Breathe: A Novel of Colorado

by Lisa T. Bergren

  "No, no," Reid said, pulling her toward his horse. "I'll not have you on that racehorse. My men have seen how fast she moves." He raised a hand and his men moved out from the trees and jogged down the hill to join them.

  Where was Peter? She glanced at Bryce, silently asking the question, but he looked away. He didn't want these men to know Peter was anywhere near. Reid mounted and leaned down to take her arm, easily lifting her to sit behind him. "Better hold on tightly to me, Odessa," he said, but he was looking at Bryce, taunting him. "Don't want you falling off."

  The doctor urged his horse forward. "Come, Bryce. Show us to Sam's property and where the mine is hidden."

  Bryce dragged his eyes from his wife to the doctor. "There's no guarantee we can find it."

  "I do so hope you are wrong, Bryce. Because if you are not, there will be no reason to keep either of you alive. You'll meet some unfortunate accident; we will obtain the O'Toole property and resume our search until we find the treasure Sam left behind. One way or another it shall be ours. Why not allow it? Have you and Odessa not battled for life? Why give it up now?"

  "What guarantee do we have that once you have it-the entrance, the deed-that you will leave us to live our lives?"

  The doctor sighed. "Despite what you may think, Bryce, I wish for you and Odessa to live long and healthy lives. If we can come to an agreement as civilized people, I see no reason not to abide by it."

  Bryce shifted his flat gaze to Odessa. He did not believe the man.

  They had to find a way to escape.

  They moved out from the ranch gates and down the road. Odessa prayed that someone would be coming the opposite direction, but there was not another living soul about. She prayed that the woman she'd seen hanging sheets outside the cabin the day Ebony had gone tearing toward the ravine would be outside again today, but the house appeared empty as they passed, not even a tendril of smoke rising from the chimney.

  Where are You, Lord? she asked silently, glancing up at the mountains that towered over the valley. Why bring me so far, to let me die? Why now? Please, Jesus. If one of us has to die this day, take me. Save Bryce. Please, Lord. Not my Bryce. Not after all he's been through. Please Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus ... She shivered, suddenly realizing that she was crying.

  "You weeping, Odessa?" Reid asked over his shoulder. He patted her hands, hands she had reluctantly wrapped around his broad torso, only to keep from falling off. "I could be a comfort to you, if you'd allow it."

  "You are vile," she ground out. "I can't getaway from you fast enough. Now I know why Moira couldn't stand you." She felt him stiffen, but could not stop herself "You killed them. The DeChants. Even their little girl. And Sam. Who else? How many have you killed, Sheriff?"

  "Those are terrible things to say, Odessa, terrible. I'll remind you I'm a lawman, well thought of from Denver to Albuquerque. Better not level such accusations again, or it'll come back to bite you and yours, understand me?" He patted her hands again and tipped his head toward Bryce, who stared furiously back at them. "Understand me?" he repeated.

  "I understand," she said. "Pause up ahead."

  "At the arroyo?"

  "Yes." They pulled up alongside it. "Sam's poem? He wrote, `See God's finger pointing southwesterly.' See it?"

  "I see it," Doctor Morton said. He moved off ahead of them.

  They rode for some time, entering a winding trail up between two steep cliffs that bordered a stream. "Dess," Bryce said, nodding up and to the left.

  "What is it?" Reid asked, looking up to the rocks.

  That was when she spotted it and murmured, "`Lady and child, now pillars of stone, who lead the way."'

  "Very good," Reid said. "Very, very good. If that part of the old man's poem is correct, perhaps the rest will bear out too." He glanced back at Bryce. "But you know the way, McAllan, already, don't you? Stay ahead of us here, where the path narrows."

  Bryce moved ahead of him, and Doctor Morton and the two men trailed behind. In minutes, they reached a ramshackle homestead and a mine, worked by what looked like ten men, mostly Chinese laborers. "The DeChants' old place," Bryce said over his shoulder to Odessa. "Apparently, someone else has laid claim to the mine. The sanatorium?"

  "Just keep moving and keep your mouth shut, McAllan," Reid returned.

