Debra Holland

by Stormy Montana Sky

  He rubbed his hands over his face, willing them to stop shaking.

  You’d think I’d be used to the nightmares by now.

  * * *

  David awoke early, when the sun was lightening the dark cabin to shades of gray. He glanced over at the neighboring pallet. Didn’t look like a day his pa would bestir himself. The man sprawled on his back, one hand stretched out, fingertips touching an empty whiskey bottle. The stench of sweat and booze clung to him. His honking snores seemed to shake the flimsy walls.

  David allowed himself a sigh of relief. This morning, he wouldn’t be dragged from his bed and set to do his pa’s bidding, the orders accompanied by blows. From the look and sound of his pa, he could escape for the day.

  A rumbling in his stomach made him toss aside the thin blanket and roll to his feet. He debated carving off a chunk of the rock-hard bread in the crate in the corner of the room, but he knew if his pa wanted food later, and there wasn’t enough, there’d be hell to pay. My hell.

  His pa snorted.

  David froze, heart thumping, waiting to see if his pa moved. When nothing happened, he tucked his slingshot in his pocket along with a knife. He could pick some berries for breakfast. Maybe, after he hobbled the mule on that thin patch of grass near the trees, he’d get lucky and bring down a squirrel or rabbit—something he could roast over a fire and fill his belly with.

  David slipped outside the door and inhaled the pine-scented air, feeling an unexpected and almost forgotten feeling of excitement. Yes, maybe today I’ll get lucky.

  * * *

  Riding through the trees, Ant glanced at the sun overhead. Almost mid-morning. Later than he’d hoped. But he’d been weary after yesterday, and he knew that Miss Stanton would need extra rest. She’d protested last night when he’d told her so, but he’d held firm.

  He’d considered riding out without her, but after seeing how she was with the children yesterday—caring and efficient, putting them at ease with strangers—he’d decided she might help him when he found David. His nephew might instinctively trust her, making it easier for them to spirit him away. Plus, Ant had a suspicion that the stubborn schoolmarm might just light on after him.

  Now, however, he wondered if he’d made the right decision. It had taken them longer than he’d thought to reach the clearing; they’d headed up the wrong path for a while. But according to Mack Taylor’s directions, he and Harriet should soon be at the cabin.

  He glanced behind him at the little teacher. Before she caught him looking at her, he could see her face was pinched in pain. Her thighs must be sore from all their riding. Not that she’d admit it to me, he thought in admiration. She’s a tough kitten. I guess she’d have to be to handle some of those rowdy boys she’s mentioned. Harriet lifted her gaze, saw Ant watching her, and straightened in the saddle, sending him a tight smile that didn’t fool him one bit.

  He grinned back, enjoying the hint of pink that crept into her cheeks. Then he faced forward again. Please God, may David soon be one of her rowdy boys.

  A few more minutes of riding brought them to the edge of a rocky clearing, an almost-falling-down small shack in the center, and a bony mule hobbled near a lean-to. The sorry-looking animal raised its head and let out a raw whinny.

  Ant held up his hand to stop Harriet then, with a backward-shooing motion, indicated he wanted Harriet to back her horse.

  Ant moved them into the pines at the edge of the clearing, until he was sure they couldn’t be seen from the shack. Then he swung down from Shadow. Holding the reins, he moved close enough to say to her in a low voice, “I’m going to sneak around back. See what I can see. I don’t want to alert Lewis that we’re here. Don’t want him to make off with the boy again.”

  Harriet parted her lips, looking as if she was about to protest, then seemed to change her mind and nodded instead.

  “Hold onto Shadow’s reins. Turn the horses around so we can have a quick getaway if we need to.”

  “Why would we need a quick getaway?”

  He tipped his head in the direction of the shack. “You never know who’s holed up in there. Could even be outlaws.”

  “I think we would have heard if there were any outlaws in the area.”

  He mentally shook his head at her naiveté. “I’d rather be careful.”

  “And if it’s not outlaws, not David, but there is another child?”

  “I’ll come get you, and you can do the schoolteacher thing.”

