Webb began to shake, and Colman realized the man was laughing. “Why would I do that?”
“I can make it worth your while,” Serepta said.
“Well now, that’s more like it. Making this worth my while has been my intent all along.” With a smile, he slid off the horse and dropped the reins to let the animal graze freely. “Might be we could come to an understanding right here and now. Work everything out to both our satisfactions.”
Colman looked over his shoulder to see what Mack thought of this exchange, but Mack was nowhere to be seen. Which made Colman nervous. If he were in cahoots with Webb, he might even now be doing something underhanded.
Serepta waved her rifle at Webb. “Don’t get any high-minded ideas about what those two are worth to me. Name your price carefully.”
Webb sauntered toward them. “Oh, I’ve got a particular agreement in mind.”
Colman decided it was time to throw out some bait and see who went for it. “I thought you’d already come to an agreement with a member of the McLean clan.”
Serepta furrowed her brow and frowned, clearly unaccustomed to having anyone insert himself into her negotiations.
Webb grunted and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Thought that myself but turns out all the McLeans are lower than snakes.” He stepped closer to Serepta, jabbing her breastbone with his index finger. “Your boy Jake shot my Caleb because his brother roped him into it. You think you’re so smart? You’ve got no idea how your own boy’s been taking you for a ride.”
Serepta looked like she’d been slapped. For the first time, Colman thought he saw something other than anger in those icy blue eyes.
Webb looked pleased. “That’s right, Miss High-and- Mighty. Your boy Mack’s been siding with me, a Harpe, to take over your bootleg business. Jake stole from you.” He shook his head and started laughing. “Then Mack stole from Jake and gave all that liquor to me. You thought he was sending it on to your men for delivery . . .” He swiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “But I was selling it and splitting the proceeds with Mack so’s he could grease the palms of the fellers running your mines.” He threw his head back and laughed some more, long and loud.
Serepta felt her confusion give way to a gnawing anger at her own blindness. Is this what Harrison had been hinting at? She had sworn she would never experience such a feeling of helplessness again. She pointed her rifle at Webb’s chest and levered a round into the chamber.
Webb stopped laughing, cocked his head to one side, and considered her. “You shoot me, and that woman and child will surely die.” His eyes glinted. “Especially since they got scraped up a might in all the hubbub. Smell of blood might make ’em easier for critters to find.”
Serepta’s own blood ran cold. What was happening? When had she so utterly lost control? Every beat of her heart demanded that she regain the upper hand. “What do you want for them?” She spoke through bared teeth.
Webb reached out and gently pushed her rifle barrel down. She allowed it. “I’m not asking for too awful much. Just turn the bootleg business over to me. I don’t want all the work of messing with coal.” He grinned. “Although seems to me Mack owes me something for the trouble he’s caused. Guess I’ll take an outright payment from him.” He closed one eye and looked toward the sky. “His share of the sales from that liquor he stole from you oughta do it.”
Serepta tapped her right index finger on the outside of the trigger guard. She waited just long enough to see Webb begin to fidget. “I could do that,” she finally said. “I could probably even make Mack give you the money.” She raised the barrel again. This time the rifle pointed just south of Webb’s belt. “Or I could shoot you right now, forget about that ghost of a woman and the motherless child, and send my two worthless sons packing.”
She heard Colman’s sharp intake of breath behind her. Webb’s eyes flickered, and he moved his hands in front of himself slowly, as though she couldn’t shoot right through them. “You are a hard woman, Serepta McLean. But I think you’re bluffing. I usually have a pretty good idea about folks’ weaknesses, and yours has been a long time coming.” He licked his lips. “And it’s that child.”
Serepta felt herself choking on frustration. Webb was right, and there was nothing she could do to change the fact that losing Emmaline would be more than she could bear. Losing Charlie had been a terrible blow, but the little girl who called her Momma had shattered the wall Charlie had begun to wear down. She could feel herself shaking as if she might tear in two. She could not give up her power, but neither could she sacrifice Emmaline.
