Dark Trail Rising: Four Tales of the Old West

by Cheryl Pierson

  Abel turned quickly to Levi. “Kidnap her? Why? If he’s her father—”

  “I don’t have time to explain it all. He’s spent years trying to find Valentine. We have to protect her—”

  “Good God, man! He’s her father. Why, he wouldn’t hurt his own daughter.” Abel shook his head. “I pity him, missing out on her growing-up years—years I look forward to with our little Eva.”

  “It’s not like that!” Levi cast a quick glance outside once more where “Mr. Ellis” and his men stood, conferring.

  “Don’t let them know I’m here. Understand? This could get really rough—” Levi broke off, staring hard into Abel’s blue eyes. “Do I have your word, Mr. Keller? This could mean life or death—including the life of your granddaughter.”

  After a short moment, Abel gave a reluctant nod. “Yes—all right. But I think you have nothing to worry about, young man.”

  “That’s because you don’t know what I know.” Levi turned, on his way to the back of the barn.

  “They’re coming!” Otto said, low.

  “Go greet them.” Levi started to climb the ladder to the hay loft. “And let the women know not to let on that I’m here.”

  “Will do,” Otto answered. He walked out of the barn, calling a greeting to the men as he went.

  Abel cast a quick, uncertain glance back at Levi, who had just climbed into the loft.

  “Don’t spook them.”

  Abel nodded, but he looked far more uneasy than he had only a few moments earlier.

  Levi settled down in the loft to wait.

  ****

  “Mr. Ellis! We meet again!” Otto came toward the men, hand offered.

  Valentine watched from behind the muslin curtains in the front room, taking care not to be seen.

  Just then, Marta came out of the bedroom, pulling the blanket door covering behind her. “I heard voices.”

  “Yes—Marta, please do something for me.”

  “Anything, Valentine. You’ve been so good to us.”

  “Come take a quick look—don’t let them see you—” Valentine stood aside as Marta stealthily moved the curtains.

  “Oh, that’s Mr. Ellis,” she said warmly. “He’s been looking for you.”

  “Yes, I know…and here’s why.”

  Valentine quickly related the story of her mother, the circumstances of her own birth, and the real reason Mr. Ellis—Mr. Jacobs—was looking for her.

  Marta’s eyes rounded.

  “Levi’s in the barn,” Valentine murmured, watching as the two Keller men spoke with Jacobs and his men. “He didn’t come out with your husband and father-in-law. He knows he’ll be our only chance—my only chance.” She turned to face Marta. “You and your family could leave here—”

  “Valentine! We could not ride away and leave you to these—these vermin! And Eva—oh, my Eva still needs your care.” Tears suddenly came up in Marta’s eyes. “I can’t lose her. But moreover, we are not going to leave you and Mr. Connor to fight these men alone.”

  “We mustn’t mention him. He’s our ace in the hole.”

  Marta nodded, brushing away her tears. “Well, let us prepare breakfast, then. Eva is sleeping, and her fever is not so high as last night. Come—everything must appear normal.”

  Just then, the door opened, and Abel announced jovially, “Ladies, I hope you made plenty of biscuits. We’ve got four more hungry men to feed. Mr. Ellis, here, and his—”

  “Well, actually, three men…and one nigra,” Jacobs said. His two hired guns laughed heartily at his attempted joke.

  There was an awkward silence, and then Otto said, “Where are my manners? Miss Valentine Reneau, may I introduce Mr. Reginald Ellis, and his two men, Ron Shull and Kerry Spivey?”

  “Don’t forget the nigra—he’s out in the barn, but I ’spect he’ll need a biscuit, too, if there’s any left over.”

  From his bed in the corner, Coffee bared his teeth, issuing a menacing growl. Valentine turned and murmured something in French to the dog, quieting him. At a deliberate pace, she moved forward, putting out her hand. Jacobs took it.

  “My, my. You are a beauty, Miss Reneau. I uh—knew your mama, if I’m not mistaken. She…married up. A doctor, correct?”

