End of the Trail

by Vickie McDonough

  “You saw me?”

  He nodded. “But I was too far away. You didn’t hear me when I called out.”

  “Sorry.” She stared at him, trying to comprehend that this man—a man she cared so much about—was her father.

  “No, I’m sorry.” He sent her a look that made her heart clench. Was he sorry for not telling her sooner that he was her father? She glanced down at her hands, and realized she was twisting them just like she’d seen her mother do. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you were my father?”

  He reached out and clutched her hand. Dried blood stained his callused fingers, but she didn’t care. “I didn’t know, Missy.”

  Her gaze shot up to his. “What do you mean?”

  “I should have put two and two together, but I didn’t. Grace didn’t tell me you were my daughter until that day the windmill was burned. She hadn’t told you, so I kept quiet.” His eyes pleaded with her to believe him. “It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me—learning I’m your pa.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes. “There’s no one else in the world I’d want for my pa as much as you.”

  She moved closer and laid her head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her and laid his cheek against her head. She was locked away in a dark dungeon with only one small lantern for light and no way of escape, but enveloped in her father’s arms, she had the feeling everything would be all right.

  Brooks rode into town, his gaze searching every nook and cranny. Neither he nor his pa had found any sign of Keri back at the ranch. It would take days—if not weeks—for the two of them to search all of Raven Creek. He’d decided to check in town to see if maybe someone had seen her, and if not, draft some men to help search for her. He just prayed the marshal was back so there’d be some men to recruit.

  More than half a dozen horses stood in the street in front of Marshal Lane’s office, and a crowd hovered around his door. Brooks dismounted and hurried up to them, hoping—praying—nothing had happened that involved Keri.

  He pushed his way through the crowd and found the marshal at his desk, reloading his rifle. He nodded when he saw Brooks.

  “Well, you won’t have to worry about Saul Dengler anymore,” Marshal Lane said. He laid the rifle on his desk and pulled out his six-shooter and reloaded it.

  “What happened?”

  “He’s dead. In a gunfight.” The marshal nudged his head toward the cells, where two men sat, looking forlorn. One man had a busted lip and swollen eye, and the other man’s arm was in a sling. “We caught those two stealing cattle from Tom O’Malley’s widow, and after an exchange of gunfire and then some encouragement on my part, they started babbling like a couple of women at a sewing bee. Said Dengler ordered the deaths of O’Malley and at least four other men in these parts if they wouldn’t sign over their land to him. I went to arrest him, and he drew on me.”

  Thoughts ricocheted in Brooks’s mind. Dengler’s death would have everyone breathing easier. Everyone except him. He wouldn’t rest until he’d found Keri. “That’s good to know, but I’m here on another account. Did any of you run across Keri Langston?” Brooks looked around the room at the men lining the walls, and each one shook his head. “She’s been missing since shortly after breakfast.”

  “Sure am sorry to hear that.” Marshal Lane shoved his gun back into his holster. “Wish I could help, but we’re headed out to arrest Carl Peters.”

  “Peters?” Brooks thought about the man who’d come to visit Keri several times. He’d had a gut feeling about him—and it wasn’t a good one. “What’s he done?”

  The marshal headed for the door, and the men in the office backed up to let him pass. Brooks followed on his heels.

  “Guess you know he works at the bank?” Marshal Lane untied his horse from the hitching post.

  Brooks nodded.

  “Turns out he’s been working for Dengler. He passed on information about people defaulting on their loans or having trouble making their payments.”

  Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place. “So that’s how Dengler chose his victims.” His thoughts turned to Keri’s uncle. “Will didn’t owe any money on Raven Creek, but I can’t help feeling that he fell prey to Dengler’s men too.”

  “Once the dust settles, I’ll question those two in my jail. If they know anything about Will, they’ll ’fess up.”

  Brooks nodded his thanks. “I need to keep searching for Keri. You’ll keep an eye out for her?”

  “Yep. Let’s ride, men.” Marshal Lane reined his horse around and the posse followed, thundering down the road and stirring up a cloud of dust.

