The Hope of Azure Springs

by Rachel Fordham

  Knowing that giving in to the storm of emotions would leave him useless, he fought to regain control, to think clearly. After rising from the ground, he shoved the gun and the stick man into his saddlebags. The basket remained overturned—a silent testament to the atrocity.

  Never had a crime felt so personal. Sure, he’d worried over other victims, mourned deaths, and lost sleep over tragedy. But this. This was different. He felt as if a part of himself were lost—stolen—and he had to rescue it.

  From high on Amos, he looked in all directions. Where would they go? Digging his heels deeper than necessary into Amos, he set out. Destined for Hollow Creek.

  “Let me be right,” he prayed aloud. If he was wrong—no, he wouldn’t think about that yet. His gut was all he had to go on. Amos was well rested, and he was big and fast. He could possibly overtake them.

  Em, jolted awake, tried to reach out and steady herself, only to find her hands were not free—thick rope held them tightly together. She was only staying on the horse because Alroy had an arm around her waist. Appalled that she was so close to him, she straightened her back in a vain attempt to put some distance between their bodies, even if it was only a mere centimeter.

  Responding to her movements, he spoke. “Decided to come to, did you?”

  “Where are we going?” Em asked, her voice flat.

  “Well, missy, if you must know, we’re going back to George’s. You’re going to get me my money.”

  “George didn’t talk to me much. I don’t know anything. Did he talk to you?” Still no emotion. How quickly she slipped back into her old ways. All the years she’d lived with George she’d kept her features and words void of emotion. “I know you knew him.”

  “Sure, he talked. He and Gerda both talked. And they yelled and they whipped.”

  Em winced at the thought. George seemed so worn out when she was there. She’d always seen him as a tired old man. He had never tried to know her, let alone discipline her.

  “I didn’t know Gerda.”

  His arm tightened painfully around her as he pulled the horse to a stop. In a single movement, he jumped off the animal’s back, dragging her with him. He dropped her on the ground and paced away from her. With her hands tied, it was a struggle to stand but she managed.

  “You don’t know nothin’ about Gerda. Or what it was like.”

  “I don’t claim to,” Em said. “George never even talked of her. I only know her name.”

  “Gerda’s dead, same as George.” Alroy pulled a cigarette from his pocket. Fumbling with a match, he struggled to light it. The match blew out and he swore and threw it to the ground. Then he reached into his saddlebags and pulled out a length of rope.

  Em meant to bite her tongue, to let him fume on his own, but words just came. “You killed Gerda too?”

  He slapped her, knocking her down. With her face stinging and her vision blurry from the blow, she struggled to sit up. It was safer being able to see and anticipate his moves.

  “I didn’t kill Gerda,” he said as he pushed her skirts up to her knees and tied her ankles together. “Well, I did, but not how you’s thinkin’ I did. And I wouldn’t have killed George if he would have just let me be.”

  Maybe she could distract him?

  “I came on a train. An orphan train. Is that how you came?” She asked the questions hoping he’d continue to talk.

  Alroy didn’t say anything. She filled the silence. “No one wanted me. No one but George, and I don’t think he really wanted me. I’m not sure why he claimed me. Just used me to tend a few animals and fix his meals.”

  “You from the city?” Alroy asked.

  “I am. I lived there until I was twelve. Are you from there?” Em’s chest tightened as she realized their stories were not so different.

  “My pa dropped me off with the Society when I was eight. Said he had too many mouths to feed. I never set foot in the city again.” He seemed calmer now, as he leaned against a tree and successfully lit a cigarette. “No one wanted me either.”

  “I haven’t been back. I bet it’s changed. I used to know my way around, but I’d probably feel lost there now.”

  “’Course it’s changed.” Alroy spit, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Everyone kept living without us.” He was looking at his feet. Em pictured him as a little boy. A hurt little boy, all alone and afraid.

