by Griggs, Winnie; Pleiter, Allie; Hale, Deborah; Nelson, Jessica
Casting his eyes through the open door into the infirmary, Clint saw that the room was still in an orderly state. “They didn’t think to take supplies from the infirmary, so they’ll need food, water and medicine. Lars, you discovered some of their caches. Which ones are closest?”
Lars closed his eyes in thought, and Clint turned to see Elijah on horseback and Alice in the wagon coming up the way. They were expecting a joyful reunion, not another dose of trouble. It took Lije all of three seconds to read his brothers’ expressions. “No.” His word was almost a moan as he swung down off his saddle.
“McGraw’s got Katrine and Evelyn,” Gideon snarled. “Somehow that snake slithered right out from under those Chaucer noses and he’s got them. Him and Wellington.”
“But they were both injured. McGraw especially.” Alice came down off the wagon to grasp her husband’s arm. “I’m sorry I stitched him up at all. But it was a bad wound, Clint. If he’s running off like that, the stitches will never hold.”
“He’s still bleeding,” Lars said, pointing to the red spots on the ground. “And badly enough to not venture far. I think they would go to the shack downriver from Gideon’s. Or the cave up over the ridge to the southwest beyond where our cabin was.”
“Where your cabin will still be,” Clint corrected, although it didn’t seem a detail worth worrying about at the moment. Still, the thought of those windows without Katrine’s face peering out of them made him want to pummel McGraw with his bare hands.
“Why are we standing here?” Gideon growled, pacing. “Every moment we wait they get farther away!”
Lars gave Clint a steady look. “It must be one of those places. The others have only ammunition, not food and shelter, right?”
“Only ammunition?” Gideon cut in. “You said they were well armed. They’re going to where they’ve got more?”
Clint grabbed Gideon’s shoulder. “Look at me.” He held his brother’s gaze until the wild rage steeled to a hard, determined focus. “Do you care how many guns they have?”
“No,” Gideon said.
Clint would have ridden straight into a cavalry with a dozen cannons to save Katrine. “Neither do I. We will get them back. We will.” He felt his resolve settle down into that rock-solid place that made him the lawman he was. It was now an indisputable fact: the sun would not go down on this day until he gazed into the blue of Katrine’s eyes.
“Lije, you ride southwest with Lars. Gideon, you and I will take the spot downstream.” He handed Alice the keys to his sheriff’s office. “Alice, run into town and wake Daniel O’Grady. Send him over to the Chaucers with the handcuffs from my office. I want those last two locked up in a cell as fast as we can. Tell Dan to scare them up a bit on the way—maybe they’ll rat out their partners who left them to hang.”
“We’ll need more than the four of us,” Elijah cautioned. “If they’re desperate enough to try this, they’ll be desperate enough to try anything.”
“What are you saying?” Clint’s impatience was starting to match Gideon’s.
“The Chaucers will help you. Evelyn’s their kin.”
“The Chaucers are the ones who let McGraw get away in the first place!” Gideon barked.
“You don’t know that,” Elijah argued.
Clint had to admit Lije was right. “Even if it’s so, that’ll make them all the more willing to hunt McGraw and Wellington down. Swing by the Chaucer place and fill them in. Take one with you and send the other two downstream to us.”
“Chaucers and Thorntons working together,” Alice said as Elijah helped her up into the wagon. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Well, God is mighty fond of surprises,” Clint replied, bringing a stunned stare from Lije. “I hope He’s mighty fond of justice, too. Let’s go!”
*
“There now,” Private Wellington said with a civility Katrine did not at all feel. “Ain’t that homey?” He had spread a thin blanket across a pallet on the floor of the ramshackle structure and handed a tin of canned meat each to Katrine and Evelyn.
Evelyn frowned at the Property of the United States Cavalry stamp on the tin. “You steal food from the government?”
“Those rations are necessary provisions for our well-being,” McGraw said as he took another healthy swig from a whiskey bottle Katrine also imagined he would classify as “necessary for his well-being.” He’d broken into the crate of liquor first thing upon pushing into the shack and hadn’t let up yet. It didn’t take Alice’s nursing skills to see he was in a great deal of pain. He grimaced with every movement and a sheen of sweat covered his face and arms. A wet blotch of purple stained his dark blue pants.
