Lily shivered. "I hope we get away." Her voice was only a whisper.
Tori started to answer, but just then, the pack of razorbacks crashed through the low-lying brush in a squealing, snorting dash across the small clearing. They were headed straight for the elm tree where the girls sat.
"Hold on, Lily," Tori said, "and don't make a sound."
The hogs rushed forward in a frenzied, teeming mob, coming closer and closer to the tree.
Lily gripped the branch tightly, a small whimper escaping her. Her cobalt blue eyes opened wide. She sat up straight and stiff, and Tori reluctantly let go of her hand in order to grip her own limb.
The lead boar ran straight into the tree, shaking the limbs with the force of the blow. Tori clamped her teeth over her lip to stop the scream that she felt working its way up her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could use her fingers to plug her ears.
She glanced at Lily, then looked back down at the roiling mass of pork below them. The lead boar must have knocked himself silly, she thought. After running into the tree trunk, he'd keeled over on the ground, and the other pigs were stepping on him. His red pig eye stared straight up at her, dead.
It was then that she noticed the round hole that gaped in his chest, his blood trickling from his lifeless body. A cold chill ran up her spine. The gunshots they'd heard earlier—someone was hunting wild boar. The only other people in these woods belonged to Andrew Fallon's army.
Tori swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to think clearly. What could she do? They'd come so far, she and Lily. They'd planned for every possibility except this one. She hated the pigs. She wanted to scream at them to go on, get out from under hers and Lily's tree. Tears welled up in her eyes. She was tired, hungry, and scared. She was also responsible for an eight-year-old who was just as frightened and weary as she was. She and Lily were the last of their family now. The Kramer line would die with them. It looked as if that time was fast approaching, and despite her best efforts, there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Suddenly, from the woods across the clearing, two men appeared like gray specters in the foggy mist.
Lily gasped, and bit her trembling lower lip. With all the noise the pigs were making, Tori was confident the small sound had gone unnoticed. She recognized the men as Dobie Perrin and Darnell Sykes.
"Damnation!" Sykes said. "Didn't 'spect to come up on 'em so quick-like."
"Me, neither," Perrin agreed. He never took his eyes off the pigs. "Bunch of mean bastards. We seen what they done to Arch and Matt back there." He drew a shaking hand across his mouth, wiping sweat and grime over his stubbled face.
Darnell Sykes nodded solemnly. "Like the devil was in 'em."
Tori wondered what, exactly, the boars had done to Baker and Gilpen. They had to be dead, from the way these two were talking. She stayed completely motionless, listening.
"I don't wanna think about it. Them pigs, turnin' on Arch and Matt. Havin' them for breakfast instead of the other way around." Perrin said.
Tori gave a faint smile. Now, she knew for sure. She and Lily would have no more worries from at least two of Fallon's band.
"Well, looks like one of 'em got a piece of lead in that big 'un yonder," Sykes said. "By God, they took one of them sons-a-bitches with 'em!" He nodded his shaggy red head toward where the fallen boar lay at the foot of the tree. He spat a careful stream of tobacco juice on the ground, then took a slow step backward.
"I don't wanna end up like Gilpen and Baker, that's for sure." Perrin raised his eyes heavenward, and stopped, not moving a muscle.
Tori's breath froze in her throat. She heard Lily's gasp of dismay.
"Lookee up there." Perrin's face split into a grin as his eyes met Tori's wide-eyed stare. "Oh my God, Sykes, lookee at them two beautiful birds in that there elm tree."
* * * * *
Jack Eaton leaned close to Frank's ear. "They've spotted something."
The two marshals were hunkered down in the underbrush a few feet from where they'd left their horses. They'd been watching Perrin and Sykes for the past few minutes, just waiting to make their move.
"Jack," Frank whispered, "where's the others? Tom and Kaed?"
Eaton gave him a quick glance and smiled. "You're with the best, Frank. You just watch my back as good as I'm watchin' yours, boy. Don't be worried about the others. They'll see to each other."
Frank relaxed his shoulders. "Don't worry, Jack. I might not be the best at anything else, but I'm damn good with a gun." His gaze returned to Sykes and Perrin. "They got to've heard them pigs, but they're lookin' at somethin' else. Lookin' up."