  “I lived in George’s barn for seven years—just barely getting by—only to end up in a town with people who had real lives. People who were living.” Em tried to loosen the rough rope on her wrists that was cutting her skin. “It’s taken me some getting used to. No one understands what it’s been like.”

  “I started living my life too. Just different than some folks. I got tired of waiting for good things to come my way and decided to take a little. Figured I was owed a few easy breaks.” Alroy sat down on a log then and scratched his head. Scratched it hard, his nails fighting a battle with the vermin that must have lived on his scalp. “I ain’t been sorry.”

  “Is the money you’re hoping to find your easy break?”

  “Other people got plenty. I took some, enough so I could get away and start over. That’s all it was supposed to be. Stuff happened. It got out of hand, that’s all. But I need that money now. I got to get out of here.”

  Risking rousing his anger, she asked, “Why did George have it?”

  “After Gerda died, I took off, joined up with Bill and Morris. I did the bank job with them. We hid the money. We was gonna split it up, and I was gonna go west and start over. I heard you could get your own land. Problem was, George never knew how to keep out of my business.” Again his nails dug into his scalp. His voice was full of venom when he spoke again. “George was tracking me ever since I ran. He snuck into camp and took the money. We threw some fists around, but somehow George made off with it. He ruined everything.”

  “And you think he still has it?” Em asked. “He didn’t live like he had any money.”

  Alroy looked at her like she was foolish. “’Course he has it. Don’t you know nothing ’bout George?”

  Fighting the urge to laugh, she bit her bottom lip. It was a strange time to laugh, tied here in the woods with a desperate man, but the question was bizarre. George had barely fed her, barely clothed her, barely spoken to her. “I don’t know much of anything about him. The man cared nothing for me. Not even enough to tell me about his past. He came and went as he pleased. Ours was a strange relationship—if you could even call it that.”

  “Well, he didn’t want the money. He wanted me. Every year he chased me. Always on my trail. When I was a boy, he would beat me and tell me he was teaching me. Took sick pleasure from it. I know he did. I saw it in his eyes—they would light up with evil excitement. The devil was behind it, I was sure of it. He wanted that money so he could rub my face in it and teach me another lesson. He knew someday I’d need it and come back looking for it. Then he’d teach me about stealin’ and about killin’.”

  “But you said you didn’t kill Gerda?” Em shook her head, confused. “Why didn’t he just let you go?”

  He rose, anger burning in his eyes, and walked toward her with his hands fisted. She tightened her muscles and braced for another blow. But he held back. “You just the same as me. We both got nothin’. Nothin’.” He relaxed some. “I didn’t kill Gerda. Well, I didn’t murder Gerda. George told me to clean the guns. It’s his fault, really. He didn’t tell me one of ’em was loaded. When it went off, the bullet struck her in the heart, and just like that she was gone. I might’ve wished her dead often enough, but I never planned to kill her.”

  “Did you tell George what happened?”

  He sneered at her. “The George I lived with never listened to me. I ran. And I been running ever since.”

  Silence settled between them.

  “I’m sorry,” Em said. If he hadn’t seemed so hostile, she would have said more.

  “Sorry. That don’t change nothin’. I’ll be running for
the rest of my life. And if they catch me, I’ll swing from the gallows. Your little sorry won’t help me.”

  “It may not. But I am sorry. You were dealt a poor hand.” She envisioned the little boys she’d ridden the train with. They were Alroys too. Just little boys with uncertain futures and troublesome pasts. Little boys who had held her hand and with tear-filled eyes questioned their futures. She felt a wave of grief rush over her and silently prayed that her companions on the train had found good homes, that they’d been loved. She hoped they’d found better roofs to sleep under than Alroy had. A few stray tears escaped the corners of her eyes. She too had known desperation.

  Grabbing her arm, he pulled her to standing. “Don’t go crying on me. I made my choices. I’ll take whatever is coming.”

  “You were only eight,” Em said quietly.

  “Don’t matter none now. What matters is getting me that money so I can ride on outta here,” Alroy snapped. He shoved her down once more. She rolled and sat.

