Dark Trail Rising: Four Tales of the Old West

by Cheryl Pierson

  “Oh, Valentine, what are we going to do? They aren’t going to stay out in the cold all day—”

  Just then, the door crashed open and Otto and Abel Keller were roughly pushed inside by Shull and Spivey, the two henchmen’s guns drawn.

  Jacobs followed, closing the door firmly behind him.

  Coffee bared his teeth and sat up with a growl.

  “Shut up, mutt,” Spivey said. “I shoulda finished you off when I shot your damn leg.”

  Valentine sucked in a rush of air. “You!”

  “Hell, yeah, little missy. We been watchin’ you for a while now. I’m damn tired of bein’ stuck outside in the woods. A man’s gotta see to himself. That dog come outta nowhere after me the other day. I knew I hit him, but couldn’t find him, cause he run off on three legs. Time I found him, well, there you was.”

  Valentine’s heart beat furiously, a mixture of anger and fear that maybe Spivey had also seen Levi on his horse that day…helping her get Coffee home. And what about since then?

  “You snake! To shoot an animal—spying on me—”

  Spivey laughed and took a stride toward Valentine. “You’re awful pretty when you’re mad, little nigra girl. I can’t wait to get a piece of you.”

  Valentine’s hand shot out, cracking hard against Spivey’s cheek.

  Hatred filled his eyes and he came at her with a shout. “You little bitch!”

  “Spivey!” Jacobs shouted, halting him in his tracks. “I have my Navy Colt aimed at the back of your stupid skull. I will pull the trigger.”

  Spivey stood glaring at Valentine, but she didn’t give an inch, matching his baleful look with one of her own.

  After a moment, he took a careful step back, then turned away.

  “You get over there with Shull and keep these men in line,” Jacobs directed.

  Then, turning to look at Valentine, he smiled. “My dear daughter. I’ve come to take you home with me…where you belong.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Oh, Lord,” James muttered as he looked outside the dark barn toward the house.

  Levi had heard the commotion, too. It was the moment he’d waited for. “James,” he said, peering over the loft.

  James whirled, looking up at him. “Who are you?”

  “A friend,” Levi answered. “I’m Levi Connor. A friend of the Kellers—and of Miss Reneau.”

  “Mr. Connor, you better come help if you want to see those people live through this.” James didn’t blink.

  Levi gave him a hard look. “I’m not in this alone, am I, James?”

  James shook his head emphatically. “No, sir. No, you are not.”

  Levi quickly climbed down the ladder and hurried to where James stood by the horses. “What can you tell me?”

  “I’ll make it quick. That man is not Mr. Ellis. He’s Mister Reginald Jacobs from down Mississippi way. Used to own a plantation where I was born and raised. He’s got it in his head that Miss Reneau is his daughter. Thinks her mama was pregnant with her when she left him. He wants to bring Miss Reneau back to Mississippi, to replace her mother.”

  “Not out of fatherly love, I take it?” Levi motioned James to follow him as he slipped out the side of the barn door not visible from the house.

  James gave a snort of disgust as he stayed close to Levi. “No. Out of the worst kind of hellish desires possible, Mr. Connor. When I say ‘replace her mother’—hell, that’s just what I mean. In every way.”

  Levi swore harshly. “And he plans to do this at all costs—killing the Kellers, too?” He flattened himself against the side of the house.

  James nodded. “If he takes a notion, he will. He’s hired himself two real hard cases this time around. They may even be too much for him to handle.”

  “And you? Where do you fit in to all this, James? You’re a free man. Why do you work for him?”

  But James veiled his expression, only saying quietly, “I have my own reasons, Mr. Connor. I’m not at liberty to talk about those right now. Shall we go?” He nodded toward the side steps to the front porch. “We’ve got to move to save the Kellers. When Mr. Jacobs is quiet like he was going in there, it’s a real bad sign.”

  ****

  Valentine backed up to the cabinet, hoping she would be able to reach the small derringer she kept on the shelf behind the sugar bowl.

