by Judith Pella
Silence filled the room once more. Deborah hung the kettle of beans over the fire and then found some other trivial tasks to occupy herself. She wondered if it was necessary for Griff’s prisoner to be kept in the cabin. She supposed it gave the outlaws more freedom in making their preparations outside for wherever they were going tomorrow. She also supposed it was too cold outside for a man to be bound, immobile, to some tree. But she was not looking forward to the next days at all.
Apparently having had enough of the penetrating silence, Killion ventured to speak again. “I couldn’t help hearing a couple of the boys calling you ‘Mrs. Stoner.’ You wouldn’t happen to be Leonard Stoner’s wife?”
For the first time Deborah realized the danger using her married name could pose. Alone, here in the cabin these last months had insulated her, but now faced with the possibility of this man carrying back news of her whereabouts to Caleb, she saw what a foolish oversight it had been. If she ever left this place, she would have to do so with another name. In the meantime, she began to wonder if Sid Miller might have been right about eliminating this man. He posed a threat to all of them.
She turned cold eyes toward Killion. “You talk too much, Mr. Killion.”
“I told you, it’s a blessing and a curse! My curiosity just got the better of me.” He paused thoughtfully. “You don’t have anything to worry about from me, though, ma’am. I’m in the business of saving souls, not damning them.”
“Even a sinner’s soul?”
“We’re all sinners, ma’am. Even Christ didn’t condemn the woman caught in adultery—”
“That’s very magnanimous of Him!” she broke in harshly, full of her own recriminations.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you mean, Mr. Killion. You spout a lot of words about love and forgiveness and mercy, but inside you are nothing more than a hypocrite.”
“You got me all wrong, ma’am!” His voice rose slightly in indignation. “I’m as much a sinner as the next fella, and the last thing I’d do is judge you. I made a poor choice of scripture for an example, that’s all. Whatever you do is between you and God. I’m not a lawman anymore, and besides, I think you’ll get more justice from God than the likes of Caleb Stoner.”
Deborah shrugged as if to say she didn’t know what to make of his statement but was less willing now than before to accept this man. And she was in no mood to discuss anything further with him, so she picked up the water pail and left the cabin.
Down by the creek, she was filling the bucket when she heard two or three voices nearby. She set down the pail, stood, and listened. The sound was coming from about fifteen yards away, and the speakers were hidden from view behind a thick growth of gorse, but she recognized Sid Miller’s growl and Pablo’s Mexican accent. The third man was one of Sid’s cronies, whose name she did not know. They could not see her, but she moved to the cover of a tree trunk nevertheless, and stood very still. She immediately sensed these three could be up to no good. There had always been a tension between them and Griff, and it did not bode well for them to be conversing in low tones, obviously out of sight of the others.
“We’re all agreed, then?” said Sid.
“Sí, but we better be careful. I do not want to lose my cut in the holdup,” Pablo replied.
“No one’s going to lose nothing,” assured Miller. “That’s why we gotta wait till after the job to put a slug in that Ranger. Why should we suffer ‘cause Griff’s gone soft?”
“You think Griff’s gonna let one of us go along when he dumps Killion?” asked the third man.
“How’s he gonna stop us?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right ‘bout that.”
“I’m right. And I’m gonna kill that lousy Ranger, even if I gotta put a few holes in Griff, too. Come to think of it, I might shoot Griff anyhow. He’s getting a mite too big for his britches.”
The parley apparently over, the three left their hiding place and ambled back toward the cabin. Deborah stood still for several moments before she ventured back into the open; then she retrieved the pail and returned to the cabin. She wished she had never heard Sid’s plans. Of course, her next logical step was to tell Griff. But she believed, and with reason, that such an action would only precipitate violence ending in the death of either Sid or Griff. Aside from the fact that she tended to like Griff as a person because he treated her decently, she well knew what his loss would mean for her. Without Griff as a buffer between her and the other outlaws, especially those of Sid’s bent, she feared what they might do to her. Escape from here was now more out of the question than ever. Not only was winter fast approaching, but her condition made travel alone in the wilderness insane.
