“When you heard Zeke succeeded in getting Elijah pardoned…that threw your plans into chaos.”
“It did. I figured Elijah would have twenty or more years in that place before he got out and started looking for me. Me…well, I’d be dead by then for sure. Satan would long since carry my soul away.”
“Instead you heard Elijah intended to hunt you down.”
“I did.”
Reasoning in the conventional way would not work with this man, and she now understood this. “You could let me go. I will not tell the authorities what you did. All I want is to return to my family. You will never hear of me again.”
“No, that won’t do, girl. You’ll tell the authorities because you want to see justice done for your man. I can’t have that.”
Mary Jane almost did not ask the question, the one where she dreaded the answer. “What do you intend to do with me?”
He smiled and the coldness she saw there made her blood freeze. “Girl, that’s a problem I’ll have to ponder. Best you get some sleep.” Amos nodded towards the bedroll. “We have a ways to go in the morning.”
Exhaustion beckoned. She settled onto the bedroll, apprehension tightening her every nerve to within inches of snapping. Eerie darkness pressed on their campsite. She drew the heavy wool blanket closer around her shoulders. Sleep would elude her this night.
He lay down on his bedroll so close to hers, his rifle crossed over his stomach. As if he could read her mind, he said, “Don’t even think about trying anything, girly.”
Amos’s calm statement sounded more deadly than Hoop or Claypool’s most descriptive threat. She lay down on the bedroll. Her heart ached, her mind racing with ideas on what she could or should do next. Mary Jane wanted to remain strong, but her heart ached for Elijah. She covered her mouth with one hand to hold back sobs as tears rained down her face.
Chapter Sixteen
Elijah saw the man lying under the tree and at first didn’t recognize him. Elijah retrieved his pistol, glad for additional ammunition supplied by Mrs. Connor. Shooting Varney had used the last of his bullets. Within a short piece, Elijah stopped the mare near the man. Matted hair and beard growth hid the man’s face, but Elijah identified the jailer easily. Varney.
Elijah got down from the horse and cautiously moved towards Varney’s prone figure. Varney’s waistcoat was covered in blood. Too much blood. Elijah kept his weapon at the ready and turned the man over.
A groan issued from the man’s throat. Elijah jerked to a standing position and stepped back. Varney’s eyes fluttered open, their glassy surface unfocused. His hand reached up, as if searching for comfort or forgiveness.
Elijah swallowed hard, and emotion swelled in his throat. He didn’t expect this. Varney was a stone cold bugger, and yet Elijah couldn’t hate the man.
Elijah didn’t get any closer. “Varney, can you hear me?”
Varney’s eyelids fluttered, and he turned his head to the right. He cleared his throat and his breath grew raspy. “That you, McKinnon?”
“Elijah McKinnon.”
“Can’t see much. Thought I was dead.”
“The devil has seen fit to keep you alive.”
Varney coughed, and a spasm of pain filled his face. “Must be the devil, since God won’t have me.”
Words left Elijah’s throat without him taking a second to think. “Maybe God will have you if you tell me where Amos has taken Mary Jane.”
Varney managed a half smile, his lips reddened with blood. He swallowed hard, his breath coming harder, as if he’d run a race. “Maybe God would. Look, McKinnon, I know I don’t have much time. Since I don’t, I’ll tell you where that asshole is taking her.”
Elijah wondered if it could be that easy.
“But you got to do me a favor,” Varney said.
“Why should I?”
“’Cause you’re a damned sight more decent a man than your brother. He’s a tad crazy, he is. Plus, he left me to die. I don’t owe him nothin’.”
“What do you want?”
“After I tell you where he’s goin’ with her…” He coughed, body wracked with a long shudder from head to toe. “You got to kill me. Shoot me in the head. Send me on to my maker or the devil, whichever one will claim me. It hurts, McKinnon. It hurts like the black depths of hell.”
