Unexpectedly, Barnaby straightened. “That was your brother, wasn’t it? The other one last night? The handsome boy?”
“Chace,” Cassie said.
“Was that his name? He never said. You look enough alike that he could be you and you could be him.”
“We’re twins.”
“You don’t say.”
“I’m a girl.”
“And he’s a boy. Yes. And sheep aren’t goats and goats aren’t sheep but I have both in a pen out back.”
“What does that even mean?” Cassie wanted to keep him talking. He was bound to let down his guard and she could slip past him to the door.
“I’ll show you soon enough.” Barnaby chuckled. “It’s rare I get someone like you all by herself. Or your brother, for that matter. Usually they are with families and friends.”
“You’ve done this before?”
Barnaby wiped his sleeve across his mouth.“I couldn’t hardly sleep for thinking of you.”
“You’re a pig.”
“More like a boar,” Barnaby said, and grinned. Without warning he leaped at her.
Cassie threw herself back but his right hand snared her wrist. Pain exploded up her arm. She tugged but he was much too strong. She drove her knee at the junction of his legs but he turned, blunting the force. An ankle hooked her behind her leg and the next moment she was on her back and he was on top of her, straddling her. She bucked and he leered.
“Yes. That’s it. I like it when they fight.”
He reached for her dress.
Cassie screamed.
20
Jedediah Shannon drew rein and took out his flask. He was getting low but he didn’t care. He gulped a few times and closed his eyes and leaned on his saddle horn. “God,” he said. Shaking himself, he slid the flask into his pocket, raised the reins, and gigged his mule. It was a young mule and tended to be contrary, but that was his fault and not the mule’s. Mules needed more training than horses and he had neglected the training for his drinking. He had neglected a lot of things for his drinking. His family, for one. He had stayed up in his cabin and let the rest of the world go to hell while he tried to drown himself so he could join his wife in the hereafter.
God, Jed missed her. Some folks would scoff. Some men would say he was being plumb silly. He didn’t care. He’d loved Mary with all he was, and when she died it was all he could do to keep going. It was as if a part of him had been cut out and cast away. The best part. The part that made life worth living.
Jed tossed his head and tried to concentrate on the road. The ink of night still held sway but dawn would break soon. He should stop and rest. He should make a fire and put coffee on to clear his head and eat something. But he wouldn’t.
For the first time in a long while he had a purpose and he would by God follow it through. He was going to find the twins. They were all he had left in the world, all that mattered.
That in itself showed Jed he wasn’t the man he used to be. Was a time, the whole clan mattered. Was a time, he genuinely cared. Was a time, before Mary died, when that was important.
The bitterness returned, and Jed swore. He supposed he shouldn’t blame them. But damn it, only nine Shannons had shown up, besides his boys and their families, for Mary’s burying. Nine, out of a hundred and eleven, counting all the young’uns. Sure, he had made it a point to tell everyone that he wanted to be alone with his grief. Sure, it was harvest time, and a lot of the men couldn’t interrupt the harvest to take a week or more to come. It had rankled, though. It rankled and festered to where Jed became bitter. To where he realized that being the patriarch didn’t mean the clan cared for you as much as you cared for the clan.
Jed licked his lips and thought about taking out the flask. Some days he couldn’t stop drinking for more than five minutes. Who could blame him now? He justified it. Three of his sons, dead. A daughter-in-law and granddaughter, dead. The twins missing.
Jed had barely felt anything over the Shannons killed in the fight in Wareagle. They were kin but so what? Did they ever come visit? Did they ever show they gave a damn?
Jed shook his head in disgust. Not at them, at himself. He had become a lonely, spiteful fool. Make that a lonely, spiteful drunk. He was everything that at one time he’d looked down his nose on. It was life that did it. Life that wore a person down. Life that kicked a person in the teeth again and again. Now life had kicked him in the gut, too, and he was more bitter than ever. What was the point of there being people you cared for if life came along and took them from you? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
“God,” he said again.
