Chase the Wind

by Cindy Holby - Wind 01 - Chase the Wind

  Sister Mary Frances continued telling her plans. She wanted to get Jamie some new boots before they went to the farm, his own being worn to nothing. He needed a coat also; since he was the biggest one at the mission, there were no hand-me-downs to choose from. The nun assured him that she had her own money that she kept for her own good works, and getting the two of them started was the best thing she could do at the present. She promised Jenny a shopping trip on Saturday to replenish her wardrobe also. Father Clarence was to know nothing of the plans beyond the fact that Jamie was going shopping with her. The nun hoped she could get the two of them off without the priest knowing until the deed was done.

  Jamie assured everyone that he would charm the elderly couple into turning over the operation of the farm to the two of them, and the couple could sit out the days on their porch while Jenny and he turned the farm into the best place in Iowa territory.

  Chase was silent during this exchange and took to his bed, only giving Jenny a quick good night when she turned down the lamp.

  The next morning Jamie and Sister Mary Frances left right after breakfast. She had explained Jamie’s need for new boots, and the priest had sent them off with his blessing, making the nun feel comfortable about leaving Chase and Jenny in each other’s care. Sister Abigail promised to bring a tray to them at lunchtime, and Jenny locked the door to the office as the two departed, happy to know that her imprisonment was soon to come to an end. She promised Chase a visit to the orchard after lunch if he was good, and he waggled his eyebrows at her as if planning some mischief. Jenny laughed and began to spin around the room just for the pure joy of it, her golden hair flying around her as she twirled, her deep blue eyes sparkling as they caught Chase’s dark ones with each spin. She finally fell laughing into a chair, placing her fingertips against her temples to keep the room from cartwheeling away as Chase joined her laughter from his place on his bed.

  Beyond the laughter they heard a pounding on the door, and Jenny went to open it, thinking Sister Abigail had brought their lunch tray early so she could go about her duties. She gasped when she pulled the door open to find Father Clarence and a strange man standing in the hall. The man smiled when he saw her, taking in her flushed cheeks and disheveled hair; then his eyes narrowed as he surveyed her tall, slim figure. She stood with her mouth half open, feeling as if she had just been put on the auction block. Father Clarence stepped in, pushing her away from the door, and the strange man followed, closing the door behind him.

  “I have some good new for you, my dear,” Father Clarence began. “You’ve been adopted.”

  “Adopted?” Jenny backed up to the table, her hands behind her back searching the surface for a weapon.

  “Yes. Mr. Miller and his wife have adopted you. They’re going to take you to California to live.”

  “I can’t leave,” Jenny said, sidling away from the table.

  “Oh, but you don’t understand. The Millers have made you a very generous offer. You see, Mrs. Miller is with child, so the trip will be difficult for her. In exchange for your help with the chores and the baby, they will provide you with a home. It’s really a wonderful opportunity for you.” The priest was talking to her as he would to a wild animal he was trying to tame. Jenny looked beyond him at the worn, dusty clothes that Mr. Miller was wearing and wondered how the priest could use the terms generous and opportunity.

  “Take someone else,” Jenny said as she wrapped her fingers around the back of a chair. Chase had silently made his way to the doorway of the infirmary, his eyes narrowing at the two men as he saw the fear on Jenny’s face.

  “As you well know, there aren’t any other girls here even close to your age. There are none that could handle the tasks the Millers would need you to do. You are the logical choice.”

  “I won’t go. You can’t make me.”

  Father Clarence took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, his stout stick tucked under his arm as he massaged the bridge of his nose, as if talking to Jenny was tasking him beyond his limits. He carefully replaced the glasses and put the stick out in front of him, placing both hands squarely on it. “Now is not the time to be difficult. You’ll give these nice people the wrong impression.”

  “Where is his wife?” Jenny asked. She was trying to buy time for Chase, who was making his way quietly up behind the priest, hobbling on his broken leg, his crutch held like a club before him.

