by Lynn Landes
“Barclay has been acting on his own, killing and stealing. What he has done is not sanctioned by the Government. The only thing driving him has been greed. He is going to pay for his sins against my People and yours with his life. I plan on working this refinery and using the profits for good. You all can work with me and share in the wealth or…” Blood Eagle tosses his hair back and glares at them. “Leave now, if you can’t work for me. Choose to fight me and you will die.”
They watch the train leave and grumble between themselves. Eight soldiers ride back into town, with Ben leading the way. “We are with him.”
“I came here to make money working, not killing civilians.” Ben jumps down and starts shouting orders. “Those that wish to leave do so now! The rest of us, start cleaning up this mess. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”
“What about the General?”
“He won’t be a problem?” Ben points and says, “The train stopped moving a few minutes ago.”
“Give me your horse,” Blood Eagle tells him.
Before he rides after the train, he looks down at the men. “Hear me now. The question isn’t if you will make money, it’s a matter of how hard you are willing to work to get rich?” He grins and slaps his cowboy hat back on top of his head.
The whoops of laughter follow him toward the tracks.
Chapter 38
General Barclay pushes the lever forward picking up steam as he leaves the refinery behind him. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I will send someone to check on the site once I get to safety,” he thinks. “Damn Indian.”
The howl sounds out from behind him, causing him to cover his ears to block the pain. Spinning around with his gun raised he glares into the darkness behind him. A low growl has his hands trembling with terror. It sounds like pure rage, a promise of a torturous death to come.
Barclay steps forward, knowing he is a sitting duck inside the cabin of the engine. Allowing the train to coast along the tracks, he sidesteps on to the exit step and slips outside the engine cabin into the night air. The train slows, and he moves along the side of the boiler on the catwalk. His intention is to come around the other side and surprise the animal. As he shuffles along the edge, two red eyes appear in the window behind him.
He screams and releases the hand railing, leaping to the ground below. Desperate to escape he rolls in the gravel dropping his gun in the fall. Groaning, he scrambles to his bloody knees and runs back towards the town.
The second howl is a bestial, hungry, roar that demands retribution. Barclay’s heart hammers in his chest and he runs, drawing his second pistol. He spins, firing wildly into the night before turning to run, once more.
A large black shape lopes along behind him, almost driving him towards an unseen destination. Growls, grunts, and low howls cause him to stumble along. Barclay screams for help and shoots the last of his bullets behind him before stumbling and falling to his knees.
“What is happening?” he rages and beats the dirt with his bloody hands.
The foaming feral breath drips on the ground in front of him, and Barclay stares at the massive black paws of the beast. When the drums start, he jumps and throws himself backward to scramble away.
Red eyes gleam from the supernatural beast and when it shifts taking on the shape of a man Barclay grins and shoves his pistol to his temple. The Indian smiles at him knowing what happens next.
Click. Empty.
Around him in the light of the moon, Indians appear from a heavy mist., They surround the creature who slaughters for fun. Barclay begins to tremble. He pulls the trigger, over, and over. The only sound is his hysterical rambling and the click of his useless gun.
Ahote, leaps, and shifts back to the beast, spearing Barclay in his chest, straight into his heart. One by one the surrounding Indians, do the same, piercing him to his soul and gifting him with the experience of each of their deaths. He feels each bullet, drowning, rape, and knife slice. When his heart finally ceases to beat, they seize his spirit and hold him down taking turns mutilating and scalping him, making sure that he feels it all. Death is not always a release; in some cases, it is the beginning of a private hell.
Chapter 39
Harris saves the letter for their wedding night. It is a simple ceremony held at the main lodge with the family and friends who work the ranch. Vanessa found that she could honor her family traditions by using the skills they taught her. Her wedding dress was hand beaded by her, though Harris wasn’t happy about waiting until she completed it. Basket weaving became a past time that she taught the children on the ranch and they were beautiful works of art that she was able to give as gifts.
Grandma Jenny gave her supplies for painting, which she used painting images from a Spring Tribal as it should have been and had been before the massacre. When she revealed it to the family, they all wept together and once more she felt tiny threads healing the wounds in her soul.
“What’s this?” Vanessa asks when he hands her a letter.
“Read it,” Harris sits beside her in the small log cabin they are calling their home until the new house could be finished.
“It’s from Blood Eagle!” her hands start trembling as she reads the short letter. “I can’t. Tell me what it says,” she whispers.
“General Barclay suffered a massive heart attack at the fort. His body was recovered and returned to Washington. He was buried in an unmarked grave and stripped of all his commissions when witnesses came forward and reported him for his atrocities. Blood Eagle stayed on at the fort refining all the oil they can pump from the land, and he’s using the money to help set up reservations, schools and more for many different Indian nations.”
“I’m free,” she whispers.
“Yes. Your free to be happy, loved, and live a long peaceful life, wife,” he teases and tugs her into his arms.
“Can we start now, husband?”
“Demanding? I like it!” he grins.
“I love you, Harris Rivers,” she says softly.
“I love you more, Vanessa Rivers.”
Epilogue
Long brown waves blow in the wind as she giggles and runs through the field of lavender flowers. A surge of butterflies erupts and ripple across the sky just out of her tiny grasp. Laughter bubbles from her soul, and Vanessa watches her daughter chase them.
“Mama, look! Butterflies!”
“Run, little butterfly,” Harris roars and chases her squealing through the field. When he tosses her into the air her silver-blue eyes sparkle with joy.
Vanessa doesn’t flinch when she hears the remembered name. Instead, she rubs a hand over her swollen belly and wonders at the turn her life has taken. “Thank you,” she whispers, and peace fills her soul as she lifts her face to the wind.
Two red eyes watch from the woods. His black fur ripples from the breeze, and he turns, running into the darkness of the trees. Shifting to a spirit, he walks into the light that waits for him, this time he is ready.
The End.
Before you go!
If you enjoyed this title
you might want to check out
another book by Lynn:
Perilous Dreams
Thank you for taking the time to read this book! If you enjoy a book, one of the best things you can do to support an author is to leave an honest review. Thank you for taking the time to let others know what you thought.
If you want to connect with me online, and check out my other books, please visit my website:
www.followlynnsthread.com
About the Author
Lynn Landes is the author and independent publisher of multiple fantasy books in all age brackets. Her stories span the spectrum of Fiction, from historical romance, paranormal, romantic suspense to Christian fantasy including the best-selling Covenant Series.
Educated as a teacher Lynn never lost her love for literature and began writing at an early age. Poetry, short stories and fiction. She regularly can be found in the car rider line at her c
hildren’s school writing on receipts, napkins or whatever scraps are at the bottom of her purse. A Virginia girl at heart, she lives with her husband and three children in South Carolina, where she is currently studying Dragon Script with her ten-year-old daughter.
