Teton Splendor

by Peggy L Henderson

  The boy pointed his gun at the man, who raised his arm and in one swift motion, backhanded the youth with such force that the boy was launched against the bunk. He sank to the ground and remained motionless. His pistol flew from his hand, and landed under one of the chairs by the table.

  Sophia’s hand shot to her mouth. She backed up until her heel made contact with the stones of the hearth. The man glared at her, a wide evil smirk spread across his face. His one eye blazed in triumph, and he pulled a knife from his belt.

  Sophia’s heart pounded up into her throat. The heat from the fire behind her was almost unbearable, but she dared not move as she stared into the face of her parents’ killer.

  “I’ve waited a long time for this.” A leery smile spread over Oliver Sabin face, and he advanced on her.

  Fear such as she’d never experienced before paralyzed Sophia to the spot where she stood. Sabin grabbed her arm and pulled her up against him. He held his knife to her throat. Sophia lifted her chin to lessen the sting of the sharp tip into her skin, and choked on the vile stench of a man in need of a bath.

  “Your mother had that same look in her eyes just before I put a bullet in her head.” He leered at her, and ran the blade of his knife along Sophia’s cheek. “You look just like her.”

  The tip of the knife indented the skin just below her lashes, and Sophia held her breath. If she moved at all, the knife would pierce her eye.

  “Plum shame I killed her right away. That sonofabitch, Laurent, could have watched while I enjoyed his woman for a while.”

  Sabin’s eye roamed over her face. “But now I have you. I told Laurent I would destroy his family after I put a bullet in his gut. He thought he could hide you away, but I always knew you’d show up again some day. Couldn’t believe it when I saw you in St. Louis.” He let the cold blade slide in circular patterns along her cheek. “Probably wouldn’t have recognized you if not for them leather britches you were wearing. I noticed you with that fella and kid when you were wearing some fancy garb, but later when you had on them britches, ya looked just like the Injun woman I remember killin’ twenty years ago.”

  The knife slid along her jaw and over her lips. Sophia dared not move. Her mouth had gone dry and her heart pounded painfully up into her throat. Sabin’s grip tightened on her arm, his fingers biting into the wound she had received from Feather in the Wind. Someone had wrapped a bandage around the arm, she realized amidst her fear.

  “What a pretty face,” Sabin taunted, and leaned closer. “It’d be a shame if my knife slipped, and I cut it up a little. Or maybe I should take your eye out, just like your father did to me.”

  Sophia swallowed back the bile that rose up her throat.

  “Joseph Walker will kill you,” she said in a low tone. Her eyes narrowed, and she refused to look away from the evil man’s stare. Anger and hatred replaced her initial terror of this man. Listening to him talk about how he had murdered her parents ignited a wave of rage inside her. If not for him, her entire life would have turned out differently. She loved Byron Yancey, but she never had the chance to know her real parents. Because of Sabin, she was denied the experience of growing up in these beautiful wild mountains. Instead, she’d been deprived of the freedom she so craved while confined to the harsh rules imposed on her by Boston society.

  Had she lived here all her life, she wouldn’t feel so helpless now. She would have learned all the things she needed in order to survive and defend herself, Even a young boy had laughed at her for not knowing how to shoot a pistol. Instead, this vile man had robbed her of a mother and her real father, and of a life she was only just beginning to understand.

  Sabin threw his head back, and laughed. “I still have an old score to settle with another Walker. Maybe I’ll start with his son. After I’m finished with you.”

  He leaned closer, and Sophia recoiled from his horrid breath. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head as far to the side as possible. How was she going to defend herself against this madman? He might kill her today, but he would not get the satisfaction of watching her cower. Somehow she would inflict as much damage on him as she could before she died.

  Sophia opened her eyes and glanced around for anything to use as a weapon. Her gaze fell to the cast iron kettle hanging over the fire, right before movement from the ground by the bunk caught her eye. The boy was regaining consciousness. With a loud groan, he sprang to his feet and threw himself at Sabin’s back. In the next instance, Sabin swayed away from Sophia. The boy wrapped his arms around the much larger man’s neck. Sabin cursed loudly and wheeled around, stabbing his knife wildly through the air. The limber small body clung to Sabin’s back with the ferocity of a mountain lion.