McGraw followed her gaze, and subsequently nodded at Evelyn. “You finish off that ham and then you’ll tend to my leg.”
Evelyn’s chin rose. “I’ll do no such thing.”
McGraw slammed the bottle down on the table where he sat with his leg propped on one rickety chair. “I’d advise you to drop your contentious Chaucer ways if you have a mind to live until sundown.”
“I’m no nurse.” Evelyn’s reply was more defiant than Katrine thought wise. Clint, come save us! He will only grow more mean as the pain goes on. Lars, find us!
“You got a boy, don’t you? I ain’t never met a mother didn’t know how to bind up a wound. That box over there has a medical kit inside, and if you know what’s good for you you’ll put it to good use.”
Wellington, as if it would help matters, turned the little tin key that peeled the top off the tin of ham and handed it to Evelyn. He’d done the same for Katrine, and terrible as the rations tasted, she was too hungry to refuse what might be her last meal for hours if not days. Wellington waited a minute or two as Katrine choked down the last of the awful, salty ham. “You,” he said, pointing to Katrine, “come with me to fetch some water from the river.”
“Don’t leave me alone with him,” Evelyn cried out.
Her alarm only brought a snicker from McGraw. “Don’t you worry your little head over that, missy. I’ve no eye for dark eyes and hair.” He turned to Katrine, and she saw McGraw eye her with the same barely concealed appetite she’d seen at the mercantile that one day. “I like ’em with yellow locks.”
His gaze was so hungry that Katrine gladly followed Private Wellington out of the shack just to be away from it. She had always thought that the murderer from her younger years was the most evil man she had ever met, but McGraw was more awful still. Grabbing a pair of buckets, Wellington led them down a small path toward an offshoot of the Cimarron River. At least she hoped it was the Cimarron River—she’d lost all sense of direction in the wild ride to this camp.
Katrine looked up at the thin pale sky, trying to find the sun behind a blanket of gray clouds. She prayed that God would stave off the rain so as not to wash away the tracks, as Lars had always said. It had become clear that their only hope of safety was if Lars or Clint were able to track them to wherever it was McGraw had taken them.
Where am I? She peered at the tree line as she walked, scanned the landscape for anything that looked familiar. She hadn’t even the sun to work out the direction they’d ridden. Nothing she could see proved any help at all. Katrine tried to not let her rising panic get the best of her wits, for they seemed to be all she had to help herself now. Find the drafty corner and start kicking. She could almost hear Clint whisper the words in her ear.
Wellington let out a groan of pain as he leaned into the river to fill his bucket. He seemed less evil than McGraw—a soft man merely following orders. Perhaps he was the weak corner in all this danger and she could make some headway with him.
“You are hurt?” she asked, pointing to where the private clutched his side.
“Don’t you worry about that. I’ll be fine.”
He clearly wasn’t, but she was unsure how far to push the subject. She tried to imagine how Clint had talked the soldiers away from her cabin. “Getting alongside them,” he’d called it. Could she get alongside Well
ington? “Why do you follow him?” Katrine kept her voice light as she bent over to fill her own bucket.
“What kind of fool question is that?”
“He has no honor, no loyalty. Not to you. Not to anyone.” With the hand that wasn’t holding the bucket, Katrine worked the pale blue ribbon from her braid, bunching it up in one fist.
“You just shut your yappin’, missy. I’m of my own mind here. I know where my reward is and where it isn’t.”
“I do not see reward here.” Behind her back, Katrine began winding the ribbon around a branch at the top of a nearby bush.
When Wellington slammed his bucket down, spilling water over his feet, Katrine startled, but kept herself between Wellington and her ribbon so he could not see. “You hush up!” he barked, and she knew she’d hit a nerve. “Look what you made me do! Now, you go refill that bucket for me, you loudmouthed foreigner woman.” He tugged a second black kerchief from his pocket, using it to mop up his wet boots. Katrine went down to the water’s edge and, as she filled the bucket, piled three small stones one on top of the other. It was the way Lars marked his trails. Katrine held a vision of Lars and Clint riding through the growing light, working their way toward her, guns drawn and eyes relentless in their search for clues. Find me, she called out in her mind, not caring how futile the gesture was. I’m kicking. Come save me.
