Love's Mountain Quest

by Misty M. Beller

  Gripping the pistol by its barrel so Bill wouldn’t think she planned to use it, she eased up to standing. Then leaned over the bush and tossed it where he’d pointed.

  “Now, you two come around and stand over to my right. If you make one move I don’t cotton to, you can say good-bye to this brat. And good riddance. Don’t know why we had to bring him along to begin with.”

  She held her hands out, matching Nate’s position, as she skirted the bush and stepped toward the place where Bill motioned. Nate stayed close behind her, and something about his presence eased a tiny bit of the strain across her chest.

  When they were in place, Bill shifted the boy on his lap. “Stand up.” He barked the words, then rose up to his knees as he hauled Samuel with him.

  Laura didn’t breathe as the giant of a man struggled to his feet, keeping the barrel of his pistol pressed into the temple of the terrified boy. She raised a desperate prayer upward. Lord, please don’t let that gun go off. Hold in the bullet. As much as Bill was moving around, his finger could brush the trigger without even meaning to.

  And that would spell death for Samuel.

  She held her breath until Bill and the boy were both standing. He stepped backward, his arm still wrapped around Samuel’s neck and the gun still pressed to the child’s head. Bill stopped them at the gun she’d thrown down. “Hand me that pistol, boy. Slowly.”

  Bill released his hold on the lad, but kept the handgun aimed at him as Samuel bent to pick up the weapon. Had such a young boy even held a pistol before?

  She had to credit Samuel for keeping his wits about him, even though he was clearly terrified. He wasn’t crying, although his eyes were red. He didn’t speak, which most likely would have irritated Bill even more.

  Once Bill had the weapon, he gripped a wad of Samuel’s hair, securing the gun at the side of his head again. The poor lad swallowed, his face as white as the fluffy clouds above.

  Bill jerked his chin toward the camp. “Start walkin’. And I guess I don’t need to tell you to keep your hands where I can see ’em.”

  Turning her back to the madman with the gun took every bit of internal strength she had. She couldn’t see what he was doing to Samuel. Nor shield herself before a blow. But she had to obey, so she put one foot in front of the other, holding her hands away from her sides where he’d have a good view.

  As they stepped from the trees, Rex’s slimy voice called across the distance. “You have things in hand, Carlton?”

  “All taken care of.” Bill bellowed like a bull parading in front of his cows, and she had to lock her jaw not to cringe at his voice.

  Nate walked beside her through the thick summer grass, and she dared a quick glance at his steely profile. Not a bit happy.

  And she couldn’t blame him. He’d risked himself to help her and Samuel, and now he was being held at gunpoint, too.

  But she couldn’t worry about that now.

  Every bit of her focus had to be on keeping the young boy behind her safe. And when she and Samuel were made to pay for her failed attempt to flee, all the strength she possessed might not be enough to accomplish her goal.

  This was the place.

  Isaac signaled a halt even as worry pressed harder on his chest. They were still a couple hours out from River Crossing, but the route was simple enough that he could give Joanna directions if she wanted to separate from him after he told her his story.

  Lord, soften her heart. Prepare the way.

  Somewhere along their travels today, he’d begun to open himself to the possibility that maybe she’d understand that his misdeeds were in the past, far behind him. Maybe she could find forgiveness. If any person could be that gracious, Joanna would be the one.

  But he was fooling himself. Deep inside, he knew that. Her fears for her son and friend filled the air between them with a weight that made it hard for him to breathe.

  “What’s wrong?” Joanna rode up beside him as he wiped a sleeve across his sweaty brow.

  He eased his reins to allow his gelding to graze. “Thought this would be a good place to let the animals eat a minute. We can finish off the last of the meat, too. Another couple hours or so and we should reach River Crossing.”

  She nodded and took the food he handed over from his pack. But the grim line of her mouth and tightness at her eyes said she wasn’t happy about the delay. What he had to say would only send her mood lower.

