West of Heaven

by Victoria Bylin

“If you promise to take the money and never come back, I’ll take you right to the spot where I buried it and I won’t go to the authorities.” Of course she would, but later, when Ethan and the baby were safe.

  “You’ve already been to the law.” The gun dipped from her face to her chest as if it were too heavy for him. “Where’s the goddamned money?”

  Jayne squared her shoulders. “What assurance do I have that you won’t shoot?”

  “Absolutely none,” he replied. “But you can be damn sure that I will shoot if you don’t tell me everything.”

  LeFarge was a buzzard who survived on the carrion of the lives he ruined. As long as she didn’t roll over and play dead, she and Ethan had a fighting chance.

  Sitting straighter in the saddle, she turned the gelding down the trail. “Let’s get going. It’ll take awhile to do the digging.”

  LeFarge rode close enough to fog the air with his body odor. Her skin crawled, but she kept the gelding to a walk. As long as the outlaw held her hostage, he’d have the advantage over Ethan. No matter the cost, she had to escape before they reached the ranch.

  Using only her eyes, she scanned the sides of the road for a hidden trail. Behind her, LeFarge coughed hard, spit on the ground and let loose with a string of obscenities. She had never heard such foul words or been called such vile names.

  With each rumble in the man’s chest, she imagined the thunder of his gun. As the sky darkened, arrows of light knifed between the trees. Time was running out. Desperate to find a hidden path, she craned her neck to look down the last steep slope.

  “What are you looking at?” LeFarge growled.

  “There’s a shortcut.”

  With a coarse laugh, he said, “I’m in no hurry. We’ve got all night, and I intend to enjoy myself…with you.”

  Terror pulsed in Jayne’s blood. Whispering a prayer for God’s help and mercy, she spotted a deer trail jackknifing down a steep slope.

  Staring straight down the road to keep LeFarge from guessing her plan, she slid her hand into her pocket and gripped Ethan’s gun. Ten slow paces later, the gelding emerged into bright sunshine while LeFarge was still shadowed by trees. She yanked the gun free, aimed it wildly behind her and fired one desperate shot.

  “What the hell!”

  Snapping the reins, she kicked the gelding hard. The startled animal bolted into the trees just as a bullet whizzed past her ear. Branches cracked in her wake and the gelding’s labored breath matched her own. Pine needles whacked her in the face. Grit filled her nose and eyes, blinding her and making her gasp.

  When the gelding coiled to control the slide, she lost her grip on the reins. Tangling her fingers in the mane, she fought to keep her balance as the animal plunged down the hill. With each stride, it gathered momentum until its hindquarters shimmied. A panicked squeal tore from the horse’s throat as it splayed its forelegs, sending Jayne flying over its head.

  She knew, even before she heard the second bullet, before it pierced her flesh and left a trail of blood, that she and the baby weren’t going to make it home to Ethan. All she could do was trust God and stay strong, hope for the best and whisper a prayer.

  Please, God.

  “Dammit!”

  LeFarge rammed his Colt back into the holster. The fool woman had nearly taken off his left ear with the potshot. From the top of the trail, he saw her twisted body lying between a boulder and a lightning-scarred tree. He was too far away to see if she was breathing, but she’d hit her head and he could smell blood in the air. If she wasn’t dead yet, she would be soon. Timonius prided himself on being a good shot and he had been aiming to kill.

  “Oh, hell!” he muttered.

  She hadn’t told him where she had hidden the money. Ethan Trent’s ranch was a big place, and Timonius didn’t care for the idea of another wild-goose chase. He would need a bargaining chip to get the rancher to talk. Dead or alive, Jayne Dawson had given him what he needed. Looking down at her body, he made a note of the tree and the rock. He was banking on Trent being fool enough to trade the money for a shred of hope.

  With a grimace, he hocked up a mouthful of spit, let it fly and headed down the hill to claim what was rightfully his.

  Who among you walks in darkness and has no light?

  First spoken by a crazy old man seeing visions of a tortured future, the Bible verse echoed in the depths of Ethan’s soul as surely as the three shots had blasted from the forest.

