by Nathan Jones
No more than Kristy herself was as she resumed her search for her friends inside the slave camp. If this hadn't already seemed like enough of a nightmare, then going from one miserable, hopeless face to the next, many sporting bruises or other injuries from beatings, was enough to make her dread each new person she checked looking for her loved ones.
Neither Simon or the Hendricksons were in the first enclosure, and at first she thought they weren't in the second enclosure, either.
The she caught sight of a small figure in dirty clothes huddled next to a man who'd been beaten more severely than most, so much so that he was almost unrecognizable as Bob. Which meant the girl with her face buried in his shoulder must be Lisa.
The poor man was hunched painfully, clutching himself as if whatever injuries were hidden beneath his clothes were even worse than the livid purple bruises on his face. As for Lisa, she seemed unhurt but didn't move more than to breathe for as long as Kristy stared at the pair; she hoped it was because the girl was sleeping, and not due to some unseen injury or mental trauma.
With just a few more seconds of searching Kristy spotted a ragged scarecrow of a man with dark red hair leaning against the chain links of the cage, holding on with one hand as he glared balefully at the guards.
Simon was alive, and while his muscular frame had wasted away and he bore a few faded bruises he seemed healthy enough.
Filled with equal parts hope and dread, Kristy searched the entire closure for any sign Vicky was there as well. There was none. The possibility occurred to her that her friend might have been put to work like Val, although hopefully not like Val, which momentarily eased her growing concern.
Then she realized that Bob's enclosure had only men, old women, and children in it. No woman older than her late teens or younger than her 40s was anywhere to be seen inside that fenced section.
It didn't take long to find the women in another fenced off area, huddled miserably in cages with only the barest shelter of a tarp stretched over the top for shade. Kristy didn't need to think hard to guess why those poor women were being kept separate from their husbands, children, and other loved ones, and her mind turned sickeningly back to the sight of Val being dragged away by a guard.
Then she stiffened, catching sight of a dark haired woman in one of the cages nearest the entrance to the slave camp, turned away from their position on the hill and facing towards where Bob and the others were being kept. Small and so emaciated she seemed almost a wisp, from the back it was hard to be sure who it was.
But even though she couldn't see her face Kristy felt a sudden certainty that it was Vicky.
The woman abruptly turned her head, apparently at some shout from outside the camp, and Kristy's breath caught when the familiar, comforting features came into view.
But her surge of joy at finding her friend alive immediately turned to a fresh wave of horror. She'd, foolishly perhaps, hoped Vicky might've been spared what she'd seen Val forced to suffer. But the petite woman's face was covered in fading bruises, and the front of her clothes were torn into rags that she held closed with both hands, barely preserving her modesty.
Worst of all, she wore the same expression of numb despair Val had worn as she was led away to face who knew what inhumanities.
Oh, Vicky! Kristy's sight of her friend blurred as tears swelled in her eyes and began trickling down her cheeks, until she could no longer see through the binoculars. If the sight of Newpost occupied by the bandits hadn't been enough to crush her spirit, this was just too much to bear.
She numbly handed the field glasses to Tom, who grimly made his own inspection of the town.
Kristy stared down at the distant cages, emotions warring within her as the full horror of her friends' plight crashed down on her. Vicky had been there for her when Miles fell ill, had watched Skyler so Kristy could sit at her husband's deathbed. The couple had literally saved her and her son's lives, and worked and sacrificed to bring them along on the trip south.
Kristy had torn herself apart with worry ever since leaving the destroyed convoy with the knowledge that the family had been taken. She'd fretted about what they must be going through, and hoped and prayed for their safety.
And now here they were, alive but certainly not well.
The roller coaster of roiling emotions joined with the sheer physical and mental exhaustion of the months-long trip she'd just endured, crushing her down and threatening to tear her a dozen ways at once. And in that moment Kristy felt herself snap.
A sudden possibility had come to her. She turned to Tom. “You have to rescue them.”
* * * * *
Tom twisted away from his inspection of the prison camp to stare at the young mother. “What?”
“You have to rescue them,” Kristy repeated.
“Rescue who?” he demanded.
“Everyone from the convoy.” She gave him a fierce look. “I can't leave the Hendricksons and Simon and all the others in there, suffering who knows what!”
He wasn't sure if this was just wishful thinking or she'd gone insane. Even Skyler was staring at her openmouthed. “You want me to try to sneak into a heavily guarded camp in a town occupied by hundreds of well armed soldiers? Even if I managed it how would I get anyone out again?”
Kristy shook her head at the objection, eyes determined. “Just Simon and the Hendricksons, then. Vicky was there for me when Miles died. I have to be there for her now.”
“You mean I have to be? I don't see you volunteering.” Tom regretted the blunt response, but he was still shocked by the audacity of her demand.
She gave him a guilty look, but the determination remained. “You know I'd never manage it. And I have to look out for Skyler.”