  But he had to tell her. Had to push his pride aside, be honest with her. Maybe God could yet make good come out of this situation.

  He held his chunk of meat in his hand, for there wasn’t any way he’d be able to eat it. Not with his stomach churning. He summoned moisture into his mouth, sent up another prayer, and turned his focus to Joanna.

  “There’s . . . um . . . something I need to tell you.”

  Her attention jerked up to him, her expression uncertain, gaze wary. She was certainly on edge, and his tone must have raised all her internal warnings.

  He pushed on. “You haven’t asked how I know where the men we’ve been following are headed. But I need to tell you.”

  Her eyes were too penetrating, too distracting when he was trying to string the right words together. He looked away, toward the last low mountain that stood between them and River Crossing.

  “A decade ago . . . no, the story starts a little earlier than that.” He should have been more prepared. He’d certainly thought about this conversation enough. “I told you my ma died when I was seven, then Pa and I came west to look for gold. I grew up right alongside him, panning and sluicing and being exposed to all the types of folks that worked the goldfields. I probably saw more than I should have at that young age.”

  The words were true, but he had to be careful not to cast blame for his actions on anyone else. Only he had made the choices he so regretted. “The work was hard. Or maybe I was just lazy. But I started thinking up ways that sounded much easier to make a living.

  “When I was eighteen, a couple fellows moved into the gulch where we lived. They were twin brothers, Aaron and Nate Long, and they had the gold fever. We hit it off pretty well, and it wasn’t long before I’d convinced Aaron that we could make our money much easier by holding up miners on their way to trade in their hard-earned gold for supplies and such. Nate wasn’t so sure about the idea, but those two brothers had a bond stronger than any I’ve seen. I’m pretty sure Nate just went along to watch out for Aaron.”

  Isaac’s stomach had turned sour enough to cast up what little he’d eaten that day. He never should have put Nate in a situation where he had to choose between doing the right thing and loyalty to his brother. Isaac was responsible for that man’s downfall. For both of them.

  And so much more.

  He didn’t have the nerve to look at Joanna. Most of him didn’t want to know what she was thinking anyway. It couldn’t be good.

  It was time to finish his tale. Inhaling another fortifying breath, he pressed on. “Over the next year, we did a lot of petty thievery.” He pinched his lips and shook his head. “Petty makes it sound insignificant. We stole gold from more men than I could count. We all agreed we didn’t want to hurt anybody. We were just in it for the profits, and the money was good.

  “But halfway into that year, the gold lost its shine. I started hating every robbery. Hating myself for getting us all into it—so much so that I loathed even waking up each morning, having to live inside my own skin. Finally, I told the brothers I was done. I didn’t even accept my share from the last job we pulled off. Just walked away.

  “I thought they would stop, too. Nate and I’d had several conversations about how we wanted to change our line of work. But Aaron had developed a craving for the money and power that came from each robbery.

  “I heard later that the boys hooked up with a couple others who were doing more than robbing miners on quiet trails. They robbed saloons and anywhere else they were sure to make a decent profit, and it didn’t seem to matter anymore whether people got hurt in t
he process.”

  He wanted to lean over his horse and vomit, so strong was the taste of bile in his throat. Never had he told the story in its entirety. Only in bits and pieces when he’d rejoined his father, begging for forgiveness.

  His heavenly Father had known every single action in Isaac’s past, so he’d not had to put his sins into words there, either, only the deep sorrow of what he’d done. His desperate need for forgiveness. For a new life, washed clean by the work Jesus had done on the cross over a thousand years before. He had to keep his focus on that. God’s forgiveness, even though he hadn’t deserved it at the time. Still didn’t deserve it now.

  Through the years since then, any time he’d run into a lawman on his hunting trips, he’d offer to lead the fellow to the hideout where they were now going. But he’d never shared the extent of his involvement with the gang. He’d also never had one of the men take him up on it. This was such a vast territory with so few men assigned to keep the peace, none could justify the possibility of a wild-goose chase for thieves who hadn’t actually affected the people in their own town.

