Vestige of Hope

by Sara Blackard

  “Let’s go check it out,” Hunter said, his voice controlled, his face impassive as he scanned the surroundings.

  Viola limped behind Beatrice and Hunter, cringing with every step and struggling to keep up. “Where’s Uncle Dan?”

  “He rode home with me to the rise in the meadow, watched to make sure I made it to the barn alright, then headed out to visit Chief Johnson. He said he’d be back as soon as he could be,” Beatrice said.

  “What about the animals in the barn? Are they missing too?” Hunter asked as they drew close to the corral.

  “No. Maybelle and Cocoa are still in there and, of course, Firestorm was with me.” Beatrice shook her head. “I’m so stupid. I didn’t even realize the horses were gone until I headed to the cabin.”

  “Beatrice, you are anything but stupid. Distracted? Definitely, but never stupid,” Hunter said with such force that Viola smiled. His protective nature struck her as sweet when directed to her more than capable sister.

  When they got to the corral, Hunter spoke. “You two, see if you can figure out what happened. I’ll keep watch.”

  Viola nodded, and she and Beatrice got right to work. Was it finally time? Had the Sweeneys made a move? She hoped not, because she had hoped Orlando would be here when they did. As it was, they didn’t even know how to contact River for help. Thankfully, they were more than stocked and ready for trouble. Worst case scenario, they’d bunker down in the house and wait the Sweeneys out.

  “Hunter. Viola,” Beatrice hollered, pulling Viola from her musings. “Come and look at this.”

  Hunter walked over to the gate where Beatrice had stopped as Viola limped close.

  “Whatcha got?” Hunter asked

  “It looks like the latch broke free,” Beatrice answered, pointing to the latch that was hanging on the gate.

  “Is that normal?”

  “Well, it’s not abnormal,” Beatrice replied, scratching her head as she scrutinized it closer. “Could’ve been one of the rowdier horses pushing up against the gate. Buster is good at doing that, pushing on a gate until he busts it free. Hence the name Buster. We thought we’d figured out a latch that’d hold him, but I guess we were wrong.”

  “I might not have latched it completely, either, after Rowdy kicked me yesterday,” Viola said.

  Hunter inspected the latch that the horse had pushed open. He looked at the fence it connected to. He searched the ground. Viola’s eyes followed every place he examined. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There were no clear footprints or markings that would prove that this was not a contrary horse.

  Hunter took a deep breath in and relaxed his shoulders. “I remember a horse that always seemed to lean heavily on the gate, pushing on it throughout the day. I wondered what he was up to.”

  “We need to go round them up,” Beatrice spoke Viola’s thoughts, smacking her gloves onto her leg as she dragged them from her back pocket.

  “Viola’s not up for that this morning,” Hunter said, pointing to Viola’s leg. Viola crossed her arms in agitation that he was answering for her.

  “I know she’s not, but it’s gotta be done. Not going is not an option,” Beatrice answered, not even glancing Viola’s way.

  Hunter peered at Viola’s face, then glared at her knee. “I guess she can ride behind me.”

  “I’m not riding behind you,” Viola said, hot anger rising so fast she felt sure steam would blow from her ears. “My knee will just slow you down. Plus, with only Cocoa left, riding double will only do us harm. You two will go and get the horses. They wouldn’t have gotten far.”

  “Great. I’ll go pack some supplies,” Beatrice said as she turned for the cabin and rushed inside.

  “I’m not leaving you here. Don’t you remember what happened a few days ago?” Hunter said, his neck turning red and his fist clenching in his free hand.

  “Yes, you are,” Viola answered. “The further those horses run loose, the harder it will be to round them up. I’ll shutter the windows and bar the door. I’ll only open it for you two, River, or Orlando.”

  “I can’t leave you.” The anguish in Hunter’s voice and the desperation on his face whisked all of Viola’s anger away.

  Viola stepped close, resting her hands on his chest and tipping her face up to peer into his eyes. “I’m not going to be outside, busy with chores. I’ll stay firmly locked inside, Hunter. I promise. I’ll be fine. You have to trust that, to trust God.”