  But Odessa's eyes covered the men moving in and out of the mine. They each nervously glanced their way and either picked up their pace or scurried to work, clearly recognizing and fearing Reid and Doc Morton. Reid kept his eyes on Bryce, but Odessa was thinking about the sanatorium files, of the claim upon the DeChant land for a debt of less than a hundred dollars. She thought of Amille, mad with worry for a child long dead, of John and his stooped, heavily burdened shoulders as he walked away that day, of a small child, innocent.... If these people were willing to kill the entire DeChant family, why would they keep Bryce and her alive?

  She considered it now, no longer weeping, but with a certain distant, factual process after she could no longer see the mine laborers. You brought me into this world, Lord. You gave me brothers and You took all but one of them away. You gave me love, when I could not imagine anything more than survival. And You gave me life again, when I thought I was to die. just as You did with Bryce. She moved to look over Reid's shoulder at her husband, ahead of them.

  As if he could feel her, hear her prayers, Bryce turned in the saddle and looked back at her, his eyes wide and sad, saying goodbye, I love you, Dess. I've loved you with everything in me.

  She closed her eyes, unable to bear the wrenching sadness of such a silent parting. You gave me that man to love, Lord. You gave me love and life. And with every breath I take, it is Yours to do with what You wish. I am giving You myself, Jesus. I have borne sorrow most have not had to, but I understand I have also been granted a gift most never receive. I understand what it means to breathe another breath and be thankful solely for that. I dreamed for more, Lord. A life. A future. But in this moment, on this day, in this place, hear me when I say, I am Yours. Save us, or welcome us into Your kingdom. I am Yours.

  Reid shivered, squirming beneath her grasp, and glanced over his shoulder. "What are you doing, woman?"

  "I am praying."

  "Well, quit it. We're not in church, and where we're going, I'm all the god you need." He laughed then at his own joke.

  The path widened before them, and Bryce paused. Beyond him was a small cabin beside a stream. Sam's home.

  "What is it?" Doctor Morton asked.

  "We need to go up, higher," Bryce said, eyes on Odessa.

  "Sam's poem," she said. "`Land in my mother's name, within an old sheepherder's cabin, in high hills of pinon pine."'

  "Louise O'Toole was her name," Bryce said tiredly. "Part of Sam's estate, now signed over to me, along with Sam's property."

  "Why, that clever old coot," Reid said, shaking his head in admiration. "That's why we couldn't find it. You know how to get there?"

  "Up until this week, I thought Sam's property ended here. Judging from the poem and the land assessor's description, it should be just over that rise and around the bend."

  "Lead on, then." He chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath Odessa's hands. So he was about to get to what he wanted. What he and the doctor so desperately desired. They moved up the path, the horses working hard now with the steep incline. Odessa glanced back and saw the mountain ranges rising above these pinon-clad hills-the Sangres in the distance, the Wet Mountains just above them.

  They rounded a bend and there it was, a decrepit old cabin with a roof that appeared ready to cave in with the first snow. Reid looked around. He gestured to the men. "I want you on either side of this place, arms at the ready while we're inside. Understood?"

  "Got it, Boss," said one. The other just nodded.

  Doctor Morton pulled his mare to a stop beside them and immediately began to dismount. Bryce was already tying his horse to a tree near the tiny structure. Reid dismounted and reached for her, but Odessa kicked her leg over and
slid down on the opposite side. She ignored his low laugh, concentrating on her husband, who reached one arm out to her. She hurried over to him, nestling underneath, closing her eyes as he wrapped it around her, as if she could memorize the feel of it.

  "After you," Reid said, gesturing forward.

  Bryce climbed the rickety stairs and opened the door. "Go on, Dess. It's all right," he said, saying more to her through his eyes than his words.

  She stepped forward, wishing he could read the love in her own.

  "Get going," Reid said, pushing Bryce and then her inside. Doc Morton followed behind.

  They looked around. But the room was entirely empty.

  Reid knelt and started knocking. He glanced at Odessa. "I remember. `Chest beneath the floor.' Something about wealth, right? Help me."

  Doctor Morton immediately began his own search in the far corner. Odessa and Bryce, acknowledging the inevitable, joined in.