  “Grab the damn gun. What the hell are you waiting for?” the youth shouted. “Shoot the bastard.”

  Sabin stumbled backward, his hands wrapping around the boy’s arms. The slight youth was no match for the much bigger man. Sabin pried the boy’s arms away from his neck, and effortlessly threw him against the wooden table. His body sank to the ground.

  Sophia’s first impulse was to rush to the boy. When Sabin turned his attention back on her, her eyes darted to the hearth. She lunged for the ladle in the cast iron pot, ignoring the burn to her hand from the hot metal. In the next instance, she wheeled toward Sabin and flung the hot contents at his face.

  Sabin roared in rage, and clawed at his face with his hands. He stumbled backwards again. Sophia’s heart pounded fiercely in her chest, and she could scarcely breathe. She’d never hurt another human being before, and certainly not in such a horrific way. As if she no longer controlled her own actions, she dropped to the ground and scrambled on hands and knees to the table and dove for the gun under the chair. The youth lay in a curled up heap a few feet away. He moaned and raised his head. Their eyes met.

  “Shoot the sonofabitch,” he rasped.

  Sophia grabbed the pistol. She turned just as a heavy hand grabbed one of her legs. Sophia screamed.

  “You’ll pay for this,” Sabin growled behind her, pulling her toward him.

  Sophia gritted her teeth and kicked her other foot out, clawing at the dirt floor with her empty hand. She gripped the pistol in the other hand, and twisted her body to face Sabin. With shaky hands, she raised the weapon, and cocked the hammer as she’d seen Joseph do with his rifle. She dug her free foot into the dirt while Sabin struggled to pull her toward him. She looked up into the gruesome face of her parents’ killer. His scalded skin had turned an angry red. With bared teeth, and blazing eye, he raised his knife over her head.

  The cabin door burst open with a loud bang.

  “This is for my parents,” Sophia cried between gritted teeth. She pulled the trigger just as a second shot rang out. Sabin’s body jerked to the side, and blood splattered across Sophia’s dress. With a final groan, he fell to the ground beside her, burying her legs underneath him.

  Sophia pushed with all her might against him to pull her legs out from under his body. Strong arms reached for her and pulled her free. Seconds later she was wrapped in the protective embrace of the man she loved above all else.

  “Joseph,” she whispered, and her body collapsed against him, sobbing into his shirt.

  ****

  Joseph pulled Sophie into his trembling arms, and expelled the breath he’d been holding. His heart had nearly stopped when he kicked in the door to the cabin to see Sabin holding a knife over Sophie’s head. He fired his rifle at the same time another shot rang through the cabin. To his amazement, Sophie held a pistol in her hand. His focus had been solely on Sabin when he rushed into the cabin, and he hadn’t noticed when he fired his rifle.

  “It’s over,” he breathed against her hair. “It’s all over.” He stroked the back of her head while her body shook against him.

  “What about the other man?” Sophie’s voice rose in panic, and she pulled her head back from his chest. Renewed fear blazed in her eyes.

  “You have nothing to worry about from him,” he assur
ed her, stroking her cheek. “His name is Nathan Gibson, and he came to find me after bringing you here. He thought this was the safest place for you, but I think we all underestimated Sabin. I didn’t think Sabin would be bold enough to try anything while you were at the village, and Nathan didn’t think Sabin would be quick enough to follow him here.”

  Sophie shook her head in confusion.

  “I’ll explain about Nathan later. Let’s just say, your father sends his regards.”

  Joseph kissed the confused frown from her lips, savoring the feel of her in his arms. When he and Gibson had arrived in the vicinity of Jasper Williams’ cabin and heard gunshots, he’d urged his horse up the mountain, blinded by dread of what he would find. Jasper lay on the ground several hundred yards from his cabin, a bullet lodged in his chest. He’d confirmed Joseph’s worst fears – Oliver Sabin was here. Nathan had stayed behind to tend to Jasper while Joseph rushed to the cabin.

  A low moan came from the ground under the table, and Sophie pulled out of his embrace. She kneeled beside the injured boy, whose eyes fluttered open.