  He stared down at her with such love and devotion. Viola leaned into him, lifting onto her toes, and kissed him. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her back, his misery evident in his urgent kiss and tight muscles that squeezed her impossibly close.

  The cabin door slammed open followed by Beatrice’s call. “Let’s go.”

  Hunter pulled away and swept Viola into his arms. “I’m going to make sure all the shutters are locked, then I’ll help you with the horses.”

  Viola allowed Hunter to carry her into the cabin without much protest. Her knee did hurt something fierce. Plus, she enjoyed Hunter’s impressive strength. He set her down by the door and hurried to the bedrooms to lock the shutters.

  When he came back into the front room with the revolver strapped in his holster and the Lancaster rifle in his hand, Viola’s heart pinched. Maybe it wasn’t wise to stay behind? Viola smiled past the doubt.

  Hunter stepped up to her, ran his hand down her cheek, and kissed her passionately. When she thought she’d melt where she stood, he pulled away. “Bar the door.”

  Hunter strode out of the cabin, heading for the barn. Viola closed the door slowly as her gaze lingered over her husband as he walked away. As she lifted the heavy bar and laid it into place with a loud thud, a weight of worry landed, solid on her heart.

  Chapter 21

  Viola peered around the cabin with a huff. The place sparkled with a cleanliness she doubted it ever had experienced. Not that her family was filthy, but her anxiety had her scrubbing every nook and cranny until every speck of dirt vanished.

  Viola glanced around, the walls of the cabin closing in on her. She realized it was irrational, and that she should just find something else to do until Hunter and Beatrice got back. Her knee screamed at her from all the bending and walking she’d done, so she sat down in the rocker and pulled a shirt from the mending basket.

  The sound of a horse coming into the yard had Viola standing before she even got settled. She limped over to the door, grabbed the rifle from where she’d propped it, and peeked out the peephole. A familiar horse rode up to the hitching post. Viola’s fingers touched her parted lips. Orlando had finally returned home.

  She propped the rifle against the wall and threw the bar off the door. Grabbing the rifle back up — her over-watchful husband would be proud of her diligence — she rushed out the door to greet her brother as fast as her aching knee would allow.

  Orlando’s look of happiness changed to one of horror as Viola was yanked back against a hard chest by an arm wrapped firmly around her waist. Cold steel pressed to her temple.

  “You came right out to me, sweetheart.” Linc’s voice rasped against her hair, sending a shiver down the length of her. “Throw your gun away Orlando, unless you want Viola to meet the same fate as your pa.”

  When Orlando moved to gingerly pull his gun from his holster, Linc aimed his gun and shot. Viola’s world slowed, and she screamed as Orlando fell to the ground. She struggled hard against Linc’s arm, swinging the rifle up to hit Linc in the head. It glanced him on the forehead, and he cursed. He grabbed the rifle and yanked it hard from her hands with his free hand and then turned her around to face him. Blood poured from a gash on his right cheek, making him look even more sinister than normal.

  “You’ll pay for that, Viola,” he whispered with menace. “Looks like you’ll have to be taught how to treat your man properly.”

  Viola struggled, trying to kick his legs and claw at his face. Her infernal skirt kept her feet from making contact, and he contained her hands
in his iron grip.

  “Looks like we will have to do this the hard way,” Linc said as he pulled his revolver from his holster.

  Viola’s eyes went wide in fear as he held it high above his head. She let out a short, piercing scream before his arm came down, and everything turned black.

  Hunter was proud he’d been able to keep Viola’s horse Cocoa up with Beatrice and Firestorm. While he wasn’t a complete novice, his exposure to horses during his years in the Delta Force had been very limited. They’d followed the horses’ tracks the last few hours down a path past the meadow that snaked back into the mountains.

  Leaving Viola, walking away had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. He knew he couldn’t hover, knew that retrieving these horses was important to life here in the wilderness. Yet disquiet had lodged in his spirit the instant his beautiful wife’s face had hardened in anger, and she’d demanded to stay behind. The further they traveled from the cabin, the more intense his unease became. Beatrice turned a curve ahead of him and disappeared, racketing his anxiousness up to the nausea level. He rounded the curve, bringing her back in view and whistled. She pulled to a stop and turned around, lifting her eyebrow in question.

