Bride's Flight from Virginia City, Montana

by Murray Pura

  Mister Mitton, what with doubting their story and leaving a good man to bleed out in the snow.” He looked down at the floor, disgusted with himself, and muttered, “While we argued for points like some Harvard debating society playing to the gallery.” He glanced up at Mitton and growled, “Get.”

  Flint rushed out the door into the swirl of snow.

  Sheriff Levy removed his hat. “Miss Raber, I apologize for the way I acted early this morning. I confess I was bewildered by the scene we came upon, but it would have been better to have helped you out first and asked for your story later. I hope I will be able to make amends to you and Mister Parker over the course of the next few days. It’s my prayer he will pull through as fine as sunshine.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff,” Lynndae responded. “I admit I had my back up pretty quickly, and I don’t think that helped you any. I appreciate your concern, and I believe both Mister Parker and I will be able to take you up on your offer of assistance before the week is out.”

  The doctor came down the hall with a fresh shirt on. “Miss Raber, I am going back in now. Are you folk in some need of medical assistance?”

  “We are here for Miss Raber,” explained Augustine Yoder.

  “If you need extra chairs, there are plenty in the front room.”

  Aunt Rosa spoke up. “We will pray for you, doctor.”

  He smiled. “Why, thank you, ma’am, I am grateful. My father is a Presbyterian minister. He would be glad to hear you offering me that sort of divine aid.”

  As he strode off, Lynndae turned back to Sheriff Friesen. “What happened at Bird in Hand this morning?”

  Friesen removed his hat and knocked snow off with the flat of his hand. “Miss Raber, is there some place we can sit? The doctor mentioned the front room.”

  “Right through here,” said Sheriff Levy, making a gesture with his hat.

  They went down a short hall into a room that looked out over the street. A fire was in danger of going out in the fireplace. Levy began to stir the ashes with a poker and place on more logs. Aunt Rosa found a coatrack and began to peel a wet, black shawl from her shoulders.

  “Come, Father,” she said to Augustine, “don’t drip over the doctor’s nice wood floor.”

  The men removed their coats and hung them on the rack while the fire burst into life. When everyone was seated, Lynndae leaned forward anxiously.

  “Please tell me what happened,” she asked again.

  “Lynndae,” said Aunt Rosa, “you must first tell us how Zephaniah is doing. I am sorry, but we cannot go on and talk about anything else until we know that.”

  Sheriff Friesen nodded. “I agree.”

  Lynndae passed a hand over her eyes as the tears welled up again. “The doctor doesn’t know. It’s too soon to tell. There was so much blood loss. So much damage from the bullets to his arm and leg. They may have to amputate.”

  She broke down. Aunt Rosa left her seat to put her arms around Lynndae. “Yes, yes, that is why God told us to come here. We are going to pray. We do not leave until everything is all right, even if it takes days or weeks. You will not be alone.”

  “That is so,” agreed Augustine.

  “My brother defended us,” blurted Lynndae.

  Surprise crossed Friesen’s face. “What?”

  “At first he was going to—going to hang Z. But when I walked down from the station, one of his men took exception to the things I said to Angel—things about his life of crime, his murders, his sins—and this man pulled his gun out to shoot—to shoot me, but Angel tried to stop him. And he shot Angel. Then the man aimed at me again, and Z had his father’s old revolver. He fired and the bullet knocked the man down. Then the other men from the gang, there were two of them, tried to shoot Z and me, but Angel began to fire at them from where he had fallen to the ground when he had been shot. Oh, there was so much gunfire back and forth—it was like a small war. That was when Z covered me with his body to keep the bullets from hitting me. Angel stopped the men of his gang from killing us, but he died from his wounds—not before he confessed his sins and repented and asked God’s forgiveness in the name of, the name of Jesus—”

  Lynndae could not continue. Aunt Rosa held her and shook her head at the others. “Hush now, that is enough, your Angel is with God. That is enough, do not speak anymore. We have heard you.” Then she prayed, “Lord, spare young Zephaniah’s life. You know him. He was Your chosen instrument to bring Lynndae and her brother together again and to help save Lynndae from death and her brother from damnation. Restore him to us, dear Lord; give him many more years among those he loves. Guide the doctor’s hands; bless his healing work done in Your holy name. Oh, You who healed in Galilee, will You not heal this night in Pennsylvania as well?”

