by Lana Gotham
I holstered my pistol. “Ms. Willing, I have never agreed with a person more.”
“You have kids?” She asked.
“No. I don’t want any either. But I think every child deserves to be protected from monsters—and that’s my job.”
I turned to leave and find Jon.
“Where are you going, Alyssa?” Lindsey Willing asked.
“I’m going to do my job.”
IT WAS EASY TO FIND the barn. I heard the moans before I opened the door.
Jon’s gun was tossed to the side and he was straddling a man—all I could see were his pants and boots sticking out from underneath Jon. Jon punched the monster—Malachi. He moved like a man possessed, as soon as one fist connected with the downed man, he swung again. Over and over.
“Jon!” I ran over. Blood splattered across Jon’s face and arms. The man beneath him still squirmed, refusing to be still and die.
“Jon, that’s enough. If you are going to kill him, then kill him.”
From the darkened corner I heard a whimper. I followed the sound.
I holstered my gun, and held my hands out, palms up. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “You can come out. No one is going to hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
From the shadows stepped a boy. A tiny boy with long, straight black hair and large, wide set, deep brown eyes. The same hair and eyes I saw everyday on Jon.
“Are...are you going to whip me?” His voice quivered.
With his words, my heart broke. “What?” I asked.
The little boy—Jon’s boy—stepped further from the shadow of the corner. “Malachi,” the boy flinched. “I mean...I am supposed to call him Pa—please don’t tell him I forgot. He’d be real mad if I forgot to call him Pa. And if I don’t do what he wants fast enough he whips me. On my back.”
My stomach lurched. I looked over to where Jon was still punching Malachi. I quickly moved my eyes away. My stomach squeezed and I remembered hands—identical to Malachi’s—caressing me. Touch me. I remembered a body just the same as Malachi’s making love to me. But it wasn’t him. It was Jon, I reminded myself. Yes. I would have to be mad at Jon later...once we were all safe. We’d have a big talk because I didn’t know how I felt. I knew I loved Jon and that love is complicated...but this would be a lot for me to get over. Especially now that I’d met Jon’s son and knew what a monster Malachi truly was. Those memories would plague me forever.
Right now, I didn’t have time for anger. Right now I didn’t have time for anything other than getting the boy safe. “That man....he ain’t your pa. Not even close.”
The boy’s brown eyes widened. “I know that. I can’t...I remember I had a real Pa. And a real Ma. But I can’t remember them. Malachi said he saved me. That I had to call him Pa because he was the only Pa I had left.”
I heaved a breath to keep tears from forming in my eyes. “No. You listen to me. Your Pa, your real Pa, he has been looking for you for a long time. He loves you—you are loved. I know your Pa real well.”
“You do?” The boy stepped closer.
I looked to where Jon finally slid off of Malachi, leaving him a heaping, bloody mess.
“Yes. Your Pa. He loves you very much. In fact, he came to save you. I’m just here to help you. He risked his life to bring you home.”
The boy’s bottom lip quivered with emotion and he threw his arms around my neck. “That other man—the one beating up Malachi...is he? Is...”
Before I could answer, Jon stood. He stared to where I was kneeling next to his son. There was blood on his face and shirt. His fists were bloodied and beginning to swell. I was sure his son would cry. Or scream. Or turn away. Instead the boy only stared back at his father. He didn’t blink and his lip didn’t quiver. Jon took a step, slowly, toward his son.
“Jacoby...” Jon’s voice was low and steady.
The boy said nothing.
“Your name was Jacoby,” Jon continued.
“Pa...I mean Malachi said I didn’t deserve a name.”
Jon’s eyes flashed and I thought he was going to turn and kick the body of Malachi. I wouldn’t have blamed him. Hell, I had half a mind to go and give it a good kick in the ribs myself.
The little boy, Jacoby, ducked his chin and stared for a long time at his boots. When he looked up there was the smallest semblance of a smile on his precious face. “The lady said that you are here to rescue me.”
