Neal Barrett Jr.

by Dawn's Uncertain Light

  “You said the Churchers have horses.”

  “I think they do,” Tommy said. “I don’t know. Out back. There’s another gate past the pens.”

  “Howie!” Chan turned and fired. Howie saw a Churcher scramble quickly off the top of the fence.

  “That ain’t going to keep ’em out long,” Howie said.

  “A keen observation.” Chan kept his eyes on the wall. No one else appeared. All the robed figures who worked in the compound had vanished. The place looked suddenly empty.

  Howie spotted the rear gate, just behind the stock shed. He tried not to look at the naked figures crowded inside, the slack expressions and empty eyes. They were all young, none of them more than twelve or fourteen, the right age for breeding.

  “Let ’em loose,” Howie told Chan. “That’ll give the Churchers something to do.”

  Chan nodded, walked to the shed, and unhooked the wooden gate. He waved his arms and yelled; the stock began to wander aimlessly into the compound.

  Tommy had gone ahead to open the timbered door at the rear of the compound. Howie passed him quickly, and breathed a sigh of relief. A small corral stood ten yards past the fence. There were seven horses and a covered feed shed. Howie found saddles and harnesses inside. He turned Carolee over to Tommy and stepped over the fence. The mounts shied away, and he talked to them gently and calmed them down. There was no time for saddles. The Churchers could send a party around the fence at any moment. He rigged three of the best horses with bits and reins, opened the gate, and shouted the other mounts out.

  “You and me’ll ride single,” he told Chan. “That keeps us free to shoot. Tommy, you take care of Carolee.”

  The boy stared at the horses and shook his head. “No, sir. I’m not, getting on one of those. I won’t do it.”

  Howie looked at the boy, and knew at once Tommy had never even been close to a horse before. Hell, he hadn’t thought of that.

  Howie handed his reins to Chan, walked over to Tommy, picked him up bodily, and lifted him to the back of the mount. The boy sat frozen in fear. Howie thrust the reins in his hand.

  “Listen to me,” Howie said. “You kick it when you want to go. Not hard, real easy. Pull them things when you want it to stop. You learn how to do that fast or one of them fine Brothers will put a bullet in your back. You got that?”

  The boy didn’t answer. He closed his eyes tight and gripped the reins. Howie mounted up, and Chan lifted Carolee up behind him. Carolee whimpered at his back and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, more frightened of the horse than she was of Howie.

  “Which way?” Chan said.

  “North. I figure that’s the quickest way out of California. Canada’s up that away a piece.”

  Chan gave Howie a sober look. “I would say four hundred miles. That is indeed a piece.”

  “Hell, you got any better ideas?”

  “I do,” Chan said. “And if we are alive at this time tomorrow, I will discuss them with you further.”

  Howie lay flat on the stone outcropping and studied the darkening valley. The sun had just dropped behind the hills to the west, and the rock was still warm. A river ran through the valley, some three hundred feet below. Trees lined the river on either side; past the trees, grassy plains swept steeply up the sides of the surrounding hills. Howie could see the whole valley clearly for miles to the south and east. If pursuers were there, they were keeping to the trees and not building any fires. And they were there, all right, he knew that. They’d keep on coming.

  They wouldn’t give up. Ritcher Jones wouldn’t let them do that.

  Howie knew they wouldn’t have made it four days without a little good luck at the start. Chan figured the Churchers had stumbled on them at the compound—four or five men, maybe bringing something to the facility. Or maybe they’d left the place earlier and were simply corning back. They didn’t have horses, and that gave Howie’s party a chance. A good hour’s start, maybe more than that, before the Brothers could get back and start riders from High Sequoia on the move.

  Howie and Chan spotted their pursuers at the end of the first day. A dozen or so Churchers, maybe seven or eight Loyalist troopers, making their way through the woods. Howie had taken his mounts up high as soon as he could, getting out of the forest where horses left a trail, finding hard and rocky ground. It made for rough riding, especially for Carolee and the boy. Still, once Tommy had gotten a good look at their pursuers, he started learning horsemanship fast.