  “Help me get him over to the bed, Joseph,” Sophie called softly over her shoulder. She adjusted the boy’s fur cap on his head, and Joseph lifted him to the bunk. The kid squirmed in his arms and shot him a wary look, then curled up in a corner of the bed.

  Nathan Gibson walked into the cabin, Jasper leaning heavily on his shoulder. The boy struggled to get off the bunk, and hobbled to his father.

  “Papa,” he whispered, and wrapped his arm around the old mountain man’s waist.

  Jasper grimaced and patted his son on the head. “Gonna take more’n a bullet from some damn vermin to put me under,” he grumbled. Nathan guided him to the bunk, and Jasper sank into the furs.

  Joseph was about to pull Sophie to the side, when the cabin door bounced open again, and Lucas and his father appeared. Lucas’ eyes darted around and rested on Sabin’s body on the ground.

  “Looks like we missed all the fun,” Lucas remarked, a wide grin on his face before he shot a suspicious look at Nathan.

  After some lengthy explanations from Joseph, and again from Sophie about what had happened when Sabin barged into the cabin, Lucas and Nathan carried the dead man’s body outside.

  On their way out, Lucas slapped Jasper’s son on the back. “You sure got a lot of spunk, kid. Nice going.” The youth winced and shot him a look of undisguised disgust.

  Joseph turned to Sophie and pulled her into a corner of the crowded cabin.

  “Have I told you today how much I love you?” he whispered against her ear. He cupped her face between his hands and brought his mouth down on hers. All the fear and anguish of the last several days dissolved with that kiss. Sophie sighed softly against his lips, and wrapped her arms around his back.

  “You never cease to amaze me, you know that?” His hands lingered against her cheeks, then he pulled her firmly into his embrace.

  “I want you to teach me how to shoot a gun.” Her wide eyes stared up at him.

  Joseph grinned. His lips brushed hers again. “By the looks of it, you don’t need shooting lessons.”

  Her eyes shimmered. “I never want to feel as helpless again as I did today. Teach me to defend myself.”

  Joseph’s grin widened. “It’ll be my pleasure. Then when we go visit your father in Boston, you’ll really be able to give all those folks something to talk about. They’ll be able to say their suspicions about you were true all along. You’ll really be a savage Indian.”

  Sophie wrapped her arms around his neck. She leaned into him, her love-filled eyes sparkling up at him, and smiled.

  “I don’t care about any of those people, or what they think anymore. My future is here with you, forever among the beauty and splendor of the Tetons.”

  Epilogue

  Teton Mountains, Winter 1853

  Jasper Williams trudged through the deep snow, using his rifle to steady himself. Several times already, he’d stumbled and fallen. His cabin was still several miles away, and he would have to hurry if he wanted to reach it by nightfall.

  He stopped near a grove of pine trees, their branches weighed down heavily with fresh powder. Pulling the thick wool shawl from around his face, he opened his mouth and sucked in the frigid winter air. Swirls of his own breath curled in frosty white wisps around his face.

  Jasper cursed silently. He blinked several times, and glanced at his surroundings. The trees blurred in and out of focus, and tilted precariously. The way to the cabin was beyond those trees. Jasper turned his head. Or was it in the other direction? He leaned heavily on his rifle. Swiping his gloved hand across his sweaty forehead, Jasper swallowed. He reached for the water bladder hanging around his shoulder, and uncorked the opening. Tilting back his head, he drank deeply, water dribbling down the sides of his bearded chin.

  He drained the last of the water from the bag, and bent to scoop some snow into it. He smacked his lips together. Thirst consumed him. He reached for more of the shimmering white crystals, and hesitated. Eating snow would kill a man in this frigid climate, but his throat was on fire. He scooped up a heap of the white powder and shoveled it into his mouth. He hissed at the sharp pain when the frigid mass touched his teeth. He swallowed. The icy liquid soothed his parched throat. He repeated his actions several more times, more thirsty with each mouthful.

  Why wasn’t he cold? Sweat continued to drip from his forehead.

  Jasper pulled the fur gloves off his hands. He reached into his heavy buffalo robe, past his wool shirt to his bare skin. Sticky wetness met his fingers when he touched his chest. His wound had opened again. A dull pain throbbed where he touched it.

