Sufficient Grace

by Jessica Greyson

  “But now that you are here and I am late for school I am going to run. I will see you later.”

  “Good day, Grace.”

  In a moment she was out the door with Mitch on her heels. Her pace was fast and angry.

  “Ahh, of all things to happen. I can hear their tongues going clickity-clack right now.”

  “Well, none of it is true.”

  “But the things they will say about us.”

  “Grace don’t let it bother you. You have bigger things to worry about.”

  “I know but.” She stopped looked at him. It is worse than I imagined. I knew if he got close to me he would get hurt and now it is all coming down to this. He has to get away from me. I don’t want him talked about like this. He is better than that so much better. I should be able to laugh this off. It is just silly gossip. SILLY GOSSIP! Just because he wants to protect me doesn’t mean he should. I have brought him in harm’s way. Why do I care? He is the first person I truly trusted since Hannah’s death. He means…he means something to me. If he were to die helping us I—I… Grace looked at him feeling confused “I don’t know.”

  “What is it, Grace? You know, but you don’t know what?”

  “Promise me you will be careful, Mitch? That you won’t take risks. Please.”

  “Grace, what is going on?”

  How can I tell you when I don’t know myself? “Just be careful please, Mitch. There is so much going on, I can’t lose you.” Grace shocked herself with her own words.

  “Grace, I am not that easy to lose,” he said with a smile.

  “Mitch, I am serious,” Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?

  He grew grave and stepped towards her, “I will be careful.”

  What am I doing? What am I saying? Why do I feel so suddenly different? “I am late for school.”

  “That is why I have Danny.”

  Inwardly Grace moaned, Why do you have to be so helpful?

  Chapter 30

  Reluctantly, Grace mounted behind Mitch. When he let her off at the school house, some of the children were already playing in the yard. Grace slid off without his assistance, but she heard his whisper just the same.

  “They aren’t talking about anything when they talk about us. Don’t let it get to you.”

  Grace nodded and turned to greet the few children who came to greet her.

  The whole town was on high alert. No one knew the exact details, but everyone knew that Keats had threatened their town and their sheriff.

  Grace was grateful that her name was never brought up directly linked with Keats. The mere mention of his name nearly sent her into a tizzy, though she managed to hide it. She couldn’t help but wonder what the people would think if they knew the channel he had used to threaten her father had been her.

  Women and girls were never unaccompanied, men wore guns wherever they went, and parents walked their children to school. A deputy was always on duty when school was in session and walked Grace home.

  Ruby nearly called off her small party. There was too much to worry about going on. But her father, Mr. Slater, decided that the town was in need of having their spirits lifted, and a fellowship meal and dance were called for in the town hall.

  Grace came down dressed and ready to go. Her father sat at the dining room table cleaning his gun.

  “Aren’t you coming Father?”

  “No.”

  “But I thought…”

  “What you thought is none of your business. Clem will be here in a few minutes to walk you down.”

  “But I don’t want to go. I thought you said…”

  “It doesn’t matter what I said. Someone from our family needs to go, and I am staying here. It’s been over a week since Keats came. This needs to be over. You’ll be safe at the dance. He doesn’t like crowds of people..”

  “Father, please, don’t.”

  “I have waited four years Grace.”

  “You ran from him for four years.”

  “I did not!” he contradicted, rising from the table to his full height.

  Grace backed down her eyes on the floor. “Have you told mother yet?” she whispered.

  “Your mother doesn’t need to know.”

  Grace nodded. “I am going to go say goodnight to her.”

  “Good.”

  When Grace came down, Clem was waiting for her.

  “Father, are you sure you don’t want me to stay home with you?”

  “No. I have thinking to do, and you would only disturb me.”

  Quietly Grace slipped forward and kissed his brow. “Love you, Father,” she whispered. The words hurt to say them. Somehow they seemed small and empty, making her feel hollow inside. Do I really mean it? What if this was the last time I see him? What if? She hesitated to leave. If this is it?

