Teton Splendor

by Peggy L Henderson

  “Go back to the village, Lucas. Thanks for all you’ve done.”

  “I’ll be right behind you, Joseph. Go after them and give that bastard hell from me.” Lucas slapped him on the back.

  Joseph nodded, and mounted his horse. Taking advantage of the shifting clouds that uncovered the moon, he guided his gelding through tall sedge, heading west to the base of the mountains. He crossed a shallow stream, the faint moon’s light reflecting off the water in an eerie glow, and the terrain became rockier. Conifers loomed in greater numbers all around him, slowing him down. By the time the first rays of dawn rose in the eastern horizon, he’d covered several more miles when he led his horse along a narrow deer trail up the mountain.

  Joseph stopped at a trickle of water that sprung from between an outcropping of rocks, and held his hand under the water, splashing it on his weary face. He blinked his eyes to try and clear his head. He hadn’t slept much in almost a week. Images of Sophie popped in and out of his mind; visions of her in a satiny blue ball gown that accentuated her bare neck and shoulders. It’s what she’d worn the first time he laid eyes on her in her father’s study in Boston.

  Joseph sipped once more from the cool spring. She would have been safer in Boston. Her life wouldn’t be in danger from a killer at this very second. But Boston would have choked the life out of her in time. She belonged here among the splendor of the mountains, just as she belonged with him. And she would be back in his arms, he told himself firmly.

  Reaching for his horse’s reins, Joseph froze. Small bits of gravel rolled toward him from the trail up ahead. Slowly, he cocked his rifle, and stepped away from the spring. His horse tensed, and the gelding’s ears moved nervously back and forth. Joseph focused on his surroundings, slowly scanning the trees beyond and to the sides. Birds that chirped loudly in the trees moments ago now quieted. The gentle breeze that swayed through the branches of the conifers became ominously loud.

  Every nerve ending in his body told him he was being watched. And he would lay bets that whoever was watching him knew that he was aware of his presence. The man apparently wanted to be found.

  “Show yourself,” Joseph called. His voice echoed off the mountain.

  “Lay down your gun first,” came the immediate reply.

  Joseph scoffed. “Like hell I will,” he yelled. “Who are you?” He strained his ears to listen, moving his eyes almost imperceptibly from side to side.

  “I have Sophia.”

  Joseph clenched his jaw. “If you’ve harmed her in any way, I’ll kill you. Let her go.”

  The man laughed. “She’s in a safe place for now.”

  More gravel rolled down the path to his right, and he caught a glimpse of some blue fabric. In one swift move, Joseph darted around a tree trunk, aimed his rifle and fired. A soft groan came from behind the trees where he fired his weapon.

  With a small sense of satisfaction that he had hit his target, Joseph dropped to the ground. Slowly, with the practiced stealth taught to him by his father, he inched along the ground, thankful for the thick foliage that obscured the other man’s view. He circled a wide berth around to where he suspected the man sat waiting. Joseph slowly pulled his knife from its sheath. Around another tree, his target sat with his back to him. Joseph sprang to his feet and rushed up behind the man, wrapping his arm around his neck, and pressed the tip of his knife into his opponent’s throat.

  “Where’s my wife?” he growled into the man’s ear. His hand itched to drive the knife into his adversary’s throat, but first he needed to find out where Sophie was. That she wasn’t here with this man was obvious. What had that bastard done with her? Joseph’s choke hold increased. What if he’d already killed her?

  The man struggled and gurgled for air, and kicked out with his legs. His hands wrapped around Joseph’s arm and gripped tight in an effort to free himself, but Joseph refused to let go. Rage and frustration, mixed with fear of what might have happened to Sophie, consumed him.

  “I should just kill you now,” he rasped between clenched teeth, straining to maintain his chokehold. The man’s grip weakened. Joseph eased up on his victim, and the man sagged to the ground, gasping and coughing for air. Joseph kicked the man’s rifle that lay on the ground out of reach.

  Standing over him, Joseph clenched and unclenched his jaw. The man rubbed at his neck, and looked up. A grimace formed on his face. He was the same man Joseph had seen along the Ohio and again in St. Louis.

