the wiry lieutenant at his side and the four tall warriors dressed in deeply yoked shirts trimmed with ribbons and beads. Shawnee, she thought, judging from what she'd seen of the Indians since she'd come to the frontier. Though they weren't painted up for war, they sat their horses with their weapons drawn.
"Then just how is it I can help you, Captain Weems?"
"I want to search your cabin."
"Why?" The question was out of her mouth before she could think better of it.
"Clearly we're looking for something."
Not someone. Not Reid. Livi succumbed to a surge of relief.
"We're just poor homesteaders here," she said, in spite of the warning Tad shot in her direction. "What could we possibly have that you would want?"
Weems seemed to take a moment to consider before reaching around into his saddlebag. He withdrew a square doeskin medicine bag dripping with fringe. The flap across the top was fastened with a loop and a bit of antler. Beaded designs swirled across the front.
Recognition niggled her, but it wasn't until Weems opened the flap and revealed the blue-green disk within that she realized what he had.
That must have shown on her face.
"I see you recognize this, Mistress Talbot, as one of the Creeks' sacred disks," Weems observed. "That makes matters a good deal easier. All I want is the one that matches it."
"I don't have a disk like that," Livi said.
"But you know where one is."
"No, I—" Livi knew the chance she was taking by holding back, but she couldn't just turn over something Reid had handled so carefully and protected so well. In truth, she didn't know where he might have hidden it.
With a sure, swift movement of his left hand, Weems pulled his saddle pistol and centered the barrel on Livi's chest.
At the base of the steps, Patches growled.
"Does this improve your memory, Mistress Talbot?" he asked. "Or this?" He shifted the bead toward Tad, to the place where his too-small shirt pulled tight across his breastbone.
Livi swallowed hard. "Please don't hurt him, Captain Weems. We don't have what you want."
Weems lowered the pistol and eyed her. "No, perhaps you don't. Perhaps you did have only one of the disks. That's all we could find that night on the trail."
Gooseflesh washed down Livi's spine. For a moment she prayed she'd misunderstood.
"Surely you remember our last encounter, Mistress Talbot," he taunted her. "The night your husband died?"
"You!" she hissed. But she didn't remember seeing him. Or one of the sacred plates, either. All she remembered was the horror of David lying sprawled and broken.
Beside her, Livi heard the cadence of Tad's breathing change. "You buggering bastard!" he yelled and launched himself at the Englishman. "You killed my pa!"
Livi brought the rifle to bear on Weems, but dared not fire.
From down among the horses, the boy jabbed the handgun into the Englishman's face. The big man battered at him with his saddle pistol.
The boy fired anyway. Weems's hat flew off.
Around the two of them the horses danced. The Indians dismounted on the fly.
As Weems jerked back on his reins, he raised his arm and clubbed Tad with the barrel of his gun.
Livi screamed as her son went down and got off a shot as one of the braves barreled into her and slammed her back onto the floor of the breezeway. The jolt rattled Livi's bones. Darkness swooped in and out. She fought for breath.
At the periphery of her senses, she heard Patches snarling and Weems's harsh curse. A pistol boom near at hand. With a yelp, the dog went silent.
By the time she had blinked the world into focus again, the Indian's knife lay cold against her throat. From inside her cabin she could hear the sounds of a search: the crash of overturning furniture, of wooden cups and plates being scattered across the floor, of broken bottles and crockery.
Little David began to cry. Livi instinctively shifted to go to him, but as she did, the Indian's blade bit deeper. She felt the warmth of her blood ooze down her neck.
Little David squalled louder. Fear for her baby twisted her heart.
She fought down the urge to speak, but couldn't help herself. "Look in the other cabin," she sobbed. "The copper plate is in the other cabin."
The brave kneeling over her turned and shouted a few sharp words.
Weems appeared at his shoulder. "There, you see, Mistress Talbot." He leered at her. "You were able to help us after all."
As she lay helpless, they searched Reid's cabin. In her own Little David's cry had become a shriek. He sounded angry, not hurt, and somehow that reassured her.
Still, she couldn't help wondering if Cissy and Eustace were safe in the woods. Was Tad all right? Or had the man who murdered David killed their son?
Tears tracked into her hair as Livi lay pinned down by the warrior's weight, wrapped in the stink of sweat and bear grease.
