by Jodi Thomas
“What’s it mean?” Wyatt asked.
“Whispering Mountain,” both Duncan and Em said at once.
Wyatt picked up a playing card tucked just beneath the rock. “Maybe it’s Lewt telling us not to follow but to meet him back at the ranch.”
“Or maybe he wanted to leave a symbol that would mean nothing to the men he was with, but would let us know he’d been in this camp.”
“We should still try to follow.” Thunder threatened again as if calling her a liar.
Wyatt shook his head. “From the looks of it, they crossed into the stream here. We have no idea which way.”
Em wouldn’t give up. “Why don’t we separate until the rain starts? I’ll do upstream; Duck, you go downstream. Wyatt, you cross and ride north like they’ve been going. With luck, before it starts raining we’ll pick up some hint of a trail.”
“Once it starts raining there will be no trail to follow. We all agree to come back here even if we find something.” Wyatt didn’t look like he liked the plan, but like the others he didn’t want to stop hunting. “If it doesn’t rain, we turn back in one hour no matter what.” He looked straight at Em. “If you find something, anything, don’t get too close, just turn around and come back here.”
She nodded.
“Em, watch for the place where horses have come out of the stream.” Duncan turned his horse downstream. “That’s the only clue we’ll need to pick up the trail.”
“I know what to look for,” she snapped. Both of them were treating her like a child on a rabbit hunt.
Duck laughed. “That’s my Em. Nobody could ever tell you anything.”
She was already heading upstream and didn’t answer. The stream was shallow, not more than three or four feet in the center, but wide enough that two or three horses could easily ride abreast.
Now and then she felt the splash of water but blamed it on a branch she’d brushed or her horse splashing. She didn’t, couldn’t feel the rain, for if she did it would mean that she would have to stop, and Em had no intention of stopping. Her horse fought the current, so after a few hundred feet, she rode the edge of the stream, not caring that she left a trail. No one was following her.
The trees grew denser, with dead moss hanging off their branches that reminded her of huge spiderwebs wide enough to swallow her if she wasn’t careful. In places, thanks to the rain, the water splashed over its banks. Twice, her horse stumbled, tossing her into the water, but she didn’t stop. She had only an hour to find the trail, and if she didn’t, she’d have to turn around and pray that Wyatt or Duck had found something.
In a bend in the river, she slowed, searching both banks for any sign. Her horse was tired and she knew the outlaws’ mounts would have been also. They couldn’t stay in the water much longer or they’d be traveling on foot.
Her teeth were chattering, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t stop. In the stillness just before she rounded the corner, she thought she heard voices. Em walked her horse onto the bank and listened, then moved slowly forward.
After only a dozen steps, Em froze. Men not thirty feet beyond the trees lining the stream were talking. Yelling almost. Laughing. Swearing.
She looped her horse’s reins over a branch and moved as silently as she could toward the noise.
Ten feet into the brush and trees, she saw the men she’d been looking for circled around a campfire. For a moment, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Lewt was in the middle of them playing cards.
She counted them, unsure if there had been six or seven tracks in the mud. She counted five men around the fire besides Lewt. One on the ground looking more like he’d passed out than fallen asleep. Frantically, she watched the trees. Were they all present, or was one missing?
Again and again her gaze traveled to Lewt as if her eyes were hungry for just the sight of him.
All day in her mind she’d pictured him suffering, maybe even dying. It had never occurred to her that he might just be playing cards with the outlaws. She didn’t know whether to feel angry or relieved. She’d found him. He was surrounded, and worse, he appeared to be one of them. The man was a chameleon. Change his clothes, change his company. It didn’t matter. He blended in.
A twig snapped from a few feet behind her and Em felt something slam against her head a moment before the world went black.
CHAPTER 35
LEWT WATCHED ONE OF THE MEN WALK INTO CAMP carrying Em over one shoulder like she was no more than a deer he’d killed for supper. He felt his own heart stop and it didn’t start up again until he heard her moan in pain.
