by Mary Alford
Mason had eventually realized it wasn’t Miriam’s rejection that drove him away. It was losing his friend Chandler. He hadn’t dealt with the loss and had projected his feelings of anger onto his brother. Stubborn pride had kept him from returning. The passing time made him question if he could ever possibly hope to fix the damage he’d done.
“Denki,” Willa murmured softly, drawing his attention back to her pretty face, which revealed so much pain. “I miss Miriam.” She shrugged helplessly and pulled her hands from his. “At times, I still can’t believe she’s gone.” Willa had witnessed part of the ugly argument between him and Eli, and for that he was sorry.
“Mamm knows some about what’s happening now,” she told him. “I explained what I could, but the rest of the story should come from you.”
She spoke the truth. Beth deserved to hear the full story and he would tell it to her, but he had to be quick.
Mason turned back to his partner. “I’ll be right back.” Erik didn’t open his eyes and Mason studied his wounded friend. Some of Erik’s color had returned, though he didn’t believe it would last. He’d seen the damage the bullet had done, and it hadn’t exited. It remained inside Erik’s body, festering.
“Let’s go speak with your mother,” Mason told Willa. He’d taken but a few steps when Samantha jumped from the sofa with Benny held tight against her chest and ran after him.
He held out his hand. “Come and meet a good friend of mine.” She clung to his side as if terrified of being left behind. Mason struggled to let go of the anger he felt toward Samantha’s father. How had he let himself get involved with someone like Bartelli?
With Samantha’s tiny hand tucked in his, Mason silently vowed he’d bring Bartelli down. No matter the cost, this sweet little girl deserved to have a happy life.
He followed Willa down the hall to the last room on the right.
She stuck her head into the room. “She’s awake.” Willa went inside and held the door open for them. “I’ve brought you visitors.”
Samantha clutched his hand tighter as they stepped into the darkened room. The dog near Beth’s bed jumped to his feet in a defensive gesture.
“It’s oke, Golden Boy. It’s our friends,” Willa told the animal, who appeared rattled from his earlier encounter with Bartelli’s people. After a second or two, the dog accepted her answer and reclaimed his spot.
Mason’s eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light. Seeing Beth confined to the bed made it hard not to show a reaction. In his mind, Beth remained captured in a time capsule from thirteen years earlier. Smiling and full of life. Always there for her family and her community. She’d accepted Mason and his brothers into her family. Feeding them. Putting them to work. Beth and Josiah invited the brothers in for their Bible readings. He could still feel Beth swatting at his hand when she’d caught him tugging on Miriam’s prayer kapp instead of listening to the Word.
Though he swallowed several times, the lump in his throat wouldn’t go away as he faced the fragile woman lying in the bed. She seemed a shadow of the person he remembered from his youth. The ravages of the disease were there in the weight loss, her drawn features and the uncontrolled shaking of her limbs.
A rush of anger washed over him. His free hand balled into a fist at his side. How unfair for Beth to be stricken with such a merciless disease. She didn’t deserve this death sentence. He wanted to scream at God for allowing this to happen. Hadn’t Beth and Willa suffered enough?
When Beth got a good look at him, her face creased into a smile. “Mason,” she exclaimed, and held out her trembling arms like she had so many times in his youth. Mason briefly released Samantha’s hand to lean down and hug her frail body. He worried even the gentlest of touches might crush her. Tears he hadn’t experienced in a long time were close, yet he refused to set them free. He wouldn’t be anything but strong for this fearless woman trapped in a body betraying her.
“Beth, it’s good to see you again,” he managed, though his voice had a catch in it. “I’ve missed you.” The admission came out almost of its own accord, yet he didn’t regret speaking the truth. He’d thought a lot about Beth, missed her quirky sense of humor.
She squeezed him closer and he struggled to keep from wincing in pain. After everything Beth was going through, a little thing like being shot seemed somewhat trivial right now.