After what seemed like an eternity, she heard a crow of victory. A moment later, Captain Weems came to squat beside her and lifted the doeskin bag for her to see.
"We found the disk, Mistress Talbot, thanks to you," he said. "I expect our friends the Creeks will be more cooperative now that we have both the sacred plates. Odd what store these savages set by heathen magic. Still, trinkets like these do have their uses."
Weems rose and spoke to the others in what must have been Shawnee.
The warrior who'd been guarding her rose and stood over her, his gaze coming to rest on her long, thick braid. She could see the temptation to kill her and take her hair light in his eyes.
Weems's command came blunt and sharp. "Mount up!"
For a moment longer the Indian hesitated. Then with a nod of concession, he spun away.
Live heard the creek of leather and the jingle of reins as the men mounted up. A moment later there was the clatter of their horses crossing the bridge.
Livi pushed up on her elbows and watched them go.
From somewhere in the woods a shot rang out. On the far side of the creek, one of the Indians toppled off his horse. But instead of stopping, Weems and his companions spurred their mounts and disappeared on the far side of the cornfield.
With an effort, Livi rolled up onto her hands and knees. She paused there all quivery and light-headed.
Then, Cissy broke cover from somewhere behind the cabin. "Mama! Mama!" she wailed, racing toward her.
Livi sat back on her heels and caught her daughter in her arms. "Oh, Sugar," she breathed hugging the child. "Oh, my sweet baby, what a good girl you were to keep to the woods until the Indians left."
"Eustace said," Cissy sniffled. "He said not to move until the bad men went away."
"You did exactly what you should have done."
Beyond her daughter's embrace, Livi saw Eustace limp out of the trees on the far side of the creek. With the toe of his boot he prodded the man he'd shot, making sure he was dead. Later they'd have to bury him.
But now she had to see to Tad. As she climbed gingerly to her feet, Livi noticed Little David's wailing. "Would you go and quiet your baby brother?" Livi asked and gave Cissy a nudge toward the cabin door.
Once Cissy had gone inside Livi stepped toward the edge of the breezeway, her heart in her throat. At the bottom of the steps Tad lay pale and silent, with blood seeping down the side of his face.
Dread howled through her. He looks just the way David did the night he died.
Somehow she made it down the stairs and knelt beside her boy. Her hands shook as she reached toward the jagged gash running along Tad's temple and into his hair. The blood was seeping down his cheek and jaw to stain the dirt beneath his head with red.
"Tad! Can you hear me?" she cried out and she pressed her palm to the center of his chest. The steady thud of his heart against her fingertips reassured her some.
Just then Eustace came up the rise. "He going to be all right, Miz 'Livia?"
"I don't know," she answered, listening to his breathing, feeling for a depression in his scull. "His arm is broken," she said checking for further injuries. "And maybe some of his ribs."
Just then Tad moaned and opened his eyes. "Ma? Are they gone, Ma?"
That Tad was awake and making sense made Livi feel boneless and light-headed. "Yes, they're gone."
"Those are the men that killed Pa."
"I know."
Livi saw hatred flare in her son's eyes. "Now that we know who they are I'm going after them and to kill those bastards!"
"Avenging your father's death won't bring him back." She'd said the same thing to Reid with as little effect.
"Now, boy, " Eustace broke in, "let's move you into the house so your mother tend to you proper."
As Eustace bent to lift the boy in his arms, Tad turned to Livi. "Is Patches all right?"
Livi glanced around and saw the spotted dog lying in a pool of blood not far from his master.
"He protected you as best he could, Tad."
The boy's eyes welled up, but he didn't cry. "It hurts, Ma," was all he said.
"I know, " she consoled him, "but it's going to be all right now."
* * *
Once again they'd been lucky.
Considering that Captain Weems could have killed them outright, or let the savages to take their hair, they'd been lucky.
Livi murmured the words under her breath like a talisman as she bound Tad's ribs, stitched his head, and set his arm. She crooned them as a lullaby as she watched Tad sleep. He might be uncomfortable and restless tonight, but her son was alive and he would heal.
Livi wished with all her heart that Weems hadn't found the sacred disk. It was the only connection to his Indian heritage she'd ever seen Reid honor, and she knew he would grieve for its loss. But further resistance would have cost their lives and Reid would understand that.