Frank bent lower and tried to squint up through the branches, but several pine trees stood just at the edge of the clearing, their low-hanging fronds obscuring his view.
Jack's smile widened to a grin. "Well, they finally showed some smarts just a-standin' still. Them pigs is none too happy. Kinda makes me wonder if they might have the hydrophobe."
"Could be," Frank said. "In which case, we better hope they stand real still. A sudden move could cause those pigs to stampede back toward them—and us-—like what we came acrosst earlier with those two of Fallon's men back yonder."
"Boy, you always gotta plan for a way out." Jack nodded at a nearby oak tree with low, sturdy branches. "Right there it is, for you an' me. Then, them sons-of-bitches can take their pick, either let the hogs have 'em, or go right quick, with a bullet between the eyes. I ain't sharin' that tree with either kind of crazy bastard pigs, four legged or two."
They were quiet a moment. Frank glanced at the older man. "Where's them Indians, Jack? I ain't seen 'em since we all split up."
Jack chuckled. "They're here, son. You ain't gonna see 'em, less they allow it. But they're here." He turned his attention back to Fallon's men. Sykes and Perrin had made it to the edge of the clearing, still walking in slow, backward steps.
"If I could just see under those pine branches." Frank lay flat on his belly and crawled forward a few feet. He peered upward, cocking his blond head to the side. "Jack! It's them! Those girls!" His voice cracked as he tried to keep it quiet, keep his excitement from making him too loud.
The older one wore a faded yellow gingham dress. She sat stiffly in the branches of the elm, her hair tangled, mud streaking her face. The younger girl was glaring daggers at Fallon's men, her eyes narrowed, her own ragged clothing sodden in the chilly air. Frank could see her trembling with cold, even from where he lay. His eyes went back to the older girl. Pretty, even as dirty and wet and miserable as she was. And she was determined, he could see. Ready to take on the world, including Andrew Fallon's men.
Well, she wouldn't have to do that alone. Not now. A protective surge shot through him, and he wished he knew her name. He turned to look at Jack Eaton, just in time to see the triumphant grin of another of Fallon's men standing a few feet behind where Jack lay. The man raised his rifle and took careful aim at Jack's broad back.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Four days, he'd been gone. Seemed like four years. Still, Jessica forced herself to clean and scrub and had even chopped some firewood, though that chore could have waited until Kaed came home. Caring for Lexi was a blessing. It kept her busy and made her days slide by easier with the routine.
Lexi had started to crawl the day after Kaed had ridden out with the others, and Jessica, while proud of the fact, couldn't help feeling disappointed that Kaed had missed it.
"He'll be here when you walk," she had said, and Lexi grinned as if she understood.
She touched the sleeping baby's dark hair, then pulled the blanket close around her.
Wonder where we'll put the other crib?
She glanced around the cabin's cozy interior, imagining hers and Kaed's bed surrounded by baby cribs, and a smile curved her lips.
Maybe he'd turn right around and ride out when she told him the news. No. He would never do that. He loved Lexi, and she knew the dream he feared to allow into his heart was what he want
ed most. A family.
"We'll be here, won't we, Lexi?" She ran her hand gently over Lexi's back, eliciting a sleepy baby sigh of pleasure.
If he comes home.
* * * * *
Fallon had a three-minute lead. Kaed's mending arm and ribs throbbed from the hard riding, but he had no time to dwell on his physical agony. His mind twisted and turned up and down each avenue that this scene could eventually take, and none of the outcomes were good. He was the only protection Jessi and the baby had. Everything depended on him beating Fallon to the cabin. Everything.
Yet, perhaps that was what Fallon himself was counting on.
Kaed knew his fear for his family's safety made him reckless. He forced himself to slow his pace. Killing his horse wouldn't help anything.
Damn these ribs. Damn the weather. Damn Andrew Fallon.
He'd thought by now the gray ground fog would've begun to burn off, but it seemed to have become thicker. He was riding through a low-lying area, the valley lands that paralleled the Arkansas River. He came through patches of fog so dense he could barely see the next few feet in front of him. He slowed his pace yet again. Couldn't afford to have Hades slip on the muddy ground and break a leg.
