“We’ll get the kids. Don’t try to talk more.”
The man smiled. “Goin’ home.” Then he died.
Rena waited at his side. “What did he say?”
“There are kids in there. He said there’s a cellar under the house by a table.” Storm stripped off his jacket and vest. “Wait for me. See if you can find water for them to drink.”
“No, I will help you get them out of that house. Almost it is gone.”
Storm pulled his bandana across his mouth and nose and plunged into the house. He couldn’t see through the thick smoke, but he bumped into an object that he recognized as a table. He knelt on the floor and felt around for a crevice that could be a cellar door.
“Kids? Kids? Call out to me if you can hear me. The house is on fire and you have to get out.”
He heard nothing over the fire’s roar. Heat pushed at him and his eyes stung from the smoke. Cracking and crashing from the other room let him know the roof beams had fallen in that part of the building.
His fingers touched a crack. He followed it and knew he’d found the trap door but not the handle. Whipping his knife from its sheath, he pried at the crack. He felt movement and slipped a hand into the opening. When he at last shoved the door open, he spotted three faces in light from a lantern in the gloomy cellar.
“Kids, the house is on fire. Come up.”
A boy who looked about six shook his head. “We can’t come unless Mama or Papa say so.”
Rena appeared at his elbow. She’d tied a shirt around her face. “I’ll go down and help them.” She climbed down the narrow, ladder-like steps.
“Up you go.” She handed Storm a girl about two.
Storm set the girl outside the house and rushed back to see Rena reaching for a girl of about four. “Hurry, the fire is almost upon us.”
The child ran to a corner and clung to the boy. “No, I want my Mama.”
Rena snatched her and, dodging kicks and flailing arms, shoved her up the ladder.
The girl screamed and fought like someone twice her size. “No, let me go. I can’t go with strangers.”
Storm grabbed the child and pushed her outside. “Go get your sister.”
Rena urged the boy up but he hesitated.
By now flames licked at Storm’s side. “Son, you’re going to get us killed if you don’t hurry.’
“You better take Lottie’s pee potty or she won’t go.” He grabbed a child’s gray-enameled, cup-shaped basin with a handle on one side.
“Bring it with you. Hurry.” Storm pulled the boy to safety. “Get in the yard and watch your sisters.” He reached for Rena.
A burning beam from overhead fell across the cellar opening. Storm attempted to kick it aside. The log wouldn’t budge and flames prevented him from using his hands.
“Keep your face covered and back away from the opening.”
Quickly, he searched for anything sturdy enough to lever the fallen beam aside. He encountered a poker near the stove and grabbed it. Struggling against the burning support appeared futile. How much longer before the entire roof caved in on them?
With a final shove, the poker broke in half but enough space opened for Rena to crawl out. “Climb up, Rena. Now.”
He ducked as burning boards fell around him.
She beat at embers burning her clothes. “Get outside. I’ll be able to get out by myself.”
Ignoring her request, he reached for her as she sped up the ladder. She crawled out of the cellar and under the burning beam. He beat at the scorched fabric of her clothing as she emerged. Grabbing her arm, he shoved her toward the doorway.
They reached the safety of the yard only to find Lon pointing a revolver at them. The man clutched his bloody wound with his free hand.
He gestured to where the kids gathered near their mother’s body. “Helpful kids. Now I’ll teach you to gut shoot me.”
Storm fought for calm. “Don’t be a fool, Lon. Your so-called friends deserted you. Before you die, do something good to save your sorry soul.”
“You cost me a fortune, you did. Plus now them other three’ll get all the Vernon bank money and only have to split three ways.” His hand trembled as he fired.
Storm winced as the bullet burned into his thigh. He dropped to his other knee. With one motion, he pulled his knife from his boot and threw the weapon.
The blade struck Lon in the throat. The killer moved his hands as if to grab the dagger, but fell over, dead before his hand reached the handle.
A loud crash shook the ground as the last of the cabin fell inward.
Rena rushed to snatch the gun away from Lon’s body. “Are you kids crazy? This is one of the men who killed your papa.”