  "Here," Bryce said, going over a section again with one knuckle. He reached for his knife in his back pocket, realized it had been confiscated, and looked up at Reid. The sheriff reached for his own knife, glanced at them all, and then pried up the first board.

  They could see it immediately. Three more boards and it was half-uncovered. Five more, it was totally free. A trunk, as if brought over from the old country decades before. Reid brushed off a thick layer of dust, unlatched the lid, and slowly pulled it open.

  Bryce laughed aloud.

  Inside was only a Bible.

  "Wealth that is eternal," Odessa muttered.

  "What?" Reid asked, jerking his head toward her.

  "Wealth that is eternal," Odessa said with a small smile. She knelt and gingerly picked it up, then opened the cover. "I think it's in Gaelic," she said.

  "Appropriate for an O'Toole," Bryce said with a grin.

  Reid pulled the trunk out and flung it to his left. He dropped down into the narrow crawl space and peered around, as if he expected to see a trapdoor or an opening. His face grew flushed, and when he did not find anything, he stepped out of the hole and glowered at Bryce and Odessa. "What else?" he seethed, taking a step toward Odessa.

  Bryce stepped in front of her.

  "What else?" Reid roared. "What else did O'Toole write about this?"

  Odessa shook her head, finding it hard to breathe in the face of his wrath. "`Chest beneath the floor, wealth that burns, and that that is eternal."'

  He bumped into Bryce and Bryce shoved him backward.

  "No!" Odessa cried. "That's it. I promise. There was nothing more."

  Doctor Morton took the Bible from her hands and rifled through the pages. He threw Reid a helpless look. "She's right. It's all in Gaelic."

  "Any messages on the inside? Notes?" Reid asked, pacing now, running a hand through his hair.

  The doctor glanced through it again. "Nothing. I see nothing but the text."

  Reid stopped suddenly, paused, and then stared at Odessa. "There is something more." His hand went to his revolver and he pulled it from the holster, just as the doctor set his own gun against Bryce's temple.

  Odessa shook her head, backing up until she hit the wall. The doctor drove Bryce sideways, clearing the way for Reid. He didn't stop until the gun was centered between her brows, until she could feel the cold ring of it. Dear God, are You waiting for me? Please don't let me feel alone as I die, Jesus. Hold me close. My life is Yours. My very breath is Yours, Savior.

  "Odessa!" Reid roared again. "Where is it? He told you something else, didn't he?"

  She focused on the sheriff. He was shaking in his fury, his pupils unnaturally dilated. He abruptly holstered his gun, grabbed her wrists, and slammed both up against the wall until his face was right beside hers. He was so close she could feel the heat emanating off his body.

  "Odessa." He waited for her to look him in the eyes.

  "Get away from her!" Bryce screamed.

  Reid's eyes shifted to her husband. "Maybe she told you where it is, Bryce. What will it take for you to tell me?" He touched Odessa's face and gave her a lopsided smile, but his eyes went back to Bryce, seeing how his action was affecting him. His finger traced down, past her jaw to her neck. "the greatest fear of a consumptive is suffocation, right?" He pinched her throat a little.

  Bryce, no longer able to remain idle, immediately pushed past the doctor and a shot rang out. It was so close that both Bryce and Odessa felt the bullet go past them. Both froze.

  "Tell me, Odessa," Reid said, tightening his grip on her throat. "Or do you no longer fear death? Maybe it'll take you watching me place your beloved's head under the stream until he ceases writhing. Is that what it will take?"

  Lord? Please, God. Not Bryce. Please don't let them take Bryce.

  "Tell me," Reid whispered, letting up on the pressure at her throat. "Tell me what I want to know, Odessa, or Bryce will die first. I'll make you watch."

  She closed her eyes and panted in fear. Not that, Jesus. Please don't let them take him first. So much death, Lord. Please don't make me endure this, too, Father. I can't endure it.

  You can endure all things with Me at your side. Lean on Me, child. I will give you strength.

  Her breath quickened at this word. Was she imagining things? Or had God spoken to her?

  Outside.

  "Outside. It's outside." She closed her eyes, wondering at where the words were coming from. Moreover, she wondered where the sudden hope was coming from. She felt a burst of power, a thrill raise the hairs of every inch of her body. Hope. As surely as if she were surrounded by God Himself. It can't be....