She was alive.
“Look what I found,” the troll of a man shouted. He had wide shoulders and trunk legs but not the height that should have gone with the rest of his body. As the world’s shortest giant stomped into camp with his trophy, Lewt watched silently with the others. He knew if he tipped his hand now, his life as well as hers would be worthless.
The self-appointed leader of the group, a big sloppy man named Binns, moved closer. “Where’d you find her?”
“Down near the water. She was watching us,” the troll said as he dropped her near the fire. “I wouldn’t have hit her so hard if I’d known she was a woman. Dressed like that, I thought she was a man.”
“Where’s her horse?”
“I must have spooked him ’cause he took off downstream.”
The leader swore as he jerked Em’s chin up to have a look at her. “Never seen her before. Kill her.”
Lewt took a step, but the troll widened his stance and shoved the leader. “How come you get to say what we do with her? I’m the one who found her. I’ve about had enough of you thinking you’re the boss around here.”
The leader’s anger was barely in check. “She looks half dead from you bashing her head in. What do you care if we finish her off? Kill her. We’ll need to be moving on as soon as it’s dark, so toss her body in the stream. She’ll float down a few miles and turn into someone else’s problem.”
The troll of a man must have known he couldn’t win, so he tried bargaining. “How about I play with her while it’s raining, then I’ll kill her before we leave? I couldn’t tell much with that coat she’s got on, but she might be something worth a look.”
Lewt saw his chance. “I got a better idea. Why don’t we play cards for her? We’re all too broke to play for money, and playing for something makes a more interesting game.” He stepped up and fanned the cards as he studied the troll. “It’d be an interesting way to pass the time. I say she’s worth a hundred toward the pot. You win, you have her and extra money.”
The leader frowned. “Why would we risk our money to play for a half-dead girl when back at Three Forks we get all we want for free? Toledo don’t care long as we don’t hold up the cash flow.”
All the men seemed to agree. Lewt had already figured out that between them they had very little cash. That was probably how Toledo kept them working for her. She gave them room, board, and women, but no money. A man with money might think of leaving. A man with empty pockets would stay and work his shift.
“I don’t get free women,” Lewt said. “And I don’t have a hundred dollars, but I’ve got my vest. That should stand me for twenty in the game.”
The troll was interested. He must think he had nothing to lose. “String the girl up so we can all see her. I’ll play this fool a few rounds. If I win your twenty, I’ll have me a new vest and I’ll still have my fun with her. If you win a little off of me, I’ll let you have a turn if there’s time after I’m finished.”
One of the guards pulled Em to the nearest tree, raised her arms above her head, and tied her up, leaving her hanging like about-to-be-butchered meat.
“I need to make sure she’s alive.” Lewt walked toward her. “I don’t want to waste my time playing for a dead woman.”
The troll laughed. “It don’t make all that much difference to me one way or the other long as she’s still warm.”
While the others laughed, Lewt moved his fing
ers along the side of Em’s throat and felt for a pulse. It pounded strong and fast in his palm even as blood dripped from a cut at her hairline.
“Let’s get on with the game!” someone yelled, and the men circled a stump that had already acted as Lewt’s table. They’d been passing around bottles since they’d stopped to rest, and the whiskey had begun to take effect. None of the others wanted to play, but they all wanted to watch.
Lewt leaned close to Em, praying she was conscious enough to hear him. “When I say run, turn and run into the trees and keep running. Do you understand? No matter what, don’t stop.”
He thought he felt her nod slightly, but she didn’t open her eyes.
“She’s barely breathing,” he shouted. “If she dies before the game is played, all bets are off.”
“Then let’s get to it,” the troll yelled. “I’ll look mighty good in that fancy vest of yours.”
Lewt moved away from her, forcing himself not to look back. If he did, if he saw her hanging there, hurt and helpless, it would be his undoing. He moved to the center of the circle and began the most important card game of his life.