  “Something's not right,” Hunter said as he came up beside her. “My spirit is screaming that this is all wrong.”

  Beatrice cocked her head to the side and examined him. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. When she opened her eyes and released her breath, she nodded.

  “Yeah, I feel the same. Let’s ride up around this next curve right here. The trail opens up to another field. If we can’t see the horses, we’ll turn around and head home.”

  “Okay, but let’s make it quick.”

  Hunter followed Beatrice on the skinny trail that was hardly wide enough for the horses to traverse. He could see a clearing ahead and hoped the horses would be there so they could head home. Hunter pulled up on the reins when Beatrice entered the field, took one glance around, and spun Firestorm around taking off in a run toward him. He yanked Cocoa around and raced down the trail they’d been traveling. He cursed the fact that the trail was too thin to ride side-by-side, but he trusted Beatrice’s instincts. Explanations to their wild ride back could wait. Several minutes later, though it seemed like hours, they burst into a meadow, and Beatrice came up alongside him.

  “The horses were all there in a remuda so they wouldn’t wander,” Beatrice yelled. “Someone took them.”

  Dread fell heavy to the pit of Hunter’s stomach. He’d done it again, moved against what he knew the Holy Spirit was telling him and left Viola unprotected and alone. He should’ve listened to his gut telling him not to go. Would this screw-up cost him much more than he ever thought possible?

  He shook his head and shouted over the pounding hooves. “We ride as hard as we can. We’ll need to go into the homestead smart, but we can’t waste any time. When we get close, you go in with your gun drawn and ready for combat.”

  She nodded in agreement as she pulled forward to lead down another wooded trail. He sent up desperate prayers on the frantic ride back. They burst into the meadow that led to the cabin.

  A horse stood in the yard with a man lying on the ground beside it. The front door sat wide open. Hunter’s stomach constricted so fast and tight, he thought he would vomit right there on Cocoa’s back. Beatrice arrived first, gun in hand, and slid from Firestorm’s back as the horse skidded to a stop.

  “Orlando!” she shouted, rushing to the man rolling onto his side, blood running from his head.

  Beatrice fell to the ground beside him and burst into tears as she helped him to sit up. He caught her in a hug and buried his face into her neck.

  “Viola!” Hunter yelled. “Where is she? Viola!”

  Orlando lifted his head, angst and wariness on his face as he narrowed his eyes at Hunter. “Who in the world are you?”

  “I’m her husband,” Hunter said, causing Orlando’s eyes to widen in surprise.

  “Linc took her. Was hiding behind the corner of the house and grabbed her before I could react,” Orlando said as he pushed to his knees and touched his head where blood had clotted. “The snake shot me. Knocked me out cold.”

  “Praise God he didn’t kill you,” Beatrice said, wiping her arm across her face.

  Beatrice stood and walked to the porch where the rifle Hunter had left Viola lay haphazardly on the step. “Looks like she put up a fight,” she said as she pointed to the churned up ground. “There’s blood here.”

  Hunter dropped his head. He’d failed. God brought him back here for Viola, and he’d failed her and God in one stupid moment of not following God’s urging. How could he have been that thickheaded to mess up so colossally? He straightened his shoulders. He’d find her. He’d make this right.

  “Forgive me, Father,” Hunter whispered as he walked with purpose toward Beatrice.

  Beatrice glanced up from where she examined the ground, her eyes pleading. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve listened to you. This is all my fault. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “I should’ve listened to what God was telling me,” Hunter replied. “I had an uneasy feeling in my gut and should’ve listened.”

  “This blood isn’t hers,” Orlando said from where he was examining the rifle. “There’s blood on the rifle stock. She must’ve got a hit in.”

  “Why would Linc leave the gun behind?” Beatrice asked.

  “If he was desperate to get her out of here or she wasn’t cooperating, he’d not mess with grabbing the gun. At least I wouldn’t,” Hunter answered.