  She rolled her eyes, and then reached out a hand for Shadow’s reins. He handed them over and watched her maneuver the horses around until they were faced away.

  I shouldn’t have let her come.

  How could I have stopped her?

  Ant strode through the trees and circled around until he could approach the shack from behind. From that vantage point, he could see one cracked window, glass miraculously still in place. Hand propped on his gun, he watched from the woods for a few minutes, then took quick steps to the building, and, sliding to the side, peered through the grimy window. He could barely make out one body on the bed. But the snores filtering through the gaps in the plank wall told him it might be safe to venture inside.

  The area below the window wasn’t visible. He darted another glance around him, then slunk around the side and up the two almost rotted stairs. His heart rate picked up. Easing the door open, he caught a pungent whiff of unwashed male and alcohol and held his breath.

  The snoring man didn’t stir. He was clad in dirty clothes, even had worn boots on. Lewis, all right, although Ant had to take a long look to find the familiar features of his brother-in-law in the bloated face. Another small-size pallet with a rumpled blanket told Ant what he needed to know. He sagged against the doorframe in relief. In the past two years, he hadn’t allowed himself to think that David might be dead. But the niggling fear had always been there.

  He quietly closed the door. No telling where David was. I’ll come back early in the morning, when I don’t have a schoolteacher to deal with.

  Once in the shadow of the trees, Ant hurried to Harriet, flashing her a big grin. “My brother-in-law is in there sawing logs so loud, I though the place might collapse. Didn’t even wake when I looked in the door.”

  “David?”

  Ant shook his head. “Not there. Saw where he slept though.” He took her gloved hand and squeezed. “Until I saw that small pallet and realized David’s alive …” He shook his head. “Harriet, I can’t describe the feeling.” He took a breath to get away from the emotion, forcing teasing into his tone. “Thought I might faint away like a debutant with her corset tied too tight.”

  Harriet giggled. “Ant.” She made a token protest.

  Ant couldn’t help but grin; she looked so sweet with her eyes alight with laughter.

  Still holding his hand, she playfully shook it. “You’ve found him. How wonderful!”

  He sobered. “Until I see David face to face, give him a hug, have him say, ‘Hello, Uncle Ant,’ I won’t rest easy. I need those things, Harriet. I need David.”

  She squeezed his hand in reassurance. “You’ll have him, Ant. You will. Shall we go wake up your brother-in-law?”

  Hell no.

  “It’s a small room, Harriet. Lewis is definitely not dressed to receive visitors. Plus, from the smell in the place, he tied one on last night and waking him will be like waking a grizzly bear.”

  “I can wait outside, while you….”

  “No, Harriet. I won’t subject you to that. I’ll come back. Lewis will be more presentable tomorrow when he’s had a chance to recover and clean up.”

  She opened her mouth to protest.

  Ant dropped a kiss on her parted lips to shut her up. However, when he tasted her sweetness, it was he that was floored into mindlessness. He held the kiss for a few seconds before breaking it off and stepping away.

  Harriet’s eyes were wide and starry. “Oh,” was all she said.

  Oh is right. “Let me help you mount the horse.” If I do
n’t get her out of here, she’ll be in more danger from me than from Lewis.

  * * *

  Harriet woke early, eager to begin her secret mission. She gingerly put her sore foot to the floor and stood, relieved to only feel a twinge of pain, not the stabbing agony of the earlier days. She quickly dressed in her riding habit, scooped up the peppermint sticks she’d bought from the Cobbs the night before, and put them in her reticule.

  Quietly humming, Harriet made her way down the steps outside. She swung her reticule, thoughts of the surprise she had in store for Ant lightening the arduous journey down the stairs.

  In the dim kitchen, she grabbed the packet of food she’d made up the night before, and then let herself out of the house. Walking over to the livery stable with barely a limp, Harriet watched the sun rise over the distant mountains. The purple night shadows grayed; a hint of the orange sun peeked over Pete’s Mountain, named for an old prospector who used to work a claim there.

  As early as she was, the livery stable doors were already wide open. Pepe walked outside and started pumping water into the trough. As she approached, he gave Harriet a shy nod and a quiet, “Buenos días.”