The rain poured above them, and now and then it managed to filter through the trees and sputter in the fire.
Lewt laughed and kidded with the men, but he counted every minute. Finally, after several rounds of play, he saw Em’s feet shift beneath her and take her weight off her bound wrists. He knew she was awake.
He won one hand, then lost one, but slowly his twenty pieces of twigs that served as chips began to multiply and the troll’s dwindled. The man seemed to be enjoying the attention from his peers and wasn’t too concerned about losing a little. After all, it wasn’t real money, and the tall, thin woman wearing the clothes of a man didn’t really appeal to him. He even told everyone that since he’d knocked her senseless, she probably couldn’t play the way he liked to play.
By the time he’d lost most of his sticks, he was bragging that he liked his women best when they were yelling and screaming even if he had to break a few bones to get their attention. The others teased him that the only women he could catch in the saloon were the new girls, and he only caught them once.
Lewt didn’t say anything; he hoped Em wasn’t listening to any of the rough talk. She was frightened enough of men.
Unfortunately, he knew she probably was, because he’d seen her shift a few times, balancing her weight, turning her wrists so blood would circulate.
Finally, the last guard, a morbid outlaw who did nothing but complain, woke from his sleep. The big man stood, his worthless arm swinging at his side. “What is everyone doing?” he yelled. “We need to be on the road. If we don’t bring that girl of Toledo’s back, I’ll see to it you all are hunted down and murdered in your sleep.”
Lewt thought he recognized the man as the guard who’d been in front of Duncan’s prison. The thought crossed his mind that the cooks were right; he should have left the man dripping blood and not just tied him to the bed.
The crowd was drunk enough to argue, and the leader of the band, Binns, appeared to have had enough of the bossy slob they called Ramon. The two men faced one another and began poking and shoving.
As the shouting escalated and fists began to fly, Lewt slipped a thin knife from his belt and in one quick shot sent it flying toward Em.
The rope above her hands sliced in half.
“Run,” he shouted, knowing that she might make it free, but he’d be trapped. It didn’t matter.
Before Em’s arms dropped in front of her, she was moving into the brush, heading for the water. When she broke from the trees, she realized how hard it was raining. Her one hope was to hit the water and let it take her downstream.
Downstream. Back to Duck and Wyatt. Back to life.
As she jumped into the current, one thought filled her. She was heading away from Lewt.
Underwater, she jerked the wet ropes off her wrists and began to swim. Long, powerful strokes like her papa had taught her the first year she’d come to Whispering Mountain.
Teagen McMurray would yell, “Half our land is framed by water, so my daughters need to swim.” Then he’d pick her up and tell her to gulp in air just before she hit the water.
She’d learned the lessons well, and now they might save her life.
When she finally broke the surface and tried to breathe in the rain, she heard shouts, but they seemed far behind her. She cupped her mouth, gulped air, and floated in the center of the stream, where the water pushed her along. Away to freedom. Away from Lewt.
CHAPTER 36
DUNCAN WAS SPITTING MAD. HE��D TOLD EMILY TO return in one hour, and they’d waited for her half an hour before they’d decided to head upstream and find her. “Surely she can tell time,” he mumbled, simply because he didn’t want to allow himself to think of the other reasons she might be late.
He watched along the left side and Wyatt searched the right bank as they pushed through the rain and shallow water. They needed to rest the horses. Hell, he thought, he needed to rest, maybe drink the last of the coffee, but what was he doing? Looking for his cousin. She’d never followed orders; he didn’t know why he expected it now. When she’d been little, her mother was constantly insisting that Em wear a dress to school. Half the time she was taking it off and switching into trousers and a shirt on the way home. The only person she listened to was Teagen, and everyone listened to him. It was hard not to. The man came into the world at full volume and worked on getting louder.
