Keeper of the Books (Keeper of the Books, Book 1)

by Jason D. Morrow

  Even with a map, there were more issues to consider. For instance, Nate didn’t know the terrain. He didn’t know the best way to travel. Maps did not often show what beasts to look out for or that certain roads were prone to thieves and robbers. It wasn’t that Nate feared them in the least, but those types would often kill for as little as your coat, much less for a horse and weapons.

  No, Alban was Nate’s best chance at getting where he needed to go so he could find his way back home. Nate knew this and Alban knew this. Rachel knew as well, but she didn’t care what happened to Nate. She would prefer that he’d gone on his own, only to be found a week later half-eaten by wolves. He wondered what effect that might have on her. Would she be shocked? Would there be the slightest bit of guilt? Or would she hear the news and actually be glad?

  Nate could have made a guess, but thinking about it too much unnerved him. Having a person near him who disdained him so much was never a good idea. He either needed to kill her or win her over somehow. By nature, Nate didn’t consider himself a cold-blooded killer, though others in his past might think differently. So, he supposed he was going to have to win her over.

  But Rachel wasn’t like some saloon girl he could charm with a wink or a mysterious grin. She wasn’t the type to be won over by his fast talk or charisma. He knew Rachel’s type. She liked people who were virtuous and wanted to do what was right no matter what. She saw things more in black and white, choosing to forget that there were areas of gray in almost all situations.

  Nate lived in the gray, and too often within the black. A man like that had no business being in Rachel’s life in any way. It wasn’t that Nate was interested in wooing her. Quite the contrary. But if he was going to travel with her for a while, he needed to make friends. Otherwise he might shoot her.

  There was only so much hatred a man could take from a woman. If a man hated Nate, he didn’t mind so much. Most men hated each other for some reason or another. It always came down to aggression and power. One man wanted to be better than another, probably to impress some woman. Hatred within a man against another man could come about for the smallest of reasons. But when a woman hated a man, things were different. Hatred from a woman felt like an assault on his character. If a woman hated Nate, he truly felt like he deserved to be hated—as if a woman could only hate a man for a good reason. A woman’s hatred was well thought out and she could probably list all the reasons behind it off the top of her head. Truth was, she would undoubtedly be right about everything she listed.

  Rachel hated Nate because he was a no good scoundrel who deserved to be hanged. He was a liar. She didn’t know what his crimes were, but she suspected he was a thief and maybe a killer. For all of these reasons, she had every right to hate him. But he aimed to change that, if only to make the trip to the Sentinels more bearable.

  Marum, on the other hand, was a different story. Nate suspected she didn’t hate him because they were much the same. They were both wanted criminals. Most of the same people were after them. Of course there was also the fact that Nate had broken her out of jail the day she was supposed to be executed. Really, she didn’t have any reason to be against Nate. They had worked together mutually. He’d saved her life; now she had gotten him passage to where he needed to go.

  As these thoughts passed through Nate’s mind, he couldn’t help but think about the amount of time it was going to take to get to the mountain. A month sure was a long time. He’d thought he would be here a week at most—that all he had to do was find his brother and Montgomery, and be on his way back to Texas. But things had gotten a lot more complicated, and it seemed he was going to be here for a long time.

  Maybe these Sentinels would know of a different way he could get back. Cara didn’t know everything. Really, she didn’t seem to know much at all. Just glimpses and images of the future. It was a strange thing having been to the Foreseer. He’d heard of fortunetellers in the past, but never gave them much thought. Ralph and Stew had both talked about seeing one in El Paso, but were soon disappointed that none of what the fortuneteller had told them came true.

  And Nate would have thought the same about Cara, but for the fact that she knew his thoughts and seemed to know far too much about him already.

  This was all part of the storybook he’d fallen into. Somehow he was just another character, playing his part until the story eventually ended. But if he was this Keeper that Cara had mentioned, that meant he was the one who could actually write the ending. That was what he had to do to get back home. Hopefully, he would be leaving Levi in the dust behind him.

  They reached the outskirts of the settlement of Wanashwa just as the sun faded behind the trees and night overtook the sky. Nate was glad to be near civilization again, but only because he desired a bath and a soft bed to sleep in. He was making an assumption when he thought they would be staying at some inn, for he hadn’t asked Alban what his plan was. Wanashwa didn’t get too many visitors, it seemed. It was small and in the middle of nowhere. Nate guessed that only peddlers on their way to another settlement or town would be the ones to frequent the inns. Alban and his crew seemed to fit that bill but for one small problem: Marum.

  Alban pulled his cart to the side of the road and turned off into a clearing nearby. When Nate thought to ask him what he was doing, the realization came to him clearly.

  “You three don’t mind setting up camp then, do you?” Alban asked. There didn’t seem to be a need to explain what was happening. Marum could not go into the settlement. More than likely, someone here had received a post about Marum’s escape and that she might be accompanied by a mysterious man. The two of them would be targets, or at least a villager might send out a post to inform the Rangers of their arrival.

  “I want to go with you,” Rachel said, pulling herself out of the back of the cart.

