by Bill Bright
“Aya.”
“Will they ever stop chasin’ you?”
Daniel sighed. “I don’t know. I hope so.”
Hughie extended his hand in a manly way. Daniel smiled and shook it, then walked away.
Chapter 27
Victory is sweeter when it’s shared victory.
Daniel came to this conclusion as he walked in the woods. He didn’t know who had enjoyed getting even with Dumps and Red more—him or Hughie. Every time Daniel got an image of Hughie’s victory grin, it made him smile.
After they’d parted, Daniel wished he’d asked the boy about what was ahead. A town, to be sure. Red had mentioned a school and a schoolmaster, Mr. Tibbs. Or was it Tibbetts?
It didn’t matter. But it did mean that with a schoolhouse there was a sizeable settlement nearby and a store where he could get food. Possibly even a tavern where he could get hot food. His stomach urged haste.
Then unpleasant images of the ruthlessness with which Epps had killed that man last night dampened Daniel’s good feelings. They swayed his complaining stomach to caution. Epps might still be in the area.
Daniel straddled a fallen tree. Just as his foot touched down on the other side, he spied a man ahead. His back was to Daniel. He carried a rifle at the ready and moved with stealth. Daniel completed his vault over the tree and stood still.
Another man appeared, also armed and moving just like the first. Hunters.
Since they were moving away from him, Daniel figured his best course was to stay put until they were gone, which is exactly what he did.
“We’ve lost him,”Asa said.
He sat in the carriage as Epps searched ahead. They hadn’t heard the recorder for more than ten minutes.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned about tracking,” Epps said, “it’s that patience is a virtue that rarely goes unrewarded.” He disappeared into a gully.
Asa got out of the carriage to stretch his legs.
“Lord, lead us to Daniel,” he prayed.
Once the hunters were gone, Daniel moved on.
He didn’t get far when he heard a low whistle. He stopped, and it stopped. He waited a minute, then continued, listening hard.
A few more steps and he heard it again. Surveying the woods, he saw nothing. The whistling stopped. Then there was a moan, long and drawn out.
Daniel moved toward the moan.
He came upon Dumps.
The boy was hiding behind a bush. Shaking it and moaning. Then shaking it and whistling, as if testing to see which sound he liked better.
“These boys don’t give up, do they?” Daniel said under his breath.
To his right, Red and Hughie appeared.
The older boy was pulling his brother by the arm. “I’m tellin’ you, Dumps has turned into a tree!” Red was saying.
Hughie tried to pull away. “He has not! Let me go!”
Red dragged him toward the bush where Dumps was hiding. Dumps was shaking it.
Again a hunter appeared.
The scene played in front of Daniel like a Greek tragedy. All the actors were in place. Three boys pulling pranks. One of them hiding in a bush. A hunter appeared with a loaded gun. A bush shook. The hunter shouldered his rifle.
Daniel yelled.
A puff of smoke rose from the rifle.
The bush stopped shaking.
The hunter turned. He must have realized what had happened, for Daniel could see it on his face.
Red and Hughie saw it too. After the shot, they halted and didn’t move. Their faces were masks of disbelief.
This wasn’t part of the prank.
Both Daniel and the hunter converged on the bush at a dead run. They reached it at the same time.
“I didn’t know!” the hunter moaned. “All I saw was…”
Daniel dropped to his knees beside Dumps. The boy was curled up beneath the bush, as if he’d fallen asleep.
His belly rose and fell. A good sign.
Daniel reached under the bush and pulled the boy out by his shoulders. The boy moaned. His head moved side to side. His eyes remained closed. A large red spot stained his shirt on his left side, just above the belt.
“He’s alive,” Daniel said.
“It’s the Taylor boy,” the hunter said. “We need to get him to a doctor. I didn’t know, mister! You have to believe me! I didn’t know!”
When Daniel looked up, Red and Hughie were staring down in disbelief at Dumps’s wound.