  “Mr. Ellis,” she murmured, “you must be quite demented to believe I am your daughter. I have a home here. I’m happy where I am—”

  “Shit, girl! You live in a wood cabin with the bare necessities! You’ll live like a queen in Mississippi, with me. Why, you’ll have the finest of everything that money can buy. I have more money than you’ve ever dreamed of. And—you are my daughter. You look exactly like your mama, my dear Juliana.”

  Valentine drew herself up stiffly, moving another step back to put the sugar bowl within her reach. “I’m not leaving here. My father was Doctor Henri Reneau, not some—Mississippi plantation owner.”

  She turned away from him in dismissal, as if he didn’t hold a gun. As if the Keller men weren’t sitting on the floor with guns at their heads, as well.

  “What the hell are you doin’? You don’t turn away from me!”

  Valentine gave him a disdainful glance over her shoulder as she casually moved the sugar bowl and laid her hand on the grip of the derringer. Her heart thundered in her ears as she turned back toward Jacobs, the derringer pointing at him.

  Triumph washed over her, making her hand tremble slightly. “Now, let me assure you, sir, this gun is small, but it is quite lethal. I know how to use it, and I will use it, if I have to.”

  Jacobs smiled, then began to laugh. He holstered his pistol, but his eyes were shrewd—and angry.

  Valentine stood, unsmiling. “Tell your men to put their guns on the table.”

  Jacobs shrugged. “They may not be agreeable.”

  “Well, then, Mr. Ellis…you better get used to thinking of yourself laid out dead in Mr. Davidson’s funeral parlor over in Vian. I won’t pay to ship your sorry carcass home to Mississippi—you’ll be buried here, in Indian Territory in a lonesome, unmarked grave.”

  The smile left his face. “Boys,” he said, his eyes never leaving Valentine, “lay your guns on the table.”

  “Crazy old man!” Shull shouted. “I ain’t layin’ my gun down—”

  The front door banged open, bouncing off the wall, startling everyone. James and Levi stood in the open entryway. As soon as Shull and Spivey turned, Levi pulled the trigger of his Navy Colt in rapid succession, and both men fell to the floor.

  Abel jumped to his feet and Otto made a grab for Shull’s pistol. Abel snatched Spivey’s as it fell to the floor beside him.

  Shull rolled over and stared at Levi. “You’ve kilt me, you bastard…”

  “Yeah…I reckon I did.”

  Shull let go a long gurgling gasp of air as he died.

  Spivey was shot in the side, and bleeding badly. As Levi met his eyes, Spivey tried to spit at him, but he was hurting too badly. Levi held his stare, not looking away until Jacobs spoke.

  “Who the hell are you?” There was mild curiosity in Jacobs’s tone but he eyed Levi with a flat stare.

  Levi met his eyes, finally, in his own time. “I’m the man who’s going to kill you when this is all over, Jacobs.”

  Jacobs gave a disdainful snort, as if he believed death would never find him, even as it stood staring him in the face from both men and his daughter.

  He stood, his hands in the air, a smirk on his lips. “Well, well, well…Here I stand with three guns on me, as if I’m a criminal of the most despicable sort. Now, James, I don’t know what you think you’re doin’, but you put that gun down, boy.”

  James shook his head. “Don’t call me ‘boy’. I believe I’m more to you than that. Wasn’t any of the other slaves got sent off to boarding school.”

  “‘More to me’, you say?” Jacobs’s eyes registered mock surprise. “You believe I’m your…daddy?”


  “I know you are, you son of a bitch.” James’s voice was rock solid, his finger on the trigger just as steady.

  Silence filled the room. Marta jumped up and whisked the baby back to the bedroom, putting the blanket barrier down as if to shut out everything else. Spivey’s moans had stopped, and he lay still on the floor, dead, beside Shull. Levi closed the front door behind him and James, then pointed his revolver at Jacobs once more.

  Jacobs continued on in a smooth, slick voice. “Well, now, son. I guess the secret’s out. Meet your little sister.”

  James never looked away. “My mother. Why didn’t she take me with her?”

  “She’d already told me she was leaving. I begged her not to go.” Jacobs heaved a sigh. “She just wouldn’t listen.”

  “Can’t imagine her wanting to leave someone like you.”