She wished the God who surely hated her would strike her dead and be done with it.
chapter
thirty-two
Colman couldn’t stand it another minute. Webb had gone too far this time. Even Serepta McLean deserved better than this. “But why Ivy?” he blurted.
Serepta and Webb jerked around to stare at him as though they’d forgotten he was there.
“You took Emmaline because she matters to Serepta, but why take Ivy?”
Webb blinked. “Because she matters to Mack.”
Colman wanted to stomp his foot in frustration. “Well, I’ll bet as soon as he finds out the natural gas inside that cave doesn’t belong to her, she won’t matter to him anymore.”
“What’s that you say, Harpe?” Mack stepped out from the barn, his mother’s rifle cradled loosely in front of him.
“Hoyt signed the land away. It belongs to the federal government.” Colman waved his hands in the air. “It’s a national forest or something like that.”
Webb began to laugh again. “Outsmarted by an old man and an unnatural woman. Son, you’re as dumb as a bag of hammers.”
Mack growled and pointed his rifle at Webb. “You think I’m dumb? Colman there just guaranteed I don’t care whether Ivy Gordon’s ever found.” He sneered at his mother. “And as for the child, why would I care about someone my mother prefers to her own flesh and blood?”
Colman could see Mack’s finger tightening on the trigger. He thought he should probably lunge at him or throw himself in the path of the bullet, but he felt paralyzed. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see his uncle die, no matter what terrible things he’d done.
There was a sharp crack, and a man cried out. Colman opened his eyes. Webb looked surprised, while Serepta was pointing her rifle off toward the house. Mack gripped his arm, the gun awkward in his hand and blood seeping between his fingers. Had Serepta fired on her own son?
Serepta lowered her rifle, and Colman followed her gaze. Jake stepped out from behind a rose-covered arbor, pistol in hand. “I’m thinking there’s been enough killing, enough dying. This feud’s never done anybody any good.” He looked at Serepta. “Ma, I’ve been trailing after Webb, figured I’d best know my enemy’s whereabouts.” He paused and shook his head. “Can’t we just let it go, Ma? Can’t we just get Webb to give us that child, take some money, and leave this place? Everything’s tainted. Poisoned. None of it’s worth having anymore.”
Serepta snorted like an angry bull. “No. There’s no one left to trust. You lied and stole and killed. Mack has been playing all the angles, manipulating everyone to try to get his way.” She gestured toward Colman. “This sorry excuse for a preacher is the only one who hasn’t crossed me, and I certainly don’t plan to start trusting a Harpe.”
Colman heard a deeper sound and tilted his head to look toward the sky. He’d heard that voice before. “No,” he said. “Not now.”
Serepta glanced at him but kept her focus on the other men—the ones with guns. “That’s right,” she said. “Not now, not ever.”
Colman sighed. This was not how he’d imagined winning Serepta McLean to faith. “Trust God,” he said.
“What?” This time Serepta didn’t spare him even a glance.
“When you can’t trust anyone else, trust God.”
She turned to him with a look of astonishment on her face. “You’re preaching to me?”
Colman h
ung his head. “I heard it in the wind. I heard a command to trust God. Guess it might be for you, but more likely it’s meant for all of us.”
Mack cursed and struggled to raise his rifle with his injured arm. He cursed again, but before he could take aim, another shot rang out and he crumpled to the ground, blood pooling beneath his body.
Webb stood, the Smith & Wesson he always kept tucked in his waistband now smoking in his hand. He pointed it at Jake, who held up his hands and took a step back. “Move on over here next to your ma and Colman. I want all of you where I can keep an eye on you. This party’s getting out of hand.”
Jake did as Webb commanded, mournful eyes fixed on his brother’s body. “Too much dying,” he muttered.
Is this what it’s come to? Serepta hoped Mack wasn’t dead, but she knew better. Yet the knowledge of his loss wouldn’t sink in. He’d crossed her as well as Webb, and now he’d paid the price—it was no more than he’d deserved. She’d have to acknowledge his death at some point, but not now. Not while Emmaline was still at risk. She kept her rifle trained on Webb.