  Glad not to have to explain herself to Mack Taylor, she stopped before the man. “Is Brown Boy fed and watered?”

  Pepe nodded.

  “Then I’d like you to saddle him for me.” And hurry before Mack comes out. The stable owner might refuse to let her take the horse on her own to go up the mountain—at least until he cleared it with the Cobbs—something she’d rather not have happen because she’d allowed the Cobbs to think she was riding with Ant again today. Her conscience pricked her, but she reminded herself that it wasn’t precisely a lie; she just hadn’t corrected their assumption.

  How could she explain to the Cobbs the compulsion she felt to find David? She had a fantasy of presenting Ant with the nephew he longed for. To witness their reunion and bask in his gratitude…

  A shake of Pepe’s head brought Harriet back to the here and now.

  “What?”

  An uncertain look crossed the man’s round, brown face. “No Señor Gordon?”

  “No Señor Gordon,” she echoed in a firm tone.

  “You wait, Señorita Stanton,” he said, his Spanish accent so strong she could barely understand him. “I’ll finish.” He motioned to the bucket of water near the trough. “I’ll go with you.”

  “No, thank you, Pepe. I’ll be fine.”

  Reluctance showed in his stiff shoulders, but he went inside. A few minutes later, he emerged with Brown Boy and helped her into the saddle.

  Harriet arranged her divided skirt and draped the strings of her reticule over the saddle horn. Then she gave Pepe a smile in farewell and urged Brown Boy forward. Yet, as she rode away, the unhappy look on Pepe’s face stayed with her, and, for some reason, she shivered, as if a goose had walked over her grave.

  * * *

  Ant ran from Isabella’s body to Emily’s and back. No matter what, he couldn’t prevent their deaths, but he kept trying in an endless cycle. Helplessness and rage coursed through his body. Surely he could prevent the women he loved from dying, if he could just get there in time.

  But he never could.

  Ant awoke, his arms in a death grip around his pillow. He could feel moisture on his cheeks, and his throat ached. With some relieved part of his brain, he realized he’d had a nightmare and hoped he hadn’t scared Widow Murphy awake. But the rest of him shivered with horror.

  He shifted and winced. His body felt stiff and sore as if he’d been dragged behind the back of a horse. Exhaustion dragged his eyelids down. He’d worked so hard in the nightmare. It didn’t feel as if he’d actually slept. I can’t lie about. I need to find David.

  The thought of his nephew helped draw Ant from the remnants of the nightmare. He glanced out the small window at the foot of the bed. Dawn cast a dim light in the room. He tossed the pillow aside and sat up. Time to go after Lewis and bring David home.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ant walked through the doors of the livery stable, feeling the weight of the gun holstered in the belt around his hips.

  Mack, the livery owner, straightened from cleaning the left hoof of a Pinto horse and gave Ant a sideways glance out of rheumy green eyes. “Missed your schoolteacher by about fifteen minutes.”

  “What’s that?”

  “She went riding off this morning.”

  Mack’s words felt like a shot to Ant’s gut. No, she didn’t go after David! But he had a bad feeling that she had. “Did Miss Stanton say where she was going?”

  “No, and that’s not like her.” Mack paused, rubbed his gray-stubbled chin. “When she takes Brown Boy out, she always says where she’s going.”

  His stomach fisting in a knot, Ant took long strides to Shadow, not bothering with the morning greeting and head rub. He threw on the blanket and the saddle, cinching it up.

  He slipped the bridle over the horse’s head, centering the bit in Shadow’s mouth. Taking the reins, he led the horse outside, mounted, and kneed Shadow to a canter, resisting the urge to gallop down the street. Harriet wasn’t that far ahead of him. He’d catch her in time.

  * * *

  Harriet reached the clearing and paused Brown Boy, looking around her. The early morning sun shone golden rays through the trees. Birds chirped, and a red squirrel scampered across the open ground, jumped to the top of a rock, and then kept on going out of sight around the shack. The bony mule dozed under the lean-to.