  “I don’t believe you would ever have known Maman, Mr. Ellis,” Valentine answered frostily. “Your accent tells me you’re from—” she cocked her head—“Mississippi, perchance? My parents were from New Orleans. It’s where I was born, and my younger brother, as well. It was where I called home until Maman died. That was when Papa decided to come west. And that is precisely what we did.”

  She gave Jacobs a faint smile, removed her hand from his, and fought the urge to wipe it on her apron. But somehow, she managed to keep the disgust from her face, the smile in place.

  “I—uh…I see.” Jacobs gestured toward the table. “Might we sit? I’ve something to discuss with you.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Ellis, I’m not equipped in my small home to accommodate so many. The Kellers are my guests—perhaps your hired men could eat outside? It’s a fairly warm day for February. Or, perhaps they could wait until we are done?”

  At his look of surprise, Valentine went on. “Maman had a large family—we always ate in shifts at family gatherings. A custom I’m sure your men would understand in this confining space.”

  “Sure,” Spivey said amicably. “Me an’ ol’ Ron, here, we’ll just take ours out to the barn and eat with James, the nigra.” His voice turned cutting, and Valentine glanced at him.

  “I’m sorry you feel put upon, Mr. Spivey. Actually, you’d be better off not spending so much time inside…the Kellers’ baby, Eva, has come down with measles, and—”

  “Measles! Good God, woman, why didn’t you say so?” Spivey reached the door in two strides and threw it open, hurrying out into the February morning. Shull was close on his heels.

  “Please, sit down, Mr. Ellis. Those biscuits ought to be nearly perfect by now.” Valentine gave him a cheery smile.

  “Uh…maybe I better take mine outside, too, Miss Reneau.”

  “Nonsense. It’ll be all right. You’ve had measles, haven’t you? Perhaps as a child?”

  Jacobs stroked his chin. “No. I…no, I never did.”

  “Oh…” Valentine fought to hide the glee that rushed through her. “Well…I’m not yet positive if it’s measles or small pox. I tend to believe it’s measles, from the presentation on her skin so far, but—”

  “I’ll just take mine outside, Miss Reneau. If you don’t mind.”

  “Oh—of course. Here, let me just take them out and put some butter on them.”

  “I’ll wait on the porch.” Jacobs inclined his head. “If you’ll just hand them out the door?”

  “Certainly.”

  Marta closed the door behind him as he hurriedly made his exit.

  “Where’s Levi?” Valentine whispered.

  “In the loft,” Otto said.

  “I believe he was right about these men,” Abel muttered.

  “Stay inside,” Marta begged Otto softly. “They’re afraid to be in here with us.”

  “Marta, we have to go out and keep an eye on things.”

  “Otto’s right,” Abel agreed, rubbing his chin. “We’ve got to end this.”

  Marta nodded.

  Valentine put a hand on Marta’s arm. “Will you butter the biscuits? I want to go check on the baby.”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you.”

  Valentine went to her bedroom and pushed the blanket door covering aside. She could hear the quiet hum of voices from the kitchen where Marta, Abel, and Otto spoke in low tones. Crossing the floor, Valentine looked down at Eva, who slept fitfully. She was worried about the child who was in misery, not only suffering from measles, but teething, as well.

  She laid a hand on the baby’s forehead. Her fever had abated some, but hadn’t vanished. Eva opened her eyes, looking up at her listlessly.

  “Poor darling,” she whispered. “Let’s see if we
can get some water into you.” She took a clean cloth and dipped it into a basin of water, squeezing a few drops onto Eva’s lips. Putting the rag closer, she let Eva suck on it. Meanwhile, she wet another cloth and began to bathe her gently.

  It was such a delicate balance—keeping the baby from getting chilled, but trying to reduce her fever with a sponge bath. She could move her to the front room, closer to the fire, but the couch certainly was not as comfortable as the bed.

  If gunfire erupted…Valentine shook her head. It could happen, at some point. For now, it might be better to keep her back here.

  Marta appeared at the door, hurrying to Valentine’s side. She smiled down at Eva, but her smile turned to a look of concern. She bent to kiss the baby’s forehead, and Eva reached for her.

  “Fever’s down from last night,” Valentine said. “Poor little thing. I hate that she’s teething, too.”