  The troopers worried Howie a lot. They knew what they were doing, and every time he threw them off, they backtracked and found the trail again. They had food and plenty of arms, and the army always took remounts along. That put them way ahead of their quarry. Howie knew if he couldn’t shake them off real soon, the army and the Churchers had to win. The odds were simply stacked too high. He didn’t have to tell Chan and the boy. It was clear they already knew.

  Chan had a small fire going under a rock overhang. The horses were close by in a shaded hollow, and the camp was high enough to be relatively secure.

  Chan looked up sharply as Howie came through the trees, then relaxed. “You see anyone?”

  Howie shook his head. “Didn’t figure I would. They’re out there, though.”

  Chan had caught a few small fish and managed to snare a large bird. The bird tasted awful, but Howie ate it anyway. Chan said it was an owl.

  “I never ate an owl,” Howie said. “I reckon I know why.”

  “I would not complain if I were you,” Chan said. “I may not find an owl tomorrow.”

  “The kids already eat?”

  “I gave them most of the fish. The boy was hungry. Your sister eats very little.”

  Howie looked past the fire at Carolee. She sat hunched in the shadows of the rock. He could hear her singing softly to herself. Tommy had made her a doll out of part of his shirt, and stuffed it with dry grass. Carolee hugged it close, and it seemed to keep her happy and quiet.

  Tommy sat close’ by Carolee, holding the rifle in his lap. Howie had shown him how to lever fresh shells into the chamber and pull the trigger. At first the boy had refused to have anything to do with the weapon. Then Howie explained that if he didn’t want to learn how to shoot, he didn’t really give a damn about watching out for Carolee. That did the trick. Tommy practiced his dry- fire routine every night, and wouldn’t quit until Howie made him stop.

  “He is very good with Carolee,” Chan said, guessing Howie’s thoughts. “I do not think she would have survived in that place without him.”

  “I reckon he’s all right,” Howie said. He poked a stick at the fire and began taking his rifle and Chan’s pistol apart. “They’re going to know when we stop goin’ north and turn west,” he told Chan. “They’ll figure that one out real quick, and guess we’re making for the sea.”

  “It is the only thing to do,” Chan said. “There are many Chinese in the northern ports of California. We will get a ship.” He showed Howie a weary grin. “I promise you that. Get us to the coast, and I will get us a ship.”

  Howie didn’t look up. “Soon as they track us headin’ west they’re going to know. That’s when they’ll split up their forces. Keep one bunch on our tail and send the others off fast to cut us off.” He made marks on the ground with a stick. “They take us, and I ain’t able to do it, you got to promise me they won’t take Carolee. Tell me you’ll do that.”

  “We will make it. It will not come to that.”

  “Dammit, you don’t know that at all,” Howie said harshly.

  Chan stood. “I know that I intend to get some sleep. I suggest you try to do the same.

  Howie sat by the fire and finished cleaning his weapons. Once he looked up and saw Tommy watching him from the shelter of the overhang, and wondered if the boy had heard him talking with Chan. Carolee was still singing to her doll, and Howie knew Tommy would stay awake until she slept.

  The sharp blast of sound brought him straight up out of sleep. For an instant, he was certain
the troopers had found them and were firing into the camp. Then a bright fork of lightning lit the sky and the sound struck again, shaking the high ground.

  Howie was up before the first heavy drops of rain splattered the dry earth, yelling for Chan as he ran through the brush for the mounts. The sky opened up and he was drenched before he made a dozen yards. He laughed and turned his face up to the rain, raised his hands, and shouted at the sky.

  Chan caught up with him at the makeshift corral. The mounts were spooked by the lightning and the sound. Howie calmed them as he led them out of the hollow.

  “Get Carolee and the boy,” he shouted over the rain. He laughed again and clapped Chan soundly on the back. Chan looked startled, and Howie leaned in close to his face.

  “Hell, man, don’t you see it? The rain. That’s the break we need. We’re turning west right now, out of these hills and down to flat ground. Ain’t anyone alive can tell where we’re heading after this!”

  Chan looked appalled. “We will surely fall into holes in the dark. Very deep holes, perhaps.”

  Howie grinned like a fool and pushed Chan ahead down the path. By the time they reached Carolee and Tommy, everyone was thoroughly drenched. The boy was used to riding, and Howie had been leaving Carolee in his charge.