The morning light had just begun to seep beneath the cabin door when Livi awoke stiff and cramped from sleeping in the chair. It was the sound of Little David babbling to himself that brought her slowly to her feet.
Bending stiffly, Livi lifted the baby from this basket on her way to the door. She had slipped the bolt and stepped out into the breezeway before she realized they had visitors.
Eight painted Indians sat their horses at the top of the rise..
Livi stood tingling cold with shock.
In the split second when she might have escaped, one of the braves sprang from his horse and grabbed her arm. He wrestled her down the steps and across the yard to where others in the party had dismounted.
She saw immediately that these Indians were not Shawnee. The men wore cloaks of panther and beaver skin. Their heads were wrapped with wide woven bands, heavily decorated with beads and trade silver. Several had painted their entire faces with white or red.
The leader, a huge man with a red face and porcupine quills bristling in in his hair, glared at her. Then, turning to an older man, he spoke at length.
A slighter man translated his words into surprisingly good English. "Red Hand would like to know if this is the cabin of the man who is known among the whites as Reid Campbell."
Livi bit her lip and nodded.
"We would speak with Reid Campbell, then."
"Reid isn't here. I don't know where he is or when he will be back." Livi regretted the admission the moment it was out of her mouth.
Red Hand seemed to understand her reply without translation. His glare intensified.
"Are you Reid Campbell's wife?" the translator asked.
Since this didn't seem like the time to split hairs about her and Reid's relationship, Livi nodded again.
"Then we wish to look inside your house."
Livi started, amazed by the translator's polite request. Captain Weems had ridden in, made the same demand, and left havoc in his wake.
"Is there something in particular you're looking for?"
Red Hand, the translator, and the man beside him, whose face was entirely white, exchanged glances.
"If it's the copper disks you want," she continued, gambling she was right about why they'd come, "they are not here."
Her revelation threw the party into confusion. Shock and consternation ran from man to man.
As the babble of voices rose around Livi, she hazarded a glance toward the cabin door. If she could just get inside—
As if he'd read her mind, the brave who'd been guarding her grabbed her arm. As she struggled to break free, Red Hand, the man painted white, and the translator conferred heatedly.
"What do you know of the disks?" the translator finally asked her.
Livi tried to remember what Reid had said.
"I know only what my husband told me. I have not seen the disks themselves," she lied, "only the medicine bags he kept them in."
"And where are those disks now?"
Livi lowered her head. If she could send these men off after Captain Weems, she might extract her own revenge on the man who killed David.
"The British took them." Livi watched the Indians' faces. "Captain Weems and several Shawnee warriors came—"
"Shawnee warriors!" the white-faced man gasped in English, quivering with agitation. "When the disks came to us from the Master of Breath, it was foretold that if the Creeks failed in their stewardship, the Shawnee would take of the sacred plates from us and that greater misfortune would befall our people!"
The man who had been acting as translator answered in a conciliatory fashion. "If it is true that Hawk Face has the sacred disks, he will try to barter them for our continued loyalty to the British cause. It is only if we refuse that Weems will give the disks to the Shawnee."
Anger drew Red Hand's brows together. "It doesn't matter what Hawk Face does. It is the fault of Ravens Flight that the disks are lost. Ravens Flight kept the disks for all this time. Now Ravens Flight has dishonored us by giving the sacred plates to the English. Who could expect a man with blood so weakened by kinship with the whites would uphold our Creek traditions?"
"But Reid didn't give the disks to the British," Livi spoke up. "The soldiers stole them—"
"It does not matter how the plates were lost," Red Hand insisted. "It only matters that Ravens Flight failed to protect them. And he should be held responsible for their loss."
"We must get the plates back," the man in white face insisted. "The future of the Creek nation rests on the return of the disks. In the years since The Hair Buyer took them from us, the Creeks have suffered. If Hawk Face gives our sacred plates to the Shawnee, the Creeks will suffer more losses, more deaths."
"Perhaps it is Ravens Flight who must see to the return of the sacred disks," the translator mused, half to himself.
Alarm rose hot beneath her ribs even before she caught sight of Red Hand's malicious smile.
"But can we trust Ravens Right to do that?" he asked. "He dishonored himself by running away after his uncle was killed. How can we know that he will do what is right this time?"
As her visitors murmured among themselves she cast a desperate glance toward the cabin door.
A Place Called Home Page 33