Jed was sore and stiff from all the riding. He hadn’t done this much in years. But he refused to stop. He had to find Chace and Cassie. They had always been dear to him, those two. He’d been there when they came into the world and he had held them in his arms and marveled at how beautiful they were. Some people said babies were ugly. Not him. Babies had a beauty that went beyond looks, and the twins had been the most beautiful of all.
Back then, he had paid more visits to Buck than he ordinarily would just to see them. He’d watched them grow and loved them more and they loved him in return. At night in his cabin when he lay alone with an empty flask on the floor, he would think of them and grow warm inside.
Now they were in trouble. Chace, anyhow. That boy puzzled Jed sometimes.
Chace had changed since the stable incident. Before, the boy was always smiling and carefree. After, Chace went deep inside himself and stayed there. It had troubled Jed but there was nothing he could do. He’d promised Cassie not to talk about it, not to even mention she had confided in him.
Cassie. Sweet, wonderful Cassie. Jed adored that girl. She’d never lost the purity she’d had as a baby. To him she was as good a person as anyone could be and he loved her more than he had ever loved anyone except Mary. Including his sons. That might be awful but there it was.
The sky behind him brightened. He sensed it before he twisted in the saddle and saw a splash of pink that heralded the new day. The forest around him had begun to stir to lif. He continued to the west. He was sure that was the direction the twins had gone.
Another mile, and Jed stopped and took out the flask. He sniffed, then drank, and was appalled when the last drop dribbled down his throat. Shifting, he opened his saddlebags. He only had one bottle left and it was almost empty.
He chugged what there was and threw the bottle into the brush.
“Damn.”
Jed needed whiskey. He tried to recollect how far ahead the next town was, and couldn’t. His mind was too befuddled. It got that way after he drank a lot, but befuddled was good. When he was well in his cups he didn’t think as much about Mary.
Jed pocketed the flask and jabbed his mule. “Get along, Tiberius.” He’d always like that name. He’d heard it as a kid somewhere and it stuck in his head.
Actually this mule was his third Tiberius, but he wasn’t about to call it Tiberius the Third. Folks would laugh.
He was winding along a wooded road. He spied a building and figured it to be a house but as he got closer he saw a hitch rail and a mule and a sign that had the word TAVERN. He chuckled and smacked his lips and said, “Glory be. Thank you, Lord.” He reined to the rail and alighted and stretched to get a kink out of his back. About to go in, he noticed the mule. It was familiar. No two were alike and he had seen this one before but in his befuddled state he couldn’t remember where. It hit him at the same instant a shrill scream came from inside.
Jed was up the steps and to the door in a rush. He flung himself against it and hurt his shoulder. The door was bolted or barred. He went to kick it but had a better idea. Holding the Sharps in front of his face, he hurled himself at the window. The crash of glass brought pain and then he was rolling on the floor. He came to his knees and beheld Cassie on her back with a man straddling her. He jerked the Sharps up and thumbed back the hammer.
“No!” the man bleated, throwing out his hands.
Jed shot him in the face.
Blood spattered Cassie and drops got in her eyes. Blinking, she saw a gory hole where Barnaby’s nose had been. His heavy weight fell against her and she pushed the body and slid out from under. She had heard the breaking of glass and turned to see who her rescuer was. “Grandpa!”
Jed was unable to speak for the lump in his throat.
“Oh, Grandpa.” Flooded with joy, Cassie threw her arms around him and put her cheek to his chest. “It was awful. That man wanted to ...” She couldn’t bring herself to say it but she told about how the man had tricked her into the closet and kept her there all night.
Jed coughed and patted her. “It’s all right,” he said softly. “I’m here.” He struggled to collect his wits. It had all happened so fast. “You’re lucky I came along when I did.”
Tears filled Cassie’s eyes but she refused to cry. Crying would be weak and she had to be strong. “I’m so happy to see you.”
The lump returned, and Jed trembled.
“Are you all right, Grandpa?”