  “What are you standing around here waiting for?”

  “Nothing just...”

  “Then goodnight.”

  Grace nodded and walked out the door with Clem. He helped her onto her sidesaddle; the ride to town was silent. Grace noticed his eyes were on the constant search and one hand always rested near his pistol…waiting.

  Dear Lord, I just ask that you would protect my mother and father from harm. Keep the people of Esperanza Springs safe, Lord. They have nothing to do with this mess. Why should they pay the consequences? Please, Lord, keep them all safe. In Jesus’ name, I pray, amen.

  Dusk had settled, and the music was already drifting from the hall when they arrived. The meal came first, and Grace found her appetite lacking. She went outside and stood on the steps and breathed in the evening air.

  “Grace?” the voice was timid but familiar.

  She pivoted to see where it had come from, her body tense and alert. “Mrs. Browning?”

  “You remember me?” said a woman stepping away from the deepest shadows a tone of delight in her voice.

  “Of course I do.”

  “I came to tell you…that I—I oh, I can’t….” and Mrs. Browning darted away.

  In a moment Grace was running after her. The woman ducked in and out of shadows weaving this way and that.

  “Mrs. Browning, please stop,” called Grace.

  The women hesitated, going only a few more steps before she stopped.

  “What is it you wanted to say?” asked Grace.

  “Your family is in the most grave of dangers.”

  “I know. Is there anything more you wanted to tell me?”

  “You are in the greatest danger of all, Grace.”

  Fear froze Grace to the core as the hair on the back of her neck rose. She turne, feeling Keats’s dark presence but it was too late. He had her hands clasped behind her back, an arm flung tightly in front of her neck and shoulders.

  “Hello my pretty,” whispered Keats in her ear.

  Fear for life surged through Grace’s veins. Everything Ryan had ever taught her burst through her mind. I have to fight. I have to try!

  “Go for help!” shouted Grace as to Mrs. Browning who stood there with wide, frightened eyes.

  Grace fought against his firm hold. Writhing, kicking, she felt for weak points jabbing her elbows into his rib cage. At last, she freed herself, he was a good deal stronger than she had thought, his hands and arms felt like iron chains. Free, at last, she snatched up a discarded board and held Keats at bay.

  “Mrs. Browning, run and get help, quick hurry!” she yelled at her.

  “Hold on there sweetheart,” said Keats with a twisted chuckle. A wave of nausea swept over Grace. “You see Mrs. Browning, or I should say Mrs. Keats and I.”

  Blood drained from Grace’s face, her knees wobbled beneath her. She felt as if an invisible vice had squeezed all the air out of her lungs and was slowly draining all strength out of her body. But he was continuing. What is he saying?

  “We got tired of yer pa running from us. So we decided to join forces. Better two than one. We’ve caught ‘im fair and square this time. When he finds you are missing, he is going to go wild and
hunt us down, but you see that is when we will get him. Bang. Justice for all.”

  “You won’t get away with it,” said Grace, tears suddenly trickling down her face. “Killing a sheriff is a grievous offense.”

  “Oh, I will get away with it since we will still have you.”

  “A daughter at last,” sighed Mrs. Keats.

  “What?” Grace stuttered out.

  Mrs. Keats looked at her tenderly. “You will be our daughter. I always planned on marrying again. You and Charlotte were the same age. Only three days apart. Remember the year you had your birthday together? It’s time we were like a family again Grace.”

  “Never,” she whispered seeking defiance but feeling completely shattered.

  “Grace, ma chérie child, put down the board,” said Mrs. Keats. A shiver slipped down her spine at the familiar French term that Mrs. Browning had used so tenderly when addressing her and Charlotte. The woman from whom she had learned her French so many years ago.

  “What has he done to you? Why are you working with him?” Grace asked gasping for air.

  “How dare you accuse my husband of such actions? He has done nothing wrong!”