  Jacobs spread his hands. “Why, I couldn’t either. I’d sold her in a fit of pique to the good doctor. When I thought about it—sober—I decided I didn’t want to part with sweet Juliana. I tried to talk sense to Dr. Reneau. I offered him twice what he’d paid for her.” He shrugged. “Well, no use crying over spilt milk…or…café au lait…right?”

  He grinned at his quip, but sobered and went on quickly when he looked at the serious faces around him. “Anyhow, I did what I had to do to hold on to my son. I told her you fell into the river and we couldn’t find you. That you had drowned. Dear old Aunt Hydra took you to live with her for the next month, until I was certain your mama was gone. Then, I retrieved you…and sent you to boarding school as soon as possible for your—ah—education.”

  Valentine could hardly take it in. Levi warily moved across the room to stand at her side. He took the derringer from her and laid it on the counter, putting his arm around her.

  She leaned against him, soaking in his warmth, his strength, and his love.

  “You selfish bastard. You never cared about me!”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Jacobs said slyly. “No matter what, your dear mama had to be punished, and she got what was coming to her.”

  James let go a wild cry of anguish as he pulled the trigger of the Sharps, hitting Jacobs squarely in the gut.

  Valentine tensed and clutched at Levi as the deafening blast roared through the small space. Levi held on to her, shielding her with his body.

  Jacobs’s knees buckled, his hands covering the wound. He looked at James, a vindictive light in his eyes. “She…got what she deserved…”

  “And so did you.” James stood motionless, watching as his father tried to keep his feet under him.

  Jacobs fell to his knees, then to his side, his gaze searching out Valentine’s. “You are…my daughter. No…no…doubt…” He breathed his last, and stared sightlessly at the ceiling.

  Valentine’s stare arrowed up from the dead man to meet James’s shocked eyes.

  “James—” she whispered, taking a step toward him.

  He dropped the rifle and stumbled to her, enfolding her in his arms as tears streaked his face.

  Through tears of her own, Valentine hugged him fiercely, her heart singing. She had a brother, and her happiness overshadowed everything else.

  ****

  The next morning, James and Abel loaded the bodies on the horses and set out for Vian. They planned to stop by the sheriff’s office and see if Jacobs’s men had any reward on them before delivering them to the undertaker. James had told them earlier that he would be surprised if they didn’t.

  Otto’s leg had been injured in the fight with Jacobs’s hired men when they’d forced the Kellers inside from the porch. He sat fuming at his incapacitation on the sofa, his leg propped on a soft pillow.

  Though the trouble seemed to be over, Levi was glad to stay close to Valentine and protect what little she owned.

  Their gazes met across the room. She busied herself in the kitchen, along with Marta, while Otto sat on the couch cradling his baby girl. Though she’d been fussy, Eva’s fever had broken. She was going to be fine, Valentine had assured them all.

  Now, Levi sat in one of the dining chairs he’d pulled over beside Coffee’s bed. The dog had gotten to his feet and taken a few steps to him. Although Coffee was able to get around on the leg, they tried to keep him on the corner bed as much as possible until he could heal a bit more.

  “You’re gonna be fine, too, aren’t you, boy?” Levi rubbed Coffee’s ears, and the dog lay down beside him again, as if deciding he had nothing more important to do than get the attention he loved so much.

  Marta sat at the table to peel potatoes. “All has ended well. Thank the Good Lord.”

  Valentine turned and smiled at her. “Maybe it’s a sin to say I’m glad it ended like it did, but I believe it all happened for the best. Those men were despicable, and when I think that I might never have known I had a brother—”

  Tears welled in her eyes, and Levi stood, reaching her in three long strides. He took her in his arms, and she turned into the strong shelter of his embrace and relaxed against him.

  Without a word, he led her to the front door, stopping to hand her into the cloak she kept there on a peg, then put on his own coat. They stepped out into the windy February day, and he led her toward the barn.

  “Levi?”

  “I have some things to say—private things, Miss Valentine Rose Reneau. It’ll be all right for the horses to hear, because they won’t tell anyone—at least, that’s what James says.”

  Valentine laughed as Levi opened the barn door, lit a lantern, then shut the door again.

  He turned to her and took her hands. “I don’t have much, Val. Just a little money put by in the bank. Family’s all gone—’cept for Emily, and—I don’t count Jack anymore.”