Elijah’s eyes watered, and now it was his turn to swallow hard. It wasn’t as if he’d never seen anyone die or seen a dead body. But he’d never had a man like this ask for mercy. He could do what his brother had and leave Varney here to writhe in agony for however long it took.
“I could leave you for the bears or big cats,” Elijah said.
“You could. But you won’t.”
Feck him. The bastard was right. “Where is he taking her?”
“Promise me you’ll shoot me, man.”
“I promise.”
Varney licked his lips and grimaced, another groan leaving the man’s lips. Elijah feared Varney would die before he told him what he needed to know.
Elijah drew his weapon up and held it with both hands. “Tell me, damn it, and I’ll put you out of your misery.”
“Like a lame horse, eh, McKinnon.”
“Tell me!”
“There’s another cabin up the way. Up towards that ridge beyond the trees. It’s just outside of Portage. I don’t know what he plans to do to her. He thinks your Irish ass is dead.”
That was news to Elijah.
Varney clutched at his bloody side, his breath now coming in pants. “I didn’t know if your hide was dead, but that’s what I told him. He’s all-fired crazier than a bug, that McKinnon. All-fired crazy. Should have known he’d be mad at me when I told him I killed you. He wanted to kill you himself.”
“And you were afraid of him.”
Varney didn’t speak, his eyes glazing with a far away look. “I’m in this condition because of you, McKinnon. From the moment I met Amos I figured a McKinnon would be the death of me. Just not you. Now I’ve told you where he’s taken—”
“That’s not enough.” Elijah’s temper rose. “What’s the cabin look like?”
Varney gave him a decent enough description. “Shoot me, McKinnon. Shoot me, damn it. You shot me once. You can do it again.”
Elijah walked a few steps closer, his forehead itching under the bandage and his stomach cramping. His breathing accelerated.
He brought the gun to aim at Varney’s head. “Close your eyes, Varney.”
Elijah’s hands started shaking.
He counted in his head. One. Two. Three.
Ready to pull the trigger.
Varney’s eyes stayed blank and open, staring into the great beyond. He couldn’t shoot a defenseless man in the head with the bastard staring at him. He couldn’t.
Wait. Elijah lowered his weapon, his whole body trembling. Varney didn’t move. Not one breath. Not one blink of an eye. He crouched down and felt for a pulse in the man’s throat. Nothing. With a tentative hand, Elijah closed the man’s eyes.
Elijah stood and backed away, his gaze stuck on the dead man. “Thank you Jesus or the devil.”
Relief made his knees weak. Shaking inside, Elijah mounted his horse. Under the bandage his head pounded a steady drum. After taking a healthy swallow from his water canteen, he wiped his nose with his sleeve as sweat trickled down his face. Under his hat, the sun beat down.
Time to move.
He rode for what seemed forever through the fading daylight. He paused in a slight clearing, keeping his mind open to possibilities, looking for signs.
He smiled as another sign appeared near a lone tree stump. “Good girl.”
He left his horse and retrieved a piece of brown material from a woman’s dress. The dress Mrs. Connor had given Mary Jane. Keep dropping those clues, darlin’. He didn’t know how she did it without alerting his brother, but Elijah was damn glad she did.
Still, the night approached, and in his gut he knew he had a long way to catch up with Amos and Mary Jane. He took hi
s time, half afraid if he came upon them without staying quiet, he would bugger the situation. One thing he didn’t like, among all the things he didn’t like, was the fact Amos could track better than him. That’s why it seemed mighty strange Amos didn’t notice that Mary Jane had dropped pieces of dress along the way. Elijah gathered the material and rubbed it between his fingers.
Unless, in his lunatic way, Amos wanted Elijah to find him.
It would fit in the sickening game of cat and mouse they now played.
He scanned the forest and listened. Birdsong drifted through the air. Earthy scents reached his nose. Over the rustling treetops high, puffy clouds darkened the day. More rain would come and hamper his efforts. Armed with new determination, he tucked his weapon into his waistcoat and rode into the trees.