  How can a mind justify what Keats has done? She has gone mad. She must have. What am I going to do?

  “Your mother is right. You should put the board down Grace.”

  Your Mother! “Never.” Anger rushed through her body bringing a surge of life with it.

  “Mrs. Keats, Charlotte wouldn’t have wanted you to do this,” Grace tried to reason. She needed someone on her side and now! Where were the deputies? Mitch? Where were they!

  “Charlotte didn’t want to die either,” said the woman drawing closer her voice dangerously calm. “Put down the board.”

  Suddenly she felt Keats take the board and try to wrench it from her hands.

  “NO! SOMEBODY HELP!!!! HELP!!!! HELP!!!” She clung to the board with all her might. Slivers and splinters slid painfully into her hands. Grace knew she was losing it. She shoved it away from her into Keats’s stomach.

  She would have to run.

  Keats fell over from the unexpected force of the board into his stomach. Grace turned and fled as fast as her feet would allow. In moments she could hear the tread of his heavy boots coming after her, quickly descending upon her like a hawk on a prairie dog searching for its burrow.

  God HELP me PLEASE!!!! Help me hide!

  The feet behind her were gaining speed. Grace pushed herself to her limit. How it happened, Grace never knew. Tackled from behind she was rolling over and over in the dirt, air being expelled from her lungs. When the rolling finally came to a halt, Grace couldn’t breathe. Keats had her hands behind her and was tying them firmly, his knee pressing into her upper back. Grace felt as if she would never breathe again. Feebly she tried to pull her hands away but it was in vain, and the world slowly went black.

  Chapter 31

  It was the sensation of cold rushing over her feet that woke Grace. Her mind fought for placement, understanding, clarity. She was leaning forward her face pressed against something that felt like a horse’s mane…but how could it be? Her mind flashed back.

  With a start, she struggled to sit up, but by then she knew this was no nightmare. She was Keats’s captive. Her hands were bound tightly to the saddle horn so she couldn’t move them, her middle felt as if she had been impaled by the saddle horn and her feet were cold because they were in a river. Grace tried to pull her feet up, but they were tied firmly in the stirrups, which were tied beneath the horse.

  “She is up,” said Mrs. Browning’s familiar voice from behind her. The feeling of betrayal shot through her heart. All these years that I have felt so sorry for her and she betrayed us. I can’t blame her but…how could she?

  Keats glanced over his shoulder at her. “Glad to see you’re awake, we got a long ride ahead of us.”

  In the moon’s sliver of lighting, they made their way upstream. Hours passed before dawn slowly peeked at the eastern horizon.

  Questions were haunting her asking to be answered. What had happened since I blacked out? Did anyone hear my cries for help? Do they know I am missing yet? What are they doing? How is Mother? How is Father? What can I do? How long will I live? What is Keats planning? Mitch are you out there? How will you ever find us?

  Grace closed her eyes. God, are you there? Right now I feel alone. God, I need your help. I need courage I need strength. God, why didn’t anyone help me? Why did you let this happen? God, I don’t understand. Help me! Please, you are the only thing I have left.

  Unexpectedly parts of a verse flashed through her mind.

  If a man have an hundred sheep, and one of them be gone astray, doth he not leave the ninety and nine, and go into the mountains, and seeketh that which is gone astray? He rejoiceth more of that sheep than of the ninety and nine which went not astray. It is not the will of your Father which is in heaven, that one of these little ones should perish.

  God is that you?

  Lo, I am with you always even unto the end of the world.

  I have no idea what is going to happen, God. I am scared I have nothing but you. We have been in the water for hours. How in the world are they going to track us?

  For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.

  And if I expect to die?

  There was silence to this question, and Grace wondered if that in and of itself was the answer.

  A short while later Keats directed the horses out of the water and onto the shore. “We made better time than I thought. We will be at camp in a few hours.”

  The ride was long and tedious and the longer it grew, the more tense and unsettled Grace became. What will happen once we get to camp? What are his plans? Oh, God, help me, please!

