Harris Channing

by In Sarah's Shadow

  Entering the grove, he stopped and strained his ears, desperate to hear something, anything over the sound of the wind whipping through the trees. Nothing. No call of a crow, no snap of a twig. Quiet. The place devoid of life.

  Still, he pulled off his glove and pulled out his pistol, for often times, silence was far more dangerous than noise. Moving deeper into the thicket, he moved from tree trunk to tree trunk until he came to a small clearing. His heart thundered at the sight before him. Yellowed canvas popped from beneath the snow and the sickening realization of what he saw had his stomach roiling. A snow covered wagon...but no sign of Reg and no sign of the Shallcross family.

  "Damnation," he mumbled and thrust his pistol back in its holster. Shoving his hand into his glove he veered around the edge of the wagon. Just before it, the snow had been trampled flat by foot and sledge traffic, and he knew he was on the right track. Unfortunately, Reg was long gone, for more imprints from the sled's runners ran parallel to the road above before gradually inclining.

  "Shit," he nearly shouted. The trail hadn't ended last night. No. It had simply been diverted.

  He wanted to stomp his feet in a rage, but instead, he turned his attention toward the overturned wagon. Grasping hold of a wagon wheel, the rotted wood gave way in his hand. Why had the man come here?

  With an angry growl, he exerted his ire upon the broken wagon. Lifting a heavy boot he smashed a hole in the sideboard, the sunlight filtering in and offering him a view of what rested beneath the decayed wreckage.

  ***

  Bobbie led the mare out of the stable and tied her to the hitching post. Using her hand to shield her eyes against the bright morning sunlight, she called to Alfred in the hopes of seeing him bound toward her, hungry for his breakfast. But there was no movement from the thicket, no gleeful bark and no sign of his ugly, lovable face.

  She scanned the yard and the trees that lined the clearing, her stomach aching with worry. Too many things could go wrong today. David could be hurt. Her parents never found. Her dog lost forever. Biting her lower lip, she stared at the blood soaked fur of the wolf she had killed the night before. Wolves were yet another reason for fear.

  Squaring her shoulders, she rushed back toward the buckskin. With a gentle stroke to the beast's neck, she took up the reins and set her booted foot into the stirrup. The horse shifted and tossed her head impatiently.

  "Take it easy," she whispered, hoping the mare wasn't green broke. It would be just her luck to get in the saddle only to be bucked off. She swung her leg up and over the saddle, the mare dancing in a circle making it difficult for Bobbie to find her seat. Still, she held tight to the saddle horn with one hand and pulled the reins back with the other.

  "There, there girl." At the tug on the bit, the buckskin stopped circling and instead took long smooth steps backward before coming to a halt. Relaxing the pull on the bit, the horse stilled, setting her feet firmly down and into a perfect square.

  "You are a haughty one," Bobbie said, unable to keep the smile from touching her lips. "I reckon I'm going to call you Queenie. That works, doesn't it?"

  She offered the horse her heel and they began their trek toward Reg's house. The usually short distance seemed to take eons longer than it had before, for with each step Queenie took, her own anxiety increased two-fold. Her heart ached with worry and bile rose in her throat.

  With her jaw bouncing from emotion, she longed once again to turn the clock back. Why hadn't she stopped David? Why hadn't she told him not to take on this fool's errand? She knew as sure as she knew anything, that her Pa wouldn't want this. That Ma would want her to let them all go. Why she was even certain that Robert would tell her it was stupid to risk David's and her lives on a quest for their remains.

  But with her realization came an even stronger one. That if something happened to David, she wanted the same thing to happen to her. Her life was meant to be lived at his side and no other alternative would do. Yes, finding him and then learning what happened to her family. That was what the situation called for.

  She clucked her tongue and Queenie increased her speed to a smooth trot but as the peaked roof of the cabin came into view, she pulled the mare to a halt. Dismounting, she tied the animal to a low hanging tree limb. With a soft stroke to the mare's velvety nose, she left the path and entered the heavy thicket. Dried twigs and brambles tugged at her clothes and thorns tore through her britches, scratching her legs.