“Yes. You are my son. Mine. I am taking you home and no one will ever hurt you again. I promise.”
“You are my Pa? My real Pa?” The tiny smile began to spread.
Jon’s eyes glistened. “Yes.”
Jacoby turned to me. “And you are my Ma?”
“Oh honey. No. Your Ma—I bet she was a good woman. Probably the best. But me, I don’t have any kids.”
His brows drew together and he frowned. “Oh.”
“But Jacoby, I’d like very much to be your friend. Your best friend, if you’ll let me.” I stood “But first let’s get out of here, okay?”
Jacoby slipped his hand inside of Jon’s and a range of emotion registered of my lover’s face. Surprise. Happiness. Contentment. All emotions I’d never before seen him wear.
“Yes,” Jacoby said. “I’d like that very much. Now let’s go before Malachi wakes up. I don’t ever wanna see him again.”
Jacoby’s tiny body shivered. I knew Jon would have many questions for his son, and that likely Malichi wouldn’t be the only person to suffer at his hand. I also knew that though Jacoby seemed fine, he’d likely have questions of his own. And likely, it would take him a while, maybe a long while, before he was truly okay. If he was ever okay.
But for now, father and son were together.
We turned to leave the barn, when Jon caught my eye. “Why don’t you take Jacoby out of here and wait with the horses. I got to finish something. My life depends on it.”
Of course. His deal with the witches on Red Soot Mountain. If he didn’t kill Malachi, then their deal would be permanent, and the witch who he’d dealt with would keep his soul.
“Yeah, okay.” I placed a hand on Jacoby’s shoulder and led him from the barn. He looked over his shoulder once and frowned.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I knew Malachi wasn’t my real Pa. He has white hair and fair skin. But I tried and tried to remember my real Pa and Ma and I never could. I don’t know if Malachi did something to make me forget or what—but a kid should be able to remember his parents and I can’t.”
His eyes were thick with unshed tears. The last thing this little boy should have felt was guilt over not remembering Jon. My heart broke all over again. I squeezed his shoulder. “Hey. Listen to me, it is okay. None of this is your fault. None of it. I think you have been a very strong boy.”
“You do?”
“Yes. I do. And I’m a Sheriff, so you can take what I say as the law.”
He mulled over what I said, then shook his head.
“Now come on. Let’s get to the horses so we can get out of here.”
Jacoby let me guide him from the barn. Behind me I heard Jon draw his weapon.
I was letting Jacoby pet Diana (she preened at the attention) when the scream broke through the air.
It was Jon.
Chapter 18
I pulled Jacoby behind me and drew my pistol with the speed that was only possible from someone with my last name. The little boy shivered violently under my hand, and I knew he was terrified. I was going to make it my duty once we got out of there to make sure he had a secure, boring childhood. He deserved it.
“Sheriff...what is it? The little boy whispered. “That sounded like my...” he screwed up his face. “Like my Pa. My real Pa.” I knew he was testing out the word, seeing how it felt on his tongue when referring to Jon. I tried to imagine how Jon appeared to the boy—probably larger than life. Silent and tall.
Covered in a monster’s blood. And now screaming.
“Jacoby, don’t worry. You ar
e going to be okay. No matter what.”
I held tightly to his arm and pulled him behind me to the house. I pushed through the front door. Lindsey Willing was sitting on a stool, with perfect posture and an alert expression pulling her eyebrows skyward. “D’you hear that?” she asked. She clasped and unclasped her hands in her lap, knotting the fabric of her full skirts between her palms.
I nodded. “Yeah. Earlier you said you had a child—a boy.”
“I do.”
“Well right now I need you to promise me you will guard this one like he is your own.”
She looked at the little boy and her face softened. “Of course.”
I looked around the room, then pulled open drawers, and opened doors, looking for a gun. I couldn’t leave the woman and child weaponless.