So, in order to prevent a confrontation between Sid and Griff, she remained silent about what she had heard. She had time to decide what, if anything, to do about Killion. But she was already beginning to realize her only other option.
17
The outlaws rode out the following morning, seven of them. Slim stayed behind, none too happy, to guard the prisoner, who needed little encouragement to impart the gospel to any who showed even the slightest interest.
Deborah tried to go about her routine as usual, but with the two extra people in the small cabin, that was hardly possible. She kept to the curtained alcove when she wasn’t occupied with cooking preparations. She had been looking for a change, but this was not exactly what she’d had in mind. Moreover, she was not happy about the added burden of decision Killion’s presence placed upon her. For, while she lay in bed that first night, unable to sleep because of the snores of either Slim or Killion—she couldn’t tell which—she had determined her course of action.
There was only one way to prevent violence, and that was for Killion to escape. Of course, that did carry with it another set of dangers, but it seemed the best of two evils. She couldn’t stand by and watch Killion murdered, no matter how his death might benefit her. If Killion were gone, then no one would get hurt, although she tried not to think of what the outlaws might do to her for her part in his escape.
She had to help the preacher get away. She would have to think of some way to get rid of Slim for a while. He was being especially vigilant. He wouldn’t even untie Killion’s hands so he could eat; instead, he made Deborah feed the man. He said he’d have the devil to pay if the Ranger got away. Deborah wondered how she would pay for the deed, but she shook the frightening thought from her head the instant it tried to intrude. Her mind was made up. Besides, she was certain they could do nothing more terrible to her than had already been done by Leonard. Even killing her would not be worse.
It took all that day for her to formulate what she hoped was a viable plan. And although the plan itself was simple, most of the time, she hated to admit, was spent in getting up her nerve. Realizing she had to act soon, for Griff could be returning any time, she finally took advantage of a brief moment alone with Killion while Slim was out feeding the horses to explain her intentions.
“You have to escape from here, Mr. Killion,” she said bluntly.
“That’s sure stating the obvious,” he replied lightly.
Doesn’t he ever take anything seriously? she thought, frustrated.
“I overheard some of the men making plans to kill you when they returned.”
“I ain’t surprised.”
“Griff would probably try to stop them, getting himself killed as well.” She supposed she mentioned this to impress upon the preacher that her concern was not simply for his benefit.
“I always try to see the best side of folks, Mrs. Stoner, but I hardly think Griff’d risk his life for me.”
“It wouldn’t take much for Sid Miller to kill him,” said Deborah. “Anyway, I don’t think it’s worth taking the chance. That’s why I’m going to help you escape.”
“You?”
“Yes … tainted woman that I am.”
He raised a bushy eyebrow as if he would defend himself again, then shrugged off the urge. She woul
d think what she wanted no matter what he said.
“Mrs. Stoner, it’s right charitable of you to offer to rescue me, but I can’t let you do it. It would put you in too much danger.”
“I’ll be all right,” she said with more confidence than she felt.
“Tell me something,” said Killion, “and I ain’t judging you or condemning you, but are you … Griff’s woman?”
She bristled at his crassness, practically spitting her reply at him, “I am no man’s woman!”
“Now, don’t get all riled,” he replied calmly. “I’m just trying to point out that otherwise, you ain’t got no guarantees concerning your own safety when they find out you helped me fly the coop. Unless—” the idea occurred to him even as he spoke, and he seemed pleased with his resourcefulness in thinking of it, “—unless you escape with me.”
That possibility had not occurred to her, but if it had she would have rejected it out-of-hand. She felt far more secure about her chances with Griff than she did about the scripture-spouting ex-Texas Ranger who would no doubt badger her to death trying to win her soul. That is, if he really was a preacher. They still hadn’t confirmed that beyond doubt. Going with him might be tantamount to turning herself over to Caleb Stoner.