  No one spoke for several minutes, then Lynndae lifted her head from Rosa’s shoulder, her eyes crimson and swollen. “I must know. Did Z’s sacrifice change anything? Did it matter that he brought my brother here, my brother and his three gunmen? Did it make any difference at all, or was it just wasted effort? Sheriff? Augustine?”

  Augustine and Sheriff Friesen glanced at one another. Augustine nodded at the sheriff to go ahead. Friesen leaned forward in his houndstooth suit, brown Stetson in his hands.

  “Miss Raber,” he said earnestly, “I’ll give it to you straight. If Raber, your brother, if he had come up to Bird in Hand leading the men that were left of his crew, and he was the Raber who shot, murdered, and maimed, not the one who repented, there wouldn’t be a stick of Bird in Hand left standing tonight. They’d have burned every house in the village to the ground. They’d have killed us all.”

  Chapter 31

  Lynndae sat holding Aunt Rosa’s hands. “I had found out from Mister Simpson at the station that Zephaniah’s ticket was for Gettysburg,” she told her. “I left well before six. There was a train from Philadelphia that was heading to York with connections to Gettysburg and Baltimore.”

  Friesen nodded and looked at Aunt Rosa. “It was still dark, and one of my deputies escorted the buggy Mister Beachey used to take Lynndae to Lancaster.”

  Lynndae protested. “I did not want Mister Beachey to take me. I was afraid of putting him in harm’s way.”

  “But he insisted,” said the sheriff.

  Lynndae smiled weakly. “Many of the good people of Bird in Hand insist on things.”

  “My deputy saw him back safely.”

  “You had men all around the depot.” Lynndae leaned forward. “Surely you stopped some of the gang members when they came off the train?”

  “I’m afraid not, Miss Raber.”

  “Why on earth not?”

  “For the simple reason that none of the gang members came by rail. They came by horseback.” “Oh—”

  “Now that doesn’t mean they didn’t take a train part of the way. For all I know, they might have been lying in wait a day or two in advance. Two came up the road from the east, from White Horse and Intercourse, and two came up from the south, by way of Paradise and Gordonville. Not a shot was fired. So we didn’t know there was trouble until a house went up. I saw the flames and hurried some of my deputies in that direction.

  “This would be about a half hour after your train left for York, Miss Raber. I had five men at the station, and they might just as well have not existed for all the good they were to us. I couldn’t spare a rider to get a message to them. So I hoped they’d see that a house was burning and make for Bird in Hand to help us. But they never did. They were afraid to leave the station unguarded in case more outlaws came in by rail. I honestly can’t fault them for that line of thinking. That’s why I had them there, armed to the teeth. In retrospect, I should have given them more leeway in making decisions to stay or go. The mistake rests on my shoulders. I was convinced Raber’s men would come in by means of the Lancaster train.”

  Lynndae felt her anxiety grow as the story unfolded. “What houses were burned?”

  “The Ottos’ went first. That was done by the two that rode up from Pa
radise. We were no sooner trying to deal with the Otto place when another house went up in flames from the direction of Intercourse. I had seven men in all—there would have been twelve of us if the boys from the station had ridden in—but I’d already sent a couple south to the Otto house. So I ordered three toward the new fire, and that left just me and Joseph Sheridan to keep an eye on the two homes that had fifty people crammed into them. You can imagine how difficult it would have been for us if all the families had remained on their own properties. Your Zephaniah’s idea to get the people into one spot saved lives.”

  Lynndae felt a surge of pride, but the feeling was quickly lost as she remembered the danger Zeph was in. Aunt Rosa squeezed her hands. A part of Lynndae did not want to hear the rest of what Sheriff Friesen had to say for fear the story of the raid on Bird in Hand might get worse. But she steeled herself and said, “Please continue, Sheriff.”