  “You told me she was feisty,” Miller said. “I reckon she’s worth every penny I paid ya.”

  Jenny looked in amazement at the weak eyes, the greasy, thinning hair, then saw the man lick his lips as he returned her look. Jenny shuddered, then saw Chase balancing himself on his good leg, his eyes lethal as he nodded at Jenny, encouraging her to fight.

  “We’re going to have to force her. She won’t go any other way,” the priest said with a sigh.

  Jenny shoved the chair at them, then ran around the table, placing her hands on it to give it a shove. Miller and the priest split up, one corning around each side of the table.

  “Watch out!” Miller yelled.

  Father Clarence turned in time to see Chase raise the crutch over his head. He swung his stick like a club and caught Chase’s splint, sending him down with a cry of anguish as he clutched his leg.

  “Chase!” Jenny screamed as Miller grabbed her around the waist from behind. Jenny began fighting, scratching at his arms, kicking out as she bucked against the hold he had on her. The table went flying as she caught it with her feet, knocking Father Clarence in the stomach. He doubled over as she continued to fight. Then the priest straightened up and hit Jenny in the jaw with his fist. Stars exploded in her head as a red haze filled her eyes, and she slumped over. The only thing that kept her from hitting the ground was Miller’s arms wrapped securely around her waist.

  “I told you not to mark her,” she heard Miller protest through the ringing in her ears.

  “She’ll have plenty of time to heal before you reach California,” the priest hissed.

  Miller leaned Jenny’s limp body back against one arm, turning her face with his hand, checking the bruise already rising on her delicate cheek before running his hand down over her breast. “Yep, worth every penny.” He nodded at the priest, who looked at him with bored contempt.

  Chase managed to climb up on his hands and knees, his stomach rebelling at the pressure the floor was putting against his leg. Miller threw Jenny over his shoulder, her hair trailing down over her head and dragging on the floor as he made his way out. Chase lunged for Miller’s knees as he went by, grabbing only a handful of Jenny’s hair for his effort. Father Clarence swung his club down on Chase’s back, and his face hit the floor as the breath was knocked from his body. The priest locked the door on his way out, taking the key with him. Chase heard the delicate ping of metal hitting the floor outside the door as he tried with all his might to draw air back into his body.

  “Jenny,” he was finally able to gasp. “Jenny?” Chase crawled to the door, reaching up to try the knob. The chair Jenny had flung was close by, and he pulled himself up, waves of nausea washing over him as the room spun out of control. He closed his eyes, forcing his rebellious body to respond, to move forward to the window. He finally reached it, and caught sight of a covered wagon parked in front of the mission. Miller threw Jenny into the back of it, then turned to talk to the priest. The wagon began to bounce as if it housed a wildcat, and Jenny’s head poked out the back only to be met by the back of Miller’s hand, knocking her back inside. Then all was still.

  Father Clarence looked around to see if anyone was watching, then stepped back as the wagon began to move away, even waving when it made the turn onto the road to St. Jo.

  “Jenny . . .” Chase whispered as a single tear tracked down his cheek. He turned away from the window, his leg catching in the chair as he turned, causing him to lose his balance. He went down, hitting his head on the table; he was unconscious before he hit the floor.

  Chapter Seventeen

  J
amie was whistling as he drove the buckboard back to the mission. The team of horses bobbed their heads as they plodded along, keeping time in their own way to the tune of “Good King Wenceslas.” Sister Mary Frances began to hum along, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine, the sound of the birds singing, the sight of the spring flowers bobbing in the breeze along the road as if they too were keeping time with the tune.

  “Why are you whistling a carol in the springtime?” the nun asked.

  “I don’t know. It’s one my father always whistled and I guess it just stuck with me,” Jamie answered. The hat was pulled low over his face to keep the curiosity of the townspeople they passed at bay, but he sat tall and proud on the bench, his hands sure on the reins as they made the return trip from the farm they had just visited.