  “You’re a lot better than I gave you credit for, Walker,” he rasped. “At times I had some serious doubts about you.”

  Joseph’s brows drew together. “Where’s Sophie?” he demanded.

  The man laughed. “She’s safe.”

  Joseph reached down and grabbed the man by his shirt, hauling him up on his feet again. Blood trickled from under the tear in the man’s shirtsleeve. Joseph bared his teeth at his opponent.

  “My patience is running thin.”

  “Miss Yancey is being taken care of for the moment,” the man said. “She took a nasty hit to the head and will probably have a mighty big headache for a few days, but I think she’ll recover. Same with the knife wound in her arm.”

  Joseph clenched his jaw. Sophie was hurt?

  “Where is she?”

  “I left her with an old hermit who lives further up along this mountain with his son. I met them several days ago. I was trying to pick up Sabin’s trail. It led me to that Indian village.”

  There was only one person who lived in these mountains who could be considered a hermit. Jasper Williams. It was a miracle Jasper hadn’t shot this man. The old mountain goat didn’t let anyone within a hundred yards of his cabin. That he had a son was news to him.

  Joseph’s eyes narrowed. “Keep talking, mister. Who are you?”

  “My name is Nathan Gibson. I’ve been following Oliver Sabin since I arrived here in the Tetons. The man is more elusive than a cougar, and unfortunately I’m not familiar with these mountains.”

  Joseph recovered quickly from his initial shock. These were the last words he expected to hear. He eased up on the man’s shirt.

  “You’ve been following Sabin? That still doesn’t explain who you are, and why you’ve been following us. Or why you shot at us a week ago.”

  Nathan laughed. “Believe me, Walker, if I had been shooting at you, you’d be dead right now.”

  Joseph’s forehead wrinkled. “You were aiming for Lucas?”

  Nathan smiled. “There was a man lurking in the bushes while you and the lady were . . . ah. . . occupied. I know a woman can cloud a man’s judgment and alertness, so I thought I’d do you a favor and shoot the guy. It could have been Sabin for all I knew.” He shrugged.

  “You shot my brother.”

  “I know that now. Good thing I wasn’t at my best that day. It was a terrible shot.”

  “I’m still not clear who you are,” Joseph pressed.

  Nathan rubbed at his neck again. “Stop pointing that knife at me, and I’ll explain.”

  Joseph hesitated. Keeping a wary eye on the man, he sheathed his knife. The rifle was far enough away that, if Nathan made a move to grab for it, Joseph could easily overtake him.

  “I’m here at the request of Mr. Byron Yancey, Miss Yancey’s father. He’s already paid me a large advance sum to follow you out of Boston and watch over his daughter. He told me he was worried about Oliver Sabin finding out about her, and he wanted a little extra assurance that the girl made it here alive, and would get home again safely.”

  Yancey had hired a gunman to follow them? Joseph didn’t know whether to be glad or upset with this information. Did the greenhorn really think he’d let anything happen to her? He clenched his jaw. Sabin might have killed her yesterday if this Gibson fellow hadn’t been there.

  “Sophie is my wife. She’s my responsibility. You can take that message home to Yancey.”

  Nathan smiled. “Mr. Yancey told me that might happen, in which case I was to report back to him how his daughter wa
s faring.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you just come to us and tell us who you were?” Irrational anger shot through Joseph. Anger, because Yancey had been correct.

  “I wasn’t even supposed to be seen, Walker. Yancey wasn’t looking to stir trouble between you and him. He only wanted to make sure his daughter was safe.” He paused, then looked at Joseph with a smile on his face. “You’re a much keener observer than I gave you credit for. I didn’t expect to have you see me at the Ohio that day when the boat sank, and I sure as hell didn’t think you’d remember me in St. Louis.” Gibson eyed the flesh wound on his arm. By the looks of it, the bullet had only grazed him.

  “How did you know Sabin was after us? How did Sabin know Sophie is here?” Joseph paced the ground in front of Gibson.

  “Best I can figure is that he was in St. Louis and must have recognized her. He wouldn’t have tried to kill her there, and you were in the company of some pretty impressive men. Men like Sabin are cowards. They won’t strike unless the odds are in their favor.”