  “The Bender house was burning east of us, the Otto’s to the south. Joe and I stayed put. If there’d been another bunch of Raber’s men coming at us from the west or north, say those three at Gettysburg and Raber himself, we’d have been done for. There was nothing more we could do. My men ran off the two that had set the houses on fire to the east, but my two boys that had gone south were ambushed.”

  Fear hit Lynndae again like an icy gust of wind. “Are they all right?”

  “One died in the saddle. That’s how we found him. The other was wounded. But he fought back from behind a clump of trees. He dropped one before the other rode off and left him.”

  Friesen stopped and his eyes took on a haunted look. “I thank God your brother wasn’t there to lead them, Miss Raber, and I thank God that was as far as they got.”

  Lynndae waited.

  “I don’t know what idea they had in their heads. That no one would be armed? That they’d only be fighting Amish and the Amish wouldn’t fight back? Maybe they didn’t have a plan, I don’t know. But they sure didn’t take us as seriously as they should have, that’s for sure.

  “They had expected there to be people in the houses, of course, and some of them out doing their morning chores. But by the second house, they could see they were torching empty homes, and with the sun up now, they could see there wasn’t a soul for miles, not on the roadways, not in the lanes, not in the fields. There weren’t even any animals out; we had them all locked up tight in the barns.

  “So they didn’t know what to do. It seemed as if they didn’t even have a leader of any kind. They hit on racing from property to property, hootin’ and hollerin’, shooting their guns in the air, hoping, I guess, to stir something up, bring the people out of hiding, frighten some animals out into the open. I don’t know exactly what they had a notion of doing. But they paid my deputies and me no mind. Maybe it was just that they only saw me and Joe sitting there on our horses and thought that was it. Maybe they could see we were too far away to do them any damage. I don’t know. They kept on riding back and forth like madmen, doing their yell as if Sheridan and I didn’t exist. As if doing the devil’s business was all the protection they needed.

  “Well, in the clear light of day, galloping or not, they made fine targets, and although they might have felt they were out of range, Joe and I jerked our Sharps carbines clear of their scabbards and proceeded to target the three of them, one after another. The Sharps can send a bullet a long way, Miss Raber, even the shorter barreled carbine’s a shooter, and Joe’s been handy with one since the war. Long story short, two of them went down, and the last one lit out towards Intercourse and ran into my three deputies, who saw him coming. They all cheated the hangman, Miss Raber, but none of them will hurt innocent people anymore.”

  “No one else was hurt except for your deputy?”

  “I had another man wounded, but he’s doing fine.” “The man who died, was he a family man?” “No ma’am, Frank wasn’t the marrying kind.” “What about the houses?”

  “We get spring and a spell of dry weather, I believe the Amish will be having a couple of house raisings.”

  Augustine nodded. “Everyone has a place to go. Each family is moving in with another family. It will be all right. They did not touch the barns. The children are safe. We thank God. The killing we do not like, but we are grateful for the lives spared.”

  Lynndae’s head was in turmoil. “I wish there never were such men.”

  “So do I, Miss Raber,” said Sheriff Friesen quietly.

  “I wish we did not have to fight. I wish there were no fighting at all.”

  “I understand. But you know as well as any of us here that this is a sinful world where people are permitted to follow the devil’s ways if they choose. In matters like this, Miss Raber, lawful authorities must bear the sword and protect the righteous and the innocent. That is what we have done. My deputies and I were, as the Bible puts it, ministers of God, revengers ‘to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil.’”

  “I know, Sheriff, I know,” sighed Lynndae, “and I’m thankful you saved the lives of so many good people. I suppose I am just wishing it was a different sort of world altogether, one where the swords are beaten into plowshares and the spears into pruning hooks.”

  “Ma’am, the Lord hasten that day when it is true for the entire earth.”

  “Amen,” said Rosa and Augustine together.

  Sheriff Levy had left the room to look for his deputy, Flint Mitton. He walked back into the room with Mitton in tow. It looked like the deputy had something to say.

  “Go ahead,” urged Levy.

  Flint held his hat in his hands, turning it over and over in his nervousness. Again, Lynndae endured the cold blast of fright. She got to her feet.

