These Rough Dreams

by Cheryl Pierson

  ****

  Over the next few days, life settled into an easy rhythm that soothed Gabby’s spirit. The children’s reticence began to evaporate, and their childish laughter filled the emptiness of their silence when they’d first arrived.

  Gabby discovered she had a talent for cooking, and she loved it. Somehow, it calmed her spirit to create mouth-watering dishes that her new family loved to eat.

  Her new family…her thoughts enveloped her children, who had taken to calling her “Mama” and Johnny “Pa”. She smiled as she rolled out piecrust on the kitchen table. She suspected the boys would soon take to calling her simply “Ma” once Rema tired of correcting them.

  She rarely thought of her “other” family back in North Carolina. The family who had turned her out when she’d needed their love and support the most. Who would ever have believed the changes that had happened in her life? And all for the good.

  “Mama! Mama!” James rushed in, Monty close behind. “He took her! He took Rema! She went to the outhouse and he snatched her when she came out!” He paused to breathe. “Then, he ran off into the woods with her…”

  Gabby dropped the rolling pin and wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, twisting the towel to remove the dough and flour from her fingers.

  She whipped off her apron and headed for the gun rack, taking down the shotgun.

  It felt foreign in her hands. She’d never shot a gun before. Never even held one. Oh, how she wished she’d gotten Johnny to teach her what she needed to know!

  He’d gone in to town for a few things he needed to construct a pig pen. She couldn’t wait for him to get back. She had to find Rema, and get to the bottom of this, once and for all.

  Calmly, she said, “James, I want you to ride Ol’ Amos into town and find your pa. Tell him what you told me—but quietly. We don’t know who to get to help, but he will know who can be trusted.”

  “What about me?” Monty asked, puffing his chest out.

  “You’re coming with me. We’re going to look for Rema.”

  She knew Monty’s short legs would slow her down, but she didn’t dare leave him here alone.

  “This way, Mama!”

  “Okay, shh, now, we have to be quiet.”

  “Like a mountain lion?” His voice was breathless, and he reached to take her hand as they headed toward the woods.

  “Yes. Just like a mountain lion.” The sound of hoofbeats let her know that James was headed for the town of Brush Creek and Johnny.

  Carefully, they watched their footing as they neared the creek bank.

  “Is this near where the man and Rema disappeared?” Gabby asked softly.

  Monty nodded and pointed a little further south of where they stood. “There.”

  Sure enough, when Gabby made her way closer, she could see a man’s boot print in the soft dirt. The creek was shallow enough here that he could’ve crossed, if he’d wanted to.

  But she followed his booted footprints a little further until they disappeared—and she knew that she’d found the very place he’d gone across the little creek, taking one of her life’s treasures with him.

  ****

  Monty gripped her hand firmly as they sloshed across the rapidly running water. Even as shallow as it was here, it was still dangerous for them. Gabby fretted over the precious seconds lost, as she and Monty were forced to move so slowly. If she fell, the gun would get wet, and the creek still ran swift enough to sweep a young child away.

  Though Monty was fearless, and tried to push on faster, Gabby was cautious.

  Once they made it to the other side, she looked around quickly for boot tracks, disappointed when she saw none. Maybe she’d been wrong about where he had crossed.

  What kind of man was this, to steal a child?

  But anger overrode every other emotion. Her fear for herself was nonexistent—but for Rema—Oh, what was he doing to her? Hopefully, he was still moving, still on the run, and hopefully, he was tiring.

  Her anger fueled her energy. She moved as quickly as possible, holding onto Monty’s hand so he could keep up with her.

  From somewhere up ahead, Gabby thought she heard a child’s cry. She stopped, breathing hard, listening for it again—but it did not come, and she couldn’t wait. She had to keep moving.

  They plunged on, and in the next moment, Monty drew up short. “It’s her! It’s Rema! I hear her!”

  “Shh…we have to be very quiet Monty.”

  He nodded, pointing in the direction from where the sound had come, Gabby thought, and they started off again. Surely, with any luck, James and Johnny would be behind them soon!

  They were leaving an open trail that anyone could follow—especially an experienced tracker as Johnny sure must be. She hoped.

