“Corrie,” said Christopher firmly. “I really don’t want to say anything until I have some sense of the Lord’s mind on the matter.”
“You mean—does this have to do with what you’ve been thinking about that you haven’t wanted to tell me?”
He nodded.
“Christopher, I really don’t understand this. If we’re going to base our marriage on communication, then it seems—”
“All right,” he interrupted. “If you really have to know, I’ll tell you. I’ve been praying about whether we might be supposed to leave Miracle Springs.”
I looked at Christopher with my eyes wide open in disbelief. I was stunned. I couldn’t believe what I’d heard, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear any more. I certainly didn’t ask any more questions.
Pretty soon Christopher went for a walk by himself. It was cloudy and silent between us the rest of that day and the next. Now I wished I hadn’t pushed Christopher so hard to tell me, because knowing what he was thinking was worse than not knowing had been!
We didn’t talk about it anymore before the hunting trip.
Three days later they set off, all the men of our little community: Pa and Uncle Nick, Christopher, Zack, Tad, and Uncle Nick’s oldest son, Erich, leaving Almeda, Becky, Ruth, and me at our house and Aunt Katie and her youngsters at hers.
To tell the truth, we were looking forward to the few days they would be gone, thinking of all the baking and sewing and cleaning we would be able to get done without men underfoot. I planned to go through our little bunkhouse from top to bottom! Katie was planning to come down to join us making enough soap to last the winter.
So we told them all goodbye with more anticipation than sadness, and we watched them ride off with a sense of satisfaction and pride. I was thinking how right it all looked—our men riding off together to provide for our family.
The only thing that didn’t look right as they rode off eastward, waving to us as they went, was the six-shooter Zack had in the holster on the belt he had strapped around his hip. I’d only seen him with it that once in the barn, and he had never mentioned it, probably because he knew well enough that Almeda and I would disapprove. I don’t know if Almeda even knew he had it, unless Pa had told her.
But it didn’t look right sitting there on Zack’s hip, to the eyes of his sister at least. What could wearing a gun do but invite trouble? I imagined he was good with it. Zack was the kind of guy who was good at anything if he worked at it long enough. But being good with a gun only made matters worse. I didn’t like it. But again, there was nothing I could do, so I just waved back and put the gun out of my mind.
Not an hour after they’d disappeared through the trees, Almeda and Becky were scrubbing away in the kitchen of the big house, and I was already starting to perspire from a thorough sweeping of our bunkhouse from one end to the other.
By afternoon, every available line was filled with wash hung out to dry.
Chapter 43
A Fearsome Visitor
It was two days later when the knock came at the door.
I was closest and went to answer it. I thought something was odd because we’d heard no one ride up.
“I’m lookin’ for Hollister,” said the man standing there on the porch. He was a stranger, and the instant I laid eyes on him I felt myself shiver. He hadn’t shaved in probably a week, and his clothes were dirty and smelly. My eyes went straight to the gun on his hip, probably because of the memory of Zack’s being so fresh. But the gun I now saw wasn’t new like Zack’s. It looked like it had been used many times. His face was dark and weathered and rough, and a big scar down his cheekbone onto the top of his neck made his appearance all the scarier. What teeth he had, which was only about half of them, were yellow, and his eyes were full of suspicion and hate.
“He . . . he’s not here,” I said hesitantly, trying to keep from shuddering again.
“Where is he?” said the man gruffly.
“Mr. Hollister is away for a short time,” said Almeda, walking up from behind. I knew her well enough to tell from her voice that she was more than just a little concerned.
“Him and me’s got business.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
“My business is with Hollister. What about the young’un?”
“You mean . . . ?” Almeda hesitated.
“Hollister’s boy,” snapped the man.
“Which one—Zack or Tad?”
“Zack . . . Zack Hollister.”
“He’s gone too,” replied Almeda. Her voice was starting to tremble, but she was doing her best to stand there firm and keep her composure.
The man seemed to think for a moment, then turned and walked away without a word.
Almeda shut the door. When she turned back to face me, her face was ashen white. Both of us knew it was the man Pa and Zack had been worried about.
“That was not a good man, Corrie,” she said. Her voice had a slight quiver to it. She hesitated a moment, then went carefully to the window and looked out. As soon as the man was gone, Almeda grabbed her coat and headed for the door.
“I’m going for Sheriff Rafferty,” she said.
“Wouldn’t it be better if I went,” I suggested.
“He would be less likely to harm me, Corrie,” she said. “There are a few times when gray hair and a few wrinkles are an advantage, and this is one of those times. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. You and Becky stay here with Ruth.”
She opened the door and stepped out.
“Bolt the door behind me,” she said, pausing and glancing back, then turned and continued on to the barn.
I went inside, bolted the door like she’d said, and sat down with Becky. We were both afraid. We’d heard enough about Demming’s threats to know this was serious.
All was silent for about five minutes, then we heard Almeda’s horse canter off. Again silence fell.
Five more minutes passed.