  Joseph eyed the man he had assumed was out to kill him or Sophie all these weeks. Despite his annoyance, he found him to be quite likable.

  “If I had gotten a clean shot at him, I would have killed Sabin yesterday, but I couldn’t even see him in that forest by the Indian village. I was already set to step in when that Injun woman attacked Miss Yancey with a knife. All I could think of to do at the time was get her away before he realized he’d shot the wrong woman. I did the only thing I could think of – hide her away up in the mountains and then come back to find you.”

  Joseph reluctantly conceded that the man had made the right decision to flee with Sophie rather than take her to the Indian village. Lucas would have shot this man on sight. He held out his hand. Nathan shook it.

  “Thank you for saving my wife’s life.”

  “You’re not a bad shot,” Nathan remarked, squeezing his injured shoulder. “How’d you know where to aim? I was well concealed.”

  Joseph grinned. “We have our own ways up here in the mountains,” he said. “We should talk about working together to find Sabin, but right now you need to take me to my wife.”

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Sophia winced. She reached a trembling hand up to touch her pounding head. Slowly, she opened her heavy eyelids. Blinking to clear her blurry vision, she squinted at her surroundings. The coarse hairs of buffalo fur tickled her cheek, and she moved her head. She suppressed a hiss when the movement caused a sharp pain at the back of her skull.

  She faced a wall made of what appeared to be logs and dirt. Where was she? This wasn’t her teepee at the Bannock village. A rush of adrenaline swept through her. Snippets of memories flashed before her. Feather in the Wind had attacked her. The sound of a gunshot, then the woman fell on top of her, and Sophia hit her head against a hard object. Someone had grabbed her. A dun horse. Galloping at breakneck speeds away from the village. That’s all she remembered.

  Cautiously, Sophia turned her head. Her eyes fell to the soft flickering glow of a fire crackling in the large hearth opposite of where she lay. Faint sunlight filtered through a small window partially covered in burlap.

  “You’re awake.” A raspy voice spoke from the foot of the bed. Startled, Sophia scrambled to a sitting position, and grabbed hold of the wall to steady herself. The world around her tilted as she tried to focus her eyes in the direction of the voice.

  A small figure stood watching her. A young boy, dressed in dirty britches and a shirt that looked to have been made for someone three times his size. A large oversized furry cap that looked to be better off buried sat on his head. When their eyes met, the youth dropped his gaze, and moved away from the bed toward the hearth. Reaching for a long metal ladle lying on a crudely built small table in the center of the room, he stirred the contents of an iron pot hanging over the fire. Whatever he had cooking in that pot was enough to make Sophia’s stomach churn. She’d smelled pig slop that gave off a more pleasant aroma.

  “Where am I?” She pulled her legs over the side of the bunk, and stood. The room spun precariously, and a wave of nausea roiled her stomach. The back of her head throbbed to the pounding of her heart.

  She blinked, and glanced at the boy. If she were to guess, she was several inches taller than he. Surely he wasn’t a threat. She darted a nervous glance around the rest of the one-room cabin. Where was the man who had abducted her?

  The boy didn’t respond right away. Finally, he straightened and turned around. His hand reached for the cap on his head, and he adjusted it further forward over his forehead.

  “In the mountains,” came his curt reply. By the rasp in his voice, he sounded like someone with an inflamed throat. Or perhaps his voice was going through the change all boys experienced at a certain age.

  “Where’s the man who brought me here?” Sophia took a step toward the youth. The boy’s gaze met hers, and Sophia stared into startling green eyes. Quickly, he ducked away from her and lowered his head.

  “Gone off. Said he had to find someone.”

  He had gone to find Sabin! Sophia’s heart lurched in her chest. Joseph had been right. The man had brought her here to serve her up to the monster who killed her parents.

  “I need to leave here,” she said, her voice cracking. She moved toward the door, her head still spinning. She swayed slightly on her feet. How was she going to find her way back to Joseph? How far had that man taken her? She didn’t even know where she was.

  The boy darted in front of her and blocked her way. “He also said to make sure you stay put.”

