Charlie climbed back into the wagon. “I’m fine now. Thanks for being concerned about me.” Her sarcasm could have sliced an ice block in half.
“Was that my catalog?” Isabelle could hardly see in the gloom.
“It’s definitely a journal of some kind.” He put it in her hand. The familiar pages were worth more than a million dollars.
She pressed the catalog to her nose and breathed in its scent. “I need to read this now. They cannot know I have it or what I plan to do with it.”
“How do you propose to read it without light?” He had a valid point.
“I won’t be able to sleep unless I know what I need is in here.” She squeezed the pages as though she could extract the information through brute force.
“You won’t be able to sleep if you read it either. The reality of what you will be doing will haunt you.” Another valid point.
“I don’t want to concede that you’re correct, although you are.” She tucked the catalog under her arm and lay back down beside Mason. “I must awaken at first light. We have to stop them tomorrow and then get to Fort John as soon as possible.”
“Do you know something I don’t?”
“My sister Josephine is at the fort. However, it’s October and the weather is about to turn. I can taste it in the air.” She felt foolish for saying that out loud, but he had to understand the urgency.
“Taste it? How extraordinary. It seems most everything you do is extraordinary.” She could almost hear him smile. “I’m inclined to believe you. This part of the country has an innate ability to surprise me with the ferocity of its weather.”
“Please don’t let me sleep past sunrise.”
“I don’t think you will sleep at all.”
Isabelle agreed with him, but she would try to close her eyes for at least a few hours. Their future depended on whether she could use the monkshood properly. If she killed them, she would be a murderer and the rest of her life would be forfeit.
Isabelle had never been more frightened in her life.
Chapter Thirteen
Mason didn’t have to wake her when the sun crept across the horizon. She was already diligently studying the small journal that contained her secrets. He had faith she would use the precise amount to disabled their captors. He had to remember not to eat whatever she cooked the wolfsbane in.
She appeared satisfied with what she’d read and tucked the catalog into her bodice, then buttoned up her dress. He wanted to touch her, pleasure her and taste her passion, but now was not the time. If all went well, they would be on their way without the Beckers in a matter of an hour or less.
Movement above them signaled the Beckers were rising. Isabelle scrambled out from beneath the wagon with Mason right behind her. Gunther was lighting the fire when they arrived. Mason nodded at him and went off to perform his personal business. By the time he returned, Catherine was there and the two women were cooking up a breakfast of leftover biscuits and some ham they’d received in partial payment the night before.
Isabelle glanced at the coffee pot and then at Mason. She’d put the wolfsbane in the brew; therefore he would go thirsty. The trick would be to time the consumption of the coffee by the Beckers. Otherwise their plan would be foiled.
Camille and Charlie emerged from the wagon and Karl from the settlement. He buttoned his pants as he walked toward them, then wiping his nose with his dirty hands. The man was a breathing testament to why some humans should not procreate.
“Smells good.” He sat down beside Gunther and reached for a ham biscuit.
Catherine poured coffee and handed cups to the men and then to Camille. Charlie made a face and refused. Mason knew the child was smart and she showed it every day. He owed it to her to help Isabelle get through this.
The love of his life handed out the biscuits and then sat down with her own. She sipped, or at least pretended to sip, the hot beverage. The next five minutes were quiet, the only sound chewing and slurping. His gut almost rejected the food and he again marveled at Isabelle’s calm demeanor. The tremble in her hands was the only inkling she was nervous.
Catherine was the first to react. She pressed a hand to her mouth and the other to her stomach.
“What’s wrong with you?” Karl snapped at his wife. Then he let loose a fart that scared birds into flight.
“Jesus, Karl, can’t you go somewhere else to do that?” Camille swiped the air in front of her face. “You smell like something died inside your ass.”
Gunther then farted with a ripping, wet sound and fell to his knees, arms clutching his middle. Karl got to his feet and ran toward a nearby clump of bushes. Camille’s gaze turned to Isabelle, murder in her eyes.
“You! What did you do to my boys?”
Isabelle shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean. I’ve done nothing. We all had the same breakfast.”
Camille looked at everyone’s food and then back at Isabelle. “I know you did something to—” She broke off in mid-sentence and vomited up her breakfast with surprising force. The smell of bile floated on the air. Charlie got to her feet and ran behind her sister. Catherine watched with wide eyes and a pale face.
