“Good morning. Is Mr. or Mrs. Campbell in?”
“Missus is in the kitchen. Can’t say where Mr. Campbell is,” the young man, around her own twenty-three years, replied.
“Thank you.”
Pamela knocked on the front door and waited. The shuffle of feet sounded behind the door before it slowly opened. “Can I help you?”
“Mrs. Campbell?”
The short, stout woman with gray hair nodded.
“I’d like to thank you for the use of your barn and give you a little something for the hay our horses ate.”
“Ain’t necessary.” She reached out and took the money. Pamela suppressed a grin.
“Thank you again. You’ve been most kind.”
Mrs. Campbell knitted her eyebrows together, then relaxed them. Looking to her left, then to her right, she leaned toward Pam and motioned with her forefinger for her to come closer. “You be careful, young lady. I hear your husband killed his first wife.”
“What?” The question slipped out before Pamela realized she’d spoken.
“Mr. Smith, he said so.”
Pamela shook her head. “Mr. Smith is not who he appears to be, ma’am. Mac actually had to keep a watch on you folks to make certain he didn’t rob you. But it’s one man’s word over another, I guess. Good day, Mrs. Campbell, and ask folks about Nash MacKenneth, Mac, as he’s known by most. I wager you’ll hear a very different story.”
“That’s just it, dear. We have heard rumors about the crazy mountain man who killed his wife because she wanted to leave and return to the city.”
Pamela felt dizzy. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. She didn’t say a word but walked straight back to the barn and sat down on the wagon’s bench seat. Was Mac the man she felt in her heart? Or was he the man who others apparently believed him to be?
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” Father, God, give me strength.
“Pamela, are you all right?” Mac asked.
“Fine. I just want to leave.”
“All right. Urias, it’s time to go.”
The gangly redhead climbed down from the loft. He wore new clothes. They didn’t fit quite right, but at least they weren’t torn and tattered. Where’d he get those? she wondered. Seeing him dressed in rags had made her wish she had kept some of Quinton’s clothing. Quinton … It seemed like an eternity had passed since last she saw him alive.
They scrunched up together on the bench seat. Mac slapped the reins. “Yah,” he commanded, and off they went back to the road, heading northwest and closer to Creelsboro.
But each stride of the horses took them further from the revelation. She didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t. Her life depended on the fact that it was false information. Her heart beat with a passion to know the truth. Could she ever fully trust this stranger?
No. She’d have to stay on guard, watching his every move and, most importantly, guarding her heart, for little by little, mile by mile, her heart had softened toward Mac. Lord, I wish I’d never gone to speak with Mrs. Campbell today.
Death was all around. The trees were bare; the ground was frozen brown. Nothing shouted life.
“Mrs. Danner. Mrs. Danner.” Urias nudged her.
“Sorry, what?”
“I said it’s amazing that Mr. Mac got these clothes from the Campbells.”
“Yes, yes, it is. Are you staying warm?” It seemed an awkward question. The ice storm had vanished and with it the unseasonably colder weather.
“Definitely.” His freckled face beamed. The child within the boy emerged once again.
“Are you all right?” Mac put his arm around her. She stiffened. He promptly removed it.
“I’m fine. Just eager to get to Creelsboro.”
They meandered down the road, catching glimpses of the Cumberland River. The water seemed ice free. Little remained of the storm, though a few saplings still remained bent from the strong wind and ice. The damp ground provided another testament to the storm. Pamela prayed they would make it to Barbourville and find some dry, clean beds. Cold, damp ground and living with a growing suspicion of Mac didn’t appeal to her in the slightest.
The road shifted to the left as they traveled around the foothills of a mountain. “Urias, it’s time.”
“Yes sir.” Urias took the reins, and Mac jumped down from the wagon.
“Keep your rifle cocked.” Mac waved and headed straight up and over the mountain. He moved so swiftly and quietly, Pamela shuddered at the thought of this hunter coming after and killing his own wife.
Urias turned to her. “Why don’t you trust Mr. Mac?”
“I trust him.”