The boy wiped a sleeve across his eyes. “He said you did it. You killed our folks and shot him when he tried to help Papa.”
Storm staggered to where the sobbing kids huddled. He picked up his coat and vest then showed them his badge. “I’m a Federal Marshall. This man was one of four men who killed your folks and set fire to your barn and house.” He gestured to the body. “I shot him, but the other three rode away.”
Rena clutched his arm. “Let me see to your leg. Is the bullet still in there?
Storm’s energy poured from him with the blood. “Yes, I think it’s against the bone. I’ll tie my bandana around my thigh to stop the bleeding.” He allowed her to help him, wishing he could lie down and rest. “I’ll be fine until we reach a town.”
When she appeared satisfied with the makeshift dressing, she looked at the children. “You have a neighbor you know?”
“The Pursleys live that way.” The boy pointed northeast. “We play with their kids sometimes.”
Storm spotted Lon’s horse lingering near Thunder and Brownie. “Can you ride a horse?”
“Not by myself.”
“What’re your names and ages?”
The boy pointed at the youngest. “That’s Lottie and she’s two. Her real name is Charlotte Ann. This is Susan Abigail, she’s four, but we call her Susie. I’m Andrew Paul and I’m almost seven and I’m called Drew.”
“What’s your last name?”
“Hansen.” Drew dared a glance where his mother lay. “Mister, are Papa and Mama gonna stay dead?”
“I’m afraid so, son.”
“I want ‘em back alive.” Tears poured from his eyes. “Who’s gonna take care of us? We don’t wanta go to no orphan’s home.”
“After we bury them, we’ll take you with us to the Pursleys. We’ll have to put that man in the same grave.”
Drew sent Lon’s remains a glare. “If he killed Papa, you should leave him for buzzards and coyotes.”
Storm shook his head. “We have to show respect, even when the dead don’t deserve it. I’ll get my shovel.”
Rena handed it to him. “I don’t think you’ll be able to dig with it. I can do it.”
“If I need help, I’ll call you. But I think I can make it.” He took the shovel from her. “You watch the kids. Clever move, pulling the mother’s apron over her face and the man’s bandana over his.”
“Soon as you said there were kids, I moved quickly. I didn’t want them seeing their parents like…that. Then I followed you into the cabin.”
“Can you coax these three over by those trees? This is going to take me quite a while.”
“Come on, kids.” Rena took the girls by the hand. “Let’s go see if there are…any pretty flowers by the trees.”
Lottie cried and tried to pull away.
Drew picked up her potty basin. “She won’t go anywhere less she has this. And she won’t pee anywhere but in this thing neither.”
“Then bring it, please. We’ll let the marshal dig the grave then we’ll have your folks’ funeral.”
Drew cast a glance at the dead killer. “And that man’s?”
Rena glanced back at Lon’s body. “Yes, his too.”
Storm heard Rena talking to the kids as she led them toward the line of trees fifty yards away. His leg
burned like fire and the world spun around him. All right, Kincaid, time to show your grit.
He dug a shallow grave wide enough for three and deeper than the others he’d dug recently, thanks to the recent rain. Danged if he wasn’t starting to qualify as an undertaker and gravedigger.
But his injury prevented him from digging as fast as he would have otherwise. When he’d finished, he dragged the bodies into the grave. He had nothing to wrap around them, so he simply laid them out as fitting as he could. He went through the men’s and woman’s pockets.
All she had in hers was a handkerchief. He removed the woman’s wedding band and tied it in her handkerchief. Mr. Hansen didn’t wear a ring, but he had a simple pocket watch, pocketknife, and a few coins. His fingers still gripped his Colt and his Winchester lay at his side.
The man called Lon carried a fine pocket watch complete with chain and fob, a fancy knife with pearl handle, ivory toothpick, and wad of cash. Storm piled them aside. The kids would want the few things from their folks. He’d search Lon’s saddlebags to see if he could learn more about him.
When he was ready, he called to Rena. She carried Lottie and the other two children stayed close to her. The children had stopped crying, but started in again as soon as they saw their folks in the ground.