Suddenly a knock sounded on the door. I nearly leapt out of my skin. Becky and Ruth both turned to me, their faces white.
I stood up and slowly walked forward. Again the knock sounded.
“Corrie . . . Corrie, it’s me,” came Almeda’s voice.
Relieved beyond words, I dashed the rest of the way toward the door, unbolted it, and the next moment was pulling Almeda inside. Her face, however, contained the exact opposite of the joy I felt.
“He’s out there,” she said softly.
“What—watching you?”
“He stopped me and told me to get back inside,” she said, closing the door behind her and slumping into a chair as if she had been drained of energy.
“Where?” said Becky.
“Right out there,” Almeda said pointing, “just a hundred or so yards toward the road. He had a gun pointed at me. He said if any of us tried to leave, he wouldn’t hesitate to use it. He kept the horse.”
Chapter 44
Prisoners in Our Own House
The four of us sat for several minutes in silence.
“What does the man want?” asked Ruth at length.
“I’m afraid he wants your father and brother, Ruth,” said Almeda. The fear was evident in her voice.
There were times in the past when I had seen Almeda ready to take on any six men, with guns or without them. Somehow it was different this time. I think she knew just how dangerous this situation was and that the man meant what he’d said.
She was worried for Pa and Zack and for us three girls. Had she been alone, I wouldn’t doubt she’d already be loading up a rifle to take the man on. But now there were others to think of. We knew well enough that Demming had vowed to kill Pa and Zack, and we were pretty sure he wouldn’t mind if any others got hurt in the meantime.
“We have to get word to the sheriff,” I said.
“That man is standing guard up on the hill right now,” said Almeda. He can see the house and the barn and road. We can’t make a move in any direction without him kno
wing it.”
We were silent a while, thinking.
“You mean . . . we’re prisoners in our own house?” said Becky at length.
“I’m afraid so.”
“What about Aunt Katie?” I said. “We ought to warn her.”
“You’re right,” sighed Almeda, “though I don’t know how.”
She paused.
“The one we really need to warn,” she added, “is your father.”
“That’s right. If he and the others come back,” I said, suddenly realizing the danger, “and don’t know he’s here . . . he might . . .”
I did not finish what I was about to say. Almeda knew well enough what I was thinking. That was obviously Demming’s plan.
“We can’t let Pa and Zack ride straight into his trap,” said Becky, now seeing the full implications of the situation.
Almeda nodded.
“We have to warn them,” insisted Becky.
“But how?” I asked.
“We have to get word to them or signal them somehow,” said Almeda, “before they just ride in unsuspectingly.”
We were quiet all the rest of the day. We couldn’t stop our hearts pounding, but there wasn’t much to be said. We tried to keep busying ourselves with cleaning, but all the fun had been taken out of it. Before dark I went out to feed and water the animals, but I was afraid to go back out to sleep in the bunkhouse by myself.
That evening, as dusk began to fall, Becky and Almeda and I began talking seriously about what, if anything, we ought to do.
As we talked, it began to come to me what was the only thing we could do to help . . . and I knew I had to be the one to do it.
“I have an idea,” I said.
Almeda looked at me with a curious and worried expression. She knew well enough some of the hairbrained things I had done in my life!
“It’s the only way,” I said, answering her raised eyebrows even before explaining what was on my mind.
“We’re listening,” she said slowly.
“I’ll sneak out of the house in the middle of the night,” I said finally. “I’ll get to the woods without him seeing me, then I’ll go find Pa and Christopher and the others.”
“Corrie, I won’t hear of it,” objected Almeda.
“It’s the only way to warn them,” I repeated.
Almeda thought for a minute.
“Will you be able to find them?”
“Pa and the boys usually make camp up on Panther Flats on the Bear River,” I answered. “It’s not that far.”
“Can you find it in the dark?”
“I’ll ride slow. I know my way. Besides, there’s a moon out—there’ll be some light.”
It was clear it was already decided, even though Almeda continued to be anxious about the plan. She saw too that we had to alert Pa before he came back and that there just wasn’t any way to do it without somebody getting away from the house.
I was the only volunteer.
Chapter 45
Night Escape
Almeda woke Becky and me in the middle of the night. She held a small candle so I could see to dress, but we whispered and kept away from the windows.
The house only had the one door, which faced the road where Demming had been watching all day.
He had to sleep sometime and might well be asleep right then, yet I couldn’t risk going out that way and having him see or hear me. The three-quarter moon would make my ride easier once I got away, although it would make it easier for him to spot me in the meantime. Somehow I had to sneak to the barn, saddle one of the few remaining horses, and get away without him hearing or suspecting anything was amiss.
Working together, Becky and I carefully opened one of the windows at the back of the house. The casing made a little scraping noise, but we managed to get it open wide enough.
I climbed up and put one leg through.
“You be careful, Corrie,” whispered Becky.
“I will.”
“Don’t take any chances,” said Almeda. “If there is danger, or if he sees or comes after you, come straight back to the house—do you hear me?”
I nodded.