  Marta nodded, kissing Eva’s cheek as she held her close in her arms.

  “Why don’t you lie down with her—get some rest? Last night was hard on everyone. It may be tonight won’t be much better.” Valentine patted Marta’s shoulder.

  “I would love to. But what about you? You’re worn out, too.”

  “I’ll lie down on the couch, if I get a chance. Coffee’s nervous with these men. He’s a good judge of character.”

  “Abel and Otto finished eating and went back outside for a bit.” Marta’s brow furrowed. “I’m so worried.”

  “Me, too, but we have to be calm and keep our wits.”

  “I handed Mr. Ellis plates with biscuits on them for himself and his men. I doubt they’ll share with their—driver.”

  “I’ll take some out to the barn for him.”

  Marta shook her head. “That’s inviting trouble, Valentine. Let me do it before I lie down with Eva. It won’t take long. The less time you spend alone with Mr. Ellis—Mr. Jacobs—the better off you’ll be.”

  Marta handed the baby to Valentine, reached for her cloak and wrapped it about her securely. Then, she headed for the kitchen.

  Of course, practical Marta was right. Valentine sighed. If the situation could get any worse, she didn’t know how. And she didn’t want to think about it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Levi laid completely still in the frigid loft. The scattered hay was surprisingly warm, and the barn was more airtight than most, with very few knotholes and warps. It was a damn good thing.

  Jacobs’s driver had brought the horses in out of the cold and seen to them. He’d petted and brushed the animals, talking to them the whole time. Though his accent was definitely southern, he was well-spoken, as if he had been educated.

  “I’m hoping for some breakfast, too, boys,” he said softly. “But I imagine those bastards the ol’ man hired will eat theirs and mine, too.” He shook his head, rubbing one of the horses’ ears. “He may have met his match in evilness with those two. I don’t mind telling you boys, I’m worried.”

  He removed the saddles and tack from the horses the two men had ridden.

  Levi let go a low sigh. That meant they were planning to be here a while. What had he expected? But, it sounded as if this man could be an ally…Still, Levi waited—he had to be certain before he risked making his presence known.

  It wasn’t long before Marta Keller brought a plate of biscuits out to the driver.

  “Mister?” she called from the barn door.

  “Ma’am?” he turned.

  “We’ll take those in to him, ma’am.” One of Jacobs’s riders hurried over and sidled up beside her, a smarmy smile on his lips.

  “It’s no trouble at all,” Marta replied in dismissal. “Go on and eat, Mr. Spivey. Your portion will grow cold. I’ll see Mr. Ellis’s driver gets his.”

  Spivey held Marta’s gaze briefly, then turned away. Marta handed the driver his plate.

  “I’m much obliged, ma’am.” He gave her a nod and a quick grin.

  Marta smiled. “James, is it?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” He picked up one of the biscuits. “These look mighty good.”

  “You’re welcome, James. I’m Marta Keller, Otto’s wife.” She nodded toward the porch where her husband stood with the other men. “And that’s my father-in-law, Abel—if you weren’t introduced. I’ll just—stay a minute, while you eat.”

  James looked past Marta toward the porch where the rest of the men stood, talking and eating. “Again, I’m much obliged. I got me three biscuits, here. Time I give my boys over there a bite, and Spivey and Shull’s boys a bite, wouldn’t be any left for me if Spivey had his way.”

  “You love those horses, don’t you?” Marta said.

  “Oh, yes ma’am. Only friends I’ve got. They don’t tell my secrets, either.” He smiled, biting into the biscuit.

  Marta laughed. “I feel sorry for Mr. Spivey’s and Mr. Shull’s horses. Both men seem oblivious to their animals.”

  James nodded. “I take care of them, as best I can. But…we’ll be going our separate ways before long, now.”

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “Mr. Ja—uh, Ellis, he’s of a mind to go home soon. Back down south.”

  “South? Where are you from?”

  “We’re from Mississippi, ma’am. I sure do miss it. But I’ve been glad to see other parts of our country, too. It’s been an—education.”

  “James, how long have you been with Mr. Ellis?”