  Through clenched teeth she said, “I won’t be able to get on the horse unless you untie me.”

  Grumbling, Alroy pulled out a knife. “I’ll cut the rope off your feet, but don’t be getting no ideas. You’ll be getting me my money. I got plenty of dead people on my record—one more won’t make a bit of difference.” He pushed her skirts to her knees, then he grabbed the ropes with one hand and held the knife in the other.

  Em, trying to ignore how close he was to her, focused on a tree in the distance. “Thank you,” she said, averting her eyes from what he was doing.

  Alroy flew from his bending position in front of her and landed flat on the ground a couple feet away.

  What is happening? And then she knew. Caleb.

  He was now on top of Alroy, struggling to get the knife from his hand. Alroy was a big man with a temper that matched his fiery hair. Roaring like a bear, he struggled underneath Caleb until he finally exerted himself enough and broke free and jumped to his feet. Knife still in hand, he slashed at Caleb, who was now on the defense.

  Both men were moving so quickly that Em could not get a good look at Caleb’s wound, but blood seeped from him. She tried desperately to free herself from the bindings so she could help. If only Caleb had waited a moment longer, she thought, wishing that Alroy had freed her legs. The harder she tried to loosen them, the more the ropes cut into her wrists and ankles. She had to do something. She would not be a spectator, not of Caleb’s death.

  Caleb used his long legs and kicked Alroy. Em cringed as Alroy fell to the ground. The knife he’d clung to so resiliently during the scuffle flew from his hand, landing somewhere in the underbrush. Alroy rose up again and both men made a dash for the knife. Like two raging dragons they attacked each other, leaving trampled ferns and summer grass in their wake. Fierce tempers and rage drove them at each other again and again. Each motivated by his own ambitions—one to run, one to bring justice.

  The tight ropes that bound Em kept her from following after the men as they raged against each other. Flashes of them came into and out of her line of sight. Alroy was on top now. He had his hands around Caleb’s throat. Grunting and breathing hard, Alroy looked near victory.

  “No!” Em shouted. “Let him go.”

  Would her dear friend be the next victim? Pulling harder against her restraints, she fought for a way to help. Tears burned her eyes and blurred her vision as she tried to make them stop.

  Regaining some composure, she was able to see again. Caleb had pulled a leg out from beneath Alroy and used it to pry Alroy’s grip loose. Caleb gasped for air. Twisting beneath Alroy, he broke away and both men stood again. Caleb turned quickly and the full force of his fist connected with Alroy’s jaw. Em again shuddered as blood ran down Alroy’s face. The man stumbled about only to receive another blow. Judging by the sound this blow made, she knew it had been backed by even more force. Again, he staggered. Em, hoping it would all be over, waited for him to fall.

  However, something seemed to snap back alive in Alroy. Was he remembering all the cruel atrocities of his life? Like a deranged animal, he headed for Caleb. All sanity was gone from his eyes. Caleb must have seen it too. Taking a rapid step back, he seemed caught off guard by the menacing and evil look his pursuer now possessed.

  “Turn yourself in. End this,” Caleb said.

  “So I can swing for my crimes? I’d rather go down with a fight,” Alroy said, fury flashing across his face. “And take you with me.”

  More punches, more blood.

  Em had been working her ropes against a rough log while the two men attacked one another. At last she freed one hand and was able to untie the other bindings quickly. She looked about, wondering where Alroy’s knife was. The two seemed to have forgotten about it in the chaos. She ran to the spot she had last seen it, praying she would find it. She crawled in the underbrush and felt for it with her hands. Another silent prayer and she saw the sun reflect from the blade. She grabbed it.

  Then she stomped toward the men, the knife gripped tight in her hand. “Stop this.”

  Being so near Alroy made her shake. The look in his eyes was like that of a monster from a nightmare.

  “Feisty one, aren’t you?” He jumped at her, overtaking her and grabbing the knife. Caleb acted just as quickly. He dove for Alroy’s legs, pushing Alroy’s feet out from under him and knocking him to the ground.