Mary Jane woke, groggy and cold. She’d huddled on her bedroll, her blankets wrapped around her securely. She sat up and suppressed a groan. Her body ached.
Amos was gone. His horse was there, his bedroll lying nearby, rumbled and empty. Also to her amazement, the fire crackled, burning steady as if someone had just stoked it into life. The aroma of coffee reached her nose. It smelled like heaven. Still, where had Amos gone? It crossed her mind, in a quick jump, that she could run now. Could jump on her horse and make for the hills. No. That direction lay death. She didn’t know how to survive out here alone and didn’t have enough supplies on her own to make it in the wilderness. She had no weapon in case she ran into man or beast. Mary Jane sighed. What she wouldn’t have given to be a mountain man at that moment.
Her mind turned to Elijah again, as it seemed to do every five minutes or so. Heartache astonished Mary Jane with its force. She had thought her grief for her father bad enough, but this…this could not be ignored no matter how hard she tried. Sorrow thumped inside her like a drumbeat, an insidious pain she hadn’t imagined before. She wondered if women who suffered from a broken heart died this way, their pain excruciating, their minds wrapped around obsessive thoughts the entire day until it became unbearable. She sucked in a breath.
She must stick with her plan to gain Amos’s trust if she planned to leave this wilderness in one piece.
She closed her eyes and drifted into a fantasy world where her diary lay open on her desk at home. She would lift her pen, dip it in ink and start writing.
Dear Diary,
Something most horrible happened yesterday. So very horrible I almost cannot write the words. Elijah’s brother found us and one of his friends killed Elijah. My dear Elijah, who I loved so much, was taken from me. And poor Mrs. Connor. Such a dear woman. She was killed too. Though I knew both of them for a short time, I feel as if knowing them has altered my life forever. Despite the peril I find myself enduring, I cannot regret having met either of them.
Especially Elijah.
Many might ask how I could love a man so quickly. I do not know, only that it happened so swiftly I was defenseless against it. He was nothing like Thaddeus or my father with their airs and pretensions and desires to control what I thought and did. Elijah brought me…freedom. He was so protective, but there was also a loving heart with him. He hid his heart well, but when I saw it flare like the sun in the morning, I knew how bright he could shine. Though prison may have hardened him with a fierce desire for revenge, I cannot rebuke Elijah. For I understand what once made no sense to me—why his revenge drove him to hunt his brother. How five years of speaking little and reflecting so much compelled him to kill. How such terrible emotions could force a man’s hand in such an appalling direction.
Right now I cannot bear to say how Elijah died or why. The pain is too great.
Now that he is gone, the hollow inside me yawns like a cavern. I do not know how I will ever fill it again. It is unthinkable. What lesson does this situation leave inside me? I am brittle but not broken. Amos has taken me prisoner and my fate may be, in time, a dreadful one. Not, however, if I can find a clever way to escape. I must press on, find a way to forget this crushing pain that will never leave me.
“Did you think I’d left you?”
She gasped and whirled around. Amos stood a few feet away, his rifle tucked in the crook of one arm.
“You would not leave without your horse.”
He chuckled and strode past her. “You are a mighty clear thinking woman.”
“A practical one.”
He propped his rifle on a large boulder and reached for the coffee. He poured one tankard and then another.
“Figured you’d want some of this to wake you up this morning.” He handed her one tankard. “I suppose if I was southern I could whip up some chitlins.”
Disgust wrinkled her nose. “That sounds about as appealing as calf’s head.”
He smiled again, the resemblance to Elijah’s warm grin barely a skeleton. Gooseflesh covered her arms. “Or maybe bullock’s heart?”
She sipped, and when he brought out hard tack and jerky, her stomach rumbled. When Amos laughed, she ignored his amusement. She polished off the jerky and coffee before he did, surprised by ravenousness when her life hung in a balance. Maybe living on the edge of disaster had toughened her.