  Shortly, they came to the edge of the tree line, and beyond that, an open meadow. They stopped to rest, concealed by the trees, and it was then that Rema and her captor came into view. They were crossing the meadow, nearing the tree line on the opposite side.

  The man was fairly tall, but lanky. He wore overalls…he was bald…and he was someone Gabby recognized!

  Mr. Bowling, one of the older men from Brush Creek. Not a stranger at all, but someone who, even though Gabby didn’t know well, was one of the fixtures of the community.

  “Mr. Bowling!” Gabby shouted. He stopped and turned, facing her with a crying, squirming Rema in his arms.

  “Please—put Rema down!”

  Mr. Bowling shook his head quickly. “I can’t!” he shouted back. “She’s mine now! Them savages shouldn’t never have taken my baby girl away. An eye for an eye!”

  Then, he turned and hurried into the trees.

  Cold gripped Gabby’s heart. He was stealing Rema to take the place of his own child? Had the Indians taken Mr. Bowling’s daughter? Oh, he must be quite mad! Of course, Gabby had heard stories of the way some Indians abducted white children…but until this moment, she’d only half-heartedly believed such tall tales.

  Now…Mr. Bowling was stealing her dream to try to fix what had been taken from him. She wouldn’t allow it! Rema was an innocent child, and Gabby would die before she’d let someone hurt her.

  “That man stole my sister!” Monty piped up.

  “Never you mind, Monty. We are going to fetch her back.”

  ****

  Johnny Rainbolt had never ridden so hard in his life. When James had rounded the bend in the road, making for the wagon that Johnny was loading, he’d dropped the spool of wire he carried and met James on a dead run.

  Sam Adkins, who owned the livery, had hurried back inside and saddled his fastest mount, meeting Johnny with the horse as he strode through the door. “Trouble at your place?”

  “Sam, I need you to get up as many men as you can and—”

  “What’s happened?”

  “Someone’s stolen my sister’s—my daughter. Rema. She’s only four.” Johnny swung up into the saddle.

  “I’ll let everyone know. We’ll be there soon.”

  “Thanks.” Johnny rode out, calling to James to ride slower, give Ol’ Amos a breather, and stay at the house once he got home.

  Now, the horse ate up the miles as Johnny leaned forward, urging him on, faster.

  There was no use in trying to ride through the territory he needed to cover to find Rema. He’d do better afoot.

  He flung himself off the horse and looped the reins around the front porch post, then ran to the creek bank, looking for tracks. They weren’t hard to find, and he picked up where Gabby and Monty had crossed the creek, following the imprints of their shoes, but also making sure the man they chased was on the same path.

  He’d catch them soon. Gabby would be travelling slow, in her condition, having to slow down even more for five-year-old legs. He smiled in spite of the situation, thinking of the grit she had, and loving her all the more for it.

  Just up ahead, he heard a shout—Gabby—calling to someone. He wasted no time trying to decipher her words, but put on a burst of speed in t
he direction her voice came from.

  Within a few moments, he came to the tree line. The meadow was empty, and the only person who lived anywhere near here was Aldridge Bowling.

  Something gripped his gut. Talk of Bowling’s wife and daughter being kidnapped years ago, when the little girl was—Rema’s age.

  By now, Bowling, if it was him, would’ve been safely away; otherwise, Gabby would be lying dead in the middle of the field, should she have gone after him that way.

  She must have kept to the trees. But he had no time for that. He’d take his chances. He raced out across the meadow, toward the trees on the far side. It wasn’t much farther to Bowling’s cabin.

  He hoped he’d figured this all the right way. Their lives depended on him.

  ****

  Johnny could see Gabby and Monty ahead of him, but wouldn’t call out; without knowing where Bowling was, he couldn’t take the chance of alerting him.

  “Mr. Bowling!” Gabby shouted, and by the shrillness in her tone, Johnny knew she was frightened. “Please—let me have Rema back!”

  From a little further beyond, Johnny could hear a man’s voice answer, but couldn’t make out the words. He kept moving to get closer to Gabby, but she moved forward as well, following Bowling.

  “Rema had nothing to do with what happened to your daughter!”

  “She’s going to be my daughter, now, missy! An eye for an eye!”