“Don’t worry about me, Mr. Killion.” She paused as she thought of a new concern. “My one hesitation in helping you is the possibility that upon escape, you will go directly to the law with what you know about this cabin and Griff and me. Once you are gone, of course, we will abandon the cabin and no one will find us here.”
“I told you, I ain’t a lawman anymore.”
“But you are a law-abiding citizen.”
“I try to be.” He paused thoughtfully. “But in this case, you have my word that your generosity will be rewarded with my silence. Griff’s gang will no doubt have to reckon with their crimes eventually, with no help from me. As for you—” He stopped and studied her closely with a look of conflicting pity and admiration on his face. “I don’t reckon I wish to be the cause of further suffering in your life.”
Deborah did not like the pity she detected in his visage, but beyond that, she could not deny a definite sincerity in his eyes. Maybe she had misjudged him. Something about him made her instinctively want to trust him, to believe the words spoken with such genuine candor. It helped ease her anxiety about letting him go.
“Well, I have no choice, I suppose,” she said. “I can’t stand by and allow them to kill you.”
“I still wish you’d agree to come with me—”
But the conversation ended abruptly as Slim entered. Deborah returned to finishing her preparations for the midday meal. Casually, she picked up the water pail and told Slim she was going to the creek for a minute. She had hoped he would offer to go in her stead, but since no such offer was forthcoming, she’d have to invent some other way to get Slim out of the cabin. He might have gotten suspicious if she had simply asked him to do the task. She never asked for help of any of the men unless absolutely necessary.
Ten minutes later she returned to the cabin, jogging as fast across the yard as her cumbersome girth would allow. She was all out of breath when she flung open the cabin door.
“Slim!” she panted. “I saw something down by the creek!”
“What in blazes do you mean? A mountain lion? A bear?”
“I … I think it was an Indian!”
“Coming this way?”
“On the other side of the creek. He was running away.”
“That’s mighty peculiar, ‘less he was gonna warn others.” He hitched his spare, lanky frame off the bench. “I better have a look.”
Deborah watched at the window as Slim trudged down the rocky path that led to the creek. The moment he was out of sight, she sprang into action. Grabbing a kitchen knife, she hurried to Sam Killion and began slicing at the rope binding his hands and feet. It was a task more tedious and time-consuming than she had anticipated. Once, she heard a sound outside and glanced up in a panic, but Slim did not come. She knew, however, as the last rope fell loose, that time was running out.
“You’ll have to help me take care of Slim,” she said when Killion was free.
“‘Take care of … ’” he questioned with a raised brow.
“I am not planning to kill him,” she assured. “You have to help me tie him up. You’ll never have time to get away if he’s loose.” She retrieved Killion’s saddlebag, which was sitting by the door, and removed his Colt. “I can hold the gun on him while you tie him.”
“We’ll need more rope; this ain’t no good anymore.”
“I’ll check the horses. You wait here with the gun in case he comes back.”
“This ain’t going to make him happy.”
Deborah shrugged. “It’s too late now.”
Not two minutes after she returned with a new coil of rope, Slim ambled up to the cabin.
“I didn’t see a thing,” he said as he opened the door. The next sound out of his mouth was a gasp as the barrel of the Colt .44 was thrust into his face.
“I’m sorry to have to do this to you, Slim,” Deborah said as Killion began knotting the rope around him, “but Sid is going to shoot Killion and probably Griff as well if he remains around here. I just want to avoid anyone getting hurt.”
“And what’s gonna keep Griff from hurting me for letting Killion get away?” sputtered Slim.
“Don’t worry, I’ll explain everything.”
“You mean you’re staying?”
Slim’s brows shot up at that revelation, and he seemed to regard her with renewed esteem. He had figured her to be a feisty female ever since seeing how she had stood up on that gallows so defiantly. But here she was helping a prisoner escape, with no fear of her own safety. Why, he almost talked himself out of ringing her neck once he got loose of that rope!