He'd have to stop soon and let the horse rest. Hades was strong, with Arabian lineage that made him long on endurance, but Kaed had pushed him hard for the past few hours.
There was a break in the clouds overhead, but it was enough to let a pale ray of weak sunlight through. Hades eagerly picked up the pace again, and Kaed knew the big black had scented water. There was a small creek up ahead, a tributary to the Arkansas.
Kaed felt as if he'd been riding for minutes rather than hours. He felt none of the drizzling cold, nor the weariness from such little rest over the past few days. And he felt none of the constant pain.
Unimportant. It was all unimportant compared to what lay at stake at the end of this desperate ride.
* * * * *
"Well, well, well. Look what I got." The man stood several feet behind Eaton, his rifle ready. "Drop it, Jack, or you're dead."
Eaton let the .45 fall from his fingers, turning slowly to look over his shoulder. "Four years ago. I saved your life, Thompson."
"Yeah, and ain't you sorry now?"
Eaton grinned. "Naw. Been sorry for a long, long time, Bernie."
The smirk left Thompson's sallow face, and he took a step forward, lowering the pistol to aim at Eaton's wide midsection.
Frank eased closer, Sykes and Perrin behind him now.
"If I'd knowed what a lily-livered, yellow-striped, runnin' spotted coon dog bastard you were, Bernie, I sure wouldn't have drug you offa that battlefield, outta harm's way. I would've just left you there bleedin' and pissin' yourself."
The blast was deafening, taking Frank by surprise when it came. Eaton rolled, grabbing for the .45, but Thompson anticipated it and shot twice more, hitting Eaton all three times.
But the fourth blast sent Bernie Thompson staggering backward, a spray of blood flying from his chest. The next bullet caught him between the eyes.
Frank holstered the gun and grabbed his rifle, scrambling to the other marshal's side. Blood ran freely, turning Eaton's blue chambray shirt red, the stains blossoming outward to converge quickly, then beginning to drip and run into the soil where Eaton lay.
Frank's heart pounded in his ears. Jack was bleeding to death right in front of him. "Oh, my God—"
"No time for that, now, boy." Eaton shifted and bit his lip. His pain-filled eyes held Frank's, his fingers tightly gripping his wrist. "Them others, they'll be hightailin' it back here. You know who they are, F-Frank, but they don't know what's happened here. Get them before—before they g-get you."
Frank nodded, unable to stop the tears from filling his eyes. "I'm sorry."
Eaton shook his head slightly. "Don't be. You…you're a good man, Frank." A wry grin twisted his lips. "Mighty fine shootin', boy. Mighty… fine…" His eyes closed, the grin still on his lips, and Frank knew he was gone.
Get them before they get you.
"I will, Marshal," Frank whispered. Anger and sadness choked him as he moved away, taking cover behind the oak tree he and Jack had discussed earlier. He didn't have long to wait before Sykes and Perrin cautiously started back toward him.
He watched as they came, discovering the body of the fallen marshal.
Frank raised the Sharps and took aim as Sykes dug at Eaton's corpse with the toe of his boot and made a comment that brought a smile, then a chuckle, from Perrin. Sykes bent to retrieve Eaton's badge and had begun rifling his pockets when Perrin called to him.
"Darnell! Over here!"
Sykes began to stuff Jack Eaton's possessions into his own pockets, pinning the badge on his own chest and thumping it proudly as he walked over to see what Perrin had discovered.
"Hey! It's Bernie!" Sykes knelt quickly and reached for Thompson's wrist. He glanced around apprehensively.
"What are you worried about? They killed each other." Perrin reached down to lift Thompson's pocket watch.
"Stupid," Sykes sneered at him. "Bernie took one between the eyes. Do you really think a gut-shot man is goin' to be able to hit that kind of a mark?"
Understanding began to dawn in Perrin's simple face.
Sykes nodded. "That's right. Bernie shot ol' Jack Eaton, but Eaton didn't kill Bernie. Naw, somebody else done that."
Frank began to squeeze back on the trigger. They were well within range, and he was an expert marksman. But just before the bullet left the chamber, the soft, silent flight of two Choctaw arrows whispered from somewhere behind him. They simultaneously hit Perrin and Sykes with a dull thud, dropping them like wild game.