  Brooks walked down the boardwalk toward the store. If Keri had come to town, that’s probably where she would have gone. He was glad that Carl Peters wouldn’t be able to bother her anymore. Something in that man’s eyes just didn’t sit right with him.

  Suddenly, Brooks paused. What if Peters had stumbled across Keri? He hadn’t hidden the fact that he was interested in her. His shoulders tensed. He wouldn’t put it past Peters to do something to Keri. He had a gut feeling that’s where he’d find her. Could God be guiding him to her as he had prayed He would?

  He turned and ran for his horse. Peters’s house was as good as any place to look for her. He followed the dust cloud, riding hard for a good half-hour, and then the air exploded in gunfire. As he crested a hill, a massive house—like something that could be found on a Georgia plantation—spread out before him. Brooks stopped and surveyed the situation. The posse had lined up in front of the house, hiding behind trees or lying on the ground. As best as he could tell, only one gun was firing from the house.

  Brooks reined his horse around and rode away from the house and the gunfire, and circled around to the back. If only Peters was shooting, it wouldn’t be hard to get the drop on him.

  He tried the back door and found it unlocked and stepped inside, gun drawn. A huge kitchen with a fancy stove sat empty. He tiptoed through the room, being careful to stay to the side and away from the doors, so Carl wouldn’t see him or a stray bullet find him.

  The shooting from the inside stopped, and Brooks peered around the door frame into a wide hall that led to the front door. Carl Peters had turned a tall hall tree on its side, blocking the front entrance, and was using it for a shield. Sunlight shone through several holes in the glass in the door. Carl squatted behind the hall tree, reloading his gun.

  Brooks had never shot a man before, and he prayed he wouldn’t have to now. Heart pounding in his ears, he stepped out from behind his cover. Carl jumped and stood, holding his loaded gun down.

  “Take it easy.” Brooks held up his free hand. “No one needs to get hurt.”

  “How’d you know to come here?”

  Brooks’s gut twisted. “Let’s just say I had a hunch.”

  Carl huffed. “You’re not good enough for Keri, and I’m not letting you take her.”

  “Don’t be stupid. There’s close to a dozen men outside, and just the one of you.”

  Carl’s eyes darted to the left and then the right.

  “There is no escape, Peters. Dengler is dead. Your work with him is over.” Brooks held his gun steady, trying to keep his breathing even. He wasn’t used to talking down a half-crazed man with a gun. Maybe he could barter with him. Brooks didn’t have to think long to make his offer. “Peters, give me Keri, and I’ll give you the deed to Raven Creek.”

  Carl lowered his gun a few inches and seemed to be considering his proposal. Suddenly he heard a shout from outside the house.

  “Peters. This is the marshal. Come out with your hands up and you won’t be shot.”

  Carl ducked and spun back toward the door, then he whirled back toward Brooks and raised his gun.

  “No. Don’t—”

  Carl fired, and the bullet hit the door frame near Brooks’s shoulder. He fired his gun, and Carl grabbed his leg. Gunfire blasted from outside, hitting Peters in the shoulder. He cried out and collapsed on the floor, moaning.

  “Marshal!
” Brooks waited for the gunfire to cease. “It’s me, Brooks Morgan. Peters is shot. Hold your fire.”

  “All right, but we’re coming in.”

  Brooks strode up to Carl and kicked the man’s gun out of reach. He tugged Carl away from the door then pulled the hall tree back.

  The marshal shouldered himself through the opening and surveyed the scene. “Where’d you come from? Thought we left you back in town.”

  “I got this overwhelming urge to follow you, and Peters all but confirmed that he has Keri.”

  The crusty marshal smiled. “Glad you did. Might have saved a life or two.”

  Brooks nudged Carl’s foot with his boot. “Where’s Keri?”

  Carl scowled at him but said nothing. He lay back on the floor and closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Brooks looked at the marshal.

  “You men, get in here and search this house. See if Miss Langston is here.” The posse clomped inside, and the marshal waved several men in different directions.