Daniel took Hughie by the arm. “I need you to do something for me. I need you to go and get his parents. You can do that?”
Hughie didn’t move. His eyes were locked on the blood.
“Hughie!”
The smaller boy blinked. He turned his mournful gaze to Daniel.
“Can you do that for me? Go get his parents?”
Hughie nodded.
“I’ll go with him,” Red said.
The two boys ran off.
Lifting his head, Daniel saw another man standing there. The other hunter.
“I didn’t see him in there, George,” the first hunter was saying to him. “I didn’t know it was a boy.”
The second hunter put a hand on his friend’s shoulder to steady him. “The boy needs a doctor. Can we move him, or should we get Doc and bring him here?”
“The wound isn’t serious. He can be moved.” The voice came from neither hunter.
Daniel looked up again…and into the eyes of Epps.
Dumps moaned. His eyes opened. He scrunched his face in pain and began to cry.
“Then let’s get him to a doctor!” the first hunter cried.
Energy surged through Daniel. Every nerve told him to run. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t just leave Dumps here, not like this.
He told himself Epps wouldn’t do anything with people around. As long as there were people around, he was safe. And if Epp’s hands were busy—
“Mister, you take his shoulders,” Daniel said.
Epps studied him with a satisfied expression.
“Yeah, you!” Daniel said. “I’ll get his legs.”
He didn’t know what Epps would do. To Daniel’s surprise, the killer bent down and grabbed Dumps under the arms. Daniel grabbed the boy’s legs, and together they lifted him off the ground.
With the boy separating them, Daniel glanced up at Epps. This wasn’t the first time they’d lifted a body. They’d lifted Emil Braxton the same way to place him in a coffin. From the smile on Epps’s face, he seemed to be remembering the same thing.
“It’s about a half-mile to the doctor,” the hunter said.
“We can use my friend’s carriage,” Epps offered.
Daniel almost dropped the boy when he saw his uncle Asa, leaning on his cane and standing beside the carriage.
“Are you all right, son?” the hunter asked him.
“Aya.” It was a reflex response. Daniel wasn’t all right. The sight of his uncle with Epps had stunned him numb. Daniel’s feet were moving, but he wasn’t moving them.
Hughie and Red came running back. A man trailed behind them, and behind him a woman.
“Edward! Edward!” the woman was screaming.
The guilty hunter turned to the man. “Francis, I didn’t see him! You have to believe me! I didn’t see him!”
Dumps’s father pushed past him to his boy. “Edward? Hold on, son. We’ll get you to the doctor.”
“There’s a carriage just up the way,” Daniel said.
The father nodded, then took charge. “Here, let me,” he told Daniel, taking his son’s legs.
“Maybe it would be best if you let the young man carry him,” Epps said.
“I’ve got him,” the father insisted.
His hands full, Epps could do nothing but continue toward the carriage.
Daniel stayed where he was and watched.
As the distance increased between Epps and Daniel, Epps shot him warning glances. Nobody else seemed to notice. Their attention was on Dumps.
Daniel
caught Hughie’s eye. The boy wore a knowing expression, as if he had taken in the way Epps regarded Daniel, and the way Daniel avoided Epps.
Everyone but Daniel had converged on the carriage. Uncle Asa had his head inside the carriage to arrange things to transport Dumps into town. He lifted his head…and exchanged glances with Daniel.
Then Daniel turned his back and headed into the woods.
“Daniel!” Epps barked.
But there was nothing the killer could do. He and the others were still a half-dozen feet from the carriage.
Daniel broke into a run.
“Stop him! Someone stop him!” Epps ordered.
A few heads turned, but Dumps had their attention.
As they loaded the boy into the carriage, Uncle Asa stepped clear. He faced Daniel. “Daniel? Daniel! Let’s talk, son!”
Daniel slowed as he glanced back but kept running.
With Dumps in the carriage, and his hands free, Epps broke from the concerned townspeople and took after Daniel, his long legs churning.