  “What is it, Deputy?” she asked, a bit more harshly than she intended.

  “Ma’am,” Flint finally got out, “I came back with the ice about ten minutes after I left. Had to get some from the hotel a few blocks over. Doc Murphy asked me to help in his surgery. He gave me an apron to wear over my duds. He was—he was going to use his saw.”

  Lynndae felt her legs grow weak, but she was determined to remain standing and take the news Flint had come to give her. “Thank you, Deputy. May I ask why the doctor isn’t out here giving me this news himself?”

  “Why, I guess he would be, except that he’s still busy in there, what with your husband, that is, your fiancé—”

  Lynndae had a momentary image of Zeph with an empty sleeve pinned to his shoulder and a wooden leg replacing the one of flesh the doctor had cut free of the bone. Blood roared through her head. She felt Aunt Rosa’s firm arm steady her. “I understand, Deputy. There’s no need to speak any further—”

  “—sitting up all of a sudden and talking, well, pretty much of a whisper, I would say, but I could understand him. He was asking about you and asking for water in about the same breath, said the ice felt good against his skin. Well, Doc wanted you to come right quick while he’s awake so’s you might say hello—”

  Lynndae ran from the room and down the halls to the surgery door. Behind her she heard Aunt Rosa say, “Oh, thank You, Lord.” When she entered the surgery, the assistant, Tommy, was holding up Zeph’s head with one hand and a glass of water for him with the other.

  “Z!” she called to him, unable to contain her excitement.

  The doctor and his wife were washing their hands at a corner sink. She looked up and smiled at Lynndae. “I am so happy for you, dear. We are so pleased he pulled through.”

  The doctor nodded. “He is a strong man, Miss Raber. He wanted to come back. If you work in medicine long enough, they tell me, you see everything. Well, his recovery is nothing less than a miracle, and I haven’t seen anything like it. This man was definitely meant to live.”

  “And his arm and—”

  Murphy shook his head. “The way he’s coming around, I wouldn’t touch them.”

  She rushed to Zeph’s side and said to Tommy, “Thank you so much; I’ll do that,” and put her arm under Zeph’s head and shoulders.

  He s
miled up at her weakly. “Hey, I know that face,” he whispered.

  “You gave us quite a fright,” she said softly.

  “I wanted to stay awake and help you handle that ornery sheriff with the rug on his chin—”

  “Shh. He turned out all right. Got his deputy to fetch you extra ice.”

  “Well, good for him. Good to know a leopard can change its spots.” He held her gaze. “I am sorry about Seraphim, honey. He saved us.”

  It was all too much—Zeph dying and now sitting there alive, her brother fighting to protect her and now silent in a pine box. Tears filled Lynndae’s eyes. “He is coming home with us to Lancaster County. The mortician has taken good care of him, and Seraphim will be ready anytime you are able to board a train.”

  “That won’t be for a few days, I’m afraid,” the doctor spoke up, “but as soon as he is able to handle a short train journey, he’ll be all yours.”

  “I need to lie back,” said Zeph, so Lynndae gently put his head down. “Now stay with me, Conner, and hold my hand awhile.”

  “You like that name, don’t you?” “I like all your names.”

  She kissed him on the forehead. “Choose whichever you like.”

  “Can I make one up? Like a nickname?” “That would be sweet. My brothers always had nicknames for me.”

  “What about your oath to Ricky?”

  “My big brother is looking down from heaven and saying to me, ‘Lynndae Sharlayne, what the heck is the matter with you? That promise was never meant to keep you from the arms of a good man like Zephaniah Truett Parker. Have you abandoned all the common sense I raised you with in the Montana Territory?’”

  Zeph tried to laugh and choked out, “Is that a fact?”

  “It is.”

  “In that case, if there’s a cloth handy, and your brother has cottoned to me, I’d be grateful if you would bathe my forehead with cool water.” “Of course.”

  Lynndae reached across a small table next to the bed. She noticed that a tall, broad figure had filled the doorway.

  It was Augustine. His large eyes seemed to sparkle in the lamplight from the surgery. A toothpick was going back and forth in his mouth.