Storm lined them up. “You have to be brave now. When a person dies, we have a funeral to say goodbye. These are only your parents’ bodies and their spirits have gone on to heaven. They’re angels now, so they’ll be looking down and guarding you.”
Drew wiped at his tears. “What about that man who killed Papa? Is he going to heaven?”
What a question. “That’s for God to decide. Now, take a last look at your parents and tell them goodbye. This will let their spirits know that you loved and respected them.”
The three children stared and Lottie tried to climb into the grave with her parents. Rena pulled her back. This time, Drew told her she had to mind Rena.
Storm recited the 23rd Psalm and a short prayer. “Kids, go look for rocks and bring them here. We need them to…decorate your folks’ grave.” He nodded to Rena and she shepherded the kids away.
His leg hurt like a son of a gun, but this task had to be completed. He filled the grave and folded his camp shovel. Inadequate as it was, what would he have done without it? Storm slipped it into his saddlebags and leaned against Thunder for several breaths. Put one foot in front of the other, Kincaid…walk. He rallied and approached Lon’s horse.
The animal shied at first but gave in to Storm’s coaxing. Judging from the coat, someone had mistreated the poor creature. When he had the reins in hand, Storm patted and praised the frightened and scarred mare. Rummaging in the saddlebags, he found a letter with Lon’s full name, a wanted poster, and an assortment of dirty clothes. In the other side, he discovered cash and jewelry. Not enough to be Lon’s share of all they’d stolen, so Lon probably pilfered and cheated on his friends.
When Storm limped to the yard leading the horses, Rena and the children busily piled rocks on the grave. They must have found a stone fence, because those were not pebbles they used.
“Drew, you and Susie sit on this horse and I’ll lead her. Lottie will have to ride with…my wife or me.” He lifted Drew in place.
“Mister Marshal, you better let Lottie ride with me. She’s kinda hard to handle, but she minds me.”
“Okay, up you go, Lottie. Hang on to her, Drew. And my name’s not Mister Marshal. I’m Storm Kincaid. You can call me Storm. This is…my wife, Rena Kincaid.”
Rena mounted Brownie and Storm placed Susie in front of her. Then, he mounted and tied the reins of the horse carrying Drew and Lottie to his pommel.
“Drew, if I turn the wrong way to get to the Pursleys’, you tell me. All right?”
“I know the way real good. Billy’s my friend.” The boy pointed. “You go over that hill.”
In a mile or so, they came up to a one-story house that appeared large by settler standards. Several small children played in the yard. The kids scattered when they spotted the strangers.
“Hello in the house.” Storm stopped the horses near the open front door.
A woman peered from a window then stepped onto the porch. “Why, lands sakes, what are you doing with the Hansen children?”
“There’s been a tragedy, ma’am. Are you Mrs. Pursley?”
“Yes. What am I thinking? Get down and come in.” She peered around. “Jared, you take these horses to the barn and see they’re rubbed down good.”
Storm dismounted and helped Susie down, then turned to help Drew and Lottie. Rena climbed to the ground and followed him to meet their hostess while the boy called Jared led the horses away.
Mrs. Pursley crossed her arms. “What sort of tragedy, mister?”
A man came around the corner carrying a rifle. He looked at Storm and Rena, then spoke to his wife. “Everything all right? Jared said the Hansen kids came.” He kept his rifle aimed at Storm.
Chapter Nine
Storm flashed his badge. “Federal Marshal, sir. My name’s Storm Kincaid and I’ll explain everything. Do you mind if we sit down?” Couldn’t they see the blood on his trousers and his bandage?
Frowning, the man indicated they precede him into the house. He gestured with the rifle, as if unsure Storm showed a genuine badge. “What’s happened at the Hansens? They’re good people.”
Mrs. Pursley gestured toward the kitchen table. “Take a seat and I’ll pour us some coffee.”
Rena removed her hat. “That would be wonderful.”
Mrs. Pursley’s eyes almost bulged out of her head. “Why, you’re a woman in men’s britches. I didn’t notice at first.”