“Not really. I’ve been on the run for a while now, and my home life wasn’t what ya call normal. But I’ve learned to read people pretty well. Mr. Mac, he’s a straight shooter. Liars and frauds have a way about ’em. Some can’t look ya in the eye—they’re the easiest to spot. Other’s look you in the eye and dare ya not to believe ’em. Mr. Mac, he looks ya straight and he listens.”
Pamela considered his words. He seemed too wise for a boy his age.
“Now, Mr. Campbell,” Urias continued, “he’s an interesting one. I’m not sure if I can trust him or not. The Campbells seem like good folks, but they were easily fooled by Jasper. Anyone with half a brain ought to be able to see that man coming a mile away. Did ya see his sidearm? Now he’s a man to watch out for.”
Pamela thought back on Mary Turner and how confident she’d been with her love and respect for Mac. The woman had opened her home to her, a virtual stranger, because of Mac. Perhaps it was wrong to listen to the ramblings of Mrs. Campbell. After all, Jasper had fueled her doubts and worries about Mac. And now she’d fueled them in Pam.
“Thank you, Urias.”
“For what?”
“Setting me straight on a few things. Do you think this plan of Mac’s will work?”
“If Jasper’s plannin’ what Mac thinks he is, yup. Question is, can Mr. Mac get in position first?” Urias slowed down the horses.
Pamela held the edge of the bench seat. Please God, be with Mac.
Mac’s breaths matched each of his strides. The thawing ground made the run more difficult. He prayed old man Brown was still alive and kicking. If his plan were going to work, he’d need the reinforcement. He had two hours to get ahead of Jasper and his men.
The scent of an oak fire hit him before he could make out the cabin. A sigh of relief washed over him.
“Isaiah Brown, you in there?”
“And who’d be callin’ my name?”
“Mac.”
“Only Mac I know has a friend I know. What be his name?”
What had Isaiah so scared? As a freed Negro, he’d always feared someone would try to steal his papers and force him back into slavery. “Black Hawk,” Mac replied.
Isaiah opened the door. The sun reflected from his nappy crown of salt-and-pepper hair, and he gave a deeply wrinkled grin to his visitor. “It’s good to see you, Mac.”
Mac extended his hand. “It’s good to see you, too. But I need your help.”
“What’s the problem?”
“I suspect Jasper and his men are going to ambush me and a lady he thinks is my new wife on the western side of the bend.”
Isaiah’s forehead furrowed.
“I’ll explain later. Can you help?”
Isaiah lowered his voice. “I’s got runaways in my cabin. Don’t feel right leavin’ ’em.”
Mac knew Isaiah would put up any slave running for his freedom, and he supposed word had gotten around as to where to find the man. “I understand. I can’t stay—I need to get into position. I have a young man driving the wagon around the bend. I’m hoping to catch Jasper in the act from behind.”
“Tell ya what I can do. I’ll send my boy over to Johnny Fortney, and I’ll join ya when I can.”
Mac knew that meant squirrel
ing away the runaways. One didn’t ask questions. It was best not to know. Then you couldn’t lie in court if something ever came up against Isaiah Brown.
“Thank you, my friend. Perhaps we can do some naybobbin’ when I’m coming back through.”
“Be nice chewin’ the fat with ya.” Isaiah waved.
Mac ran at full steam. He’d be pushing it to make it there on time. Hopefully, Urias had held back the horses some. Bobbing tree branches left and right, Mac forced his concentration level on where he was going rather than on what might be happening down the path.
Breathing heavily, he slowed down at the ridge, his senses alert. He didn’t know if Jasper would send a man up there to watch or not. Few birds stayed in the area through winter, but enough remained in the area to help provide some indicator if people were stirring. As he suspected, no noise. In the distance he could hear the wagon. It was still moving. Cautiously, he moved in. He loaded his Kentucky long rifle, placed it over his shoulder, and positioned an arrow. Below he had a clear view of the road and the bend. The horses and wagon came into view.
His blood chilled. Jasper drove the wagon. Mac fired off the arrow as anger ignited him into a rage.