When Slim was secure, Deborah replaced the gun in the saddlebag.
“I still wish you’d reconsider coming with me, ma’am.”
“I will take my chances here, Mr. Killion.”
“Why, ma’am, I almost think you’re more afraid of me than them!” he said. “Is it me, Mrs. Stoner, or my religion?”
Because it was, in fact, his religion she feared, and he had nearly guessed it, she ignored his question. Instead of answering she wrapped up some dried meat and bread in a cloth and deposited it in his saddlebag along with the gun and black Bible.
“You had better get going, Mr. Killion. You only have a few hours of daylight left.”
“I won’t forget this, ma’am. And I figure to repay you one day if we ever meet again.”
“Just repay me by keeping your word about remaining silent.”
“My word is as good as gold,” he said with that frank honesty that convinced Deborah far more than his words. “But I still am beholding to you.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Killion.”
“Adios, Mrs. Stoner—and I mean that in its truest sense.”
She closed the door firmly after him and did not pause at the window to watch him saddle his horse and disappear down the trail. She just hoped he got far away before Griff returned, for there was no doubt what would happen to him if the outlaws encountered him on the trail. Would her actions be as futile as everything else she had ever done? After all her effort, would she still be the cause of Sam Killion’s demise? She had only done what she believed was the best thing—for Killion, for Griff, and perhaps even for herself. She supposed it was just up to Killion’s God to protect him.
18
McCulloch was not happy when he returned to the cabin. He cursed Slim in no uncertain terms and might well have resorted to a more physical venting of his anger had Deborah not interceded.
Slim, still bound with the ropes, was stammering, “But … Bu … Boss … !”
McCulloch was shouting and raving too much to listen to his hapless associate. Only Deborah’s quiet voice managed to pierce his tirade.
“It’s my fault, Mr. McCulloch.”
“What�
�?”
“I helped Mr. Killion to escape.”
“You what!” Griff spun around, switching the force of his fury toward Deborah.
She tried to remain calm. “I could not stand by and watch him get killed.”
“You knew I wasn’t planning to—”
“I wasn’t worried about you. I overheard Sid Miller and a couple of others making plans to kill him when you returned.”
“But I told them what we had do with that Ranger!”
“They were determined to disobey your orders,” Deborah replied. “I believe your life also would have been in serious danger if you had intervened.”
“Why, them dirty snakes—!” But he stopped in his angry exclamation and took a more careful appraisal of Deborah. “What did it matter to you? Did you make some kind of deal with Killion?”
“I am tired of all the violence, Mr. McCulloch,” she answered simply, earnestly.
“And you thought that was gonna help? Why, Killion could have half the lawmen in Texas here in a few days! You talk about violence, lady—that could mean a bloodbath. At least my way, everyone coulda walked away from here alive.”
“We can still get away.”
“He’s got two days on us. How far could we get? Not far, with the law trailing us.”
“Mr. Killion gave his word he would not go to the law,” she attempted with a lame, sick look.
“And you believed him?”
Though she knew how foolish it sounded, she told the truth. “Yes, I suppose I did. Nevertheless, Mr. McCulloch, your way was not going to work if Mr. Miller had his way, and you might well have ended up dead yourself.”
“Don’t be so sure about that.” But Griff saw the logic in Deborah’s statement, and though he still wanted to skin her hide, he knew there was a more immediate problem to be dealt with. He took a sharp breath, glinted at Deborah and said, “I ain’t finished with you yet!” Then he turned and charged outside.
Deborah followed fast on his heels. Realizing all her futile efforts to allay violence were about to collapse, she still hoped to interject some reason into the forthcoming confrontation. Poor Slim, still bound hand and foot, yelled after the retreating figures to untie him. But no one listened. Griff was screaming Sid’s name too loudly to hear. Deborah felt a twinge of sympathy, but not enough to pause; she knew how long it could take to loosen the ropes. Slim would probably be better off where he was anyway, out of harm’s way.