  His heart turned to ice, hard and blue, the color of his wife’s eyes. He couldn’t breathe. If Jayne was dead, he wanted to die. If she was alive, he had to find her. Was she hurt? Had LeFarge taken her hostage? He didn’t know. He had only the chilling certainty that his wife was in grave danger.

  Frozen or not, he knew what he had to do. He strode into the barn, snatched up his rifle and listened for a cry, a shout, some sign to guide him.

  Loose and ready, his finger rested on the trigger as he scanned the edge of the forest. A flock of sparrows took flight. Pine branches swayed without reason. He heard the staccato call of chipmunks and the whisper of a breeze. And then he saw LeFarge emerge from the forest on a gray horse with bulging eyes.

  The animal looked ready to collapse and LeFarge didn’t look much better. Ethan wanted to shoot the man on sight, but he couldn’t do anything until he found Jayne.

  With the rifle aimed at the outlaw, he edged out of the barn and looked into the man’s silvery eyes. It was like touching frozen metal with wet skin. LeFarge had the power to tear him into pieces.

  “Where is she?” Ethan demanded.

  “Give me the money and you’ll get her back.”

  Ethan narrowed his eyes. What lies had Jayne told? For all his worrying, not once had they played the “what if” game. It had been too painful to imagine LeFarge in their midst, and now Jayne’s life depended on Ethan’s ability to guess what she had told the outlaw. He needed more information.

  “What did you do with her?” he said forcefully.

  “The money or the woman. You pick.” The old man settled back in his saddle. Ethan saw the gun in his hand, but LeFarge didn’t make a move to shoot. That hesitation told him that he had something the man wanted.

  “What makes you think she’s that important to me?”

  The outlaw glared at Ethan. “Don’t play games with me, Mr. Trent. That money is mine and I want it back. Now, where is it buried?”

  A clue. Jayne had told him something. She had to be alive. Staring hard at the outlaw, Ethan took a chance. “It’s buried in the garden.”

  “Then you better start digging up your bean plants if you want to see her alive.”

  Hope warmed his frozen heart like a beam of sunlight, but he pushed it out of his mind. He couldn’t afford the distraction as he weighed his options. Perhaps it would be best to give LeFarge the illusion that Jayne’s lie about the money was the truth.

  “I’ll get a shovel.”

  But as he stepped toward the barn, Jayne’s horse emerged limping from the forest, riderless and streaked with blood. With a burning certainty that turned his heart to a bloody pulp, Ethan knew his wife was dead or dying.

  LeFarge looked at the animal with a smirk. “I guess I hit her after all.” With a smooth sweep of his arm, he raised his gun, pulled back the hammer and took aim.

  As the outlaw’s empty gray eyes focused on him, Ethan saw his own death as plainly as he saw the setting sun. His whole life had come to this one moment. He could live well or die like a coward. He could let LeFarge take him or he could fight. He could die right now or he could risk living without Jayne.

  With sweat on his brow and his hands as cold as they had ever been, Ethan knew what he had to do.

  LeFarge seemed to know it, too. Ethan saw the misery of sickness in the man’s eyes, the pity of a wasted life, the guilt and shame of lying, stealing and even murder, and he knew LeFarge was facing the same choice he was.

  The outlaw’s shoulders sagged ever so slightly and his eyes dimmed. Before the m
an could change his mind, Ethan aimed at his chest and fired.

  The gray horse bucked in a frenzy, causing LeFarge to slump forward and fall to the ground in a heap. The sulfur smell of gunpowder hung in the air. With his nose burning, Ethan lowered the Winchester and stared at the man who had taken everything from him. He saw the last twitch of his fingers and heard his last rasping breath. His eyes stayed open, staring blindly at the heavens, and in that moment Ethan begged for mercy.

  Please, God, let her be alive…

  With blood rushing to his brain, he ran into the barn and jumped bareback on the roan. The sun was huge and red, a fire burning in the sky, and he raced through the meadow at a gallop. He didn’t know if Jayne had survived or if he was looking for a body, but he had to have answers.

  When he reached the crest, he slowed the horse.

  “Jayne!”