  Now, Johnny could see Bowling’s ramshackle old cabin. Bowling stood, framed in the doorway, still holding Rema tightly.

  “No,” Gabby answered firmly. “She has a home with me and my husband, and her two brothers.”

  He shook his head. “Not no more. She’s mine. An’ her name ain’t Rema no more. From now on, it’s Lydia. Lydia Bowling.”

  Johnny couldn’t take a shot, not with Bowling holding Rema. He let go a string of curses, and started moving again. He wanted Gabby to know he was there; that she wasn’t alone.

  Gabby bent to say something to Monty, and he nodded. She straightened her shoulders and stepped out into the open. “Then, Mr. Bowling, you are going to have to reckon with me. For I am Rema’s mother now—and I refuse to give her up.”

  ****

  For a moment, Johnny’s mouth felt desert-dry and he had to stop himself from taking a step forward. If Bowling got spooked and went inside, it would be a hundred times more dangerous to rescue Rema.

  He watched as Gabby took another step forward, talking to Bowling the entire time.

  And Johnny began to work his way around through the trees, opposite from where Monty crouched in the underbrush like a frightened fawn.

  If Gabby could manage to get close enough to Bowling, to distract him, then maybe there was hope. He just needed her to buy him some time while he circled around to the back.

  Silently he moved, like a shadow. If Monty or Gabby saw him, they showed no sign of it.

  “Rema’s mother has passed away,” Gabby was saying. She took another step.

  “My wife passed, too. She died of a broken heart. Them savages took her and Lydia. She got away, but she…she couldn’t get to Lydia…”

  “I know that must have broken your heart, as well.”

  Another step.

  “I ain’t been a man since,” he declared.

  He looked down at the ground, and Gabby advanced two more steps.

  “Do you know what it’s like, pretty lady? To have your family stole away like ’at and then…well, hell, there wasn’t nothin’ I could’ve done.”

  “No. There wasn’t. I know what it’s like to feel helpless and alone.” Gabby stopped moving, standing no more than fifteen feet from the front porch of the cabin where Bowling stood holding Rema.

  He cocked his head. “Where you from?”

  Gabby moistened her lips. “I am from North Carolina. But…this is my home, now. Brush Creek.”

  Johnny could hear the determination in her voice. Gabby stood motionless now, her chin raised, her eyes pinning Bowling in place.

  Another step.

  And Bowling moved backward, lifting his pistol.

  Johnny wasted no movement, cutting across the tree line diagonally, headed for Bowling with one thought burning through his mind. If Bowling hurt Gabby, Johnny would kill him. He’d promised her that no harm would come to her. But even more…Gabby had become a part of him now that he couldn’t be separated from.

  Johnny knew that she’d never looked into the eyes of a man bent on killing. She showed no outward fear. But by the light of determination and promise entering Bowling’s features, there was no turning back. The trick now would be to save Gabby without any harm coming to Rema.

  “You’re trespassin’, Mrs. Rainbolt,” Bowling said coldly. “You’ve gone and wed yourself to one of them heathens what took away my Lydia and kilt her ma. You’re no better’n they was—”

  “Wait, Mr. Bowling.” Gabby put a hand out toward him, but Johnny only had eyes for Bowling’s hollow face, and eyes that meant to see vindication for his own child’s and wife’s deaths by killing another.

  “You’re stealing a little girl who is also half-Cherokee. What would you want with her, if you despise all Indians so much?”

  Bowling spat a stream of tobacco juice, relaxing his stance as he did so.

  “Gonna raise her up white. Just like I would-a raised up my Lydia. Teach her everything she needs to know.”

  “Mr. Bowling, I understand about having a dream you want to fulfill. But stealing a child isn’t the way you want to do that.”

  Johnny had eased the back door of the cabin open, just as Bowling began speaking, hoping there wouldn’t be a squeaky hinge to give him away. Quietly, he stepped up into the hallway that looked into the front part of the house. His pistol was trained dead-center on Bowling’s back. He only hoped Gabby had the good sense to get clear of the coming firefight.

  “Now, missy, that’s where you’re dead wrong,” Bowling was saying. “And ain’t nobody gonna miss you if you’re gone. You’re what’s standin’ between me and what I want.”