Tom did his best to control his temper. “Look, I know Simon and the Hendricksons mean a lot to you. It must be horrible to see them and everyone else from the convoy in this situation. It's horrible for me, too . . . I can appreciate you wanting to help them. But it's not your place to expect me to do something like this. You don't have the right.”
“You mean you don't have the courage?” the flaxen-haired woman snapped. Then she rubbed at her face with both hands, struggling for calm. “Sorry. This is all hitting me pretty hard. It's just that you could get them out easily, I know you could.”
“Then you have an impossibly high opinion of my skills.” He tried to feel sympathy for her, for the pain of seeing her loved ones prisoners down in that camp. But it was hard when she'd just effectively asked him to commit suicide.
Blue eyes met his, shining with desperation and frustration. “Don't think you're fooling anyone, Mr. Miller,” she said fervently. “You act like you don't care, but it's been my experience that jaded people like you care more than most. You've just been hit so hard and so often by grief you've numbed yourself to it to stop the pain.”
He didn't like where this was going. “That's one interpretation.”
Kristy leaned towards him, and he had to force himself not to involuntarily lean back. “I know you care, Tom! I know the thought of those poor people down there hurts you almost as bad as it hurts me. Well this is your chance to do something about that.”
Skyler was looking between them, eyes wide. Tom wasn't sure which of them the boy thought was right, or maybe he thought they were both crazy. He forced himself to hold Kristy's gaze. “Maybe I do care,” he agreed quietly. “But even so there's nothing I can do about it. And either way a suicidal jailbreak wasn't part of our agreement.”
Tom regretted bringing that up the moment he said it. The young mother's eyes narrowed in sudden wild hope, and with a sinking heart he guessed what was coming next. “It is now. What if I refuse to tell you where my husband buried his wealth until you help me rescue my friends?”
His temper, frayed by the sight of Newpost occupied and pushed to the limit by her outrageous demand, finally snapped at this final straw. “Then you're a liar and I would seriously regret helping you at all.”
Kristy glared at him,
shaking with rage and frustration. “How can you be so selfish?”
Tom pointed at her. “You're breaking our deal, your promise, and trying to force me to die attempting the impossible but I'm selfish? You don't have the right to take the moral high ground here, and I no longer have any reason to want to help you. So best of luck.”
“I'm just trying to help my friends! You'd do the same if you had any.” The flaxen-haired woman crossed her arms with finality. “That's the new deal. Help me, or this entire trip will have been a waste for you.”
“Then it looks like that's what it is,” Tom growled. “I don't make deals with liars, especially not when they just got done breaking their word to me. What would be the point?”
Tears filled her eyes and she gave him a deeply hurt look. “I'm not a liar! I just-I just need you to do this one thing. That's all.”
Tom didn't even bother to respond, already backing down the slope far enough he could stand without being seen. At that point he checked his rifle, adjusted the straps of his pack, and started to walk away.
It wasn't a bluff. He was done here.
He heard furious footfalls behind him as Kristy followed. “I guess even after ten years you're still the coward on the hill after all!” she spat at his back.
Tom froze, then slowly turned. “Don't.”
She stared at him with contempt, deep enough it nearly overshadowed her desperate grief and fear for her friends. “You were happy to stick around benefitting from the suffering of others during the shortages, but the moment things got tough you abandoned your own family to their deaths and ran away. Why would I expect you to do anything different when people who care about you need you now?”
He had to fight down the rage that welled at her unfair accusation. He thought of all the things he could say to her, counter accusations he could make, but he was afraid if he started he'd say something he couldn't take back.
Like she just had.
Instead Tom turned and kept going, ignoring the young woman when she shouted more insults, outrageous offers, curses, and even some threats at his back. His angry stride took him down to the wagon and right on past; he already had his pack and gun with him, and he had no intention of taking anything else.
Once he was gone the young mother and her son would need all of it to survive. He wished them the best of luck.
He still couldn't believe what had just happened, but his jaded side came to the rescue before his roiling emotions crushed him. After all, why should he be surprised this was as far as her gratitude extended, that this was what her word was worth? For all he knew she was probably lying about her dead husband's fabulous cache of gold and guns, too.
Tom should've known better. He'd watched friends and neighbors do horrible things to each other in the name of survival, watched his family become like completely different people and eventually been forced to abandon them to their fate. Nothing he'd seen of life since the Ultimatum had given him any better reason to expect that he could put his trust in anyone but himself.
He should've gotten his payment from Simon up front. He should've ignored Kristy's irrational, desperate need to get to Newpost and just headed back home, limited the help he was willing to offer her to letting her and her son come along with him. He should've learned the lessons life had pounded into his skull for over a decade.
But he hadn't, and now here he was in Texas with nothing to show for it except the loss of most of his earthly possessions.
This was where trust got him.
Chapter Sixteen
Despair
She shouldn't have done it.
As soon as Kristy had calmed down a bit and had time to consider her argument with Tom in a more reasonable light she'd been force to admit that, if only to herself. Remembering the sight of the occupied town she could acknowledge that there was no way the mountain man could've snuck in and freed a single person, let alone the entire convoy. It would've been suicide to even try, and he was perfectly right to refuse without the slightest hesitation.