  The elderly couple had been so amazed at his size that they didn’t even question his scars as they interviewed Jamie about his skills. He admitted to being more at home with animals than plants, but he was willing to work, as was his sister, and under the gentleman’s fine tutelage they would soon become experts, he was sure. The lady had beamed at him, then fixed him a plate of sugar cookies with a glass of milk. Jamie grinned at her with delight as he bit into one, his hair falling over his eyes as he devoured the feast placed before him. The woman had cooed over him, promising to fatten him up and even offering to give him a much-needed haircut. Jamie promised to get one before they returned on Sunday, and they left, anxious to return to the mission and share the news with Jenny. Jamie continually checked his new boots as they rode, making sure the fine black leather had not gotten scuffed on his tour of the farm. He had his pants legs tucked into the calf-high boots, showing off the expanse of them to any who cared to see, and Sister Mary Frances smiled to herself at his obvious joy and pride.

  They arrived at the mission, and the nun waited while he took care of the team, not wanting to ruin the surprise for him when he told Jenny of their good fortune. She noticed that he had a cocky jaunt to his walk as they entered the mission. The boots were sure to make Logan and Joe envious, he knew. They found the office door locked, which did not surprise them, but repeated knocking brought no response.

  “Do you suppose they could be in the orchard?” Sister Mary Frances asked.

  “No, I checked when we rode by. Besides, it’s suppertime.” The bell was indeed tolling in the tower above, and the nun smiled at Jamie’s tendency to put mealtime above all else. They heard footsteps and looked up to see Sister Abigail coming down the hall.

  “Sister, I’m sorry I didn’t know that Jenny and Chase had gone with you. Father Clarence was quite upset at the waste when I carried the lunch tray down,” the young novice said.

  “They didn’t go with us,” Jamie said as he pounded on the door. “Jenny, Chase, open up!” he shouted against the stout wood.

  Sister Mary Frances placed her hand over her heart as the realization of what Sister Abigail had said sank in. They saw the knob rattle as if someone had grabbed it from the other side.

  “Jenny!” Jamie shouted. “Open up!”

  “I don’t have the key,” Chase’s voice responded.

  “Chase, where’s Jenny?”

  “The key is out there somewhere. I heard it hit the floor.”

  Jamie fell his heart fall when the weakly spoken words came through the door. He stepped back and began searching the floor, finally catching the gleam of brass next to the baseboard. His hand trembled as he tried to insert the key, and Sister Mary Frances finally placed her own delicate hand over his large one and guided the key into the lock. She helped him turn it, and they found Chase sitting next to the door, his back against the wall. Jamie immediately searched the infirmary, calling out for Jenny.

  “She’s gone,” Chase gasped as Sister Mary Frances ran her hand down his leg. His eyes were huge in his pale face as he looked up at Jamie. “The priest sold her to a man named Miller. He’s taking her to California.”

  “How long?” Jamie’s voice was steely, his eyes dark with anger. His face had turned bright red, the scar a vivid white as rage settled over him.

  “This morning ... I don’t know, I’ve been unconscious. I tried to stop them, but the priest hit me with his cane.”

  Sister Mary Frances went to place her hand on Jamie’s arm, but he stepped past her as if she weren’t even there.

  “Jamie, wait,” she called after him as he took off down the hall towards Father Clarence’s office. She gathered up the skirt of her habit and ran after him.

  “I’ve waited too long already,” he spat over his shoulder as his long strides ate up the distance. He kicked open the door to the priest’s office, causing it to bounce against the wall before it swung back. Jamie halted the backswing with an outstretched hand and stepped in.

  Father Clarence calmly looked up from the cup of coffee he was sipping as Jamie stepped around the desk and pulled him to his feet, his hands about the priest’s neck. The cup of coffee hit the floor with a crash.

  “Where is she?” Jamie hissed between clenched teeth as his strong hands tightened around the white collar. The priests hands scrabbled uselessly against the iron muscles in the arms that held him. His face turned purple, his eyes bulging as he tried to draw a breath. Sister Mary Frances burst in, panic-stricken as she watched the priest fight the stranglehold that Jamie had on him.