Chapter 11
Pamela twisted her tied hands. The leather straps Jasper had used bit deep. Urias lay bound and unconscious on the ground beside her. Hot tears streamed down her face. Mac’s plan had sounded so wise this morning. But Jasper had outsmarted him. He’d attacked them before they hit the bend. She prayed he’d come along soon.
Pam wiggled over to Urias. Father, please don’t let Urias die because of me. The brave young man had fought well. He’d tried to fire off his rifle, but a whip came from behind and knocked him off the wagon.
Jasper’s men had pawed her as they tied her up. In wicked laughter, Jasper had warned them that Mac was still out there and it would be best if they left his wife alone. Father, I know You don’t approve of lying, and You know I’ve not been telling Mac the entire truth, but it paid off with regard to Mac not correcting Jasper. I’m still safe.
She refused to think of what might have happened if Jasper knew the truth. “Urias,” she called.
He moaned.
“Thank You, Lord.”
How far away was Mac? Would Jasper’s men ambush him? She’d seen only three of them. She scanned the ridge looking for the fourth man, but to no avail. Jasper had ridden off with her wagon very pleased with himself.
Something wasn’t making sense. The Turners said no one could ever prove that Jasper and his men were at fault because he left no survivors. If that were true, why were she and Urias still alive? “Dear God in heaven, protect Mac.”
Suddenly, she realized Jasper would return after he killed Mac. “Urias, wake up. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Mac slipped behind a rock after his arrow pierced Jasper’s shoulder. Curses and commands passed the man’s lips faster than a viper could attack. Only one man rode beside Jasper on the road. That meant two men were in the woods. But where?
He followed the ridge again. It was the logical choice for one man. A glitter of metal on the ridge proved his assumption. Mac took long and careful aim. When the dark form moved out from behind the silver gray rock, Mac fired.
He reloaded and looked for the man who had been on the horse next to Jasper. Following the left ridge, he found him slipping behind some undergrowth. Mac aimed and fired.
Two down.
Jasper broke the arrow in his shoulder and jumped down from the wagon, his gun in his right hand. “Come and get me, Mac. Your woman was mighty fine ….”
Mac closed his eyes and fought off the words that rushed into his mind. He breathed deeply. One man remained in the woods, unexposed. If he gave in to Jasper’s taunts, he’d be killed.
“Before I killed her,” Jasper taunted. “Come on, Mac. It’s you and me now. Ain’t it just the way you wanted it? You’ve been after me for a long while. Here’s your chance.”
Mac squeezed his eyes shut. Jasper couldn’t have killed Pamela, he couldn’t. But Jasper kills all his victims. All of them. Forgive me, Lord. Mac let out a scream and ran toward Jasper.
Jasper fired.
The bullet grazed Mac’s arm. Pain fueled Mac’s fury. “You’re a dead man, Jasper.”
Jasper’s hands shook as he turned the barrel and aimed again. The shot whizzed past Mac’s ear.
Jasper turned the barrel again.
Mac charged the last ten yards. His hands were around Jasper’s throat before he aimed.
Jasper dropped his gun.
Mac released him.
Jasper coughed.
A shot rang out and Mac felt the bullet slam into his backside.
Jasper’s lips curled in a wicked grin. “Thought you’d get the upper hand on me, huh?” He started to bend down and pick up his weapon. Mac kneed him in the chest. Reaching for the knife in his boot, he instantly had it out and at Jasper’s throat.
In his anger, he’d forgotten the fourth man. He’d let himself be vulnerable. “Tell your man to back off or I kill ya.”
“You’re gonna kill me anyway,” Jasper croaked.
“I’m not like you, Jasper. I’ll turn you in to the authorities.”
Jasper let out a snicker. “Yeah, like you let your first wife return home.”
Mac felt his rage increase. He pressed the knife closer. “Tell him,” he strained.
“We got him, Mac,” a strange voice called from the woods. A young man with brown hair appeared with a rifle. Jasper’s fourth man walked with his hands in the air in front of a rifle held by Isaiah Brown.