  “Get out of my way,” Sophia demanded.

  “I ain’t lettin’ you outta this cabin.” He pulled a pistol from his belt and pointed it at her chest.

  Sophia glared from the gun to the boy’s face. Dirt and grime covered his cheeks, but she detected a certain softness in his eyes that belied his determined stance.

  “Please. I know you don’t want to hurt me. That man will be back to kill me. I need to leave here.”

  The boy studied her from under the bushy cap he wore. “My pa told me to keep you here. Not to let you leave.”

  “Your pa?” Sophia’s forehead wrinkled. Nothing made sense anymore. Who was the man who Joseph said had been following them? Surely he wasn’t this boy’s father.

  “Who brought me here?” she finally asked.

  “Man said his name’s Nathan Gibson. Said to keep you here, that he’d be back.”

  “And your pa?”

  “He’ll be along soon.” The boy motioned with his gun. “Get back there on that bed. I’d just as soon tie you up if you don’t listen.”

  “You’re making a big mistake,” Sophia said, gritting her teeth. Was there a chance that she could wrestle that gun away from the boy without either of them getting hurt? How much time had passed since she’d been brought here? For all she knew, Oliver Sabin could be right outside the door. Did Joseph even know that she’d been abducted? Maybe he and his father were still searching for Sabin. A small spark of hope sprang to life in her. Perhaps they had found him, and he was no longer a threat.

  “Wouldn’t be the first mistake I’ve ever made,” the boy grumbled, and motioned with the gun again. “Now get back over there. Breakfast’s almost ready.”

  Sophia took a tentative step toward the bed. The idea of eating what was in that pot didn’t sound enticing.

  “I hope you know how to shoot that weapon, because if Oliver Sabin shows up here, you’re going to need it,” she warned. She studied the boy for a reaction to the name. Was there a possibility that this youth was in league with a killer?

  The boy laughed. “You think I’m some greenhorn? A person don’t survive here in these mountains without knowing how to shoot.” His eyes drew together and he leaned slightly forward. “You tellin’ me you don’t know how to shoot?”

  “No, I don’t.” Sophia lifted her chin. “I’ve never had a reason to learn.” It might be too late for her now, but she vowed it was the
first thing Joseph would have to teach her if she made it out of this cabin alive.

  “What sort of Injun are you?” the boy shot her an incredulous look. He shook his head and chuckled.

  “The kind who was raised in Boston,” Sophia retorted. She didn’t owe this rude young man an explanation. By his reaction, he had never heard of Sabin before.

  “You sure don’t talk like an Injun.” The boy lowered his gaze, but kept his weapon pointed at her.

  “My mother was Bannock. I was raised as a white woman in Boston. That man has gone to bring another man here who wants to kill me. He also killed my parents.”

  The boy’s head shot up, and he looked at her again. Indecision was written in his eyes. Sophia’s hopes rose.

  “Please. You have to help me.”

  The boy’s head darted to the door, then back to her. “My pa’ll be back any minute. You can tell him what you told me. That Nathan fella seemed like an honest sort. He didn’t strike me as being shifty.”

  “He’s already shot at me twice. Now he’s going to find his accomplice. Please, help me get out of here. I just want to get back to my husband.”

  The youth narrowed his eyes. “Who’s your husband?”

  “Joseph Walker. He’s a white man. Perhaps you even know him.”

  “Walker? Don’t know no Joseph, but my pa speaks highly of another man named Walker.”

  “Yes, that must be Joseph’s father. You have to believe me, and let me go.”

  “I told you. When my pa gets back. In the meantime, we can eat. I hope they fed you whistle pigs in Boston, cause that’s all I got to serve you.”

  Sophia opened her mouth to ask what a whistle pig was despite her frustration, when loud voices reached her ears from outside. Several shots quickly followed the disturbance. The boy rushed to the window, and peered out, his gun raised.

  “Pa,” he yelled in a high pitched voice, and darted for the door. Before he could open it, the heavy wood creaked, and the door burst open, banging against the wall. A man dressed in grimy leather britches and shirt rushed in. He wore a wool cap, and a leather patch covered his left eye.