Lindsey must have known what I was thinking. She hiked her satin and lace skirt and pulled a tiny revolver from her garter. “Won’t kill from a distance but it should keep us safe enough until you get back here.”
I smiled despite myself. I liked the whore. “Bar the door when I leave. Don’t open for anyone but me, you got it?”
She nodded, her blonde curls bouncing.
“Sheriff?”
“Yes?”
“That man—if he is this evil—if you hadn’t shown up, who even knows what he would have done to me.” We locked eyes. “Thank you.”
I nodded, then turned and ran toward the sound of Jon’s scream.
Chapter 19
I found him back in the barn, doubled over and pressing his side. Red bloomed across his white shirt, starting from his side and spreading in blotchy tendrils across his stomach. Jon’s skin shown waxy and glistened with sweat.
“Jon!” My boots slapped against the ground as I ran to him.
“Stay...Stay back.” His words came out in a wheeze.
I pulled my gun and swept across the room. “What happened, Jon?”
“The bastard must have had a knife in his boot. He lay still as if dead. Like an idiot, I leaned over him, and pressed my gun to his forehead.” He stopped and sucked in a deep wheeze of air. “I should have just shot him. Or kicked him in the head. Instead, I enjoyed it. I thought, ‘This man hurt my family. Possibly killed my wife. I was going to go slow—let him hear the click of my hammer, let him feel the steel of my barrel.’ I wanted him to know death was coming for him. I’d spent time in his skin. I knew exactly how he’d feel. I knew what it felt like for those hands to tremble, for that heart to race. I knew what cold sweat felt like running down that face and neck. I knew what the cold bite of the gun barrel felt like as I dug it into his skin. I knew it and I relished it.” Jon stumbled and I moved to help him. His hand shot up. ‘No. I don’t know where he is, keep your weapon up.”
He coughed, cringing at the movement in his abdomen.
“Before I could pull the trigger, without even opening his eyes, he drove his knife into my side. He knocked my gun from my hand as he twisted the blade.” He coughed again. “Where’s...where’s Jacoby?”
“He is safe.” Even as I said the words, I didn’t know if they were true. “We have to get you help, Jon. Let’s get Jacoby, get our horses, and get out of here.”
“No. Malachi must die. Remember....if he doesn’t...” his voice trailed away.
“I know. But right now, that doesn’t matter. You have time. Hell, I’ll come back and kill him myself. But right now, if we don’t get you taken care of, none of that will matter. If you die and the witch has your soul, then she gets to keep it.”
He grimaced. I knew he wanted to resist. But as I watched him, I knew my words were taking hold. I was right, and he knew it.
“Lean against me and we will get you to your horse. I will get Jacoby and Lindsey. We can be to New Duluth in less than three hours. Maybe somebody there can help us.”
I knew I was being hopeful and not altogether honest with myself. Stopping in New Duluth would be dangerous, the citizens didn’t exactly seem to be members of my fan club. No one spoke up when Bart’s brother wanted to kill me. But Jon’s complexion was losing color with every passing breath as the red continued to spread from his side. He needed help. I’d make someone help us, even if I had to hold a gun to their head to force them to do it.
We limped and shuffled and panted our way back to the house. There was no sight of Malachi.
I knocked against the wooden door. “Open up. It’s me.”
The lock clicked, followed by the sound of the bar scraping across the wood. Lindsey Willing stood in the doorway. She paled at the sight of Jon. “Oh, no.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
We shuffled inside and Jon slumped onto a stool, leaning forward. Jacoby’s eyes rounded. He walked up to his father and slid his tiny hand into Jon’s large one.
“We need to go. Now,” I said, keeping my voice even.
“But where is Malachi?” Lindsey pressed her lips together until they were two crimson stripes.
“He got away. But I can tell you, he isn’t going far.”
“Yes, but where did he go? I sure don’t want to run into him.” Her eyes never left Jon, who was grasping his side.
I moved to the kitchen and began pulling open drawers and cabinets until I found what I was looking for. Rags and cloths. “Do you know where the bedroom is?”