She jerked when she felt a hand settle on her shoulder. Hardly anyone touched her now that Charlie was gone. It was Colman’s hand, and his voice followed, soft in her ear. “There’s been enough dying today. Don’t let Ivy or Emmaline be next.”
The barrel of her rifle began to drop, and she felt the fight leaving her maybe for the first time ever. A slow smile spread across Webb’s face. “You ready to give me what I want?”
She raised the rifle back up, pushing herself to hold on to the pain and anger that had driven her for as long as she could remember. “I suppose you mean to kill Jake now.”
Webb crossed his arms, letting the pistol dangle from his right hand. “I’ll count that one over there as payment for Caleb.” He nodded toward Mack’s motionless body, then leveled his gaze on Jake. “Way I heard it, your boy was too drunk to do much harm, and Mack egged him on. Pushed him to do his dirty work to keep this feud from dying down.” He heaved a sigh. “Guess the real troublemaker’s chickens have come home to roost.”
If Serepta didn’t know better, she’d say Webb looked sad. “Now what?” she asked.
“Deal ain’t changed. You keep your coal, and I’ll take on the bootlegging.” He grinned, but it looked forced. “Gonna get me a double-breasted suit and set up at the Greenbrier. Show those high rollers how it’s done.”
Serepta felt herself waver. She was as tired as Webb looked. What if she did just throw in the towel? She felt Colman tense behind her. “Someone’s coming,” he whispered. “Webb hasn’t heard.”
She wet her lips and waited. “Sometimes getting what you want leads you to discover it’s not what you wanted after all.”
Webb knit his brow and started to speak, but before he could, they all heard the sounds of people approaching—quite a few people it seemed. “What . . . ?” Webb took several steps toward the group. It was led by Lena and Nell in their wagon, with Hoyt and a whole crowd of others in the back. Harrison Ash rode on horseback, as did several other men.
Serepta realized some of the newcomers were helping Jake carry Mack’s body away. She recognized both McLeans and Harpes in the group. Tears washed Jake’s cheeks, and he didn’t look toward her even once. She had the notion she’d just lost both of her sons.
“Hey there, Webb, Colman. Heard you fellers were having a dustup,” said a lanky fellow with blond hair flopping across his forehead. He was shadowed by another man whose ears set him apart. Serepta recognized him as the one who’d helped bring Charlie to her the night the Dunglen burned down.
“Johnny, what in tarnation are you doing here?” Webb asked. “And with McLeans to boot.”
The fellow called Johnny wrapped an arm around Lena’s shoulders. “I guess you could say we’ve realized we have something in common with the McLeans.”
Webb glanced from person to person. “Yeah, what’s that?”
“We’re tired of this feuding,” Johnny said. “Wore slap out with it. Too much dying and not enough living.”
The second fellow pushed forward. “You act like this feud is the only thing that matters. Family against family. But everybody knows you got a grand-young’un back there in Thurmond, and you won’t even claim your own blood. That ain’t no way to take care of family.” He spit and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Nobody’s backing you this time around.” He jerked his head toward the bloodstained earth where Mack’s body had lain. “Seems to me enough damage’s been done. Whyn’t you fetch that woman and child and let’s all be done with this business.”
Webb’s jaw looked like it had turned to stone. “I’ll be cursed if I will, Elam. My own kin turning against me. You just wait till I get back to Thurmond.”
Elam shook his head. “Won’t have any better luck there. Word’s out you only care about the feud so long as it suits your purposes.” He closed his eyes. “I seen it in the water barrel yesterday. You and that woman over there have lost your hold. Times are a-changing and you’uns ain’t changed with ’em.”
Serepta had no idea why the man was blathering about water barrels, but losing her hold—that was something she could see herself. The iron will she’d exerted for so long had cracked when they sent Charlie away, and now she’d been broken. Not by Webb or Colman or even her own son now growing colder by the minute. It was Emmaline who had broken her, and she wanted the child back more than anything else.
“Please,” she whispered.
Webb whipped his head around. “What’d you say?”