  “Jamie, no!” she cried, then watched as the sheriff, who had been drinking coffee with the priest, raised his gun and brought the handle down against the back of Jamie’s head. Jamie jerked, his hands still tight around the priest’s neck. The sheriff raised the gun again, striking harder, against the temple this time, and Jamie slid to the floor.

  Jamie Duncan took a thorough inventory of all his parts as he lay on a hard cot in a jail cell in St. Jo. His head was pounding, and each beat of his heart seemed to echo through his body in a torturous rhythm. He considered the pain and decided he could live with it. He swung his long legs over the cot and sat up. The small confines of the cell swam before him as all of his internal organs settled back into place. He put his head in his hands, and groaned as he touched the goose egg on his temple.

  “Oh, so you’ve decided to wake up,” the sheriff said. He was leaning back in his chair, his boots propped up on the desk.

  Jamie ran his hands through his hair, trying to get his wandering brain to settle on something. He was in jail and he had received a blow to the head: Those two facts were painfully obvious. He held his hands out in front of him, looking at them as if they held the answers. Suddenly an image formed in his mind of his long, lean fingers closing around a white-collared neck. Jenny . . . Jenny was gone. He jumped to his feet and staggered to the bars, wrapping his hands around them.

  “My sister’s been kidnapped.”

  “No, she’s been adopted. I saw the records,” the sheriff said.

  “You don’t understand. She didn’t want to go. Father Clarence sold her, and they’re taking her to California against her will.”

  “Father Clarence said that your sister went willingly after Mr. Miller made a generous donation to the orphanage.”

  “She didn’t go willingly. They beat her up. Ask Chase—they beat him up, too.”

  “Now, who do you expect me to believe, a priest or a half-breed?” The sheriffs booted heels hit the floor as he sat up straight. “If I were you, I’d be worried about the predicament I was in instead of my sister.”

  “What predicament?” Jamie couldn’t believe the sheriffs casual attitude. “My sister has been kidnapped, and you need to go after the people who did it.”

  The sheriff pointed a finger at Jamie. “No, you need to sit down and shut up. You’re gonna be here for a while, and you need to stay on my good side.”

  “Be here, for what?” Jamie was quickly losing patience with the man.

  “Attempted murder, that’s what. You’re gonna stay here until the circuit judge shows up and decides what to do with you.”

  “Attempted murder . . . who? Father Clare
nce?’ Jamie began to pace the small cell, barely taking three steps before he had to turn and go the other way. “He tried to kill my sister, several times, then he sells her off to God knows who, and you’ve got me in jail?” He kicked the three-legged stool and it bounced around in a comer before it finally settled, upended.

  “Don’t have witnesses to any of that.”

  “What about Sister Mary Frances?”

  “She told me some stuff about the girl fallin’ and breakin’ her arm and such, but she never saw any of it. Father Clarence said the girl was always lying and sneakin’ around, causin’ trouble.”

  “He’s the one who’s lying. He’s hated Jenny since the day we arrived.”

  “You can explain it all to the judge, but I’ll tell you right now, boy, I saw you chokin’ him. I’m the one that busted your head to get you to stop. You was plain loco, and that’s what I’m going to tell the judge.”

  “How long until he gets here?’

  “Oh, probably a couple of weeks.”

  “And I’ve got to stay here until he comes?”

  “Yep.”

  Jamie rattled the bars in frustration. He needed to go after Jenny now. By the time two weeks were up, all trace of her would be gone. He went back to his cot and sat against the wall, his head in his hands as he willed the throbbing to go away so he could think. “I need to see Sister Mary Frances,” he groaned.

  “I expect she’ll be ‘round sometime tomorrow.” The sheriff stood and hitched his pants up, then rearranged his gun belt. “Time for my rounds. Don’t you go nowhere.” He laughed at his own joke on the way out the door.