  Stifling her cries of pain, she struggled up the steep incline. Finally, reaching the narrow clearing at the side of the house, she ducked into the shadows and peered around the corner. A stout black horse stood tied to the hitching post. Flickers of recognition jolted through her and she blinked her eyes to make certain she wasn't hallucinating.

  He lifted his head and as if sensing her presence, shifted toward her. The small white star on his forehead, the nick in his nostril from a run in with a crooked nail had her pulling away and pressing her back to the side of the house. Sorrow and anger coiled round her heart. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the pained cry that reverberated in her throat.

  Maxwell. Papa's horse.

  At the sound of the front door opening, she closed her eyes and tried to quiet the sound of her breathing.

  "I told you, Crocker. I don't intend on doing business with you anymore." The voice she heard was boisterous. Angry. "I'm quitting the trading post and heading west come spring and if you were wise, you'd do the same."

  "Why quit now?" Reg spat, his voice trembling with emotion. "We've got quite a bit of cash in Colorado Springs from our endeavors. I just need a little more money, Henry, and then I'll be able to return home."

  "It's too late."

  "What do you mean?" Reg whined in the fashion of a spoiled child being told no to a piece of candy before dinner.

  "David's not drunk anymore and when he gives that ring to his girl…"

  At the sound of boots racing across the wooden porch, Bobbie peeked ever so slightly around the corner. Reg, sped toward the older man, his face a red mask of crazed anger. "Why did you do it? Why did you betray me?"

  Henry shook his head and backed away. "He told me all about her family. About how devastated the girl was and I felt…well a twinge of guilt."

  A twinge of guilt? Bobbie's mind whirled with questions. What did he have to feel guilty about? Dear Lord, she didn't like the direction of this argument. She curled her hands into fists, and waited.

  "Hell man, it was bad enough when you and your men killed Sarah, but I overlooked that as more of a crime of passion. But you crossed the line when you demolished a family."

  The impact of Henry's words hit her like an iron fist to the gut. She turned away from the pair and lifted her face heavenward as tears cascaded from her eyes. Mother Nature hadn't claimed her family…Reg Crocker had.

  "I told you before, I only did it because I had to. That damned little boy saw me rummaging through their things. I tried to keep the killing down to him as his ma and pa had gone searching for Bobbie."

  "It doesn't matter why you did it." Henry shouted. "It's the fact that you did."

  "They caught me silencing the boy." His voice had gone from angry to emotionless. The calm far more unnerving than the rage. "What was I to do?"

  Henry let out an audible grunt. "You should have let them call you thief. There's no law in these parts, Reg. You wouldn't have been arrested."

  "You're right about that," Reg said and at the popping sound of a firing gun, Bobbie's blood ran cold and the startled scream she tried to stifle slipped from her lips.

  Chapter 22

  David pulled each member of Bobbie's family from beneath the overturned wagon. His stomach ached with a combination of horror, pity and rage. Dark bruises coated the young boy's neck and each of her parent's bore evidence of gunshot wounds to their hearts.

  "I'm sorry folks. This oughtn't to have happened to you."

  With them lying side by side, he marched up the slope and toward Ned. Th
e horse pawed the ground, his hoof raking away the snow and ice until he broke through to dirt. Eyes wide and head held high, the beast was obviously anxious.

  "It's all right, boy," he said, stroking the animal's neck, the muscles tight beneath his touch. "I haven't seen a sign of a wolf anywhere." Even as he said the words, he turned his head, scanning the entire area for evidence that one of the ravenous beasts circled them.

  Unfastening the sledge, he carefully led it down the incline and to where the Shallcross family lay exposed to the elements. Just the sight of them sent a cold shiver across his flesh. Yet his desire to rip Reg's heart from his chest was overpowered by the compassion for these people who once loved and cared for the woman who had saved his life. He swallowed hard. His salvation had cost them their lives.