Rena tugged her braids. “Ja, I wear men’s clothes so I can ride easier. Also is safer.”
Storm braced himself against the chair he held for Rena then sat beside her. “We just buried Mr. and Mrs. Hansen and one of the men who shot them.”
Mr. Pursley plopped onto a chair. “What? When was this?”
“We came straight here. The house and barn have burned.” Storm met the man’s gaze. “Didn’t you see the smoke?”
The man looked away. “Nope. I been workin’ in the barn.”
Storm knew the man lied and suspected Mr. Pursley had been afraid. Not without reason, but neighbors out here had to help one another. “You know about the gang burning and looting in this area.”
Mr. Pursley still refused to meet his eyes. “I’d heard. Makes a man cautious. I have a family to protect as well as our place. Can’t take chances.”
Pretending he sensed nothing amiss in Pursley not going to aid his neighbor, Storm braced his arms on the table. “You’re right, and these men don’t give anyone a chance. Your place could have been next. If we hadn’t arrived when we did, the kids would have died in the fire.”
Mrs. Pursley set four cups on the table. “Were they in that cellar?”
Storm nodded. “They were.”
Their host pounded a fist on the table and caused his tin cup to bounce. “I told Hansen that in a fire anyone in the cellar would be trapped, but he figured it would be safe because no one had to leave the house to get there.”
“Mr. Hansen lived just long enough to tell us to get them from the cellar. Had a heck of time finding the location. Kids were too scared to call out.”
Mrs. Pursley nodded as she poured the coffee. “They’re good kids, all right. If their parents told them to keep quiet, they would.”
“If you want to ride over there, chickens are in the coop. There’s a cow in the pasture, too. Those are the only stock we saw.”
“I’ll send the boys after them if you’re sure them killers is gone.” He finally met Storm’s gaze. “You limped in. Looks like blood under that bandana.”
Rena leaned forward. “My husband is injured. Do either of you know about doctoring a bullet wound?”
“Lands sakes, yes, I do.” The other woman bustled to a chest and set it on the table. “Let me see the wound.”
Storm scooted back and untied the tourniquet.
“That won’t do, young man. Drop those britches and let me get a right good look at that bullet hole.”
Panic struck at the thought of baring himself to whoever wandered through the house. “Here? In your kitchen?”
“It’s the best place. Now don’t be shy. I’ve doctored about every part of a person there is.”
“You have a towel or something? I’m not wearing my long johns in this hot weather.”
She laughed and handed him a towel. A mighty small one.
With a lot of misgiving, he stood and unfastened his trousers and tried to drop them at the same time he spread the towel across this privates.
“My, you’re lucky you didn’t bleed out. Lodged against the bone.” She probed the bullet hole with something, but he couldn’t see what.
Mr. Pursley set a whiskey bottle in front of him. “You might want a swig of this.”
“No, thanks.” He inhaled the pain and shook his head. She must be using a hay rake or a pitchfork to dig out the bullet. Get a grip, Kincaid, and breathe through the dizziness.
“I got it.” She handed him the bullet. “Now brace yourself.” She picked up the bottle and poured whiskey onto the wound.
Storm thought he’d pass out, but he only exhaled a hiss of pain. Didn’t hurt as much as her gouging and stabbing his leg.
“When you get to town, you need to have this checked. Never claimed to be a doctor.”
Rena leaned over the wound. “What are you putting on him?”
She spread a thick substance on his wound then bandaged the thigh. “Mixed a poultice of gunpowder and flour. Stops the bleeding.”
Rena leaned forward. “Do you know if there are Hansen kinfolks near?”
She shook her head as she gathered up her supplies. “Might be some of her distant kin back east, but I don’t know of any. Elsie insisted she and Homer were all alone except for the kids. Homer grew up in an orphanage.”
Storm tried to hide his private parts as he pulled up his britches. “Mr. and Mrs. Pursley, Drew said he comes here to play with your Billy. Can you take on the three kids?”
Most Unsuitable Courtship Page 7