Brokken Redeemed

by Abagail Eldan

  “Oh?” Chance had never been curious about Klint, too caught up in his own problems, and when he’d come to terms with that, too caught up with Deborah. His heart constricted. He had to find her, as quickly as possible. “We need to get going.”

  “Daylight’s wasting,” Klint agreed. “But listen. I learned a bit of Latin, a phrase—Amor fati. It means love fate, whatever happens, no matter how bad. And that leads me to a request.”

  Chance’s mouth gaped open, and he snapped it shut. How could anyone love the bad that befell them?

  Chance was done talking and replied irritably. “What?”

  “Let’s eat lunch. Get your rifle and shoot us a rabbit.”

  Chance gritted his teeth. “I am not touching the rifle.”

  He’d yet to break the vow, made the day the War ended. He’d sold his rifle, as soon as he could, and had never touched another.

  Klint’s face remained calm. “Accept what happened to you. Everything happens for a reason.”

  “Nope. I’m kicking. Maybe I need to let the pricks pierce deeper, torment me for all I’ve done. It’s what I deserve.” Tears stung the back of his eyes, and he turned away to blink and swallow.

  Klint ignored his words. “At least hold the rifle and walk with me into the woods over there. I’ll get our dinner if you can’t.”

  Chance hesitated. Klint didn’t wait for his answer but pulled the rifle from Chance’s scabbard and thrust it into Chance’s unwilling arms, pressing it against him.

  Chance struggled against Klint for a moment and then sighed. It wasn’t worth it. Carrying the rifle didn’t mean anything. “I’ll carry it, but I’m not shooting anything.”

  “Fine.” Klint headed for the woods, his rifle held loosely in one hand.

  After a moment, Chance did the same, and surprisingly, the rifle felt right, comforting in his hand, as he followed after Klint. A chilled wind blew, and the dried leaves, not yet fallen from the trees, although browned and withered, made a shushing sound, as if warning them to tread quietly. In but a few minutes, Klint shot a rabbit. Chance’s sharp eyes had seen it before Klint although he had not raised the rifle nor even tightened his hand.

  He’d been carrying a rifle since a young’un, since his brother had taught him to hunt, the very brother he’d shot in the War.

  He marched back to his horse and shoved the rifle into the scabbard with such force, the horse spooked. He said a few calming words. By the time he turned around, Klint already had a fire going and was skinning the rabbit.

  Klint grinned at him. “Good thing the sheriff didn’t know about your aversion to the rifle, or she would never have believed your story about us hunting quail.”

  “She did know, and she didn’t believe me, did she?” He’d lied for nothing.

  Klint shrugged, and his gaze went back to the rabbit, and he continued dressing it, speaking to Chance without looking up. “No, she didn’t. You’re right.”

  Chance didn’t offer to help. Dressing a rabbit was a one-person job. Instead, he took a seat on a log and fed wood to the fire. He watched the flames shooting up for a moment. “Thank you, Klint.”

  “For what?”

  Chance kept his gaze on the flames. “For trying to help, although you need to quit your interfering. I can’t change.”

  “Do you wish to change?”

  “Yes, but it can’t, won’t happen. It’s too late.” He shot Klint a glance, to watch his reaction.

  Klint snorted and then skewered the rabbit and positioned it above the fire. “You have your whole life ahead of you. What are you? Twenty?”

  Chance laughed. “That means I would have gone off to war at fourteen.”

  “Many Rebs did. We were short on men by the end, at least.”

  “I was seventeen when I joined up, although that was still young. I was still wet behind the ears.”

  “A young man of twenty-three. I’m an old man of twenty-six.” Klint sighed deeply. “I’m getting older and older, and marriage appears out of the question for me.”

  It was Chance’s turn to laugh. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have a problem finding a wife.”

  “You would be wrong. None of the Brokken women are susceptible to my charms.”

  Although only a few minutes ago, he’d convinced himself Deborah had no interest in Klint, Chance bristled at the words. “You mean Deborah?”