  James’s expression became wary. “Long time, Mrs. Keller.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  James smiled and looked down. “I was born a slave. On Mr.—Ellis’s plantation. My mother left when I was two. I don’t know for certain who my father was.”

  From his position in the loft, Levi heard the edge of sarcasm in James’s voice. For certain, he’d said. A slow suspicion settled over Levi. The war had been over for years. Why, then, did James still work on the plantation where he’d been born a slave? It was plain he’d seen much of the world—his speech proved he’d had an education.

  The more Levi heard, the more puzzled he became. And the more unsure he was about whether or not he might find friend or foe in James.

  ****

  Marta took her leave. “I’ll bring out a couple more of those, James. Wouldn’t want you to go hungry for your kindness to the animals.”

  “Oh, no, Mrs. Keller. Please—” he began quickly, then slowed himself. “Please, ma’am, don’t trouble yourself.”

  “It’s no trouble.” Again Marta turned to go.

  “Ma’am.” James’s voice was quiet, but commanded her attention.

  Marta stopped and looked at him.

  “Ma’am—” He moistened his lips. “I’m—asking you—please, don’t bring any more food out. I will get by.”

  She took a step back to him, but he gave a small shake of his head, stopping her.

  “Please,” he said, low.

  “Have they harmed you, James?” she asked, just as softly.

  He glanced down, then met her eyes again. “I best go see to my boys, Mrs. Keller. Be careful.”

  The warning was spoken so quietly that it barely reached Levi’s ears from where he lay in the loft.

  He gave a faint grin. He knew where he stood now, with James. But he’d have to approach him with caution. It wouldn’t do to jump too quickly. Everything depended on their new ally.

  ****

  Marta made her way to the porch and the men parted to let her pass to the front door.

  “What did you find to talk about with that nigra?” Shull asked, taking the last bite of his biscuit.

  Otto Keller stiffened at the rude tone Shull used.

  Marta turned a mild look on the hired gun. “More biscuits, Mr. Shull?”

  He eyed her, quick anger firing across his expression at her refusal to take the bait.

  “Shull.” His boss’s voice made him turn away after a brief hesitation.

  “Reckon not, Mrs. Keller. Thank you.”

 
Marta nodded her head. “Anyone else?” She avoided her husband’s eyes, glancing around the group. “I believe Miss Reneau planned to put another pan in the oven. They should be ready in a few minutes.”

  “I’d like another, ma’am,” Spivey said.

  “For me, as well,” Jacobs said jovially. “That girl—uh—Miss Reneau—surely can cook!”

  “That, she can,” Marta said with a neutral smile as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She stood motionless for a moment, holding the plates she’d collected.

  “Marta?” Valentine came in from the bedroom, Eva in her arms. “Here, let me trade you.” She reached to take the plates from Marta and handed Eva off to her.

  Marta clutched her daughter tightly.

  “What happened?” Valentine asked, setting the plates on the cabinet along with the others.

  “Shull. He—he was so brazen—in front of his boss… and Otto and Abel.” She told Valentine what had transpired, stroking Eva’s cheek as she talked.

  Valentine gave a heavy sigh.

  “Oh, and some of the men want more biscuits—I forgot to tell you.”

  “No.”

  She looked up quickly at Valentine’s firm refusal. “But, there’s a fresh pan.”

  “Yes. That was a mistake. They’re getting too comfortable. If one of the men felt at ease speaking to you like that—we need to force them to show their hand and get this over with.”

  “Valentine, I think the driver, James, can be trusted. He’s not really afraid of those men—not for himself—but he warned me to be careful.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “No,” Marta answered. “But he said enough to let me know Mr. Ell—Jacobs’s henchmen have a mean streak a mile wide. And he didn’t want me to bring more biscuits to him. He was going to give the horses a half a biscuit each, and when I offered to bring him two more, he told me no. But it was as if he was afraid my gesture would bring trouble upon us all.”

  Just then, Otto put his head in the door. “Are there more biscuits?” His voice was strained.

  “No,” Valentine said quickly, before Marta could answer. “I’m low on flour, so this second batch will have to serve as part of our lunch—or supper.”

  Otto nodded. “I’ll let ’em know.” He shut the door.