  She nodded, waiting for him to continue as her heart beat hard against her chest.

  “Until I met you—I’d forgotten that there was kindness…goodness in the world.”

  Valentine smiled. “And my fa—Jacobs—just about took everything away from all of us, didn’t he? Levi—I was so afraid for you. I know he would never hurt me, but—everyone else would have…” She shuddered. “He would have killed everyone, wouldn’t he?”

  “Yeah. I believe he would have.”

  “He was pure evil.” She fell silent. “Levi—do you think I might have some of him in me? The evil?” Those thoughts had haunted her from time to time in the past, but after the confrontation with him, she couldn’t push them away.

  He lifted her head, a finger under her chin, and leaned toward her, his lips covering hers. “Not a chance, honey.”

  She looked down, emotion flooding through her. “How can you be so sure this will work out?” She raised her head, afraid of what she would see in his midnight-dark eyes.

  “Hope.” His answer was immediate and certain. “I have it again. I can see a future—one I couldn’t have imagined two weeks ago. You gave me that, Valentine.” He took her into his arms again. “There’s something more, too,” he went on seriously. “I’ve been stumblin’ through this life along these hidden trails, unable to make sense of a damn thing, or find any kind of peace. But no more.”

  “And I don’t have to run or worry, either,” she said, looking up at him. “Thanks to you.”

  “And James. If he hadn’t—done what he did…I would have. But I believe…that was his fight to settle first, after what Jacobs did to him and your mother.”

  “Yes. I agree.” Valentine closed her eyes. “Today’s my birthday,” she said softly. “Valentine’s Day.”

  Levi stiffened and held her by her arms, away from him. “I don’t have a thing—”

  At the disappointment in his voice, tears welled in Valentine’s eyes. “Levi Connor,” she said in exasperation, “you’ve given me the best birthday gift, ever.”

  He quirked a brow.

  “Yourself,” she whispered, tilting her head up for the kiss she knew was coming. And it did, with all the promise of the future as their lips met.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chery
l Pierson is a native of Oklahoma. She lives in the Oklahoma City metro area with her husband. Her short stories have been published by Prairie Rose Publications, Western Fictioneers, Adams Media, Chicken Soup, and Western Trail Blazer (WTB). She has seven novels to her credit, FIRE EYES, TIME PLAINS DRIFTER, THE HALF-BREED’S WOMAN, GABRIEL’S LAW, SWEET DANGER, and CAPTURE THE NIGHT (PRP); and TEMPTATION’S TOUCH, (TWRP).

  Writing is so much a part of her life that she and long-time friend Livia Reasoner opened a publishing house. PRAIRIE ROSE PUBLICATIONS furthers the western-themed writing offerings of women. www.prairierosepublications.com

  Cheryl is the current President of the Western Fictioneers.

  To learn more about Cheryl and her exciting books, visit her at www.cherylpierson.com/

  More Westerns by Cheryl Pierson

  RIDE THE WILD RANGE

  Young Will Green's entire family is murdered by Red Eagle's Apache renegades. During the long days and nights of captivity, Will plans his vengeance as only a ten-year-old boy can. But those plans are thwarted, along with his own imminent death, by a lone stranger who boldly walks into the Apache camp and forcefully takes Will from the band of warriors. Angry and humiliated, the Indians swear to follow Will and his savior as soon as they can round up their horses—and they won't stop until blood runs red.

  Jacobi Kane is a man of few words and a questionable past, but it doesn't take long for trust to build between him and Will. As Will struggles to recover from his own horrific ordeal and losses, Kane is forced to face some demons of his own.

  Peace is elusive, as Red Eagle's band strikes again, and a cadre of lawmen come calling for Kane to track the bloodthirsty renegade down and put an end to the Apaches’ reign of terror across Texas and Indian Territory. But by this time, Kane has other responsibilities—Will, a new wife, and a baby on the way. Can he leave them behind to do what no other man has been able to, or will his own past keep him from his duty?

  Yet another menace looms, as frightening to Will as the Apaches ever were. His wealthy Yankee grandfather is determined to wrest Will away from his newfound family and beloved western ways to bring him back to Boston and a life he can never embrace.