“If he hears you in the barn, don’t try to make a run for it. There is no telling what he might do. I’m afraid he might try to shoot you.”
“I’ll watch myself,” I said.
“I will cover you as best I can out the front window with the rifle. If I see him, I’ll start shooting over his head, and you run back here.”
I finished climbing out, and a moment later was standing on the ground outside at the back of the house.
We whispered goodbye. I walked slowly around to the side of the house, then crept very slowly toward the barn. There were enough shadows that I managed to reach it unseen.
I stopped and took several breaths. I was going slow but was breathing heavily. The night was tense. I knew that any sound might bring me face to face with that awful scarred cheek and those evil eyes!
Slowly I worked my way along the outside wall of the barn in the darkness and eventually found the door and latch. I was just about to attempt to open it when the impossibility of what I was trying to do hit me. There was no conceivable way to open the door, saddle a horse, and get a big animal like that away from here in the dead of night . . . without a sound. This had been a stupid plan. He would hear me for sure!
I thought for a moment. Then a new idea struck me.
I let loose of the latch and continued on against the wall to the far side of the barn. I crept away from the building and, again following the shadows, made my way as quickly as I could to the old barn, breathing a little more easily, knowing that I was now a good distance from Demming. Once safely at the back of the old building and out of sight from the road, and after climbing a couple fences and keeping away from any animals who might make noises and give me away, I was able to run the short distance across the pasture and over the small creek.
Presently I was at the edge of the woods.
From there I worked my way up the hill from tree to tree, still being careful as I planted my feet not to break any dried twigs. I came eventually to the area of the old mine, and after ten or fifteen slow and careful minutes was approaching Uncle Nick’s and Aunt Katie’s place through the shadows of the nearby pines.
Aunt Katie knew about Demming by now, and that he was watching us all. We had seen her try to come down earlier in the day, and he had intercepted her with a warning just as he had Almeda, telling her to get back in her house and stay put and that he’d be watching.
I crept to Aunt Katie’s window and knocked on it just loudly enough to wake her. She came to the window with a look of fear on her face.
“Corrie!” she exclaimed as she opened it.
“Shh!” I said quickly. “Demming doesn’t know I’m here. I got away. I need a horse.”
“What are you—?”
“I’m going to try to find Pa and Uncle Nick and Christopher and the boys,” I said. “I’ve got to get away without him seeing me.”
Aunt Katie was already dressing and a minute or two later was outside with me. We walked to their stables. A couple of the horses started fidgeting about restlessly, but Aunt Katie spoke to them in low tones to quiet them. Together we managed to get a saddle on one of the mares I knew reasonably.
“Do you need anything?” Katie asked.
“Just to get out of earshot without the horse whinnying.”
“Then, talk to her—and here,” she added, pulling several lumps of sugar from her pocket. “These should help.”
I took the sugar and held one lump up immediately to the big inquisitive fleshy lips. The mare took it, and as she was enjoying her treat, I took the reins from Katie and led my companion off eastward toward the woods and the foothills beyond them.
“Good luck, Corrie,” said Aunt Katie behind me. “God be with you.”
Chapter 46
Into the Hills
Leaving Aunt Katie, I continued on foot for twenty or thir
ty minutes into steadily more wooded terrain, being overly careful about noise probably longer than I needed to. My supply of sugar was quickly depleted.
Once I felt it safe, I mounted and walked the mare another half an hour. In the faint moonglow I couldn’t gallop safely anyway. I figured it was somewhere between four-thirty or five by now. It would be light in another hour or so, and I would walk carefully until that time, hoping by then to be well into the foothills.
I was generally familiar enough with all the country within an hour of home. I also had a pretty good idea of where the men were. I headed first toward Chalk Bluff to Red Hill Springs, then southeast down into the Bear River valley.
I descended into the valley just about the time light began to illuminate the sky, a little after five-thirty, by my guess. By six it was light enough for me to increase my speed. I reached the river and began making my way eastward along its northern bank and within two hours was entering the clearing called Panther Flats.
There was no sign of anyone!
Neither was there sign they had pitched camp here at all.
Had I been mistaken, or had they changed their plans? How would I find them now!
I had to stop and think. I’d heard Pa mention Sawtooth Ridge a time or two. Its southern flank was almost straight east of me by four or five more miles, across the river and a little bit south.
If I could work my way southeast, then south a bit through Blue Canyon, I’d come up at the southern end of Sawtooth Ridge. Then I could work my way along the top of the ridge and hopefully, if they were anywhere in that vicinity, they would spot my approach.
Now that I remembered, along with the Bear River region, I’d heard Pa mention the good hunting between Blue Canyon and Sawtooth, too, along Fulda Creek. If I didn’t run into them from the ridge, I’d circle back down north and to the north of Blue Canyon. If I still hadn’t located them, from there I’d go straight back over to the Bear and follow it west back to Panther Flats from the opposite direction as before.
I mounted back up, forded the Bear River, and made for the southern flank of Sawtooth Ridge.
The Braxtons of Miracle Springs Page 19