She cleared her throat and lowered her rifle barrel until it pointed into the dirt. “Please fetch Emmaline for me. Please don’t punish her on account of me.”
Webb stared at her like she’d grown horns—or maybe lost them. Then he threw his head back and laughed. “Well that tears it,” he said. “The lot of you can go jump in the lake of fire. I’m done here. Good luck finding them girls.” He spun on his heel, mounted his horse, and trotted off into the trees.
Serepta thought to shoot him in the back but didn’t have the energy to raise her rifle again. She watched him go, dread settling in the pit of her stomach. What now? “We have to find them,” she said to no one in particular.
Colman’s hand settled on her shoulder once more, warm and solid. “We’ll find them. All we have to do is listen.”
“Want me to go after him? Haul him in for kidnapping and murder?” Harrison rested a hand on his notched pistol.
Colman shook his head. Only in Thurmond would the chief of police ask if he should arrest someone for kidnapping a woman and a child, then shooting a man down in front of his mother. But then Harrison always had applied the law when and how it suited him. And Colman suspected his actual salary was a pittance compared to what Serepta paid him.
“What good would it do?” Serepta asked. “I doubt you can force him to take us to Emmaline, and arresting him certainly won’t bring my son back.” She squeezed her eyes shut and pinched her nose. “I suppose you had some inkling about all of this and neglected to tell me. I’m beginning to think your usefulness is at an end.”
Harrison opened his mouth—to protest, Colman assumed—but before he could speak, Colman held up a hand and put a finger to his lips. “You hear that?” he asked.
Colman closed his eyes and listened. He listened to the murmurs of the people gathered at Walnutta. He listened to the insects in the nearby pasture, to the stirring of animals in the woods beyond, and to the creek that flowed even farther away. The people hushed, and Colman could feel their eyes on him.
“Listen,” he said.
And they did.
It was almost as though they were helping him hear farther and wider than he’d ever heard before. He could hear the clopping of a horse’s hooves on a distant road and the puttering of a car somewhere beyond that. He thought maybe he could even hear the gurgling of the sulphur spring in Ivy’s makeshift bathhouse.
And there it was—a song.
“Sof
tly and tenderly Jesus is calling,
Calling for you and for me;
See on the portals he’s watching and waiting,
Watching for you and for me . . .”
“I just want her to come home.”
Colman’s eyes flew open, and he looked at Serepta, whose own eyes pleaded with him.
“I’m so very weary,” she said. “Is it too much to ask God to do this one thing?”
“They’re in the caves,” Colman said. “Let’s go get them.”
Colman had known fear, but he’d never willingly walked into a situation that scared him like this. Going back into those endless tunnels seemed foolhardy, but what else could he do? A woman and child were in there somewhere. A very special woman.
The whole crew—McLeans, Harpes, and even Chief Ash—trekked over to the caves near Ivy and Hoyt’s cottage. They gathered lanterns and ropes and were even now dividing into two search parties of three each. Colman would go with Johnny and Serepta, while Hoyt, Elam, and another McLean family member would form the second party.
Hoyt explained that while there were plenty of tunnels, cracks, and crevices, there were also two main tunnels. “You fellers take the one to the right. It’s narrower and you’re a skinnier lot.”
Colman shuddered at the thought of being stuck in a narrow passage with jagged rock all around him. He checked his pocket for the full box of matches one more time. In addition to his lantern, he carried two candle stubs, chalk to mark their way, and a wad of rags he figured he could make into a torch. He would not lose the light this time.
“Can you hear her?” Hoyt asked.
Colman nodded. “She’s humming now. Guess her voice is giving out. She’s bound to be tired and thirsty.”
“Well sir, she won’t be much longer,” Johnny said. He patted a canteen of water he’d brought along. “Lead us to her, Colman.”
They ducked inside the cave, where Colman paused for only a brief moment, tamping down the wave of panic that washed over him. He closed his eyes and listened. He could still hear Ivy, but he knew sounds would bounce around and echo inside this mountain. He looked at Serepta’s stony face, shrugged, and began picking his way into the narrow passage.
When Silence Sings Page 25