  Along a ridge of red cliffs was the entrance to the camp. It was a strange arc between thick bushes. Once on the other side, it opened to be something like a roofless oblong bowl-like cave. Years of wind and rain had tracked in enough dirt for a scraggly tree to sink its roots into the ground. At a low point near the cliff, wall water collected in a pool

  Mr. and Mrs. Keats made themselves quite at home before either came near Grace. A fire was built out of dry kindling and wood so no smoke could be seen. They changed from damp into dry clothes, and Mrs. Keats started a meal.

  Coming over Keats cut her bonds and pulled Grace off the horse. She could feel nothing in her limbs. She tried to move of her own accord, but to no avail. In a moment Keats had her in his arms carrying her towards the fire. She fought him, but his arms were so strong against her numb limbs. Unceremoniously he dropped her beside the fire. Pain jolted through her.

  “Henry! She is our daughter.”

  “She is your daughter,” he said stalking away to take care of the horse.

  “You will have to forgive him, Grace. He hasn’t exactly warmed up to the thought of being a father.”

  Grace sat there, terror trying to take her over completely.

  “Here, we bought these for you. Why don’t you go get changed?” She handed Grace a crimson red dress and hair ribbons then motioned to a sheet set up for that purpose.

  Memories shot through Grace. The day Charlotte died she had been wearing such a red dress. Another wave of shock ran through her as she realized that this dress was one that the Cunningham’s had for sale in their store. Mrs. Keats had been in town; maybe both of them and no one knew it? Her stomach twisted.

  “Grace?” the woman looked at her, puzzled as to why she didn’t move.

  I can’t wear these? I can’t. It would be like agreeing to join them. “I—I am really fine just as I am…”

  There was a sound of a gun being cocked directly behind her. Grace jumped. Keats stood there with the gun leveled at her head. “Do as your mother says and nothing more.”

  No one argues with a gun unless you have one to argue back with. Grace took the dress and hid behind the curtain taking as long as
she dared. When she came out, a set of black boots and a pair of socks were waiting for her.

  “Those things you wore to the party were really impractical,” said Mrs. Keats. One glance at Keats still holding the gun and Grace quietly obeyed. Unexpectedly a gentle hand was running over her hair.

  “You must let me do your hair. I think you are too old for piggy tail braids, but a single one would be perfect.”

  “Yes, but I can do it my…” Keats stepped into her line of sight, and Grace muted her protest, dropping her hands to her side.

  Grace sat still while the woman ran a brush through her hair, humming a French lullaby beneath her breath.

  “Charlotte’s hair was dark but yours it’s like playing with strings of gold.” At long last, it was plaited and tied with a crimson ribbon

  Food was served, but Grace still had no appetite. She took only a bite to find she couldn’t swallow it and took a sip of water. When she couldn’t eat another bite, Keats didn’t protest though his wife did and fussed until he told her to be silent.

  I have to eat sometime but I can’t. Not with them around. I would only lose it. God, what do I do? Pulling up her knees Grace hid her face in her knees; trying not to feel emotion.

  The day wore on and on and on. Both of her captors fell asleep by the fire. Grace looked longingly at Keats’s guns but didn’t dare move for them. Several times she tried moving but every time she moved one of them stirred or awoke and looked at her sternly. Weariness stole over her, and she too fell asleep.

  As dusk carelessly fell and there was no sign or sound other than their own making save for the few wild creatures that wandered about Grace awoke. A feeling of shame crept over her. Couldn’t I have found some way to escape other than just falling asleep?

  Mrs. Keats was serving up dinner, and this time Grace tried to eat in earnest but to no avail. She felt sicker than ever. After dinner was over and Grace had helped Mrs. Keats wash the dishes in the rock pool, Keats pulled out a book. Grace was shocked to see that it was a Bible.

  He cut a page from the book with his knife rolled some tobacco and made himself a smoke.