  This time, though, he took his sister on behind him. He didn’t want anything to happen to the boy, but if it did, it wouldn’t happen to Carolee as well.

  A hundred small rivers rushed down the hill, turning the earth to mud. Once Chan’s horse lost its footing and panicked, and Chan had to fight to keep the frightened mount from bolting. Howie blessed the ragged lightning and prayed for more. Without it, he knew they’d never reach the flats in one piece. He kept everyone together, testing the treacherous ground first, shouting back orders if the way looked too dangerous ahead. The rain pounded Howie’s skin like tiny stones, and lashed out at his good eye. He heard Chan shout above the storm, turned and saw his friend’s mount tumble down the slope and disappear. Howie started back, fearful of what he’d find. Another flash of lightning turned the darkness into day, and he saw Chan pick himself up from the mud and climb up behind the boy.

  It suddenly struck Howie that the hill didn’t seem so steep anymore; his horse was holding his footing well. It dawned on him then that they were onto the plain. He yelled and shook his fist in the air. The ground was still wet, soaked by the rain, but it was flat as a board, stretching out toward the west. Howie kicked his mount and trotted back to Chan and the boy, urging them forward through the rain. He stopped then and peered back up the hill. He couldn’t imagine he’d ever had the nerve to try it, or that he’d gotten them all down through the storm. Chan was right. It was a damn fool idea, and he was relieved it was over and done.

  The rain didn’t stop until morning, and even then the dark clouds hung ominously low, sweeping nearly to the ground. Howie didn’t let them rest until the rain was completely gone. He knew every mile he put behind them made it that much harder for the troopers. They’d have to guess now—give up the trail and send riders out in every direction, hoping to catch sight of their prey. Howie figured he’d put ten, maybe fifteen miles at their backs. And every inch without leaving a single mark. The country was big, and the troopers would have to cover it all.

  He’d let the mounts rest for an hour or two, no more than that. Then they would head for the coast. For the first time since Howie had left the compound at High Sequoia, he knew they could make it, that the ship wasn’t simply in Chan’s mind, it was real.

  He woke and looked up at the sky. Clouds still masked the sun, and he guessed it was maybe noon. He felt a moment of alarm, knowing he’d slept longer than he’d planned. They needed to get moving, eat up some more miles.

  When Howie stood, everything hurt. He tried to remember how it felt to be dry. Chan had found a grove of trees that morning, a spot slightly higher than the flats. There was no standing water, but the earth was anything but dry. He felt hollow and light-headed, and wondered where they’d find any food. Most likely they’d do without for a while.

  Chan was still as death, and Howie let him sleep. He couldn’t find Tommy and Carolee, and guessed they’d found a reasonably dry spot farther back in the trees. He checked the horses, and saw they were doing fine. They wouldn’t be anxious to get to work, but there was nothing he could do about that. He’d have to try to run them easy, keep them alive till they reached the coast.

  Walking to the edge of the grove, he looked west. The land sloped slightly to the north, and he could see white croppings of stone in the earth. Good. The ground would be dry enough and hard enough to ride. They would make good time.

  As Howie started back, he spotted color in the trees and saw it was Carolee. She was sitting under a stunted pine, talking to her doll. When Howie approached, she looked up and smiled.

  “Well, I hope you got some sleep,” Howie said. Carolee’s hair was half dry, but her dress clung to her like skin. She didn’t know what modesty was all about, and the thin skirt hiked up to her thighs.

  “That was some rain we rode through last night. I’m real proud of you, Carolee. You did good.”

  Carolee stuck out her lower lip in a pout. “My baby got all wet. It doesn’t look nice anymore.

  “Say, now, I bet we can get her all dry.” Howie held out his hand. Carolee hesitated, then handed him the doll. There wasn’t much left except a patch of wet cloth. Most of the dry grass stuffing was gone.

  Howie made a show of patting the grass in place, and handed the doll back to Carolee. “There. That’s a little better. We’ll find some nicer clothes for her soon. Get her all fixed up.”

  Carolee made a face. “It’s not a her, it’s a he.”