  Reid released her throat and backed a step away, as if repulsed. As if-"What are you doing?"

  "Doing?" She moved forward and glanced over her shoulder. "I'm showing you the way." Boldly, she continued walking, dimly wondering if a bullet would pierce her back at any moment, but unable to stop her momentum. She paused at the door. "Coming?"

  Reid frowned, but the doctor was already pushing Bryce ahead of him. Slowly, Reid followed.

  The four of them stepped into the bright light of a summer afternoon, brilliant blue, cloudless skies above that Odessa hadn't noticed on the way here. A man moved on her left. The guard. She glanced to the right. There was the other.

  I got them outside, Lord. Now what? She waited, but heard nothing. Had it all been in her head? A fervent dream made real? God didn't speak to people anymore, did He? Had she slipped into madness like Amille DeChant?

  A gunshot sounded, and then another. Five more, in rapid succession. Odessa felt the impact of a man's body, felt herself going down as if she were no longer in her own skin. Was she hit? Dying? Is this what it would feel like to give in to the death that had hunted her for years? The monster that had taken her brothers, her mother, her father?

  From far away, she heard more gunfire, looked for her husband ... discovered him beside her ... gazing down at her. He took her face in his hands. She could see him mouth words. Odessa. Breathe.

  Breathe.

  Breathe, Odessa, echoed her God. Live. You are Mine.

  As if remembering that it was what she was supposed to do, she made herself pull air in through her nostrils, felt her lungs inflate, saw Bryce smile, saw hope enter his eyes. And then she did it again. And again.

  Chapter

  37

  Odessa stayed in her husband's arms, down on the ground, but her eyes were on the doctor. The man who had healed her. Brought her life. And others death. Blood rapidly spread across his white shirt and his hand was inside his jacket lapel where he reached for his handkerchief; he was unarmed. "I'm a doctor," he said pitifully, looking into her eyes. "This was not what I had imagined ... I only-"

  He did not finish his next sentence. His eyes stilled and grew blank.

  Odessa shivered and leaned against Bryce.

  After a moment, he accepted a man's hand up and then lifted his wife to stand close to him. It was then that Odessa recognized who had come to their rescue.

  "Peter. God bless you
, man," Bryce was saying. "And Sheriff Olsbo. How ..."

  "You all right, Mrs. McAllan?" The older man stared at her with kind eyes from beneath bushy brows. "Up at the Shaefers' today, they said they'd seen some men about that they didn't know, for days now, up on the bordering hills. After the trouble at the DeChants', we thought we'd better look into it. We ran across Peter, hightailing it from the ranch, bent on seeking help. Appears he was right, since there was a kidnapping taking place-near murder to boot."

  "Nels?" Bryce asked hopefully.

  Peter shook his head and glanced away. "Gone," he said with a shaking voice. "Saw them take him out back and shoot him. Knew it wouldn't be long before they did the same to you." He managed to look at his boss again.

  "Glad you kept them from doing so," Bryce said, reaching out to clap him on the shoulder. "We won't forget Nels. We'll honor his memory, what he did. I promise you, man."

  "He'd like that," Peter said with a nod, his voice high and thin, as if fighting tears.

  "It's Reid Bannock who will pay for his death," Bryce ground out. He spoke to Sheriff Olsbo, but Odessa knew Reid could hear.

  "That's SheriffBannock," Reid called. He wore iron cuffs behind his back and stood beside one of his men. The other was dead. The deputy led both to a wagon just pulling up, down the road.

  "I'll be out before morning," Reid said over his shoulder. "General Palmer will see to it."

  "I don't think so," said Sheriff Olsbo. "General Palmer is a good man, a righteous man. I don't believe his Christian upbringing will allow him to look the other way. He'll want you to face justice."

  "There's legal rationale for almost everything I've done here today," Reid said.

  Sheriff Olsbo ducked his head to the side. "You'll get the benefit of assumed innocence, Mr. Bannock, same as anyone. But as a sheriff, I think you'll see the problems you face-breaking into the McAllans' house, kidnapping them, threatening them."