  Of course, this was the first time the gang had been accused of murder—and of a sheriff, no less.

  “So those men, Aaron and Nate and the other two, they’re the ones who kidnapped my son and Laura?” Joanna’s voice held enough strain that it might snap.

  “I think so.” He had to look at her. If for no other reason than to make sure his revelation hadn’t made her ill.

  When he finally forced his gaze to her face, he couldn’t tell exactly what she was thinking. Between her steely jaw and the deep lines on her forehead . . .

  And her eyes. Those beautiful eyes he loved now held a tortured look that squeezed his chest so hard that it felt like his heart might cease beating.

  Thankfully, she didn’t look at him. Her jaw worked. Was she about to speak? Or was that simply an effort to keep from venting her anger on him? He knew she’d held back so far from spewing all the fear and turmoil and anger over what her son must be suffering.

  He wished she would release it. Scream and rage at him. He deserved whatever she could dish out, and if unleashing her fury on him took away a little of her pain, all the better.

  TWENTY

  Isaac braced himself as Joanna opened her mouth to speak, but the words that came out were clipped, as though she had to force out each one. “What did you do after you left the others?”

  He let out a long breath. Not what he expected her to ask. “I used what money I’d saved up to pay back those men I could find, but it wasn’t even half of those we’d robbed. After that, I came back to my father’s claim. Asked his forgiveness, then buckled down and put in a hard day’s work. I’d already begged forgiveness from God, and I was ready to put that wayward year far behind me.”

  She nodded, a single bob of her determined chin. And she still didn’t look at him. “So you know these men well?”

  Isaac scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I used to know Nate and Aaron well. Not sure how much they’ve changed these ten years. I’ve heard of the others, Rex Stanley and Bill Carlton, by reputation.”

  “This place you think they’re taking Samuel and Laura to, you’ve been there?” Each of her questions seemed so intentional, so specific.

  “I have. Many times.” He’d been the one to discover the cabin tucked tightly among boulders and crags in the mountainside. The place must have been an abandoned hunting shack, but it had worked perfectly as their living quarters when they needed a quiet place to regroup.

  Again, a single nod, as though she’d decided something within herself. “Let’s ride on.” She nudged her horse forward, still not offering him a single glance.

  He let his shoulders slump as he guided his gelding in beside the pack mare. At least she hadn’t run him off. It appeared she thought she still needed him. Thank you, Father.

  Any chance he’d had for a lifetime with Joanna was gone now, but maybe the Lord would allow him to help her through to the end of this trial.

  Darkness pressed hard as the horses wound up the steep mountainside. Laura had no idea how the men could see to guide their horses around the sharp rocks poking up from the ground and the holes hidden in the deep shadows.

  Aaron led the way, with Samuel in his arms and Rex riding close behind. They’d interrogated Aaron about whether he’d given the pistol to his brother, but the man adamantly denied any help in the attempted escape.

  She was pretty certain neither Rex nor Bill believed him. She wasn’t sure she did, either. But it didn’t seem to matter at this point.

  She and Samuel were just as captive as they’d been for days now, and their nightmare was about to get worse when the group reached the cabin in the next few hours.

  Nate was also still bound, with his horse tethered behind Rex’s mount. What would the men do to him? If they somehow ever managed to get out of this nightmare, what would he do then? End his time as a thief and criminal? If he came out of this alive, would he look for honest work? Maybe God was using this horrific circumstance to call back one of His children from the dangerous road he traveled.

  What if God had orchestrated this entire kidnapping just to reach one lost soul? Even though it might be at the sacrifice of her virtue, could she be content with that? Oh, Lord.

  The now achingly familiar churning in her middle intensified. She had to keep her mind from straying in that ominous direction. This present ride up a treacherous mountain in the thick of night was worry enough. The ache in her side had radiated up to throb in her temples, and the leather cord around her wrists dug into the open wounds already festering there.