  Klint held up a hand. “Settle down. I mean the women of the town, not the young woman with the surname Brokken.”

  Chance had half risen from his seat. He sank back, his anger subsiding to be replaced with embarrassment. “Sorry.”

  “It bothers you that I’m friendly with Deborah? That we work together?” Klint tilted his head to peer at him.

  Chance didn’t answer. The flames drew his gaze again. He was not going to admit his jealousy to this man. Klint would only lie anyway, if he did plan to woo Deborah away.

  “You’re a fool,” Klint said softly.

  Maybe he was. But what made him think Deborah could care for him, would remain loyal? Everyone in his life had betrayed him, everyone, including Paul. Why had Paul joined the Confederacy? He’d put himself in danger, put himself in Chance’s line of fire.

  Still, it was his fault. War was hell and to redeem himself from his crime was an impossibility.

  “Eat up,” Klint commanded. “We need to get going.”

  But Chance had lost his appetite. Love was hell, too.

  Chapter Four

  Deborah kept casting a glance back over her shoulder. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was still spooked or if she hoped to see Chance. Perhaps both.

  Fritz led the way, stopping every now and then to check the tracks. So far, they’d only seen one set. Were they wasting their time, precious time for Curt and Karl? Not just wasting time but heading toward the sheriff. Fritz wouldn’t be thrown in the jail if they were caught, but under it. She didn’t dare contemplate what might happen to her.

  No matter. Being separated from Chance would be more punishment than she could bear. Fritz stopped in front of her, so suddenly, she had to jerk back the reins of her horse sharply. When she brought her horse under control, she looked in the direction he stared, behind her on the path.

  Her relief was so profound, her breath released in an audible swoosh. Klint and Chance rode to them as Deborah and Fritz reined their horses around to face them. Klint had his usual grin, but it was Chance who drew her gaze. She was afraid he’d be angry she’d not gone with him. Instead, a grin, almost as big as Klint’s, split his face. She drank in the sight of him hungrily. She was vaguely aware Fritz sent her an annoyed look.

  Klint put his gloved hands to his saddle horn and leaned toward them with a creak of his saddle. “What are y’all doing? Heading back to Brokken?”

  Fritz leaned forward also and spoke quietly. “I got to thinking the print could belong to one of Juárez’s men.”

  Chance pulled his gaze from her to look at her brother. “Why would they come this far north, venture this far into Texas? More likely one of the Andrews Gang.”

  Fritz shrugged his shoulders and glanced away. “Maybe,” he said, the reluctance evident in his voice. “But, I’m more inclined to believe it was one of Juárez’s men. In January, one of them came into the bank, demanding gold.”

  “I take it you did not tell the sheriff?” Chance shifted in his saddle.

  Fritz straightened his shoulders and glanced from one of the men to the other. “No, but it’s too late for regrets. When I left Brokken with my brothers, most of the men of the town were gone. Those left behind were too old or too young to do much.”

  Deborah bristled at his words. “Maybe it was mostly ladies left in town, but you had no right to count us out—more than one of us can wield a gun.”

  Fritz barely flicked his eyes toward her. “Still, I thought it best to keep the knowledge private. Why send everyone into a panic if we could handle it ourselves?”

  Deborah frowned at him. “Because
that’s what neighbors and family do. We help one another.”

  Her brother sighed deeply. “Klint, come with me, and we’ll scout ahead. Chance, stay with Deborah until we return.”

  Without another word, her brother turned his horse toward Brokken, and Klint followed.

  Deborah and Chance dismounted, both watching until the two disappeared. The road had narrowed, barely a path. They moved off, into a more open area and dropped the reins. Deborah tucked her head down, shame burning her cheeks. Her brother had behaved abominably, even now. What must Chance think of her family? He touched her arm, and she glanced up at him through her lashes.

  To her surprise, he, too, appeared embarrassed. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

  “Whatever for?” She tilted her head back and widened her eyes.

  “For leaving you. I never should have ridden away.” The warmth in his eyes sent shivers down her spine.