She stood and allowed the blanket to slip from her shoulders. She folded it. “Where do we go from here?”
“Wherever the wind blows, girly. First, we’ll spend some time out here. Then in a few days we’ll head to another state far away. I have a price on my head now. It’ll take us a damn long time traveling, but it has to be that way.”
“No, I cannot. My family is in Pittsburgh, and they will be distressed when I do not arrive. They may already know something is wrong.”
He scratched his chin. “I doubt that. The train robbery was about three days ago.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Then again, news might’ve reached Pittsburgh.” He shrugged. “Hard to say.”
He finished his coffee, rinsed the tankard with water, and stood. “You think I give a damn about what you or your family wants? I got a price on my head, and that means we aren’t staying here. Besides, I want to get back to a city where no one cares who or what I am. Once I get to that city, I might let you go. Or I might keep you for my whore.” He shrugged. He glanced at the reticule, which she kept around her wrist come rain or shine. “Give me that purse. Surprised Hoop or Claypool didn’t take it from you.”
“They figured they were delivering me to you. Maybe they thought you would not take kindly to them robbing me.”
He tossed her a dubious look. “You mocking me? You’re giving me too much credit. Remember, I don’t have a soft side.”
“Oh? If that is true, why am I still alive?”
“You asked me that before.”
“I am just trying to understand you.”
“Don’t try. You won’t like what you find.”
“I already do not like what I see.”
He leaned over, grabbed the collar of her dress and yanked her up to him with bruising force. She cried out in surprise and fear. Eyes glittering with anger, he rasped into her face, “Give me that purse.”
She relented, holding the reticule out to him, reluctant and concerned. He released her. “I need money when we arrive in whatever city you plan to dump me. You would not be cruel enough to leave me without funds.”
He snatched the bag and rummaged through it. “Hmm. Money. Comb. Pretty much nothing but crap.”
He took the money and shoved it in his trouser pocket.
His contempt drove her anger. “What do you care if I have…crap as you call it, in my reticule?”
“I don’t.” He threw the bag and it landed in the dirt in front of her.
She retrieved her reticule and placed it in her lap. She wanted to curse the high heavens as fresh pain sliced her open. Determination had not left her, but it felt blunt and worn. She forced a neutral expression, devoid of fright that threatened to erupt from inside. Struggling with her emotions, she drew in a deep breath.
“Come on,” he said, “pack up.”
Before long they head
ed away from their camp. The morning had dawned pretty and cool, without threat of rain. She wondered how nature could feel this pretty and lush, the forest around them breathtaking, when her heart burned like it might erupt with pain. She hated this. Hated it with more passion. Tears surged into her eyes and fell even as she tried in vain to hold them at bay. She gave up, allowing them to trickle down her cheeks unchecked. Maybe they would cleanse the ache that never seemed to end.
“What you crying for?”
“For Elijah. For me.” Her throat burned. “For what might happen next.”
Despite the pain, she decided to show her vulnerability in full. After all, he would think her extraordinarily weak and broken down. She would lead him astray. She failed earlier to convince him that she desired an evil man.
What did it matter? A man like this did not care what she thought or what she wanted. Her anger amused him as much as compliance. It did not take much to allow the sobs to come. Not much at all. She bawled. Cried like a baby as the horses moved through the remaining forest towards another rustic cabin below a ridge. This one perched nearby some boulders. Smaller than Mrs. Connor’s abode, it appeared newer.
“We’re staying here,” he said.
“But we have not gone that far.”
“Doesn’t matter. We are homesteading here until I say.”
Anger burst from her. “We could have stayed in a cabin last night?”
Calm as a breeze, he said, “I wanted to see what you were like out in the woods in the dark and cold. That tells a lot about a man, but it tells even more about a bitch. You know, girl, I think that you believe I’m a stupid man. Well, I am not. I saw you dropping bits and pieces of your dress here and there. Why did you do that? Who do you think is looking for you?”
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