When he would have moved away, Beth grasped his hand and held it in a surprisingly strong grip. “You’ve been missed, as well. By me, my dochder, your mamm and your bruders.” Beth always spoke the truth. Still he found it difficult to believe his brothers would miss him after the problems he’d caused.
“And who is this with you?”
Mason turned to the child who had stuck to his side like Velcro.
“This is Samantha. Samantha, this is Beth, Willa’s mother. I practically grew up with Willa and her sister. Beth here is one of the nicest people you will ever meet. But don’t believe everything she tells you about me.” He winked at the child.
Beth chuckled. Her gaze swept over the child clothed in her daughter’s old dress. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Samantha. And who do you have there?” She pointed to the bear peeking out from the crook of Samantha’s arm.
Samantha slowly held up the bear for Beth to see. If anyone could gain the child’s trust, it was Beth. She had a gentle way about her that made everyone feel at ease.
“That’s an awfully fine-looking bear indeed. What’s his name?”
Samantha looked to Mason, who nodded.
“This is Benny,” Samantha’s high voice announced proudly. She held the bear closer for Beth to observe.
Beth clasped the stuffed animal’s arm and pretended to shake its hand. “Nice to meet you, Benny. Welcome to my home.” Beth’s gaze returned to Mason. “Willa tells me you’ve been hurt.” She pointed to his shoulder.
“It’s nothing.” He dismissed her concern and did his best to explain the complicated situation they now faced, keeping in mind the child standing close.
Beth shook her head. “Those people are up to no gut. One of them searched my room. I didn’t know what he might do.”
Mason regretted putting Beth through such an ordeal. “I’m terribly sorry. I realize we are putting you and Willa in jeopardy, but I promise we won’t stay long. Willa has agreed to let me use the buggy to ride to the phone. Once the sheriff arrives, we’ll get out of your hair.”
Beth squeezed his hand with a strength that reminded him of the woman he’d known at seventeen. “Nay, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need, Mason Shetler. You’re like one of my own. Always have been. Hopefully, those bad men will move on.”
He didn’t feel deserving of her kindness and struggled to keep his emotions in check. Being back here, seeing this gentle woman and remembering all the good times he’d spent with her, Josiah, Willa and Miriam, made it hard not to get a little choked up. While he didn’t believe Bartelli’s people would leave the area so easily, he kept his doubts to himself.
“Thank you, Beth, but these men are extremely dangerous. They work for a man who floods the country with weapons to sell to street gangs. And that’s just part of Bartelli’s criminal empire. Our being here is putting you and Willa in danger. That’s not what I want. As soon as we’re able, we’ll move on.”
“West Kootenai will always be your home, Mason. No matter how far you roam, or what trouble is brewing in that head of yours, this is home,” she stressed almost as if she were in his head. A smile creased Beth’s face, reminding him of the woman from his childhood. She looked Mason up and down. “You finally filled out. You were always such a skinny boy.”
Despite his concerns, Mason chuckled. “Yes, even though you constantly fed me.” His heart overflowed with memories. “You always were good to me and my brothers.” He didn’t want to lose her to this disease. There’d been too much death already—his friend Chandl
er, his grandfather, his father, Josiah...and Miriam. He didn’t want to lose another piece of his heart.
“That’s because you are gut boys. All of you.” Green eyes, so much like both of her daughters’, held his. Beth was being kind. Mason still remembered the difficult kid he’d been growing up. He’d been headstrong, determined, impulsive and so sure he knew everything. At seventeen, he thought he had life all worked out. He and his brother Fletcher, along with Chandler, would start a hunting guide business to help other hunters navigate the mountains for game. And if he could talk his brother and Chandler into it, they’d assist the sheriff with the search-and-rescue missions that took place each year in the high country. After all, the brothers knew the mountains and the dangers there better than anyone.
But then Chandler died, and everything changed. His world was sent into a tailspin and he’d latched on to something that didn’t exist.