  Alban lifted a hand to stop her. “I’m going in alone. I’m taking the cart and I want to be as quick as possible.”

  “I won’t slow you down,” Rachel argued.

  But Alban stood firm. “I’m going alone. Truth is, I don’t want you to try and talk me out of going on this trip, which is why you want to come. Just stay back and wait for me to return.”

  Rachel looked betrayed by her father, but she was the only one left unmoving. Nate and Marum were already pulling out bedrolls and food supplies from the cart. Nate glanced up at her and she returned his gaze with eyes as sharp as knives. He grinned and tossed her a bedroll. She had not been expecting it, but she caught it with a start.

  “Make yourself useful,” Nate said. “Gather some wood for the fire.”

  Soon, Alban was off and the camp was set. The fire crackled underneath the last of the mutton stew as the group of three waited for it to boil. The silence felt awkward, but it didn’t bother Nate and it didn’t seem to bother Marum.

  He sat back on his bedroll and thought about reaching for his flask and taking a swig, but he decided against it. He knew that was part of the reason Rachel didn’t like him. There was a certain stigma for a man who carried a flask with him at all times. There were assumptions to be made, and more often than not the assumptions were correct.

  So he sat, sober and of a clear mind. He liked to drink because it calmed him, but for some reason he felt calmer now than he had in a long time. He knew he had to be mindful. Whenever Levi Thompson was after him, he couldn’t be caught unaware. Maybe he felt relaxed because he realized he wasn’t alone in all this. Alban really wanted to help him, and Cara had given them some hope that they were far enough ahead of Levi and the Rangers that they shouldn’t be worried yet. Yet being the key word.

  The thought of Levi Thompson on his trail was always in the back of Nate’s mind. Even if he’d traveled hundreds of miles and there wasn’t a chance that Thompson was near him, he always knew it was only a matter of time. For ten years Nate had been this way. Ten years. He was tired of it. Running from the law was one thing. Continuously running from Levi Thompson was another entirely. It was exhausting.
r />   The three of them sat in silence as they ate. Once they cleaned up, Alban still was not back. Nate wondered what might have been taking the old man so long, and when he voiced this question, no one answered him.

  It was about that time when the trio heard footsteps approaching camp. This would have been fine except for the fact that Alban had left with the cart. So, unless between now and then he’d somehow lost it, they had a visitor. Nate immediately turned to Marum, but the gray elf had already darted into the woods to hide in the shadows.

  Both he and Rachel stood, Nate slightly in front. There were two men and they walked up slowly, staggered by their drunkenness. Both of them carried large bottles in their hands. They were armed and seemed ready to start a fight.

  To Nate, a drunk opponent was a good and bad thing. Good, because if the drunk tried to shoot at him, the bullet would probably go wide. Bad, because a drunk man didn’t feel a punch like a sober man. The amount of pain a drunk person could handle was almost inhuman.

  “You two look like you packed awfully light for campin’,” the man on the right said.

  The two of them smelled horrendously and it wasn’t just the alcohol. There was a stench that lingered in the air from them that told Nate they probably hadn’t bathed in months. He hoped he didn’t smell just as bad to Rachel who stood next to him.

  “Why don’t you two gentlemen keep on walking?” Nate suggested. “Me and the missus here like to camp in peace.”

  Rachel looked up at Nate sharply, but held her tongue.

  “The missus?” the man on the left repeated. He then cursed loudly. “I was hopin’ she’s just yer sister! Wouldn’t mind havin’ me a gal like that!”

  “I hear ya, Ray,” the man on the right said. He looked past Nate and squinted. “Say, why’s a couple got four bedrolls instead of just two?” He held up three fingers when he said this.

  Nate was done with the conversation. He pulled out his pistol and held it out next to him. He cocked the hammer back slowly and loudly so that both men could tell what he was doing.

  “Those two bedrolls are for my brothers,” Nate said. “They go by the names of Big John and Big Joe.” Nate cocked his head to the side. “They ain’t known by those names for no reason.”

  The men’s eyes went wide, and they seemed to mull over Nate’s words for a long time. Nate was willing to let the conversation sink in. Not only would the alcohol delay the thought processes, but Nate considered these men to be dimwitted as well. The combination did not help them.

  Finally, the words seemed to form an unfavorable picture in their minds as they started to back away.

  “We didn’t mean nothin’ by our intrusion,” the man on the right said. “We’s just curious what ya’ll was up to.”

  “Yeah,” the one on the left continued. “I thought ya’ll was someone else, anyway.”

  They continued to back away, not turning until they were in the darkness again and off down the road, scurrying away like mice.

  Nate let the hammer down slowly on his pistol and set it back in its holster at his belt. He looked over at Rachel who was sitting by the fire again. She looked out into the woods when Marum came out into the open.

  “Those men are going to talk about you to people in town tonight,” Marum said. “I hope they don’t come back with more, looking for trouble.”

  “They won’t,” Nate said as he sat on his bedroll across from Rachel. “They were just here to size us up.”