Camille wiped her mouth on her arm, smearing the dark vomit across her chin. “I’ll kill all of you.” She lunged for Isabelle, but help came from the unlikeliest of places—Catherine.
With a cry that sounded like a wounded animal, Catherine jumped on her mother-in-law, knocking her to the ground. Her hands wrapped around Camille’s throat, her fingers like talons. Camille attempted to punch the other woman, but while she was strong of will, Camille was weak of flesh.
Catherine, on the other hand, pulsed with fury and vengeance. All the hours spent working, cooking, cleaning, all under the direction of her mother-in-law had strengthened Catherine. Rage added another dimension, a perfect symphony of murderous intent. Camille scratched and clawed, ineffectual and pitiful, but Catherine would not be deterred.
Mason and the Chastain sisters watched as the younger woman choked the life out of Camille. Her eyes bulged in her head and her heels slammed into the ground as she tried to buck off Catherine. Her efforts did not stop the violence, but rather seemed to fuel it.
It was horrific to witness and yet none of them moved to intervene. Mason was a firm believer that what a person gave to the world they received in kind. His father was a perfect example. Camille was another. If evil and greed were what a person had, then darkness followed. Catherine might not have ever been capable of killing another human being until now.
Gunther made a choking noise but lay on the ground in a fetal position. Camille died, scratching and clawing furrows in Catherine’s face. Within minutes it was over. The stench of blood, bile, vomit and shit hung around them.
“Did that just happen?” Charlie whispered.
Isabelle jumped to her feet and went to help Catherine, but the other woman fell to her back, breathing hard. Tears rolled down her bloody face.
“Go. Run. They’ll hang me and then I can be free. Finally free.”
“I won’t leave you here. Don’t ask that.” Isabelle looked to Mason, a pleading expression on her face. “Help me.”
Mason took Catherine’s hand. “She’s absolutely correct. You cannot ask us to leave you behind. As a Southern gentleman, I cannot comply.”
Isabelle nodded, her hair flying in loose tendrils around her face. “You see? Mason will lose his standing as a gentleman. And I would never forgive myself.”
“I can’t. It has to end here. You don’t know all of it.” Catherine’s glance slid to her husband. “It’s better this way. I won’t leave.”
“Please, Catherine.” Tears rolled down Isabelle’s face. “Don’t make us choose to leave you behind. We’ve already lost Mary.”
“And I’ll be with her soon. We will be at peace. Finally.” Catherine had seemingly exorcised her a
nger and now seemed resolved to give up her life.
“I’m sorry.” Isabelle touched Catherine’s hand. “I’m so very sorry.”
“Don’t be. If we hadn’t met, I wouldn’t be free.” Catherine managed a smile before she turned her head and vomited.
Mason shot to his feet. “Charlie, help me get the oxen ready. Isabelle, pack up what you need and leave the Beckers gear behind. We’ve got to leave. Now.”
The girls jumped into action, and within ten minutes they had removed what the Beckers owned from the wagon, readied the oxen and put out the fire.
“What about the lockbox?” Isabelle stood with the ill-gotten gains the Beckers had taken.
“Keep it. You earned it. Not them.” Mason watched her wrestle with that particular notion but in the end, she put the lockbox in the wagon and jumped inside.
Gunther watched them, lying in his own vomit and feces. Mason was surprised to find guilt lurking in his heart at the agony on the big man’s face.
He squatted down, the tendrils of the banked fire curling around him. “It’ll pass. I know it may not feel that way right now, but it will pass. Leave your brother and find your own path.”
Gunther growled, but then he glanced at Isabelle, longing in his gaze. “Take care of the angel.”
“I will. Don’t follow us. Tell Karl we went south.” Mason moved the remains of the meal nearer to the prone man. Sooner or later, he would want to eat once the debilitating vomiting and diarrhea passed.
With that, he checked the wagon one last time and then jumped into the driver’s seat. Isabelle and Charlie watched him, their eyes wide. Although they didn’t resemble each other greatly, he saw their connection. The set of the pointy chin, the tightness of their mouths and, most of all, the stubborn determination in their eyes.