Frank turned quickly, but saw nothing behind him. Still, those arrows had been real enough.
"Frank Hayes." The tall warrior materialized from the fog as if by magic.
Frank took a startled step back. He knew they were friends, some of Standing Bear's party. But being this close to them made him a little nervous.
The Indian smiled faintly. He glanced down at Frank's rifle. "Did it… misfire?"
Frank shook his head. "No." Why hadn't he shot? His finger had been on the way to pulling the trigger. God knew, he'd killed Bernie Thompson when he'd needed to.
"Did we take your kill from you?" the brave asked. Another short, barrel-chested warrior appeared beside him, fierce looking, and tight-lipped. The taller man continued. "We thought your weapon—"
"No. No, it's fine." Frank put his hand out in the white man's way of thanks. After a moment, the more talkative man took it and shook. "Thank you." Frank said, as he extended his hand to the other Indian, not knowing what else to say.
"Go to the others, brother." The taller of the two gripped Frank's shoulder firmly. "We will dispose of this carrion. And, we will take Marshal Eaton back to your camp."
"We struck camp."
The Indians gave him an uncertain look.
"We don't have a campsite any longer," he said, explaining the unfamiliar word.
The first brave nodded. "I understand. We will take him back to Fire Eyes, to be buried with his own kind." The two Choctaws turned, starting for Sykes and Perrin.
"Wait." Frank pushed past them and turned Sykes over. The brightly-banded arrow shaft protruded from his throat, the shale arrow head through the back of his neck just under his dirty hair.
Frank reached down and took Jack Eaton's gold money clip and tobacco from Sykes' front coat pocket, transferring them to his own. He bent once more and roughly unpinned the badge, disgusted.
"As if you'd ever be fit to wear it," he muttered, and dropped the star into his own pocket with the rest of Jack's belongings. He nodded to the Indians, reached for his horse's reins and walked toward the clearing. A feeling of loss washed over him as he fingered the badge in his pocket, wiping the surface of the metal as if to clean away all remnants of Darnell Sykes' sullying touch.
A man like Sykes wasn't fit to hold a Federal Deputy Marshal's b
adge in his hand, much less pin it on his chest. He glanced down at the place where his own silver star rested.
It took a lot to be able to wear the badge with honor. He hadn't realized the commitment he was taking on—not even when he'd taken his oath. But he'd been a boy then. A boy. He took up the horse's reins again.
The man Frank Hayes had become took a deep breath and stepped out into the clearing. Two frightened young girls were depending on him. He'd do his best to bring honor to the star he proudly wore over his heart, now that he understood exactly what it meant.
* * * * *
"Damn, Tom!" Harv stood up, as Tom rode forward, Dave Fallon's bay in tow, his body tied and draped across the saddle. "Got one of Fallon's men, did you?"
Tom gave a wry grin in answer to Harv's question. "In a manner of speaking, yeah. Fallon's older brother. But I didn't get him."
"What happened?" Travis asked, joining them.
"Family feud," Tom responded dryly. "Big brother came to bring the rattlesnake home to Texas, to make a "fresh start," at mama's request."
"And?" Harv asked.
"Got shot for his efforts." He nodded at the body. "He managed to tell me what happened before he bled to death. Fallon left him to die, and took out after Jessica and the baby. Kaed's gone after him."
"Alone?" Harv asked.
Tom grimaced. "Well, I was a bit occupied. So, yeah. Alone. Now that I've found the two of you, I plan to leave Mr. Fallon, here, with you, and ride like hell for Kaed's place. He don't have more'n a half hour's lead on me."
"You want me to go?" Travis asked.
Tom hid a grin. He knew Travis was itching for it. He shook his head. "No, Trav. You leave this one to me. We still gotta find them girls, don't forget."
"That's right, son," Harv put in. He turned back to Tom. "Hadn't seen hide nor hair of Jack and the boy in quite some time." He looked thoughtful. "I don't like that, especially after hearin' those gunshots. We thought it sounded like they came from over here."
"I thought so, too. I'll start on down toward Kaed's place."
Fire Eyes Page 18