Hughie bent down and picked up a stick. “Hey, Dumps! Don’t forget your—” And at that second he stood up and ran smack into the long legs of the tall man, sending him flying through the air. He hit hard on the cold ground and rolled.
Daniel was just about to enter a thick patch of woods when he saw Epps and Hughie tumble. He stopped to see the outcome.
He was relieved to see Hughie get up, unhurt.
Epps rolled onto his knees, then got to his feet, favoring his right foot. He tested it. Hobbled. And fell.
The two hunters, having seen what happened, ran to Hughie to see if he was hurt. Then they ran to Epps. It took both of them, one under each arm, to help him back to the carriage.
The last thing Daniel saw before entering the thick woods was Hughie. The boy was smiling.
Chapter 28
Camilla Rush smoothed the front of her dress and checked her hair in the mirror on her way to the front door. Wrinkles at the corners of her eyes showed her age, as did her figure. She was rounder now than she’d ever been. But she chose not to dwell on that now.
Excitement had put a dash of color into her cheeks. With no one else to talk to day after day, she found herself looking forward to these late afternoon visits.
“Cyrus, come in. The water is hot, and I have fresh-made cookies.”
“Oatmeal and raisin?” Cyrus removed his hat and handed it to her, along with his coat. They’d fallen into a routine.
“Are there any other kind?” Camilla laughed.
“Not as far as I’m concerned.”
She hung up his coat and hat. He went to the tea tray and poured hot water into two cups.
“And how are you doing today, my dear?” he asked.
Over the weeks Cyrus’s endearments had become more frequent and bolder. They had bothered Camilla at first. But she told herself that Cyrus didn’t mean anything by them. He was just being a friend.
“I manage to keep myself busy,” she replied. “Here, let me get that.”
Cyrus sat while she served him. Sugar. Cream. He took only one cookie.
“Cyrus Gregg! You’re not going to hurt my feelings, are you?”
With a smile, he helped himself to another cookie.
Camilla prepared herself tea and sat in a chair opposite him, even though he’d left room for her next to him on the sofa.
They sipped their tea in comfortable silence.
“Have you heard from Asa?” Cyrus asked.
He asked the same question every day, and every day it hurt to answer, because the answer was always the same.
“Nothing yet,” she said.
“Camilla…”
Cyrus set his cup and saucer aside. What he was about to say was serious. Camilla knew this because Cyrus had set aside the second cookie with the tea.
“I’m beginning to grow concerned,” he said.
Camilla stared at the tea in her cup. She made a concerted effort to hold back her emotions. Cyrus meant well, and she loved him for it. But all night and all day she tossed back and forth on a tempestuous sea of emotion. These afternoon teas were her sole respite—an island of peace. Must he throw her back into the sea so quickly?
“How long has it been now?” he asked. “Two weeks?”
“Three.”
“And still no word.”
Lifting her head, her chin set, Camilla fought back the pain inflicted by his statement of reality. “Asa and Daniel are in God’s hands.”
Cyrus leaned closer. “Let me do something to help. Let me send someone to locate them.”
Camilla shook her head. “I’m confident Asa has his reasons for not sending word of his situation.”
“Of course he does. My man will simply locate him and report back to me. I’ll give him strict instructions not to interfere. He won’t even make contact.”
“I don’t know,” Camilla hedged. “If Asa knew we’d sent someone to check up on him…”
“He’ll never know,” Cyrus assured her.
Already on the edge of the sofa, Cyrus moved closer. He got on one knee before her, took her hand in his, and squeezed. “The only reason I’d do it is for your peace of mind, Camilla. It hurts me to see you torture yourself with uncertainty.”
Camilla blushed, seeing Cyrus kneeling before her. “You’ve always been such a good friend.”
“That means the world to me,” Cyrus said. “You know how I feel about you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”
He held her gaze. She turned her head and took her hand back.
Cyrus stood. “Then it’s settled. The first thing I’ll do when I return to my office is dispatch my man to locate Asa.”