She nodded.
“Then go pull me a sheet off the bed.”
Lindsey hurried away and was back within a minute, a crisp white sheet balled up in her arms.
“Jon, I need you to hold your arms out to the sides. We have to staunch this bleeding until we can get you to the doctor.”
I pressed the rags to his wound, then instructed Lindsey to hold them in place and apply pressure. I took the sheet and bound the rags to the wound, doing my best to tie the cumbersome material into a tight knot.
“That should hold until we can get you to the doctor. We need to put some space between us and this place, but we can’t move too fast. Even so, it shouldn’t take us more than four hours to get to New Duluth, even if our horses are walking.”
Jacoby, who’d slid away while I doctored Jon, was back at his side, clasping Jon’s hand. I could see the joy in Jon even through the pain.
Lindsey frowned. “There ain’t a doctor in New Duluth. Ain’t even a Sheriff right now. I don’t know if you know much about the town, but it has trouble keeping with the law. Good people don’t tend to stay. But don’t worry—I know someone who can help.”
I sighed, if good people didn’t stay, what did that say about Lindsey Willing? What choice did I have but to trust the woman? I looked at Jon whose pallor was worsening. He needed a doctor, but even in my inexperience I knew that if we didn’t do something, he’d be dead before we reached GloryLand, and then the witches of Red Soot would own him forever. “Okay. Let’s get him to your friend. And let’s hurry.”
Chapter 20
Jon could barely stay on his horse—he’d lost a lot of blood. There was no way he’d do any good to anyone in a gun fight. Thankfully, I was indestructible—with skin like iron—but considering we were riding into danger, and had left danger behind us, I struggled with deciding if I should ride in front of our impromptu caravan, or bring up the rear. In the end, I decided that I could do the most good bringing up the rear, but we would ride tight. Jon led the way, barely staying upright. Lindsey rode in the middle on a mare we took from the stable. Jacoby sat with her. I brought up the rear. I could keep an eye out for anything in front of us, but also put myself between Jacoby and danger if we were ambushed from behind. Thankfully the sun had set before we set out on our return trip. Cloaked by night, I felt like we had a shot. Besides, no way would Malachi return—I didn’t think he was an idiot.
Jacoby hadn’t said a word since we saddled up, but every so often he glanced over his shoulder, either checking to see if I was still there, or to make sure Malachi wasn’t, or most likely both.
Eventually the torchlight of Duluth burned in the distance. I pulled on Diana’s reigns and cal
led to Jon to stop as well.
“What is going on?” Lindsey asked.
“We didn’t exactly get the welcome wagon coming through town on the way in. It didn’t end well but it could have been a whole hell of a lot worse.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I only killed one man. He was the brother to a raping sonofabitch. He pulled his weapon on me first.”
Lindsey froze. “You said you were a Sheriff... and are on your way to GloryLand. Christ. Why didn’t I put two and two together? This could be bad. Really bad.”
“Do explain,” I said, flatly.
“Everyone was talking about it when you hung Bart Rosemary. Of course, that was back when we still had us our own Sheriff. He was able to keep it calm, mostly because nobody was eager to avenge a rapist. Even gangs have their codes I suppose.”
“Gangs?” I did not like the sound of gangs.
“Yeah. The Rosemary boys. There is eight of them—all dumb as rocks and mean as snakes. I guess it is a good thing you did hang Bart. If they’d have taken up root in GloryLand you’d had trouble on your hands.”
“I’d say I have trouble on my hands already.” Diana snorted and pulled on her lead. “It’s okay girl,” I whispered and patted her neck. She could always tell when I was upset.
“They didn’t come for revenge back when Bart...why now?” I murmured this mostly to myself.
“You rode through their territory. They probably saw it as a slap in the face. Didn’t help that you are a woman.” Lindsey spit. “Men in New Duluth don’t have much respect for women. We have to be smart and tough.”