“Fine, girl.” Jed sounded hoarse. He cleared his throat and said again, “Fine, girl. How about you?”
Cassie drew back and dabbed at her eyes. She had important news to share. She didn’t glace at Barnaby; she refused to look at him ever again. “Chace was here sometime last night. The man you shot told me.”
“Did he say where Chace was going?”
“No. But I can find him. I feel him, in here.” Cassie touched a finger to her chest over her heart. “It’s like one of those magnets, pulling me to him.”
Jed stood and helped her to her feet. His head was strumming like an out-of-tune banjo. The danger to Cassie, the whiskey, the lack of sleep, were taking a toll. He needed to think clearly. “Excuse me a moment.” He went to the bar and around to the shelves. His mouth watered; there were so many kinds and brands: whiskey, brandy, bourbon, Scotch, rye, rum, and more. His favorite brand was Cutter, and by God, there were three bottles. He took all three outside and put them in his saddlebags.
Cassie followed. She didn’t want him out of her sight. She saw what he was doing, but she asked, “What are you doing?”
“I don’t want to run dry. It could be days before we catch up to Chace,” Jed said. Or it could be weeks.
“Isn’t that stealing?”
“The son of a bitch in there—” Jed stopped. “Pardon me, missy. That scum in there won’t miss it. You ask me, he owes us.” The notion took root. Jed went back in and around the counter again. At one end was a drawer. He opened it and whistled.
“What did you find, Grandpa?”
Jed laid out the bills and coins. The total came to twenty-two dollars and fourteen cents.
“It’s a fortune,” Cassie marveled. The most money she ever saw at one time was twenty dollars, the day her cousin’s calf won over to the county fair.
“It’s a start.” Jed stuffed the money in his pocket.
“We’re stealing that, too?”
“For what he did to you we should take the whole tavern.”
“Do we bury him?”
Jed glanced out the shattered window. Someone could show up any minute. They’d ask a lot of questions and maybe send for the law. “We have to hurry,” he said. “Go from room to room and look for more money.” He started around the counter and had another troubling thought. “Is anyone else staying here?”
“Not that I know of. If there were, you’d think they’d have heard me yelling and pounding last night and come to see what the ruckus was about.”
“Good. Then hurry.”
Cassie reluctantly went down the hall to the first door. A guest room, she reckoned, with a bed and table and chair and washbasin and chamber pot. She went to the next room and it was exactly the same. The one after, though, must be Barnaby’s; it had a rug and a chest of drawers and the bed was twice the size of the others. At the foot of a bed was a trunk. Cassie tried to open it but it was locked. She rummaged through the chest of drawers and found nothing except clothes. In the closet were two coats and a pair of scuffed boots. She went back to the chest.
“Anything?” Jed asked from the doorway. He had checked the other rooms without success.
“Just this,” Cassie said, and gave the trunk a kick. “It’s locked.”
“I have an idea.” Jed went to the body and rolled it over. The second pocket yielded keys. He rose to go back and looked out the front door. Beyond was the road, aglow in the new dawn. Bending, he slid his hands under Barnaby’s arms and dragged him behind the counter, leaving a smear of scarlet.
Cassie had waited by the trunk. “I bet it’s clothes. He doesn’t have hardly any in there.” She nodded at the closet.
“Could be,” Jed allowed. There were four keys on the ring. The third brought a click and the lock opened. He removed it from the hasp and set it on the floor.
“Hurry,” Cassie urged. “Someone is bound to stop sooner or later and I want to be gone.”
So did Jed. He raised the lid.
“God in heaven!” Cassie breathed.
Inside the chest were the remains of a young girl. Wisps of red hair poked from under a yellow bonnet and hung over empty eye sockets and withered skin. A matching yellow dress clung to her stick figure. Brown shoes were on her feet, or, rather, on the bones of her feet. Her teeth were bared in an eternal lipless smile.
Jed’s skin crawled as if with ants. “Why on earth would a man keep a thing like this?”