  Then Alroy did not move. Em looked at Caleb, her eyes wide.

  Neither spoke. Both watched, waiting for the monster to rise again and the fight to go on. But Alroy remained belly down on the ground.

  “Is he—is he dead?” Em whispered, unable to take her eyes off the man.

  Caleb came to her side and slowly turned her away from the sight. Wrapping his big arms around her, he pulled her close and tucked her head into his shoulder so she did not have to look. “He fell on his blade. He did this. You hear me?” He was shaking too, trembling against her. “He did this. It’s not your fault.”

  “He was a boy. Just a boy,” she said through her tears. “He rode the train when he was boy.”

  Caleb ran his hand up and down her back. “Hush, it was not your fault. None of it was.”

  “You don’t understand. He was just a boy,” she said again.

  Caleb held her tighter and let her cry.

  She tilted her tear-stained face up at him and asked, “What if you hadn’t come?” Then she stepped away from him. Her arms wrapped around her middle, she stumbled a few steps and then emptied her stomach. With her back to him, she asked again, “What if you hadn’t come?”

  “I did come.” He put a hand on her back. “I did come. And you’re safe. I told you I would make this right. I meant it and now you are. You’re safe, Em.” His voice was so smooth, so soothing. He turned her toward him. Then with his thumb, he wiped a tear from her face. “You’re safe. It’s not your fault.” Over and over he reassured her. “You’re safe. You’re free now, free of Alroy and of George. You’re safe and you’re free.”

  He put a hand on her elbow and led her back to Amos. “It’s getting late. We have to ride so we can get back to town.”

  She stood motionless. Afraid to look at Alroy. Caleb pulled a carrot from his saddlebags and handed it to her. “Feed Amos this while you wait for me.” Em obeyed, grateful for the distraction.

  Caleb lifted Alroy and slung him across the back of the lifeless man’s horse. Then he tied the horse to Amos.

  “Look ahead while we ride and don’t think about what’s behind you. Let me help you up.” He reached for her but stopped. “Your wrists are bleeding.”

  Em looked down to see much more blood than she’d realized. But she was too numb to feel any pain. “I’ll be fine for the ride. I can clean up at the Howells’. So can you.”

  “Me?”

  “Your nose. I think it may be broken.” He wiped his hand across his face and it came away painted in blood. Then he looked at his shirt. Brilliant red covered his left side. Even Em’s dress carried the color from
being so close to him.

  She remembered the knife wound. “He cut you with his knife. Is it deep?”

  “It’s not bad. Only my side, and it’s little more than a scrape. I’ll clean it in town.”

  Em reached out and touched his side where the wound was. She tore the fabric away and inspected the gash. “I’m sorry, Caleb. I’m sorry you ended up with this mess. I never meant for any of this . . .”

  Pulling her against him again, he held her. “Don’t be sorry. I haven’t been for a single minute. I’ve been afraid, but I’ve not been sorry.”

  “But you’re hurt. If I had been taken to some other town, none of this ever would have happened to you.”

  “I’ll heal just fine. I’m a better man because you showed up in Azure Springs.” He put a dirty hand to her chin and looked into her eyes. “Don’t you be wishing things had happened any other way. You’re right where you’re supposed to be. Come now, let’s ride.”

  When the pair were safely in the saddle on good old Amos, Caleb put a protective arm around Em’s waist. His touch reassured her, quite the opposite of what she’d felt from Alroy’s touch. She leaned her head back against the prince’s chest and allowed herself to feel safe. They rode back toward Azure Springs just as the sun was bidding farewell, declaring the end of the fateful day with exclamations of red and orange.

  Fifteen

  Caleb read the telegram twice before shoving it into his pocket and heading toward the boardinghouse. Looked like he was going to be heading out. Would he never get to enjoy a few days of uneventful bliss? Three busy days were all that had passed since Alroy had taken Em. The bruises on Caleb’s nose were still a deep purple and already he was to leave again.