  She searched his eyes, to be sure he was sincere. “No, it was my fault. I should have gone with you, not stayed with Fritz.”

  A lopsided grin appeared on his face. “Isn’t it improper for a young lady to travel with two single men?”

  She laughed. “I think breaking my brother and you two out of jail was a greater sin.”

  He stepped closer, and her heart beat wildly in her chest. She should have retreated, but she stayed her ground. He took her hand and simply held it between them for a moment. She still wore her gloves, as did he. She desired to feel his skin against hers and pulled her hand free from his to peel off her glove. She placed her palm against his face and then traced the length of his jaw.

  He caught her wrist and pulled it away, pulled her closer, to brush his lips over hers. This was not the intense kiss from the night before, but feather soft, and despite the softness, or because of it, a raging desire grew within her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head closer, for a deeper kiss.

  He groaned and pulled out of her hold to bend his head to her ear. His breath was as light as a puff of wind, one that carried her away, beyond the cold and the worry that had beleaguered them.

  He spoke softly. “How long do you think your brother and Klint will be gone?”

  His words brought her to her senses. She pressed her palms against his chest, and he stepped back.

  She frowned at him. “What are you suggesting Chance Hale?”

  He threw his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. “Nothing. It seems we’re wasting a lot of time, standing around, doing nothing.”

  She narrowed her eyes and studied him. His face was all innocence, not embarrassed at all, although his eyes smoldered. Of course, it was she who should feel embarrassed. She pulled her glove back on and nibbled her bottom lip.

  Chance watched her with his intense pale gray eyes, the irises circled with dark blue. The warmth inside her became a fire, as if dry kindling had been thrown on flames. She resisted the pull and forced her gaze away.

  Klint and Fritz could be back any moment.

  Heat rose to her cheeks, and even the cold air failed to cool them. No, she should not be alone with this man, not until they were safely married. She grabbed her horse’s reins and walked closer to the path to peer down it in the direction Fritz and Klint had ridden. Her knees felt weak, and dizziness assailed her.

  Chance came up beside her, and they stood shoulder to shoulder. He did not look in her direction, and she did not look toward him. Her breathing was too rapid, and she concentrated on slowing it down. It was difficult, no, impossible, with Chance standing so close. She moved to the other side of her horse to put distance between them. She leaned against the horse, drawing strength from the animal, and slowly, her legs grew stronger.

  Some more minutes, a half hour or more, dragged by. Chance moved closer and squinted at the sun. “It’ll be dark soon. We need to find a place to bed down.”

  Deborah bit her lip and looked away.

  Chance let out an impatient sigh. “Deborah, you can be twenty feet away. Forty if that will make you feel better.”

  “Alone? Out here?” Her eyes widened.

  “Not alone. Twenty feet away, and I can reach you in a second.”

  Maybe he could, but to be in the dark, in the cold, was not something she wanted. “We’d better stay together.”

  “Whatever you’d like. I plan to stay awake and keep watch.”

  “You need your rest. You didn’t get any sleep last night. I’ll keep watch.”

  “We’ll take turns.”

  She nodded, and they moved down the trail a little, looking for a better clearing.

  “We don’t want to go too far,” Chance cautioned. “We might miss Klint and Fritz otherwise.”

  She nodded again.

  Chance stopped and indicated an area next to the path. “This should do.”

  Chance hobbled the horses not far from them while Deborah removed the largest rocks and pebbles and laid out the bedrolls. Chance brought back pemmican and their canteens, and they ate their supper.

  “I’ll take first watch,” she told Chance. Coyotes yipped in the distance, their sound comforting, not distressing.

  He nodded and climbed into his bedroll. In only minutes, he slept, not surprising with how tired he must be. But it hurt a little that he did not lie awake and think of her. She stifled a giggle and yawned.

  The night was going to be a long one.

  FRITZ SHOOK DEBORAH awake. She sat up startled and gasped. She’d never woken Chance, but when she glanced to his bedroll, he was not there, and neither was his bedroll.

  Fritz motioned to her. “We must hurry.”