After several minutes, Duncan spotted her horse near the stream. He’d been running.
Wyatt caught the reins. “You think she fell off?”
Duncan swore, deciding it would become an incurable habit if he stayed around her long. “Maybe. More likely she decided to walk the bank a little farther. Tie the horse; we’ll pick him up on our way back. Right now we have to find her.” Silently he hoped it would be faceup and not facedown in the water.
They rushed on.
“She couldn’t have gone much farther,” Wyatt finally said as they neared a bend in the stream.
“Of course she could. She’s probably forgotten all about the time.” Duncan was into his rant. “At least I’m not worried she’s kidnapped. Who’d want to take her? If anyone ever thought of kidnapping a McMurray for ransom, she’d be the last one picked. She’s bullheaded. She never listens. She’s never going to marry and settle down, not her; she’s got to have control of everything and everyone.”
Wyatt jerked his horse toward the center of the stream. “She’s in the water!” he yelled, a second before he dove off his mount.
Duncan grabbed the horse as he watched Wyatt pull Em up. For a moment she kicked and fought as if she thought him a stream monster, and then when she finally opened her eyes and looked at him, she stilled.
“Lewt’s in trouble.” She pointed to the bend. “Hurry. They’re going to kill him.”
Wyatt carried her to the bank and set her down. “Stay here. We’ll get him.”
She looked like she might argue, but she was gulping air and slinging her wet hair. The ranger swung up on his horse and joined Duncan, already heading upstream.
Em buried her head on her knees and began to shake. She had no idea if it was the cold or the fear or the exhaustion. All she knew was that she wanted to help Lewt. With no horse or gun she had little chance. So she waited in the rain, feeling more broken and alone than she ever had in her life.
Gunfire rattled in the storm like the echo of thunder. Em knew she should move back in the trees for shelter, but she couldn’t unfold her arms from around her knees. All at once she was six years old again and frightened of everything. She knew she was by the stream in the middle of a thunderstorm, but in her mind she went all the way back to the small room over a bookstore in Chicago.
The room seemed always cold and damp. Her mother slept on the bed with them most nights, but now and then they’d hear her father climbing the stairs and her mother would lift them onto the floor beside a
n old wardrobe. Rose was younger, she never woke, but Emily did. She always did.
She’d lie there knowing she had to be still. She’d face the wall and try not to listen as her father hurt her mother. Her mother never cried out, not even when he finished and sometimes slapped her while he called her names, but after he left she cried sometimes until dawn.
In the days he was rarely there, and when he was, Em remembered that the smell of whiskey circled around him. He never spoke to her or Rose except to order them to leave. When they’d return to the kitchen or bookstore, their mother would be crying.
When he died, Em hadn’t even thought to cry. She’d just helped her mother pack. By then Bethie was born. Em remembered the days of trains and boats and finally the stage. The trip seemed endless, but it didn’t matter. They were heading away from the man who’d hurt her mother.
When they finally got to Texas, they found Teagen McMurray, her papa. He was a big, strong, powerful man who took care of them all, and once he put his arms around her mother, Em never saw her cry again. But somehow the ink of Chicago nights had blotted her soul. Until Lewt, she’d never let a man close enough to hurt her.
Until now, she hadn’t cried. She cried so hard her body shook. She cried so hard not even the rain could wash her tears away.
When she finally ran out of tears, she raised her head and realized that it had stopped raining. The air was still cold, with a wind rumbling in the trees. Clouds hid the sun, making it seem more like twilight than day.
Like shadows floating on the water, she saw three men riding toward her. Their heads were down, hats low, but she recognized them. Duncan. Wyatt. Lewt.
Em slowly stood, watching them, almost afraid they were ghosts leaving a battle.
None of them said a word when they reached her. Lewt leaned down from his saddle and lifted her up in front of him. Em wasn’t sure she could speak. She just felt the solidness of his chest and let him hold her tight as they moved on down the stream.