It had been wrong to demand it of him in the first place. And then she'd gone even further, threatened to break her promise about giving him Miles's cache to try to force him to do it. And worst of all, in an act of final desperation she'd even used his family against him, cut him where it hurt deepest.
Her face burned with shame at the memory of the pain and confusion he'd shown as she went too far. And then far worse his last expression before he'd walked away, betrayed and cold and completely closed to her, more forbidding than even his initial standoffish formality when they'd first met.
As if she'd burned every bridge and there was no way he'd ever trust her again.
And why would he? The sight of Vicky's plight and the suffering of everyone else must've driven Kristy temporarily insane, that's the only explanation she could think of for her behavior. When he'd agreed to take her and Skyler the rest of the way to Newpost she'd looked him in the eye and promised he'd get Miles's treasure. Promised it and meant it.
Tom had told her the only thing he valued in a person was integrity and she'd broken her word to him, what had to be the ultimate betrayal. And she already owed the man more than she could ever repay him for. He'd saved her and her son's lives! He'd killed four men to protect them; without him she would've been down there in Newpost suffering the same horrors as her friends.
Then he'd been willing to take them safely back to Grand Junction for no payment at all, and eventually had given into her pleading to take them to Newpost instead. He'd been nothing but generous and kind, and she'd responded with betrayal and unfair judgment.
Kristy wished he'd come back so she could apologize. He might not accept it, might not ever be able to forgive her, but she had to at least tell him she'd been wrong. That she hadn't meant any of what she'd said.
But as the hours passed towards darkness, and she finally acknowledged the need to find a place to camp and did the routine chores to get them ready for the night, she realized she might've pushed the mountain man too far.
After all, what did she have to offer him? She was just a destitute woman with a young child and few survival skills, an anchor around any man's neck. She'd pushed him farther than he was willing just to get him to go to Newpost, and then practically the moment they'd learned the trading post was lost to an invading force had burned every bit of trust he'd had for her, practically driven him away.
Even so, she couldn't imagine him just abandoning them in this situation. He'd be back soon, Kristy was sure of it. Even after an entire afternoon and evening of fretting with the mountain man nowhere to be seen, she was sure.
“Mom?” Skyler asked in a small voice, scooting closer to her by their small fire and little hand seeking hers for comfort. “He's coming back, right?”
Kristy sucked in a sharp breath. Her son had asked that probably a dozen times since Tom walked away. Dozens of times. “Of course he will, honey. He's a good man.”
Her son stared at the fire, not seeming reassured. “He hates us, doesn't he?”
She flinched slightly, not sure she could stand the thought of him hating her. But she did her best to keep her voice confident and assured when she answered. “Of course he doesn't. He's just mad that I-that we had a disagreement. He'll get over it.”
“Are you sure?” Skyler turned to look up at her, expression confused, almost accusing. “You broke your promise to him.”
Kristy looked away from that gaze, aware of yet another consequence of her mistake. She wanted her son to grow up to be honest, which meant she had to provide a good example for him. She'd done closer to the exact opposite earlier, and now she had to apologize to him and try to teach him the right lesson in all this without feeling like a hypocrite.
“I did,” she admitted. “I was just so worried about Aunt Vicky and Uncle Bob and Lisa, and I let my emotions get the better of me.”
“Oh.” Skyler looked up at her, blue eyes troubled. “Tom told me I shouldn't let emotions distract me w
hen I have something important to do.”
He would. Kristy hugged her son to her. “It's good advice. I . . . was asking him for something unreasonable. Something unfair. He had every right to refuse.”
Her son looked back at the fire, and there was a long silence before he spoke up timidly. “Maybe if you tell him that he'll come back.”
He'd have to come back before she could tell him. Kristy knew she probably should've gone looking for him before now, right after their fight ideally. But now it was dark and she didn't want to wander around blindly out there. Besides, if Tom didn't want to be found she never would, no matter how long she searched.
“I plan to.”
“Okay.” Another long silence. “Does that mean he's coming back?”
Kristy forced back her irritation and gave the same answer she kept giving. “Of course he will. He's a good man . . . he may be angry at me but he won't just leave us here.”
But as the long minutes passed while they waited for their food to cook, deep down she became less and less sure of that. Tom had proven himself to be a good man, probably one of the best ones she'd met, not counting Miles. But she'd done the one thing he'd as much as told her he couldn't forgive. Even if she apologized she wasn't sure he'd care.
He might already be twenty miles back to Grand Junction, leaving them to fend for themselves within stone's throw of an occupied town.
She desperately hoped not; the plain fact of the matter was that, much as she hated to admit it, she and Skyler depended on the mountain man. Now that Newpost wasn't an option she realized she desperately needed his help if they were to have any hope of getting back to Grand Junction, which seemed like the only real choice now. The idea of leaving Vicky and Bob and Lisa and all the others to their fate made her feel sick to her stomach, but what could they do to help them?