Glory

by Lori Copeland

  “Not all men are traitors,” Lily contended. “I’ve met some very nice men who were thoughtful and considerate. Jackson was wonderful … until tonight.”

  Patience sneezed. Rummaging in her valise for a handkerchief, she said softly, “Rats. I’m coming down with the sniffles.”

  Harper eyed her imperiously. “Well, honey, if you do, don’t expect Wyatt and his gentlemanly sons to bring you hot soup.”

  The girls shivered at the thought of Wyatt’s repulsive sons, Luther and Jeb.

  Patience had been unusually quiet, sitting through a supper of cold corn bread and water and looking miserable. Glory glanced at the shivering girl. “What about you, Patience? Do you think Jackson will turn us over to Tom Wyatt without a fight?”

  “Looks to me like he already has. I’m sorry, Glory. I know you believed in him; we all did. But maybe your trust, and ours, has been misplaced.”

  Mary started to cry, tears wetting her thin pillow. “If I can’t work and pay back Mr. Wyatt for my journey, what will he do with me? I’m useless.”

  Glory crossed the short distance to her bunk and took the sobbing girl in her arms.

  “Don’t worry,” Harper said gruffly. “I’ll do your share of the work, and if Wyatt complains, I’ll show him what for.”

  “I’ll help too,” Lily offered.

  Patience sneezed again. “Me too.”

  “We’ll all help, Mary.” Glory held the girl tightly. “Dry your tears. Jackson won’t let this happen to us.”

  Glory didn’t feel nearly as confident as she sounded. She didn’t know about Jackson. What would Wyatt do with a sickly girl? Would he sell her to some uncaring, thoughtless animal every bit as vile as he? Mary wouldn’t last a week… .

  Straightening, Glory lifted her chin. “I don’t care what you say, Jackson won’t do this to us. He … he has a plan. He’s only pretending to go along with Wyatt because he was outnumbered. It would have been foolish for him to try to take on all three of them. Why, I bet this very minute he’s arranging a rescue.”

  “Right.” Harper rolled her eyes. “And I’m the Queen Mother.”

  Wind battered the bunkhouse; Glory huddled on Mary’s cot, more scared than she’d been in her whole life. Please, Jackson, don’t do this to us. I love you.

  “We’ll run away. We can do it,” Lily whispered. “The door isn’t locked; we can slip out when the others are asleep and—”

  “We’d die, Lily!” Glory exclaimed. “We haven’t any food or water. It looks like it’s going to snow any minute. It’s miles and miles back to Denver City.” Glory glanced at Mary. “We can’t leave shelter; the mountain roads are narrow and dangerous. It’s pitch-black out there, and we have no lantern, barely adequate clothing—”

  Lily leaned closer. “But you’re used to the outdoors. You could lead us, Glory.”

  “I’m not that good, not nearly as good as Jackson.”

  The girls groaned.

  “We can’t count on him,” Ruth said.

  “When the storm’s over,” Harper began, “we sneak up on Wyatt and his no-good sons, and we knock them senseless—”

  “We can’t do that either, Harper,” Glory moaned. She would like nothing better than to knock Wyatt and his boys senseless, but if that mission failed, then no telling what Wyatt would do. He might decide they were more trouble than they were worth and do away with the lot of them. Short of killing the three men, the plan was too risky, and she didn’t want any part of killing.

  “We should pray about this,” Ruth murmured.

  “We will, Ruth, but in case the Lord is tending other business right now, we’d be smart to help him out.” Glory slipped off the cot and started to pace. “I know Jackson is bluffing. He’s thinking of a plan to help us this minute.”

  No use mentioning that she didn’t believe a word she was saying, but she had to be strong for the others.

  Rolling her eyes, Harper pulled the blanket over her head.

  Hope lit Ruth’s eyes. “Do you think so, Glory? Do you really think so?”

  Glory reached for Ruth’s hand and squeezed it. She could believe what she was saying—she must. “I know so, Ruth. Now everyone listen to me. Sleep lightly, and keep a close ear out for any sound that might mean Jackson is trying to help us.”

  Lily lifted a brow. “Like what?”

  “Like a peck on the window or the door opening softly.”