  “Well, you made our party a bit bigger with the prospect of Big John and Big Joe,” Rachel said. A small crack of a smile formed at one edge of her mouth, but quickly went away when she saw that Nate had noticed.

  “Well,” Nate said, “I don’t know a Big John, and my brother Joe ain’t a towering figure by any means. He certainly hasn’t ever earned the title of big to go in front of his name.”

  “Can’t say that’s a name I would particularly care for,” Marum said as she sat. “Big Marum doesn’t really sound right.”

  Nate shook his head and grinned. “No, it doesn’t. Marum lends itself to a word that would come after it. Something along the lines of Marum the Explorer, or the Inciter.”

  “Oh, that’s a good one,” Marum said, grinning.

  Nate turned his head to Rachel. “Can’t say there’d be a great title for me or you. I suppose I could get by with Big Nate, but Big Rachel seems to come across as unflattering.”

  “I don’t believe I would like that, no,” Rachel said.

  “Pretty Rachel might work,” Nate said.

  He could tell by the firelight that her face had changed colors. Nate was fine to revel in the awkward silence that followed his comment, but the party was saved from it by the sound of an approaching horse and buggy.

  Marum edged herself closer to the trees, but stopped when they realized it was Alban. All of them greeted each other and Alban gave news from the settlement. He’d sent off a post without a hitch, restocked their supplies, and even got the buzz around town. People had heard about Marum’s escape and that there was a man with her. It was of the utmost importance that they keep a low profile until they were out of Tel Haven Forest. Nate then learned that it would be at least two days before they reached the border. Alban expressed a fear that the Rangers would catch up with them since the company was in a slow and heavy cart while the pursuers were more than likely just on horseback.

  “They’ll be able to cover a lot more ground that we can,” Alban said. “I don’t have enough money to buy more horses.”

  “We could steal a few,” Nate suggested.

  Alban shook his head, but with a smile. “Somehow I knew that would be your way. But stealing a horse is an offense that can get us all executed. I’m not going to risk that for myself, Rachel, or Marum.”

  Nate understood. “Then we should get some rest now, and be out before sunup. If we keep a move on it, we might be all right. Will the Rangers keep after us past the border?”

  “It’s hard to tell,” Alban said. “There are a few different ways one could go past the border. We need to go around Larimore Lake and then south toward the mountain, but they don’t know which way we’re headed. It’s imperative that we get to the edge of the forest first.”

  Though he didn’t know the layout of the land, Nate agreed. Getting to more populated roads had its good points and bad points, but if they could get far enough away, then the tracks they created wouldn’t be traceable, and as far as the Rangers were concerned, could have been made by anyone.

  They slept lightly through the night, if at all and were out before the sun was up. Nate just hoped that Levi wasn’t with the Rangers pulling all-nighters, traveling the roads vehemently, ignoring the need for sleep. If they were, they would be on top of him and his companions by morning. Once they trotted away from their campsite, Nate encouraged Alban to slap the reins just a little harder. They needed all the speed his horse could muster.

  Joe

  Winter, 1873 A.D.

  With everyone’s help, the farm grew that season. James had heard nothing from the publishing company in New York, but at least they had enough food to get by. The time spent with Nate had not been nearly as tense as Melanie had predicted. Somehow both Nate and James had been able to set aside their differences and focus on their work. Joe noticed a few spats here and there, but the house was peaceful for the most part. This was no doubt due in large part to Nate’s engagement to his dream girl, Abigail Stephens. There were many nights where Nate was with her family eating dinner instead of with the rest of the Coles, but Joe figured this was for the best. And when Nate would come back, he was in the highest of spirits and not in the mood to make a fuss. It seemed that James and Nate were getting along for the most part.

  That was until one particular night when Joe’s mother made him go to bed early. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but she seemed worried again like something was wrong. The adults needed to talk it out without a child present. But the house was small and even whispers carried, thou
gh none of them were whispering. His father sounded worried, Nate sounded angry, and mother stayed quiet for the most part.

  “He’s not only a scoundrel but he’s lethal,” Nate said. “Scruff Thompson is dangerous.”

  Joe’s heart lurched at the sound of the name. Everyone knew about Scruff Thompson. He was a nasty man with a lot of money. Joe couldn’t imagine why they would be talking about him.

  “The bank wouldn’t offer me a loan,” James said. “I explored all other avenues and Scruff was the last resort.”

  The Coles were out of money. Only people in serious trouble ever went to Scruff Thompson for help. But their troubles usually only got worse. Rumors of death surrounded Scruff, but obviously none of it and been substantiated. He’d be in jail if they had proven it. Unless, that is, the law enforcement owed Scruff money too.

  “When did you borrow it?” Nate asked.

  “I needed the supplies, Nate. I needed better equipment. I needed some livestock.”

  “How long are you past due?”

  “Months.”

  There was silence. Joe had never heard their father sound so afraid. He almost sounded like he was about to cry. Joe couldn’t take it if he heard his father cry. It would be too much for him.

  “I’m going to go to him tomorrow and ask for an extension,” James said.

  “No,” Nate answered. “It would only get worse. Personally, I’d like to see you return home.”