  No one stirred, and she wondered uneasily if David and his father still slept. It might be awkward if she woke them.

  Harriet dismounted, led Brown Boy to a scraggly patch of grass, and looped the reins over a dead pine branch. She untied her reticule from the saddle horn, hearing two peppermint sticks inside click together, and slipped the strings over her wrist.

  She hiked across the clearing, feeling the tension in her stomach and her heart tap tap against her chest. She trod up the rotted steps. Knocking on the rickety door, Harriet called out, “Mr. March, I’m Miss Stanton, the schoolteacher.” She paused, listening for the noise of a presence, before knocking again. “Hello, is anyone home?”

  Harriet waited for a while, and then slowly pushed open the door, wrinkling her nose at the stale odor. No one here. From the looks of the rumpled, dirty bedding on the two pallets, father and son were out in the woods somewhere.

  Backing out of the house, Harriet pivoted, trying to see any sign of where they might have gone. On the upper edge of the clearing, she could see a faint path. Too narrow for the horse to navigate, but a boy could squeeze through. And so can I.

  * * *

  The closer Ant came to the clearing, the more fear for Harriet weighed in his gut. As he rode, he cursed himself dozens of times for not telling Harriet the whole story about Lewis March and what he’d done to Emily. Partly from old habit—he didn’t share the family pain and shame with anyone—and partly because he’d wanted to protect Harriet from the horror of the whole sordid tale. But in so doing, he’d endangered her.

  Not to mention that her presence was going to make it harder to kill Lewis. He didn’t want her to think he was murdering the man in cold blood. Well he was, but Ant knew he was really meting out justice to a murderer.

  What will Harriet think of me? Will she understand?

  Does it matter? Right now all he wanted was to find her and David and get them to safety. He would deal with Lewis later.

  Almost there. Ant kneed Shadow to a faster pace. As he rode, he battled thoughts of what might happen to Harriet if she reached Lewis before he caught up with her. His little schoolmarm had no idea she was heading into the lair of a murderer.

  * * *

  David sat at the edge of the cliff, legs dangling, drumming his heels against the side of the overhang, his favorite secret place. Behind him, woods grew to a few paces from the edge of the cliff, leaving a narrow swath of grass, dotted with a few boulders that ran alongside the edge.

  Fa
r below him, the river flowed by, whitewater frothing over rocks. He loved to watch the water as it rushed down the mountain. Sometimes he considered jumping, angling toward the pool cupped between some rocks, then floating downstream to freedom. One way or the other, dead or alive, I’ll have escaped you, Pa.

  “David!” A woman’s voice called behind him.

  Fear prickled through him. He pulled up his legs and scrambled to his feet, dodging behind the shelter of a nearby boulder. Peering out, he saw a brown-haired woman wearing a divided skirt, staring at him with a look of concern on her pretty face. He’d never seen her before.

  How does she know my name?

  David prepared to sidle to the other side of the boulder and vanish into the woods, but something held him in place. His body canted toward the safety of the trees, and, from the corner of his eye, he gauged the distance from the lady to him.

  “David, I’m Miss Stanton. I’m the schoolteacher in Sweetwater Springs.”

  Paused on the verge of escaping, he waited.

  “I’m a friend of your Uncle Ant.”

  Who? David shook his head.

  She stepped closer.

  He edged away.

  The lady held out a hand. “Don’t go. I’ve brought you candy.”

  Candy. He remembered candy. It had been a long time though. Not since… His stomach knotted, and his thoughts shied away from the memory.

  She untied the strings of a little bag, hanging from her wrist.

  He lingered, wary but curious.

  She pulled out two red and white sticks.

  Peppermint. With a sudden bite of memory, the taste of cool sweetness made his mouth water.

  “They’re for you.”

  For me?

  She held the peppermint sticks out to him, taking a few careful steps closer.

  He debated whether to come out from behind the boulder, snatch them from her, and run off, but instead decided to wait.

  “Your Uncle Ant has been trying to find you.”

  This time the name rang a vague bell in his brain. He could sense the memory clanging against the painful place where he kept everything locked away.