“Was it his daughter, you think?” Cassie asked. She couldn’t bear to look at it but she couldn’t tear her eyes away, either.
“There’s no telling.” Jed shut the lid and replaced the lock and snapped it shut.
“Maybe it was just some traveler like me,” Cassie said in horror at the prospect. “Maybe I’d have wound up in there.”
“Let’s not think about that.” Jed stood. He had lost interest in searching for more money. “Go down and wait with the mules. I have something to do.”
“What?”
“Shoo,” Jed said, and gently pushed her out.
Cassie was reluctant to leave him, and said so.
“You need to keep watch and give a holler if anyone comes. Or would you rather your grandpa wound up behind bars?”
“For shooting that awful man? You had to. You were protecting me.”
“You know that and I know that but the law might not see it that way. They don’t like it when folks blow other folks’ faces off.” Jed hustled her along the hall and across to the front door. “Please, girl. Do it for me.”
Cassie stood by the hitch rail, a bundle of nerves. She couldn’t stop thinking of Barnaby, of his hands on her, of her terror. Sounds from inside suggested her grandfather was moving about, but doing what, she couldn’t imagine. She closed her eyes and tiredly rubbed them and when she opened them she saw a rider, a man in homespun on a big-boned horse that looked better fit for a plow than a saddle. The man wore a straw hat and had a bushy beard. She started to turn to run inside and warn her grandpa but it might seem suspicious, her darting off. She patted Bessie, her dread rising the closer the man came. She took it for granted he would stop. When he went by and smiled and touched his hat brim, she was relieved. She smiled in return.
It was five full minutes before Jed hustled outside.
“A man came by,” Cassie said. “I was scared to death.”
Jed glanced both ways. “Where did he get to? He didn’t stop?”
“No.”
“Climb on your mule. We want to be gone before the smoke rises.”
“What smoke?” Cassie asked, and had her question answered by a spurt of flame. “Grandpa, what have you done?”
“I piled blankets on him so he’ll be burned to a cinder,” Jed said. “With any luck they won’t ever guess he was shot.” He stepped into the stirrups and reined Tiberius to the road.
Cassie was quick to follow on Bessie. “Wait until Ma hears about this. She’ll tar and feather us.”
&n
bsp; Jed had forgotten about Erna and Scarlet. “Ride like the wind, girl,” he said. He would tell her later.
“We’re acting like criminals,” Cassie complained. “What if the law gets after us, too?”
God, Jed hoped not. That was the last thing they needed.
21
Galveston, Texas, was on an island in Galveston Bay. The only way to reach it was by ferry or boat or over a railroad bridge but that didn’t hamper its growth. Its location accounted for the boom; Galveston was one of the biggest cotton ports in the South. Ships constantly came and went. The population was pushing thirty thousand and people were everywhere, going every which way.
Chace stood on the ferry landing with Enoch’s reins in his hand and said, “It’s downright beautiful.”
Buildings of every size and description pressed against one another in a riot of construction. Some reared several stories or more into the air. The Beach Hotel, near where Chace stood, had enough rooms to accommodate every last person in Wareagle, and then some.
Chace wandered the busy streets, taking in the feast of sights, sounds, and smells: ladies in elegant dresses, men in expensive suits, fancy carriages drawn by fine horses, barbershops, and shoeshine boys. A whirl of activity that never ended, day or night. There were an opera house and a cathedral and businesses galore. There were saloons and gambling dens.
“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Chace told Enoch. He passed a restaurant and the aroma of coffee and food made his mouth water. He passed a saloon, and his nose tingled to the odor of liquor and tobacco smoke.
A small girl popped into his path, a ragamuffin in scruffy pants and a boy’s shirt two sizes too big. “Have an apple, mister?” She held a wooden box filled with ripe reds and yellows. “Only two cents.”
“If I had it, I would,” Chace said.
“You new to town?” She had sandy hair cropped boyishly short and a pixie face smudged with dirt.
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