  “No, that would be me, Bowling.”

  “Damned redskin!” Bowling let go of Rema, whirling in the same motion, and pulling the trigger.

  Hot lead blazed a path through Johnny’s left shoulder, but his own found its deadly mark in Bowling’s chest. He was gone before he hit the floor.

  Rema cowered on the porch steps, and as Johnny made his way through the house, he could hear Gabby already comforting her—and other voices in the distance.

  The posse, he reckoned. A bit late to provide any help other than carting Bowling’s carcass back to town for the undertaker to deal with.

  He stood, for a moment, over Bowling’s corpse. It was not the first man he’d ever killed, but he doubted he’d ever get used to it—the taste of fear in his mouth, the haunting dread that he’d be too slow on the trigger, and having to cope with it—if he wasn’t. He holstered the Navy Colt.

  “Johnny, you’re hurt!”

  Gabby’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, back into the world of the living, the feeling, the sharp pain he was suddenly aware of in his shoulder. He took a deep steadying breath, and then another. “Yeah…I had to hold back a second too long to be sure Rema was clear. But…but it’s over now.”

  In the next instant, she was beside him as he leaned against the door frame for support.

  “Oh, darling, we’ve got to get you home—” Her hand cupped his cheek.

  “Johnny, if you can manage to get in the saddle, I’ll get you back to your place quick,” Sam told him, riding up near the porch steps.

  “Much obliged, Sam,” Johnny answered tightly. “Give me a minute—want to make sure all’s well with Barry before I go.”

  Sheriff Barry England dismounted from nearby and came up onto the porch, quickly examining Bowling’s corpse. He gave Johnny a nod.

  “That was some shot, Rainbolt.”

  There had never been any love lost between Johnny and the sheriff, but it
occurred to Johnny that Sheriff England was letting him understand, with grudging admiration, that on this, they agreed.

  Johnny nodded. “No choice. I protect what’s mine.”

  Sheriff England stood. “You better go on home, get that shoulder seen to. I’ll have one of the men ride back and tell Doc to get over to your place, and have Luke Jakes bring your wagon on home for you. We’ll finish up here.”

  Johnny glanced at Gabby, who stood staring up at him with wide, worried eyes. He gave her a faint smile, and some of the tension faded. “Where’s Monty?”

  She nodded toward the front yard. “Looks like he decided it was safe to come on out, now that everyone’s here.” She grimaced. “Even though I told him to stay hidden. Seems stubbornness runs in the family.”

  Johnny followed Gabby’s gaze to the open yard where Monty had a five-year-old protective arm around his little sister. Together, they started toward Johnny and Gabby.

  Johnny immediately took a step forward, out of the cabin, away from the smell of death and blood that filled the air of the enclosed space. The kids didn’t need to see Bowling’s dead body.

  “Pa, you’re bleeding!” Monty proclaimed.

  Johnny nodded. “I’ll be all right, Monty. You’ll see, son.” He reached down to tousle the dark mop of hair. Rema put her arms up to Johnny, but Gabby quickly stepped toward her and lifted her, hugging her close.

  Johnny watched silently, then, when he thought he could manage it, he took the three porch steps down to the ground turning to give Gabby his hand.

  “You never know how much you love something until it’s almost lost to you,” he murmured.

  She smiled at him, then teased, “I think that your wound has you talking out of your mind, Johnny Rainbolt. You must be dreaming.” She cocked her head. “Are you sure you know me well enough to speak to me like this?” A smile tugged at her lips.

  He shook his head. He loved her. And he wanted her to know it. He’d never been more certain of anything in this world. She’d taken such a chance to save Rema, declared another woman’s child—an Indian child—to be her own. And Johnny had no doubt she’d have done the same for any of them, including him.

  “Oh, I’m out of my head all right. I’m crazy in love with you, Gabrielle Eugenie Mason Rainbolt. Seems we’ve lived a hundred years in the last couple of weeks.” He leaned forward to graze her lips with his. “And you’re my dream, lady…a dream that will never end, no matter what rough beginnings we’ve had.” He looked down at her with a little uncertainty. “I can only hope—”