  “What if it’s Wyatt and those awful sons of his?” Ruth shivered.

  “If it’s Wyatt and he tries anything funny, we’ll fight him with anything we can get our hands on.” Her eyes fixed on the iron poker lying next to the stove. “I’ll use the poker. Lily, you hit him with your pillow. Ruth, take off your boots and knock the wadding out of him.”

  “I’ll empty my valise,” Patience offered. “It will make a weapon.”

  “Good.”

  “What about me?” Mary wheezed.

  Glory’s eyes swept the room.

  “I know,” Mary enthused. “I’ll charge him from the back. I’m little and wiry, and I’ll use my fingers as weapons to gouge his eyes out, if I must,” she whispered.

  “Perfect,” Glory agreed, and the others murmured their support. Eyes pivoted to Harper.

  Yanking the blanket off her face, she heaved a resigned sigh. “I’ll take him from the front.” Springing to her feet, she doubled both fists. “I’ll make him wish he’d thought twice about lying to us.”

  “Okay, we have a plan. Now, everyone buck up and have a little faith. Jackson won’t let us down.”

  “And neither will the Lord,” Ruth promised. “He might be off tending other business, but he still has an eye on all his children.”

  The girls knelt in prayer and joined hands. “Father,” Lily whispered, “we need you to be looking right now. You are our hiding place; you will protect us from harm.”

  “Yes, Lord,” Harper whispered. “You tell us not to worry about anything, but to pray about everything. You tell us to tell you what we need, and what we need right now, God, is for you to look after us.”

  Patience added softly, “You tell us not to be afraid, for you are with us. You are our God, and you will strengthen us. You will uphold us with your victorious right hand.”

  “You will keep in perfect peace all who trust you, whose thoughts are fixed on you, Father,” Ruth reminded.

  “You have loved us, even as your Father loved you,” Glory said softly. “And God has given us his Spirit as proof that we live in him and he in us.” Her heart overflowed with the joy of remembering the Scriptures.

  “We feel your Spirit this hour. Protect us this night, our Father. For you are the only one who can,” Mary prayed.

  Squeezing hands, the girls extinguished the candle and climbed onto their hard cots, ready for battle.

  Glory lay beside Ruth, listening to the first drops of cold rain hit the dirty windowpanes, rain that was destined to turn to heavy snow before morning. Glory tried to imagine how dark and cold a mine would be and finally gave up. Likely she’d find out soon enough.

  “Glory?” Ruth whispered.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you really believe Jackson will come, or were you only trying to console the others?”

  “I believe he will come, Ruth. Believe it with all my heart.”

  Ruth lay quietly for a moment. “Then I’ll believe it too.”

  Stillness settled over the drafty bunkhouse. Only Mary’s rattling cough broke the silence.

  “Ruth?”

  “Yes, Glory?”

  “Do you really believe there is a God, and that he loves us and cares about us, died on the cross to save us and give us eternal life?”

  “I believe there is, Glory. With all my heart, I believe there is.”

  Silence stretched between them. Rain pelted the windows, and the wind whistled through the cracks between the logs. The uncertainty of life never felt more certain.

  “Ruth?”

  “Yes?”

&nb
sp; “I believe it too. With all my heart, I believe it.”

  Reaching across the small space, the two girls held hands in the darkness and waited.

  Chapter Sixteen

  In the middle of the night, the girls still lay wide awake in the Wyatt bunkhouse, their ears straining to hear every sound, listening to every gust of wind and their own rapid heartbeats. With every facet of her being, Glory willed Jackson to return before dawn to rescue them. She reviewed every memory, every thing she’d heard him say, every expression on his face, every action he’d taken. In none of those things could she see a man who would abandon them to a fate like this. Jackson Lincoln wouldn’t—no, he couldn’t—leave them behind, never to return.

  Glory rose to toss another chunk of wood into the stove. There were precious few sticks remaining to last the night. She shivered inside her jacket and tightened her wool scarf around her neck. They had all agreed that Mary should have the only blanket. The poor girl’s breathing was raspy, the cold night and unsettling hours taking their toll. Harper had handed it over willingly.