“You are a strong man, Mason, but you must be careful.” Beth’s warning pulled him from the past. “You have many people depending on you.”
He looked to the child, who had clasped his hand again, and he understood fully the stakes. The injustice that had been dealt to Samantha was more than any human being should have to endure, and the weight resting on Mason’s shoulders was staggering.
“Gott will help you carry the burden.”
Shocked, Mason stared at the woman who still could read him like a book. She knew whenever he’d done something he shouldn’t. Or kept his grief bottled up. Beth had been the one to warn him about not letting his feelings out. She’d told him if he didn’t, the hurt would find its own path of freedom, much like a river. And she’d been right.
Her eyes fluttered closed. Beth heaved a sigh as if the short visit had taken its toll.
“We should let you get some rest.” He didn’t want to tire Beth out.
He turned to leave, but a whisper stopped him. “It’s nice to have a kinna in the house again. It’s been a long time since my girls were so young.”
Mason struggled to keep from losing it. This strong and Godly woman had lost so much. He squeezed her arm. “I’m sorry about Miriam and Josiah. They were both good people.” His sentiments felt inadequate.
A hint of a smile touched Beth’s lips. “They were indeed. Denki, Mason.”
Samantha pulled her hand free of his and inched over to Beth’s bed. “Are you getting sleepy?” The child leaned her elbows on the bed with the bear wagging in her hand. “I’ve been awake for a long time,” she said almost proudly. Guilt pierced his heart. A child needed a good night’s rest, a normal routine. Samantha hadn’t had any of those since her parents’ deaths.
Beth chuckled at the little girl’s curiosity. She was so patient, always had time for those in need. And Samantha was in need. “Not sleepy, kinna. I’m just sick.”
“My mommy and daddy were sick, too. Well, sort of. They died.” His heart ached for the child.
According to what they’d been able to ascertain, Trent King, Samantha’s father, was one of Bartelli’s trusted few. He’d worked as an accountant for the gunrunner and handled the massive amounts of money Bartelli’s illegal operation took in each year. Apparently, Bartelli trusted Trent and considered him to be family. Samantha even referred to Lucian as Uncle Lucian. He’d often shared meals with them.
Yet when large amounts of money went missing, Bartelli became convinced only one person could be responsible. According to Samantha, her mother grabbed her and put her into the closet before Bartelli forced his way into their home. Patty King warned her daughter not to make a sound and to stay put no matter what. The young girl had watched through the slats in the closet door as another man held her mother while Lucian shot first Trent and then Patty.
According to Samantha, Lucian had mentioned they needed to find her, but something had stopped him before he could finish searching the house. It was Mason’s belief he may have heard some noise outside and feared he would be discovered and fled. Whatever the cause, it had saved Samantha’s life.
Once Bartelli and his man left, she ran to the neighbors, who called the police.
A sound behind Mason grabbed his attention and he spun toward it, his finger on the holstered weapon. His nerves were strung tight.
Erik stood in the doorway, leaning heavily against its frame. “I thought I’d best introduce myself.” He managed a weak smile while holding his injured side. “Seemed only right since I’m staying at your home,” he told Beth.
Mason resisted the urge to help his partner into the room. Erik would want to operate on his own steam for as long as possible.
As Mason watched his partner slowly advance to Beth’s side, doubts returned full force. Had he made the right decision leaving Willa and Erik here as the only real line of defense?
“We’ll be all right,” Erik assured him. Partners and friends, they knew each other well and thought the same way on most things. Erik would have put himself in Mason’s place and come to the same conclusion.
As he reached Beth’s bed, Erik held out his hand. “Erik Timmons. Thank you for giving us a safe place to stay.”
Beth clasped his hand. “Beth Lambright. You’re more than welcome. A friend of Mason’s is always welcome here.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Erik tussled Samantha’s blond hair in an affectionate move that Mason had seen him do with his own kids many times. Both marshals had connected to Samantha and her story from the start and had let her case become personal with good reason. He and Erik had dealt with their fair share of difficult witnesses through the years, but most had joined the witness protection program because they were in some way involved with a crime. Samantha had done nothing wrong.