  “Oh, well, see, I didn’t know that,” Howie said. “Boy babies are better than girls.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “‘Cause boys don’t have to lie down and do bad things, and get all swole up.”

  Howie felt his throat go dry. He wanted to reach out and hold her, bring her close, tell her everything would be fine, that everything she’d seen, everything they’d done to her, would go away. Only that wasn’t so. She’d always be what she was right now, that wouldn’t ever change.

  “Your eye’s real scary,” said Carolee. “Only I’m not as ’fraid of it now as I was.”

  “I’m sure glad you’re not,” Howie said. “I don’t want you being scared of me. I don’t want you to ever be scared of anything again.”

  “I like riding a horse now. I’m not afraid any at all. Tommy says I might learn to ride all by myself.”

  “You just might.”

  “Are you scared of anything, Howie?”

  “Well, I guess sometimes I am.”

  “Like the dark?”

  “No, not the dark. But I—”

  Howie froze as he heard a twig snap behind him. Carolee’s eyes went wide, and she brought a hand to her mouth.

  “Don’t even move, boy. Don’t even think about it.”

  Ritcher Jones stepped quickly to the left where Howie could see him. He held the long-barreled silver gun in one hand. His robe was dark with mud, and the white hair was plastered across his face. Howie felt his gut twist up in a knot.

  “Where are the others?” Jones said sharply. “That Chinese fella and the boy?”

  Howie’s mind raced. Jones had spotted the two horses. He hadn’t been up in the grove. Howie had loosed all the other mounts at the compound, and Jones didn’t know how many they’d ridden off. His trackers had likely told him three or four, but he didn’t know for sure.

  Howie forced an easy grin, “They rode on ahead. You just missed ’em, preacher.”

  Jones frowned at that. He gave Howie a piercing look, as if he might see right into his head. He backed away a foot, and glanced quickly to the west. Howie knew he was figuring how far ahead Chan and the boy might be, when they’d likely come back.

  Jones studied Howie another moment, then smiled at Carolee. “You caught me napp
ing with the girl, son. I guessed you’d lost family at Silver Island. But finding her, out here …” Jones shook his head. “Now that’s a miracle of the Lord’s own making. Your sister, I’ll bet. Looks like you.”

  “Leave her be,” Howie said. “I won’t give you no trouble. Just leave her be. You bastards done enough to her!”

  Jones didn’t seem to hear. “You have caused me a great deal of grief, Howie Ryder. A great deal of anguish and pain. I have prayed long and hard these last few days, prayed that God would allow me to make amends for the mistakes I’ve made with you. And last night, He gave me that chance. The rains came down from the heavens, and all the men about me were dismayed. But I knew. The Lord let me see that you would use that rain, that you would flee at once to the sea.” Jones smiled again, “The Chinese take pride in their ships. They covet their fine craft and love the water more than the land, and I knew the heathen would take you there, guided by Satan himself.”

  That goddam heathen’s going to sleep all day, Howie thought miserably. That’s what he’s going to do.

  “All I’m askin’ is you leave the girl alone,” Howie said. “That’s all. You got no need of her, it’s me you—”

  “Shut up!” Jones said sharply. “Move away from her, over there. I’ll decide about the girl in time.” Jones thumbed back the hammer of his weapon and aimed it at Carolee’s head. “Do it, Howie Ryder. Or I’ll come to that decision right now.”

  Howie stood, He made himself move slow, thinking what it might take to get to the gun. Ritcher Jones would get off a shot, and likely hit him true. He was too damn good to miss. But the shot would rouse Chan, and maybe Chan could save Carolee.

  “Don’t consider anything foolish,” Jones said. He backed off another step and leveled the gun at Howie’s chest.

  Carolee began to cry. “It’s all right,” Howie said, keeping his eye on Jones. “Just sit still, Carolee.”

  “Now that’s a right fine thing to do,” Jones said solemnly. “A good man takes care of his kin. And I feel you’re a good man, Howie Ryder. We’ve had our differences, you and me, but we’ve served the Lord together, and that’s the thing. When you stand before Him, boy, you’ll see what I’ve been saying all along. That true glory comes to a man when he steps from this life to the next, when he—”