  “Damn,” he cursed. The gunshot wound was months old. It’s where that filthy vermin had shot him. Even though the bullet was still lodged in his chest, it should have closed over and healed by now.

  Alex Walker had done what he could, but his old friend had told him the bullet sat too close to his heart. Too risky to remove. Walker. It had been years since he’d last seen him. Right after he came back to the mountains, after . . . Jasper groaned. That was another wound that was best left alone. He didn’t want to trouble Walker with any of it, so he’d kept to himself, far away from other folks. Just him and Vic.

  When that hired gunman had showed up, Jasper wanted to put a bullet in him. At first he thought the man had come for Vic. When he mentioned the Walkers and Byron Yancey, Jasper had allowed the man to stay, but not before he made sure that . . . No one could find out. He hadn’t expected Walker and his boys to show up days later. The kind of boys a father would be proud of.

  Jasper remembered Oliver Sabin from the trapper rendezvous many years ago. Never did like the man. After that Gibson fella brought Joseph Walker’s unconscious wife to the cabin and said that Sabin might show up to kill her, Jasper had decided to scout the area and head the vermin off before he possibly showed up. He had to keep Vic safe. He never expected that vermin to outfox him and shoot him first.

  Everyone fussed over him after all the commotion was over and Sabin had gotten his come-uppance. Hell, it was just a bullet wound. Vic wouldn’t leave him be, acting just like his Molly always did. Joseph Walker’s wife bandaged him up as best as she could. Jasper could see bits of his old friend, Laurent Berard, in her eyes, but she sure favored her mother.

  Jasper chuckled. As he lay in bed, he listened to the people around him. Walker’s boy, Lucas, had apparently taken a hit to the shoulder not too long ago, from none other than Gibson, and the other Walker boy had to hold his brother down like a hog to keep him from pummeling the hired gunman. Vic sure didn’t like that Lucas boy, and told him in no uncertain terms to get out of the cabin if he couldn’t behave himself. Jasper laughed out loud, then clutched at his chest. Vic didn’t like or trust anyone, and for good reason.

  Jasper peeled the heavy buffalo robe off his shoulders, and scooped more snow into his hands. He pressed the icy ball against his wound, and hissed. The cold felt good against his heated skin.
He lifted his head and gazed into the distance. Dark clouds rolled across the sky, completely obscuring the tips of the jagged mountains. How much time had passed? A shiver passed through him. He had to get back to his cabin. But how would he hide his ailment? He didn’t want anyone to worry about him. Molly always fussed over him at the slightest sniffle.

  “Molly, I miss ya,” he whispered out loud. “Hope ya’re farin’ well.”

  How long had it been since he’d last seen his wife? Three years? Perhaps four. He couldn’t remember. Pulling his buffalo robe back on, Jasper trudged on through the snow. Hadn’t he just been here a moment ago? Deep tracks led away from the trees. The pounding in his head intensified, and the shivers traded off with the sweats as he set one foot in front of the other. His limbs grew heavier with each step he took, and he leaned heavily on his rifle.

  “I’m a comin’. I’ll be home soon,” he called through a labored breath. He had to get home. She was waiting for him, probably worried by now that he was gone so long. He promised to bring back meat. They were fresh out. She said she would have gone hunting in his stead, but there was a storm brewing. No sense in putting her life in danger, even though he knew she could shoot a buck just as well as he.

  He hadn’t shot a buck. He hadn’t seen any game today. The animals all knew a storm was coming, and they were hunkered down somewhere. He would return empty handed today. Jasper set his rifle in front of him like a staff. The butt end pushed through the snow further than he anticipated, and he lost his balance. Falling forward, he landed face first in icy flakes. Spitting and cursing, Jasper pushed himself onto his knees. The deep powder seemed to swallow him up as he struggled to regain his footing.

  He sat on his haunches to catch his breath. Just a few minutes of rest wouldn’t hurt. He glanced up at the sky again. Snow drifted in flurries from the heavens. Jasper coughed deeply, and spit out the phlegm that came up from his lungs. His wound ached from the effort. He closed his eyes, and sank back into the snow. “Molly, I done the right thing. Tell me I done the right thing.” He couldn’t let them hurt her. There she was, right in front of him, smiling her approval.