“I said hurry up there!” Wellington’s tone was becoming an all-too-close copy of McGraw’s nasty commands. Katrine began to worry she’d pushed too hard, angering the private instead of getting on whatever good side he might still have left under all that greed.
As they worked their way back up to the shack, Katrine’s eyes cast about the clearing. No clue of their location came to her. She could now guess they’d ridden east, but that was all. East by the river. It was something, but useless if she could not find a way to get the information to Clint or Lars.
Back inside the shack, Evelyn was gathering discarded strips of bloody bandages to toss into the small fire. McGraw’s pant leg had been cut away, showing angry red skin covered in new bandages. Katrine poured some of the water from her bucket into a bowl so that Evelyn could wash her hands.
“I left my ribbon by the riverbank,” she whispered as she handed Evelyn the cake of soap. “Lars might recognize it. He tracks well.”
“We rode for hours,” Evelyn sighed. “Heaven knows where we are.” She stopped and held one hand to her waist, closing her eyes. “Heaven does know where we are. I need to remember that.” She shook her head. “Poor Walt. He must know by now that I’m missing. My poor boy.”
“I’m sure Gideon has given him as much reassurance as he can. And all of them are out looking for us. They must be.”
“Unlessen you want your gags back on those pretty little mouths, you’d best shut them now,” McGraw called from his chair in the corner. “Jesse, tie them back up.”
“No, please,” Katrine pleaded, her wrists still raw from their last binding.
“You needn’t do that,” Evelyn added, backing away.
Jesse sneered at Katrine, then looked back to McGraw. “Why do we have them with us anyways? They’re bothersome.”
“We need ’em. They’re leverage.”
“I’m tired of looking at ’em, and them staring at me. Let’s just leave ’em and get out of here.”
“No!” McGraw growled, rising out of his chair.
“Well, I’m lockin’ them up in the next room.” Jesse pointed to the small shed attached to the cabin through a makeshift doorway. “At least I won’t have to look at ’em, that way.”
“You want them waltzing away on us?” McGraw called back.
“Where would we go?” Evelyn flung her hand wide. “We have no idea which way town is and you have our only food.”
“This room here has a lock and no windows. A bar over the door and they’re as good as tied up.” He eyed Katrine. “I need me some shut-eye. We been up all night.”
The shed didn’t look too comfortable, but Katrine prayed McGraw would concede. Anything was better than being in his company.
McGraw flicked his hand in the direction of the shed. “Well, go on then, lock ’em up.”
Chapter Nineteen
Evelyn dusted off her skirt and pushed her hair back off her forehead. “It’s filthy, but it’s a far sight better than being in there with them.”
Katrine was grateful that the privacy of the shed allowed her to undo her collar buttons and roll up her shirtsleeves. “I wish we had asked for water. It is hot in here.” She leaned against the wall. To be in a small, hot room with no windows made her pulse pound from memories of the fire.
Evelyn caught her reaction. “Are you all right? You seem ill.”
She was sweating and short of breath, but it wasn’t from illness. “It feels…” she groped for the words, English always failing her for such emotional subjects “…too much like the fire.”
“Such an awful thing.” She looked back toward where the men were. “To know he did that to you. To think we all trusted them to be the law and order here.”
“I am glad we have Clint as our law and order.”
Evelyn’s eyes warmed. “He is a good man. He saved you.”
Katrine’s mind cast back to the moment where her flailing hands found the strength of his. “Yes,” she said quietly, the memory still able to overcome her at a moment’s notice. “I am safe because of him.”
“Only we’re not safe. Not yet, at least.” Evelyn worried her hands in her skirts. “They could choose to kill us at any moment.” She looked at Katrine. “I’ve never seen anyone shot in cold blood like that, have you?”