  She staggered to her feet and attempted to smooth her hair.

  Fritz appeared haggard, and even Klint was serious.

  Deborah waved impatiently. “What did you find out?”

  Fritz looked toward the ground. “It wasn’t Juárez’s men.”

  “You mean it was someone the sheriff sent?”

  Klint cocked his head. “That would be a relief. No, it’s the Andrews Gang.”

  Her heart caught in her throat, and she put a hand to relieve the pressure. “They must have got wind of the gold.”

  “And a strange thing. A man was there—looked like the men deferred to him. I didn’t get a close look, but he moved and looked a lot like Jonathan English.” Fritz’s lips pressed together to form a thin line.

  Deborah frowned. “Sheriff Vic’s husband? He was killed in the War.”

  “I didn’t get a close look, but they sure favor. And another thing—I’m sure they have Curt and Karl with them—leastwise, two men trussed up like Christmas geese,” Fritz said, his eyes distressed.

  Deborah gasped. “But why would they have Curt and Karl?”

  “No time for all this talk,” Klint said. “We have to get going.”

  Chance walked up with the horses saddled and looked from one man to the other. “I heard y’all talking. The Andrews Gang? I will not go after them.” His words were flat but defiant.

  Fritz frowned. “Klint and I, if you’re too much of a coward.”

  Chance showed no anger at his words but stepped closer. “How many men did you see?”

  Klint answered. “We counted twenty-two. Could be more.”

  Deborah’s eyes widened, and Fritz turned to her, his face calm and composed. “We can handle them.”

  She gave a quick nod, his words calming her, steadying her. “Good.”

  Klint shook his head. “It’s not going to be that easy. It’s tricky with your brothers in their midst.”

  Chance gave a nod to Klint. “Exactly. What are your plans, Fritz?”

  “The same as always. We have our rifles, and we’ll use them.” His gaze met Chance’s and held it.

  “Their guns outnumber ours by a wide margin.” Chance narrowed his eyes, and a muscle in his jaw twitched.

  Deborah shot Fritz a sharp look. “Someone has to ride into Brokken, to warn the people, if that’s where they’re heading.”

 
Fritz turned to her. “Of course. You do that, and we’ll go after the men.”

  Klint shook his head. “They’re camped in that open area, above the lake.”

  “North of town?” Chance asked.

  Klint nodded at him. “Yes. Now, listen. We need your rifle.”

  Surely, Chance would agree, but he already shook his head.

  He snorted his disgust. “You just said they were in an open area. The nearest trees are too short to climb. You can’t get close enough for a good shot. What would a rifle do in that situation?”

  Fritz moved aggressively toward Chance who did not give ground. “What are you saying? Abandon my brothers?”

  Klint placed a hand on Fritz’s shoulder, as if to hold him back. “We need to think this through. We can’t go marching up like pigs for slaughter.”

  Fritz frowned. “I did not imply that. We’ll formulate a plan when we get to their camp.”

  Chance glared at him and inched closer. “You don’t even have a plan?”

  Klint held up a hand, palm toward them. “Hold on. I have an idea.”

  “What?” Fritz’s gaze remained locked with Chance’s.

  They were both pigheaded. Deborah moved between the two men. “Listen to Klint. He’s the only one with sense around here.”

  Her words were sharper than intended but had an effect. Both Chance and Fritz turned away from each other, although both still scowled.

  Klint nodded his thanks to Deborah before he spoke. “Each of us will cover one of the roads into town. As far as we know, they haven’t ventured in—not from what we could tell. The sun’s barely up, and we may have time to stop them, if they head toward the town. I’ll take North Main, Fritz, you take South, and Chance can take East Street.”

  Deborah held up a hand, as if a school girl. “Someone has to cover West Street. I’ll take it.”

  Fritz shook his head. “Too dangerous.”

  Deborah snorted. “You said they were north of town. I doubt seriously they’ll enter town on the road where the sheriff’s office sits.”

  Fritz expression became solemn. “You underestimate them.”