  Orlando leaned the gun against the cabin wall and pointed at the ground while walking toward the meadow. He bent to examine something and stood up fast, weaving unsteadily.

  “Linc carried her off. His footprints coming up are much lighter than the footprints leading out,” Orlando explained.

  “Can you track them?” Hunter asked.

  “Yeah, I can track them,” Orlando said.

  Beatrice gave Orlando an easy nod. “If anyone can track them, it’s Orlando. He’s the best there is.”

  “Well, let’s go get her back,” Hunter said, his voice hard with resolve.

  Hunter walked toward Orlando, who peered at him with skepticism.

  “Just what has been going on here while I was gone?” Orlando demanded.

  “I’m your new brother-in-law, Hunter Bennett,” Hunter said as he shook Orlando’s hand. “I married Viola after Linc Sweeney came here, claiming you were dead and bent on forcing Viola to marry him. The rest of the story will have to wait, though, since we need to work up a plan.”

  Orlando’s eyebrows raised slightly as he glanced to Beatrice.

  She shrugged. “Uncle Dan married them yesterday. It’s been a hectic couple of weeks, to say the least.”

  The sound of hoofbeats fast approaching had all three of them grabbing their revolvers and turning to the intruder. Hunter holstered his weapon and took off running when he recognized River’s paint. The footsteps following told Hunter that his family was also quick to recognize the friend.

  “Do you know where they are?” Hunter asked before River had even stopped.

  “I know where Robert and William have been camping,” River answered as he swung from the saddle. “Linc hasn’t been with them, though I found tracks of a solo rider going into the camp just a day or two ago. I knew it was important for me to come tell you what I’ve found today, even though I was planning to wait longer.”

  “Praise God, He led you here,” Hunter said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Viola’s been taken, and we need to get to their camp.”

  “What?” River rounded on Hunter. “What happened?”

  Hunter seethed in his impatience. “We can chitchat about the details later. Can we get to their camp undetected, River?”

  “Yes, without a doubt.”

  Hunter nodded and crossed to the house. “Tell me all about the layout as we gear up. I want to be on the trail with a plan in fifteen. Then we’re going to fi
nish this.”

  Hunter rushed into the cabin, heading straight to the bookcase. He flicked the latch and glanced back as the shelf swung open. River’s mouth gaped wide, and Orlando shook his head in disapproval. Hunter could care less about family secrets at the moment. All that mattered was getting to Viola and bringing her home.

  Chapter 22

  Viola’s head beat like a drum, and her knee burned as if it’d been ripped from her body and put back on. Her face rested on a scratchy wool blanket that smelled of horse flesh and sweat. She lay on her side with her hands bound in front of her. Voices argued behind her, so she tried to remain still and breathe as if still unconscious. Focusing through the throbbing pain was a trial made easier as feet stomped her way.

  “I’m telling you, Linc, you shouldn’t have taken her,” a voice she assumed was Robert’s said.

  “She’s mine, Robert. Mine. I wasn’t about to let some dandy come in and take her from right under my nose,” Linc yelled back. A sound of metal being kicked echoed across the camp.

  “Hey, those were my beans,” William whined.

  “Shut up.” A slap punctuated Linc’s yell.

  “Linc, calm down and think this through,” Robert’s steady and even voice urged. “That newcomer was not just a dandy, but a man who looked like he knew what he was about with the way he pulled steel on us back at the cabin. He’s not going to just let you take off with her.”

  Viola prayed that Linc would listen to reason. He’d let her go, and they would all move on from this. She realized it was a long shot, but she didn’t think the prayer offended God.

  “Are you going to help me or not, Robert? When they come running for her, we get the drop on them, then the homestead and the gold is all ours,” Linc challenged.

  Viola couldn’t stop the soft gasp from escaping her lips. She relaxed her body and prayed no one heard her.

  Robert answered, his voice moving closer to Viola. “I already told you after you killed Joseph, I would not help you do your dirty work anymore. I’m sick of all of this, Linc. It’s no way to live a life, full of jealousy and hate. I’m ready for a life worth living.”