  Reaching them, he dragged Bobbie's father to the sledge, securing him first. "I'll see to her, Mr. Shallcross." Damnation, but he'd rather be asking him for his daughter's hand. He could only imagine how little regard the man would have had for him, had he seen him just a few weeks ago. "She saved me. You raised a wonderful girl."

  Next, he laid Mrs. Shallcross atop her husband. Her face so much like Roberta's that he felt the burn of tears. He stared for what seemed ages before he finally pulled himself free. With a shake of his head and a heartfelt sigh, he secured a rope about her.

  Then, he came to the boy. The upturned nose, the smattering of freckles on his unnaturally toned skin had bile surging upward. Rushing away, he relieved the pressure and emptied the contents of his stomach by the trunk of a nearby tree.

  Water ran from his eyes, blurring the scenery around him but as a dark shadow shifted through the haze, he pulled his gun. Adrenaline poured through his veins and had him ready for battle. The damned wolves would not sneak up on him again.

  Lifting his free arm, he wiped his eyes on his sleeve just as the beast came into focus. But instead of firing, he slipped his finger off the trigger.

  "Thank god," he nearly shouted with glee. The last thing Bobbie needed was another loss. "Alfred, get your furry ass over here."

  The dog was skittish as he made his way toward David. It was as if the animal recognized the evil of this place. Going to his knee, he lifted his hand toward Alfred.

  "Come on. It's all right. We'll take good care of them."

  When the dog finally came to David, he pressed the top of his head against his thigh. "Been a long night, huh?" Burying his fingers in Alfred's scruff, the dog moaned with obvious pleasure. "C'mon. Let's finish up here and get home." He smiled down at the beast. "I just hope she'll be as happy to see me as she will be to see you."

  Standing, David turned back toward the sledge and the unpleasant business at hand. As he did the distant pop of gunfire sent a chill down his spine.

  ***

  Bobbie pulled the pistol from her pocket and cursed herself for her lack of restraint. What was the matter with her? Screaming? Was she a complete moron? She slid back, hoping to make it the back of the house before Reg saw her, but she couldn’t move fast enough. Her joints seemed frozen as if they were rusted metal in need of oil.

  As Reg turned the corner, she trained the pistol on him and he stopped, his hands raised in surrender, his revolver dangling from his fingertips.

  "Drop that gun," she shouted, her voice echoing across the mountain that jutted up behind them.

  He obeyed, the revolver disappearing in the knee deep snow. She stared at him, the hate blazing through her soul. She should bind him. Beat him. Shoot him between his cold blue eyes. But she did nothing, for the questions that raced through her mind demanded an explanation. She had to know exactly why he had done it.

  "You killed my family," she said, her voice trembling with her fear and anger.

  "I know," he replied, his mouth curved into a frown. "I was scared, Bobbie. That's all. I didn't know what else to do."

  His excuses lacked not only logic but conviction. "You expect me to believe that killing everyone in my world came down to not knowing what to do?" Dear Lord, but her finger itched to pull the trigger. Why couldn’t she do it? She had killed a wolf and God knew that beast was far more innocent than the one that stood before her.

  "The boy saw me. He ran to find your folks, to tell them I was robbing them."

  He began to lower his hands and she jabbed the gun forward. "You keep them up or I'll empty the chamber into your black heart."

  Lifting his arms high, he raised his chin with an arrogance that she found appalling. He should be on his knees begging for not only her, but for God's forgiveness. She looked into his eyes and saw no sorrow there. No regret. Just the cold stare of a predator.

  "My heart is not black," he muttered. "It is broken. Stealing was the only way to get anything in this damnable place." He clenched his jaw, his gaze moving up and down her body. "I needed it to pay debts back home. I tried mining, but the last bit of silver anywhere near my claim was found by that drunken bastard."

  "So, you killed Sarah out of jealousy?"

  "She chose him. He neglected her, hurt her and she still chose him!" His face turned crimson. "And the baby she carried could have been mine. I couldn't have the child raised by another man. It belonged to me."

  "People don't belong to other people," she growled. "And you did not have any rights to what belonged to my family." Her ire surged to nearly uncontrollable levels. "You killed them for things. Not even very valuable things." She pulled back the trigger, contemplating just where to aim. Head or heart?