  “Where do you suppose the others are?”

  Glory turned to look at Lily. “Others?”

  “The other kids who work the mine.”

  “Hidden away, probably. Wyatt wouldn’t want—”

  She stiffened, suddenly aware of a noise outside the single window of the bunkhouse. Her first thought was that Wyatt or his sons were returning to torment them. But that didn’t make sense when they could simply open the door and walk in. Her heart leapt to her throat. To her, only one person could be outside that window.

  “Did you hear something?” Ruth asked in a hoarse whisper.

  “It’s them,” Harper said. “Get to your battle stations.”

  “Hold on.” Glory eased away from the stove, careful not to make a sound. “It’s Jackson. I told you he’d come back for us!”

  “Not so fast, girl.” Harper crouched beside her cot, whispering. “We don’t know it’s Jackson. Better get ready for a fight.”

  The girls scrambled out of their beds, but Glory rushed past on her way to the window. “No, no,” she whispered, “stay quiet. We’ve got to help him.”

  She shoved back the rotting curtains and peered out, but the glass was so filthy and the night so dark she couldn’t see anything. But her heart knew who was mere feet away. She could hear him grunting as he strained to lift the cumbersome window.

  “It’s okay, Jackson,” she said in a low voice as she shoved at the window, trying to raise it. “I’ll help you from inside.”

  She pushed up with all her might while he pushed from the outside. Suddenly she heard a creaking and then a popping sound as the rusty nails gave way. The window slowly lifted from the sill, then suddenly slammed upward.

  Glory sighed with relief, then gathered the shredded curtains and sprang aside to allow Jackson access. She could point him to the front door, but Wyatt and his sons might see him. The window was hidden from the back part of the house where Wyatt and his sons slept.

  He landed inside with a thud, his heavy boots hitting the rotten floor planks in the thick darkness. Glory lunged forward to throw her arms around his neck. “You’re here,” she whispered. “I knew you’d come for me.”

  A man’s harsh chuckle sent goose bumps down her spine. “Told you I’d find you.”

  “Jackson?” Glory whispered, praying that the darkness was playing tricks on her.

  “Now don’t tell me you don’t recognize your favorite uncle Amos.”

  Glory sprang back and would have fallen to the floor had Ruth not caught her. “Oh no,” Glory moaned.

  “If I recollect, it was a dark night when you clobbered me and ran off with my gold.” Amos’s voice rumbled with rage. “Left me for dead, you did!”

  Mary screamed.

  “Making a habit of it, are ya?” Amos latched on to Glory’s arm and jerked her upright. “Don’t surprise me. Time you paid the piper, girlie. I want my gold. Now!”

  Glory quaked with fear. There was nothing Amos wouldn’t do to get Poppy’s gold. “I’d give you the gold if I had it, Amos. You’ve got to believe me.”

  “I don’t got to do nothing of the kind.” He gave Glory a shove. “You give me that gold or I’ll tear you apart.”

  Mary gasped, and then her wheezing intensified. She struggled for every breath now.

  Amos stopped and turned in the darkness, homing in on the sound of Mary’s raspy breathing. “Or I might grab me one of your friends. Is that what you want, Glory?” He had no trouble finding Mary. He fumbled in the dark until he reached her. With a jerk, he pulled the sickly girl from Harper’s arms. Mary began to choke—wrenching sounds—as her fright shut off her air supply.

  “No!” Glory fought her way through the inky blackness to Mary and tried to twist her free of his grip. “Let her go, Amos. You’re hurting her!”

  “I’ll hurt her worse,” he snarled. “Where’s that gold, Glory?”

  Patience and Lily started to sob; Ruth begged him to be merciful.

  “Let her go, Amos,” Glory pleaded. “She’s sick. I’ll take you to Poppy’s gold. I have it hidden. We can make good time, just the two of us. We have to go now, before Wyatt and his sons hear the racket and come to investigate.”

  “No, Glory!” Ruth pleaded. “You can’t go with him—”

  “I’ll take you, Amos,” Glory repeated. “Now! But you have to let Mary stay here.”

  “If you’re lying to me, I’ll do away with the lot of ’em.” He thrust Mary backward onto the cot, his left hand closing around Glory’s arm, pinching her tender flesh so hard it brought tears to her eyes.