  Silence sliced at his hope, but then a ray of sun glinted off a metal object lying in the middle of the road. It could have been anything, a scrap of metal from a wagon, a broken tool, but as he rode closer, he saw his six-shooter lying in the dirt. Hopping down from the roan, he snatched it up and opened the cylinder.

  Jayne had gotten off a single shot. Her fight had begun on this spot, but it hadn’t ended here. Ethan scanned the forest below him. Twilight turned it into a bottomless canyon, but between the trees he saw a jagged trail marked by patches of dirt.

  Gripping the reins, he led the roan down the steep hill. Another glint of light caught his eye and he skidded toward it. The flash disappeared with the changed angle of his line of sight, but he spotted his wife’s sewing bag. It had been torn nearly in half and the contents were strewn among the trees.

  “Jayne!”

  He heard nothing, but as he searched for her, he found other clues. Hoofprints marked the earth where pine needles had been pushed aside. Shattered tree branches dangled like broken arms. The odors of sap, sweat and blood hung in the dusky air. He sensed her heart beating as if it were his own, and then he saw her hat, a glove and finally her crumpled body lying askew at the base of a lightning-scarred tree.

  Dropping the reins, Ethan ran to her, skidding down the trail until he was kneeling at her side. He saw that she had pulled both arms tight across her belly. Mulch clung to her cheeks and neck. He saw blood in her hair, and her skin had turned pearlescent in the dying light.

  With his heart pounding, he pressed two fingers against her throat and felt for a pulse. Heat flowed through his fingertips, but he couldn’t tell if it was Jayne’s warmth filling him or his own hope draining away. He pressed his ear against her chest and held his breath. He felt it then, the steady beat of her heart looking for his.

  Hope flickered like a match and he spoke her name. “Jayne…”

  But still she didn’t make a sound.

  Shaking inside, Ethan surveyed her wounds. A purple lump had risen on her temple and he saw a bloody scalp wound. Tree branches had shredded one sleeve of her jacket and gouged her arm. As he straightened her elbow, he saw where LeFarge had left his mark. A single bullet had pierced her shoulder.

  As gently as he could, he probed the wound. Thick blood rimmed the hole, but it wasn’t oozing or sucking air. The shot had passed clean through. The injury was serious but it wouldn’t kill her. It was the lump on her head that made his gut clench.

  “Sweetheart, wake up,” he pleaded.

  Still she didn’t make a sound.

  He had to get her to the cabin where she would be warm and he could tend to her wounds and tell her to wake up. Scooping her into his arms, he took heart at the warmth of her cheek against his chest and then trudged down the mountain with the roan following in his wake.

  With each step, he listened for a moan from Jayne’s lips, a whisper of life, but he heard nothing. The coppery scent of her blood filled his nose. A head injury, a miscarriage, bleeding to death. He had to get her home where he could tend to her wounds, as she had tended to his, both seen and unseen.

  Let her live, let her live, let her live.

  By the time he pushed through the cabin door, the sky had turned from pale blue to a purple expanse crowded with shining stars. After placing his wife on the bed, he peeled off her jacket and loosened her skirt much as he had done all those weeks ago. Trying to be gentle, he removed her blouse and cleaned the shoulder wound with whiskey, talking to her while he worked.

  When he finished bandaging her shoulder, he looked again at the gash on her forehead. The blood had dried, but she needed stitches. Mostly, though, she needed to wake up.

  He didn’t have any smelling salts, so he dampened a rag with cold water and wiped at her cheeks and forehead. She needed a doctor, but he didn’t dare leave her. Nor could he see jouncing her in a wagon all the way to town on a moonless night.

  Having done his best, Ethan pulled a chair to the side of their bed where he rubbed her hands and talked to her as if she were answering back. He told her about the last moments of LeFarge’s life and the bleakness of his death. Then he whispered that he loved her and needed her and begged her to open her eyes.

  She didn’t stir, but he could imagine her telling him to stand tall and live well. He could feel her speaking deep in his soul, in the same place where Laura and the children lived, and he knew with certainty that some things in life couldn’t be taken away.

  Now…this very moment.

  No one could take this sliver of time away from him. Nothing could erase Jayne from his heart, not even death.

  Forever…a time yet to come.