  Brooks turned back to the kitchen. There’d been a closet or door to another room that he wanted to check. As he neared the door, he heard a shuffling sound, and his heart took wing. He jerked the door open. “Ker—”

  Ellen Peters and a woman he didn’t recognize huddled in the back of the pantry, staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. Ellen whimpered.

  Brooks holstered his gun and held up his palm. “It’s all right, ladies. It’s safe to come out now.”

  The older woman gently escorted Miss Peters out and over to the kitchen table.

  “Is m-my brother dead?”

  “No, ma’am. He’s been shot, but I believe he’ll live.”

  Instead of looking relieved, she frowned. Brooks didn’t have to think hard to imagine what it was like living with a man like Peters.

  The older woman nudged her chin toward another door on the far wall that Brooks hadn’t noticed before. “There’s a man and woman locked downstairs in the cellar. Mr. Peters, he got the key in his pocket.”

  Brooks didn’t bother searching for a key. He jogged to the door and rapped on it with the butt of his gun. “Keri? Are you in there?”

  “Brooks? Yes, Nate and I are here. Carl shot him.”

  “Get back and find cover.” He waited until Keri called out, then he fired his gun at the lock three times, and the door fell open. Brooks stormed down the stairs, searching the crates that were stacked on top of each other—and then he saw her.

  Keri slipped out from behind several crates and rushed into his arms. He held her tight, pressing his cheek against her head. “I thought I’d lost you. Thank the Lord you’re all right.”

  “I didn’t know how we’d get free, but I prayed, and God sent you.”

  Brooks loosened his hold on her and cupped her cheeks. “Do you know how much I love you?”

  She smiled. “No, but you’re welcome to tell me.”

  And he did—with his lips. He kissed her so thoroughly she was breathing hard and her lips were puffy. Then he cradled her against his chest, rejoicing in how God orchestrated the steps that brought him here to rescue her.

  “If you’re done with your kissin’, could someone help me before I bleed to death?” Nate requested.

  Keri giggled and pushed back from Brooks’s chest. “We need to get Nate to the doctor. It’s just a flesh wound, but it’s a deep one.”

  Reluctantly, Brooks stepped back from Keri and stretched out his hand to Nate, who sat on a chair with a broken-off back. “Come on, Pops, let’s get going.”

  “I’m not your Pops.”

  Brooks grinned. “You will be if I have anything to say about it.”

  Nate chuckled, and Brooks helped him up the stairs.

  Behind him, Keri muttered, “Don’t I have any say in the matter?”

  Nate glanced over at Brooks and winked.

  Brooks held Keri’s hand as they stood beside the charred spot where the windmill had been and stared at the water flowing freely in the creek again. “That sure was some explosion when they dynamited that dam Dengler built.”

  “I wish I could have been there,” Keri said.

  Brooks wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I know, but that was a good thing you did by waiting with Miss Peters until the train came.”

  “I hope Ellen will have a better life with her aunt than she had here.”

  “Yeah. At least she won’t have to worry about her brother hurting her again—not for a very long while, if ever.”

  Keri turned in Brooks’s arms and hugged him around the waist. “It’s a huge relief to know he won’t ever bother me again.”

  “It is to me too.” He kissed her forehead, then her eyes before tasting of her sweet lips. His kiss deepened, and he crushed her against him, his mouth pressing hard against hers. She moaned a sweet little noise that was almost his undoing. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she’d be his fully, but not today. He moaned himself, inwardly, then stepped back.

  He brushed a lock of her hair back behind her ear. “I guess we’d better head back. It is our party, after all.”

  “And Ma’s and Pop’s.”

  “Theirs too.” He took her hand and walked her back toward the house. More family than he knew he had had come for the wedding. Uncles. Aunts. And cousins galore.

  “Your family sure is nice. I didn’t know there’d be so many of them.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Neither did I.”

  At the corral, he stopped and surveyed the dozen Morgan horses his family members had brought as wedding gifts. Now he could continue the tradition of raising the beautiful horses named after a distant relative.