  And her arm . . . the flesh where the bullet had creased the skin burned like fire had been pressed to it. Which, she supposed, had been the case.

  As the horses climbed up the steep incline, Bill’s grip around her injured ribs made her breath come in short, jagged intakes. All this pain was almost enough to keep her mind from the night ahead.

  Almost.

  From the comments she’d overheard, the cabin that was their destination lay somewhere up this mountain. With the night so late, would the men decide to delay her torture until the next day? That would give her a few more hours to find a way out. Maybe in the darkness and activity of reaching the cabin, she’d be able to slip away.

  Lord, make a way. Please.

  Everything was harder with her hands tied, and getting Samuel free would be five times more challenging.

  Something loomed in the darkness ahead, trees maybe. Aaron guided his horse toward them, and it looked like he would ride directly into the woods.

  “That’s far enough.” Rex’s voice cut the air, but it didn’t ring with the same lethal edge his tone usually held. Maybe human emotion actually did run through his veins, making him susceptible to exhaustion and pain like any other person.

  If she didn’t know better, she would think the sound that drifted from his direction when he dismounted was a groan. Or maybe a grunt, but definitely laced with pain. She couldn’t summon a single bit of sympathy for him, although she didn’t try hard.

  “Get off that horse and head toward the cabin.” Rex refocused his rifle on Nate, who obeyed, his bound hands making his dismount awkward. Maybe he was keeping his actions slow to avoid raising concerns in Rex, or maybe he was as weary as they all seemed to be.

  Nate moved quietly into the trees, and Rex took a step to follow him. Over his shoulder, he threw final commands. “Bill, bring in the chit and the boy. And don’t lose them.” His voice dipped in a snarl. “Aaron, put the horses up the hill to graze and haul the packs in.”

  Maybe this was her chance. With only one man guarding both her and Samuel, perhaps she could catch him unawares.

  Bill pulled her off the horse as he dismounted, sending her sprawling with no way to brace herself. His viselike grip around her waist kept her from tumbling, shooting a knife through her ribs.

  With one beefy arm holding her tight against him, he extracted his rifle
. The ominous click of the gun being cocked filled the air. Then he turned back to where Aaron had dismounted with Samuel. “Bring the boy here.”

  Little Samuel trudged toward them, exhaustion cloaking every movement. He’d lost the vigor of the boy she knew and loved, this awful ordeal stripping away his zest for life, including the constant talking and wriggling. As much as his over-activity had tested her patience before, the loss of the personality God had created in him made her heart ache.

  Once she got them free, would he return to his normal, cheery self? Or would the trauma he was being forced to endure forever cast a shadow over him?

  Why, God? How can this be your plan? Maybe He’d turned His back on her altogether. But this innocent boy? Surely God wouldn’t leave a defenseless child among such wickedness. Yet it seemed even harder to believe their kidnapping had been out of His control.

  With no warning, Bill released her, thrusting her away from himself as he grabbed Samuel. She barely kept her feet, and when she’d righted herself, she turned to see the vile man held his rifle tucked into his shoulder in a shooting position. He held Samuel out in front of him, and the rifle barrel was almost pressed into Samuel’s shoulder.

  “Now march through those trees, woman.” His tone hung low, maybe a little exhausted. But with enough menace to show he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot the lad.

  If only she could reach for Samuel’s hand to help ease the boy’s fears, but she couldn’t with their hands tied. If she’d thought the darkness was thick in the open, stepping into the trees felt like a blanket closing over her, wrapping her in smothering black. She reached out with both bound hands to grasp each tree she passed, supports to keep her from tumbling if she tripped over roots or saplings.

  At last, a bit of faint light appeared ahead, broken by the looming outlines of the trees at the edge of the copse. She moved toward the light, still gripping each tree she passed.