“Let him go, Mac,” Isaiah said.
“He killed Pamela and Urias.” Mac eased the pressure he’d been exerting on Jasper’s neck with the knife.
“I’ll take them to Barbourville where he can be tried and hanged,” Isaiah’s young friend answered.
Mac nodded.
“The sheriff will want to hear from you, Mac,” the young man added.
“I’ll be there.”
“I ain’t hangin’ for killin’ ’em,” Jasper’s man protested. “We didn’t kill ’em. They’re off the side of the road back about three-quarters of a mile.”
“Shut up, Wilson,” Jasper hissed.
“I ain’t hangin’, Jasper. You wanna hang, go ahead. But I ain’t hangin’.”
“Go,” Isaiah said to Mac. “I’ll watch the wagon. I’m sure young Johnny can take these two on to Barbourville.” Johnny bound Jasper’s hands and searched for additional weapons.
Mac ran a couple of strides down the road, then broke into a limping lope. The bullet wound in his backside burned. Blood dampened the right side of his trousers. “Pam, Urias!” he hollered.
A cold sweat covered his body. “Pamela!” he yelled louder. “Urias.”
The burn in his buttocks forced him to a slower limp. Dear God, where are they? He examined the road. He found the place where they had been overrun. Small droplets of blood appeared on the dirt path. “Pamela!”
“Mac, over here.”
Thank You, Lord. His gaze followed her voice to his right. Soon he had them unbound and informed that Jasper was on his way to the sheriff’s office in Barbourville. Urias seemed dazed but was coming around.
“Mac, you’re bleeding.”
“’Fraid so. A shot glanced my arm.”
“Your arm, my foot. The rear of your trousers is soaked with blood. Let me look at that.”
“Not on your life.”
Pamela stepped back.
“There’s a doctor in Barbourville. We’ll let him take care of it.”
“All right. I’ll go get the wagon.”
“I’ll get it.” Mac released the tree he’d been clinging to for support.
“Put your foolish male pride aside. I’ll fetch the wagon. You tend to Urias. He was out for quite a while.” She stomped off down the road without waiting for his response.
“Of all the most stupid things,” Pamela mumbled, working her way down t
he road. “The man’s insufferable.” A storm of emotions circled in her gut. Thankfully, Mac was alive and Jasper no longer posed a threat. He’d still have to explain how he got shot, not once but twice, and how he had time to get some other folks to come and lend a hand. She knew the man was fast on his feet, but he had had to trek up and over the ridge and back again….
He won’t be running for a little while. She giggled at the thought. He won’t be sitting either.
Laughter bubbled up to the surface. Big, brave Nash MacKenneth shot in the buttocks—the irony was just too funny. She sobered a moment, considering how it must sting, then giggled again.
The sound of the wagon approaching caused her to pause. Had someone else come along and stolen it?
“Hello, miz,” an older black man called from the top of the wagon. “You must be Pamela. I’s Isaiah Brown, a friend of Mac’s.”
“Hello.”
“Where is he?”
She climbed up on the wagon. “Down the road a bit. He’s been shot.”
“I saw it. Thought I’d bring the wagon to him rather than having him walk back.”
“He won’t let me take care of it, says he wants to go to the doctor in Barbourville.”
“Doc France is a good doctor, does a right fine job.”
“Maybe you can get him to at least put a clean cloth to the wound and apply some pressure on it.” Pamela folded her arms across her chest. “Why are men such …”
Isaiah laughed.
“What?”
“Women and men have been asking that question ever since Adam and Eve.”
After Mac and Urias were loaded into the wagon as comfortably as possible, Pamela drove the two patients to the doctor in Barbourville. Isaiah stayed with them until they reached the path to his cabin. Pamela again was struck by the kindness of Mac’s true friends. Unlike the Campbells, who hadn’t known him, his friends showed no fear of the man. She really needed to trust her heart.
Mac lay on top of the canvas covering the crates. Urias alternated between lying beside Mac and sitting up. The boy’s constant complaints about his headache worried her. Head injuries were always such a bad omen.
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