  The delicious aroma of the pig roasting on the spit filled the air. In front of the house, tables had been set up, and the women had covered them with food. He was starving. He leaned over and stole another kiss. Starving for the affection of his beloved.

  Fast hoofbeats approached from the north, and he turned to see his father riding with his cousins Alex and Greg, and a friend of Alex’s, who was always spouting scientific stuff; what was his name? Nelson—that was it.

  The four horsemen stopped a few feet away, and Pa was grinning like a possum. “Nelson has some news for you, son.”

  Nelson struggled to get his left leg over the horse’s back and half fell to the ground. He adjusted his wireframe glasses and walked toward Brooks, his frizzy hair standing up in all directions like a tangle of broken barbed-wire fencing. The bookish man clapped Brooks on the shoulder. “Congratulations, Mr. Morgan. I predict you’ll soon be a wealthy man.”

  Brooks raised his brow and cast Keri a confused look. She shrugged.

  “I give up. Tell me how that’s going to happen. I mean, I got lucky in cards the day I won this ranch, but I’ve sworn them off.”

  Nelson’s grin was as wide as Pa’s. “You know that creek with the black water?”

  Brooks nodded. “Sure. Raven Creek. It’s what the ranch is named after.”

  “Well, that’s not brackish water out there, that’s a pool of oil.”

  “Oil?” Brooks rubbed the back of his neck. “What good is that to me?”

  “It’s as good as gold—and maybe more.”

  Brooks shook his head. “Guess I’ll have to take your word for that.”

  Alex and Greg walked up to him and shook his hand. “Congratulations, cuz. Looks like you’re having good luck all around,” Alex said.

  The dinner bell clanged, and they all turned and walked toward the food. Alex fell into step with Brooks, telling him all about the oil industry and how gasoline-powered automobiles would soon replace the horse and buggy.

  Chuckling, Brooks shook his head. He doubted that would happen any more than he’d be rich one day. But then again—he wrapped his arm around Keri’s shoulders. He was already a rich man. Rich in love with a beautiful woman and rich in love for his God.

  Grace stood next to Keri’s bed, holding a packet of faded envelopes. “I have something I want to give to you.”

  “What is it?”
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  Grace caressed the papers then handed them to her. “They’re the letters your uncle Will wrote me. At least once a year he’d write me to let me know how you were doing. I followed your life through his letters at least until the last few. I couldn’t stand that he sent you away, so I didn’t read the last few. I never even knew he was dying.”

  Keri laid out the missives on her bed. There were probably a dozen and a half. Three of them were still sealed. “You really don’t care if I read these?”

  “No. Please. Go ahead. Maybe they will help you to understand your uncle better. Will was a good man, even if he didn’t always make the right choices.”

  “Thank you for sharing these.”

  Her mother smiled. “I thought it might be a nice wedding gift. Are you getting excited?”

  Tingles charged through her at the thought of becoming Brooks’s bride in less than twelve hours. “Yes. And how about you? You’ve waited much longer than I have.”

  “It hardly seems real. After so long, Nate and I will finally be together.” She leaned against the bedpost. “He’s such a good, forgiving man. Not many men would marry someone with a past like mine.”

  “The pastor said Sunday that God makes each one of us new when we ask Him to forgive our sins, so you’re pure. New. Right?”

  Grace leaned down and kissed Keri’s cheek. “Thank you for the reminder. Now read your letters.”

  Keri looked at each envelope but the ones that pulled at her were the unread ones. She picked up the newest-looking one and slit it open. Her heart clenched as she read the news where Will told her mother that he was dying. He apologized for sending her away to that horrible place and ruining her life. He apologized for firing Nate and not allowing them to be together. He’d been wrong about Nate. He may not have much money or property, but he had character, which was more than many men had.

  She read the next paragraph and gasped.

  Her mother lowered her hairbrush. “What’s wrong?”

  Keri held up a faded parchment. “This is what I’ve been looking for. Uncle Will left me the ranch and all his holdings. I never found a will. That’s because he sent it to you.”