  Whirling, he dragged her to the window and hoisted her to the sill. With a wicked shove he sent her flying through the opening. She landed on the ground with a hard thump, and he chuckled with glee. “If you make a run for it, Miss Glory,” he sang out on a high note, “I’ll bring Miss Mary with me!”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Amos,” Glory returned.

  He grunted with rage as he climbed through the window and landed on the ground in a heap. Struggling to his feet, he gave Glory a sound slap across her face. “That’s a taste of what you’ll get if you try anything. I mean it. You try to run out on me again, and I’ll come back here and take care of your little friends.”

  “I’ll do whatever you say.” Teeth chattering, Glory huddled against the icy wind. Snow had already begun to fall.

  Snatching her arm, he ushered her to a stand of aspens, where a horse waited. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and then climbed into the saddle.

  “Ow,” she cried as he dragged her up behind him. She struck out at him. “That hurts!”

  “Don’t try anything funny, Glory. I mean it. Where did you put that gold?”

  “In Denver City. I hid it before we came out here to Wyatt’s.”

  “You better not be lying to me,” he snarled as they set off at a trot.

  Investigating the ruckus, Wyatt opened the door to the bunkhouse and held his lantern aloft. His nightshirt flapped in the howling wind. “What’s going on out here?”

  The women huddled close, sobbing and praying in the center of the room. They shrank back as his spindly frame filled the open doorway. The only sounds were Mary’s wheezing and the gusts of wind banging the door against the side of the building.

  “I’m not a patient man!”

  Ruth spoke up. “A man came in.”

  “What?” Wyatt roared, lifting the lantern higher. His long hair whipped in the wind.

  “Through the window there. He took Glory, his niece. He’s a horrible man. I think he means her harm. You could catch them if you leave now. They have about a quarter of an hour’s start. I saw them heading into the woods—you could follow their tracks.”

  The other girls gasped.

  “No,” Lily exclaimed, “you can’t send him after them.”

  Ruth turned to look at her. “It’s the only way we can save Glory. This man is less of a danger to her t
han Amos. Remember, we’re only worth something to Wyatt if we’re alive. Glory’s uncle will surely do away with her once he gets what he’s after.”

  “Oh,” Lily choked, burying her face in her hands to sob.

  Wyatt strode to the open window and slammed it shut. “The next one who tries to escape will be shot, you hear me?”

  “The dead could hear you,” Jackson said, appearing in the open doorway with Dylan right behind him. Both men had pistols trained on Wyatt.

  “Jackson!” Ruth sprang up to meet him. “Glory knew you would come. She lied to Amos, told him she’d hidden the money in Denver City. She sacrificed herself for Mary and us.”

  He strode into the room as Wyatt turned and extended his lantern to get a look at him.

  “Are you hurt?” Jackson asked the girls as he moved toward them.

  “No,” Ruth said, “only scared.”

  “Get your things,” Jackson said evenly. “You’re coming with us.”

  “See here—” Wyatt stopped short when Jackson turned to face him.

  “I don’t want any trouble, Wyatt.”

  Dylan was standing watch at the door. “We’ve got company.”

  Outside, a man’s voice filtered above the howling wind. “Daddy? It’s Jeb. You want us to shoot ’em?”

  “If these men step outside with the women, shoot ’em all,” Wyatt yelled. He glanced at Jackson and grinned. “No trouble, wagon master. You’re not going anywhere with anybody.”

  “Okay, Pa,” came the reply from the darkness outside.

  Dylan, standing behind the door with his pistol aimed in the direction of the voices outside, spoke up, “Wyatt, shine your lantern this way. I have something you should see.”

  When Wyatt hesitantly complied, Dylan flashed the badge pinned to his jacket. “See this?”

  “You the law?” Wyatt took a step back.

  “Dylan McCall, U.S. marshall. I’m here to take these women into protective custody until investigators can check the legitimacy of your claim to them.”

  “Now hold on,” Wyatt said, backing away now. “Why didn’t you say so? You don’t need to go stirring up a hornet’s nest. We can work something out.”