“I appreciate you being so generous,” Erik responded.
Samantha surprised them by climbing onto Beth’s bed, her curious eyes skimming Beth’s face. When Mason started to get her down, Beth stopped him. “Leave her be. She’s fine.”
It tugged at Mason’s heart to see the way Samantha seemed to take to Beth right away. The little girl didn’t understand the ravages of a disease that gnawed at Beth’s life. She only saw a kind woman who she trusted. For a child that craved kindness, Beth proved a true blessing.
“I should hurry,” he told them, “while I’ve still got the element of darkness to stay hidden. It should work in my favor, but it won’t last.” Mason placed his hand on Samantha’s shoulder. “Why don’t you stay here with Beth and Golden Boy and keep them company until Beth gets sleepy? Erik and Willa will be just down the hall if you need anything.”
The young girl leaned against Beth and asked, “Why are your hands shaking?”
Beth motioned for him not to intervene. She obviously understood the question didn’t come from a place of malice.
Mason gave Samantha a hug and hoped he’d see her again.
While Erik and Willa left the room, he stood in the doorway watching Beth with Samantha for a moment longer. The two would be good for each other.
Beth noticed him watching and shooed him away. With a smile, he waved and stepped out of the room.
As he walked down the hall, the reality of the situation struck him head-on. Would he have time to reach the phone before Bartelli’s men found him? Or, worse, came back here?
Breathing heavily, Erik dropped into the rocker near the fire. The simple effort of walking to the living room must have greatly depleted his energy.
He opened his eyes as Mason approached. “I just need a moment. Don’t worry—Willa and I can handle things here. You get us help.”
Mason kept his misgivings to himself. “How many rounds do you have in your clip?” Both he and Erik carried extra clips, but they’d used up plenty defending themselves near the road. Mason was on his backup already.
“Half a clip left and another full one in my pocket.”
If forced into another shoot-out, those wouldn’t last long.
“Let me help you harness the buggy.” Willa pointed to his injured shoulder.
The throbbing made doing the simplest task a challenge—a constant reminder he would be at a disadvantage.
“All right,” he agreed, because it had been a while since he’d performed the task. Getting to the phone shanty, making the call and returning before Bartelli’s men came back was critical.
“Gut. I will get some of Daed’s old clothes for you.” Her smile took him back in time. She always had the loveliest smile.
Once Willa had disappeared down the hall, Mason knelt beside his partner. “Before I leave, let me check the bandage to make sure you’re not bleeding again.”
Erik unbuttoned his shirt slowly, each painstaking movement making him flinch. Mason eased the shirt away from the wound so he could get a better look. Blood had soaked through the covering.
“That’ll need a clean bandage. Hang tight, I’ll be right back.” He tried not to show his concern. Erik leaned his head back against the rocker without answering.
In the kitchen, Mason dug around until he found where Willa had hidden the medical supplies from earlier. He found a clean bandage, grabbed what he’d need to secure the wound and went back to the living room. Though Erik put on a brave front, Mason could see he didn’t feel good. What if Erik’s condition worsened after he left?
He did his best to replace the bandage without hurting his friend. Still, Erik clamped down on his bottom lip during the process.
“Thank you,” Erik whispered in a raspy tone once Mason had finished. He wiped perspiration from his forehead. “I sure hope we’re wrong about there being a mole within the marshals service, because if not, there isn’t a safe place around where we can protect Samantha from Bartelli.”
A crackle of unease shot between Mason’s shoulders. “Me, too, brother.”
Willa returned with some of her dad’s old clothes and Mason used her bedroom to quickly change into the garments. Wearing clothes that had once been part of his everyday life now seemed foreign and awkward. Too many years had passed since he’d dressed Amish.