  "The moment I saw your picture in the locket, I regretted killing them. You're so beautiful. That's why I gave it to Henderson." His countenance shifted from condescending to sincere. But she had seen too much, learned too much to be even the slightest bit moved. "That's why I brought your family to the barn. I wanted you to have peace of mind and perhaps offer me a bit of gratitude."

  Disbelief washed through her. "Gratitude? You killed them."

  He narrowed his eyes. "You weren't supposed to know that. And I swore it was the last time I'd harm another human being."

  She gasped. "You're a liar, for you only just killed Henry." She clenched her jaw so tight her teeth ached. "You learned nothing from past deeds. You're a monster and will always be a monster."

  She let go of the hammer yet there was no spark, no recoil, just the sickening click of impotence. Dropping the gun, she reached into her other pocket to pull out the pistol David had provided, her eyes never leaving Reg.

  Like a rabid hare, he sprang toward her just as she pulled the weapon free. With an ease that defied his bulk, he threw himself at her, knocking her back until she collided heavily against the frozen earth. Sparks danced on the periphery of her vision as consciousness threatened to give way to darkness.

  "Right where I want you," he whispered in her ear. He slid his hand down her arm, and took the pistol. "When you stole that, I guess I forgot to mention that sometimes it sticks."

  Chills of revulsion rippled through her, aiding in her fight to stay awake. "Get off me!" she shouted.

  He laughed, grinding his hips against her, his cock hard atop her thigh. "I wonder, will you be as tight as the lovely Sarah?"

  She struggled beneath him, wanting nothing more than to scratch his eyes out. "You're disgusting."

  "Tell me, Bobbie, are you still a virgin? For the first taste of the fruit is by far the sweetest."

  With a surge of strength, she pulled her arm free. Balling up her fist, her knuckles collided forcefully against his ear. The action caught him off guard and he tilted to the side giving her just enough room to slip out from beneath him.

  "You little bitch."

  She pushed back, her boots skidding in the snow and making retreat difficult. He reached for her, missing her ankle as she struggled to her feet. Wasting no time to retort, she ran toward the back of the house, her only escape route, a narrow path. But should she go up or down the mountain?

  "You'll be lost if you go either way, Bobbie," he called to her. She glanced back. He was
getting closer, his rage-filled face almost unrecognizable.

  Veering left, she moved up the mountain, praying her instincts were right. Praying that she hadn’t chosen a dead end and wishing with each step she took that she would survive this. That she would live to see David.

  Reg scrambled up behind her, his long legs coming up on her with a speed that had her pressing her own limbs to the limit. Up, up, up she went. The trees became fewer and fewer, the higher she climbed. The mountain side rising sharply as the path narrowed.

  Her eyes watered from the wind, her cheeks all but numb with the cold. Still she trudged upward. But it was a battle she was losing, for he was closer still, only inches from her.

  With her heart thundering from terror and exertion, she let out a cry of frustration. She had come to the end of the path. Through frantic eyes, she spun around, facing him and she knew. Deep down in her soul, she knew he was going to kill her.

  "Why not just shoot me and get it over with!" she shrieked, for there was nowhere to go but straight up.

  "Because," he said with a menacing grin. "I want to use you to get to Henderson." He raised the pistol. "And I want to fuck you."

  She turned her back to him and attempted to climb up the rocky incline. But her fingers slipped and she could find no solid footing. Down, she could roll down…couldn’t she? Going to the edge of the path, she cast her gaze upon the precipitous slope, heavy with sharp, protruding rock. Rock that could bruise, skewer, maim or kill. She had to make a decision…had to now, for he was a breath away.

  She felt his presence and froze. Tears sprang to her eyes and fell unchecked at he set the cold barrel of the pistol to her neck. Tugging hard to her hair, he jerked her head up and forced her to look at the mountain range beyond. With sharp fingers, he changed his grip to her arm and held it so tight that pain shot through to her fingertips despite the heaviness of her winter coat.