Poor Evelyn, she had no idea the terrible weight of the question she had just asked. Katrine felt her answer claw its way up and out of her chest. “I have,” she nearly whispered. “Once.” She didn’t think she possessed the energy to hold up any deception in this close, stifled place. It wasn’t the whole of the story anyhow. “I was younger. It was terrible.” Even those facts felt a step too far, although some small part of her was amazed that she had admitted even that much and not fallen to pieces. Katrine rushed to change the subject. “Think of Walt. He is safe from all of this, and Gideon is so fond of him. And now he has two more uncles to dote on him.”
“I’ve spent so many years hearing of the evils of the Thornton family. It seems a terrible waste, doesn’t it? Clint’s warnings undoubtedly fell on deaf ears. My brothers weren’t likely to believe such tales from a Thornton.” She put her hand to her forehead. “But if Clint and Lars were able to get through and warn them…”
“Yes,” Katrine encouraged. “We must hope.”
“Thou art my hope in the day of evil. It’s from Jeremiah, I think.”
“This is a day of evil, to be sure. Those are terrible men. But I do not think they mean to kill us now, or they would have done so. We are—what is the word?—hostages.”
“Yes, hostages.” Evelyn sat down on the blanket, the shed wall groaning as she leaned her back against it.
Katrine thought about the drafty corner, wondering if she would be forced to kick her way out of this tomb, as well. Come quickly, Clint. Save me again. She sat down beside Evelyn. “We shall choose to hope, yes? Hope in Clint and Lars and Gideon, and all your brothers?”
“They are strong, smart men, but God holds our futures more than they, don’t you think?”
Katrine let her head fall back against the wall, watching the dust float lazily through the air as though it hadn’t a care in the world. “Such trust is not easy for me.”
“I’ve seen you in service. I’ve heard Lars talking to Winona about faith. Surely you believe in God’s sovereignty?”
Katrine felt her sigh come up through her every bone. “I believe the world is a broken place that needs God’s mercy very much.”
Evelyn pulled back to look at her. “But you speak as if all that mercy is for someone else. Now I am sure Clint is sweet on you—you sound just like him.”
; Katrine’s mouth fell open to hear such an assurance. “Truly?”
Evelyn managed the only smile Katrine had seen from her all day. “Now that I look back, it is easy to see. And when I think of it, I believe Gideon knows, as well. He said something about Clint softening up to a certain kind of sunshine the other day, and I didn’t catch his meaning. Now I do.” She rested a hand on Katrine’s wrist. “You suit each other well, I think.”
“He is older,” Katrine offered.
Evelyn furrowed her brow. “I don’t see how that matters, especially out here.”
“He is so serious.” Katrine had a dozen reasons why they might never be happy.
“Maybe he wasn’t always. Maybe you and your stories will be good for him.”
“I do not think he wants a great big family like I do.”
Evelyn’s amused face darkened completely at this fact. Katrine was glad—some part of her knew she could keep listing small reasons, but the big reason of her past would come out if she kept going. “He does.” Her tone was very strange.
“He wants a large family?” Katrine had never seen anything to make her think this. She’d seen him go out of his way to avoid children. And yet, he was patient and tender with Walt and Dakota. Clint could be so kind if he thought no one was looking.
“I think Clint would like very much to have the big, full family he never had.” Evelyn’s face became very peculiar when she added, “But wanting is not the same thing as having.”
“He has never married, yes?”
Evelyn tightened her hand around Katrine’s wrist. “Katrine, I’m not so sure this is mine to tell, but maybe God’s made it so you can know. I think Clint has a heart big enough for an enormous family, but he…can’t.”
“Can’t?”
“Clint had the fever when they were children in Pennsylvania. He was off helping some poor family down the street and they took sick. Clint brought that sickness home to the rest of the boys but he got it much worse than Gideon and Elijah. Nearly died, to hear Gideon tell it. And, well…it’s an awful story, really. Clint cannot be a father. Worse yet, their cousin Obadiah used it against Clint. Told him it was a curse, that he’d been denied the chance to be a father because he’d brought illness home to the family. Can you imagine? It’s tragic enough already, but to make a young boy think he’d brought such a thing upon himself?”