“Anything needing my attention?” Gregg barked as he strode into his office.
His secretary, a long-faced man in his twenties, jumped at the suddenness of Gregg’s appearing.
“Um…aya. Congressman Matthews’s assistant delivered a letter.” He found the letter on his desk and held it out. “It requires your immediate—”
Gregg waved him off. “I’ll deal with it later.” He kept walking.
“I’ll put it on your desk,” the secretary said.
“Anything else?”
“Um—”
“Get me the production reports and payroll.”
“Production reports for last week?”
“Of course for last week!”
In his private office, Cyrus Gregg removed his coat and hat. Standing at his desk, he leafed through a stack of papers.
His secretary came in with the production reports and payroll sheets. He placed them on Gregg’s desk. “Will there be anything else, sir?”
“No. Nothing else.”
The secretary started out, then turned back. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a well-traveled letter. “A man who said he was passing through Cumberland delivered this for you. It’s addressed to Mrs. Camilla Rush. Should I have one of the shop boys run it out to her?”
“I’ll take it,” Gregg said. “And close the door.”
He sat at his desk, placing the letter in front of him. Opening a drawer, he removed a bottle of whiskey and a glass and poured himself a drink. After taking a sip, he opened the letter addressed to Camilla.
My dearest Camilla,
I write from Syracuse, New York, finding it difficult to believe I’ve traveled this far and been gone this long. It seems every time I make a decision to abandon my pursuit, we come upon someone who has seen Daniel and once again he seems within reach.
The most recent sighting was yesterday. A local farmer discovered the boy sleeping in his barn and took pity on him. He and his wife fed Daniel breakfast. This godly family urged him to pursue a course of reconciliation. They prayed over him. As you might expect, their counsel fell on deaf ears.
After thanking the man and his wife for their kindness, we prayed together and I felt strengthened, though I don’t know how much longer I can continue. My leg aches every d
ay from the cold, and two days ago I awoke with a constricted chest and coughing.
I thank God every day for Robely. He’s been a constant source of encouragement. I’ve taken to calling him Barnabas.
I covet your prayers, my dearest. I pray for you every night and, God willing, will be home soon.
Faithfully yours,
Asa
Cyrus took a sip of whiskey. At the bottom of the letter was a bold scrawl.
The fox is tiring. The hounds are closing. By the time this reaches you, the fox will be bagged. Not all hands will make it home.
Epps
After another sip, Cyrus Gregg crumpled the letter and got up. He tossed it into the fireplace and watched it burn.
He allowed himself a smile. He’d earned it. He’d turned disaster into blessing. With the boy dead, the threat was gone. And with Asa out of the way, he could openly court the woman who had possessed him since his youth.
The sky hung low and dark. Rain fell hard enough to bend the rim of Daniel’s hat. His legs and lungs burned. Breaths came in painful gulps.
The Erie Canal and a packet boat separated him from his pursuers. Daniel had managed to cross over the canal and double back without their seeing him. At least he thought they hadn’t seen him. The next few minutes would tell. Right now, they were closing on him.
Keeping pace with the packet boat, Daniel hid behind the cabin, moving with it, keeping it between him and the carriage on the other side of the canal. If he could pull this off, his uncle and Epps could travel miles before they realized what had happened.
Everyone on the boat was tucked away inside somewhere, staying out of the rain. All of them, that is, except a boy in a slicker who was riding one of three horses that pulled the boat.
As the carriage got closer, Daniel saw that his chances of pulling this off would be better if he was on the boat. Four feet of water separated them. With no one around to see him except the boy on the horse, Daniel leaped the span, landing on the deck. With his back pressed against the cabin, his chest still heaving, he hid from the carriage.
Having sacrificed better position for line of sight, however, Daniel was floating blindly. All he could do was wait and wait and wait, judging the time until the carriage passed. He heard nothing other than the beat of the rain and muffled laughter coming from inside the cabin. There were no shouts of discovery. No indication they had spotted him.