  Nothing could make him doubt the promise that someday he would see all the people he loved again, in heaven—a place full of love, laughter and unspeakable joy.

  Ethan looked up at the silver heart hanging near the bed. He had put the mirror away when they returned from Midas as man and wife, but Jayne had hung it back on the wall. “Laura and I would have been good friends,” she had said.

  The gesture had touched Ethan deeply and the sight of the fire reflecting in the silver glass warmed him now. As he dropped his chin to his chest, he prayed. Words didn’t come to him, but vivid pictures from his life filled his mind with color and light.

  He saw Laura smiling at him with dovish eyes, and then one by one, William, Josh and Katie each waved at him. The four of them were in the yard of their Missouri home. Laura was cutting back a rosebush, the boys were rough-housing and his baby daughter was hanging on to her mother’s skirt and teetering on wobbly legs. It was a glorious, ordinary day.

  The picture changed then. Ethan saw himself on the ranch, walking down the path from the corral to the cabin. Jayne was pumping water at the well. Smiling, she offered him a brimming cup. He took it and drank.

  “Come with me,” she said.

  As he took her hand, she led him to a spot of shade where he saw a wicker basket. Nestled in yellow flannel was a golden-haired girl with her mother’s eyes.

  Ethan nearly wept at the pictures in his mind. Heaven touched earth when a man truly loved. He was sure of it. It was “now” and “forever” that counted, not tomorrow or later or someday. The in-between times could drive a man crazy, but love was worth the risk. With love came hope.

  Hope is a rope. Tie a knot and hang on.

  Closing his eyes, he rested his head on his wife’s chest, grabbed that rope and hung on with all his might. God willing, he’d never again have to bury someone he loved, but if the worst happened, he knew he’d survive. As long as he stayed in the small glow where time and eternity touched, he was at peace.

  Her shoulder throbbed with each beat of her heart, pulling her back to consciousness. With the dull pain in her torso came the memory of LeFarge and her ride through the forest. Her head hurt, too, and it felt wonderful. She was alive. Gloriously alive.

  As the fog in her mind cleared, she remembered Ethan telling her that LeFarge was dead. Relief flowed from her head to her toes and her bones felt light against the bed. Her hand drifted down to her belly where she felt a hardness that told her the baby was
safe, too.

  Glancing down the length of the mattress, she focused her bleary eyes on her husband. Seated in a chair, he was slumped at her knees with his head cradled on his forearms. She could only begin to imagine the terror he’d experienced when he found her. She touched his temple. “Ethan?”

  He jerked awake. Joy filled his eyes as he grabbed her hand and kissed her fingertips. “You scared the living daylights out of me,” he said.

  A fresh stab of pain radiated from the hole in her shoulder. She wanted to sleep, but she needed to talk about what had happened. “Are you all right? When I saw LeFarge, I was so worried about you.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, squeezing her fingers.

  “It had to be awful for you, but I had to go. Can you understand?”

  A soft chuckle shook her husband’s shoulders. “I do, and I love you for it. You’re a strong woman. I’m just thankful God made you too stubborn to die.”

  “I wasn’t being stubborn—”

  “Of course not,” he agreed. “You’re strong-minded.”

  “I am.”

  “So am I. We’re going to live this life as best as we can. We’re going to cherish every day and enjoy every minute we have together.” Ethan caressed her cheek. “I feel good, and it happened even before you opened your eyes just now.”

  “LeFarge is dead, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, but it’s more than that.” He told her about seeing her bloody horse, the defeat in the old man’s eyes, about finding her and finally about the peace he’d made with the inevitable uncertainty of life.

  “No matter what happens tomorrow, we have today and we have the promise of heaven,” he said. “A man can’t ask for more than that.”

  Tipping her head, she gazed into his brown eyes where she saw the loaminess of fertile earth. He moved one hand so that it rested on her belly where the baby was safe and stirring, and with the other he smoothed her hair away from her face.

  “Lie with me,” she said.

  He stretched on the bed, then rolled onto his side so that she was cradled against the length of him. As he pressed his lips to the nape of her neck, he shifted his hand so that his palm covered the baby. Her tummy jumped and the hum in his throat told her that he, too, had felt the wonder of new life.