“Hiyah!” He snapped the reins and set the oxen into motion. The sun had crested the horizon and was full in the eastern sky, shining right in their eyes.
If they were lucky, they could reach Fort John in three days, as Camille predicted.
If they were lucky, no one would follow them.
If they were very lucky, they would make it to the fort without any more strangers, storms or mishaps.
Mason wasn’t a praying man, but right about then, he wished he were.
They pushed the oxen as hard as they dared that first day. Isabelle’s heart was in her throat the entire time. She looked behind the wagon dozens of times and even asked Charlie to check another dozen times. Isabelle wasn’t paranoid by nature, but she didn’t know if the Beckers would chase them or not. With Camille dead, it was unlikely, but Karl was a vindictive bastard. He would be furious and thirsty for revenge.
Isabelle hadn’t wanted to leave Catherine to face them all alone, but she had made that choice. Killing Camille had been her first honest action since they’d met. The mousy woman who lived under the thumb of her husband had roared and killed the woman who had kept them all in misery. They owed Catherine thanks, not abandonment.
Yet they had left, leaving her to pain and discomfort and eventually likely death at the hands of Karl. Isabelle understood everyone had to make their own decisions, but that didn’t mean she had to agree with them. Catherine had sentenced herself to death and Isabelle had let her. No matter what Isabelle had said to her, Catherine would not be deterred. Who knew the lion lurked beneath the meek exterior? Leaving her had been exceptionally hard and even now, Isabelle wanted to return for her, but her head told her not to or they would all hang.
Her heart ached for all the other woman had endured and would experience before she died. Life could be cruel, and it seemed that Catherine had received more than her fair share. Isabelle’s heart told her should have taken Catherine with them, but her head had overruled. If his wife had left, there was no length to which Karl wouldn’t go to get her back and kill everyone else.
It was better for all of them to part company. Now Isabelle could focus on finding Josephine and Frankie, the original purpose she’d adopted when they’d turned and headed east. She couldn’t allow herself excitement yet. It would be some time before she would allow herself to feel anything.
Mason squeezed her knee. “You’re going to put a permanent crick in your neck doing that.”
She started. “Doing what?”
“Looking back, expecting to see Karl and Gunther riding after us. It won’t happen.” He gave her a slow smile. “Gunther asked me to take care of you. That’s not the mark of a man willing to seek revenge with his crazy brother.”
“Karl probably killed Catherine.” Isabelle’s stomach twisted just saying it out loud.
“I expect you’re right. He is a soulless demon who sprang from the womb of a like being. I hope the settlers found them and Catherine told them a story.” Mason sighed. “She had courage and it finally erupted when we needed her most. If there is a heaven, she has a seat at the table. She’ll be free.”
Isabelle allowed herself to mourn for the woman they’d left behind. The day was heavy with fear, uncertainty and the unknown. Charlie sat in the back of the wagon, quiet and subdued. Isabelle was worried about her sister, but now that they were away from the Beckers, things would be better for all of them.
They drove the wagon until the sun set and the first stars winked in the sky. Mason found an outcropping of rocks to shield them from view and any wind. The air was crisp with the cool night air. As though the last ten days hadn’t happened, the three of them performed their chores as they had for the month previous. It was comforting to have some normalcy.
“I think we should forego the fire tonight just in case someone is following us.” Mason’s pronouncement made her heart jump.
“Did you see something?” She peered into the night, unable to see more than a few feet past the wagon.
“No, but I learned a few things from the men I traveled west with. If you might be in danger, don’t call attention to yourself. We can eat the food we have and use the blankets for heat. At least we can sleep in the wagon again.” His crooked smile made her relax a little.
“I ain’t sleeping near him.” Charlie crossed her arms, speaking for the first time in hours.
“You don’t have to. Mason and I, uh, will sleep on the other side of the wagon.” Isabelle stumbled over her words. She didn’t want Charlie to actually know what she’d done with Mason, but at the same time, she wanted to be with him all the time, awake or asleep. Guilt would plague her no matter what decision she made with sleeping arrangements. She didn’t want to hurt either of them.
Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “You damn well plan to sleep with him as Maman and Papa did.”
Isabelle’s cheeks stung. “What I do with Mason is my concern, not yours.”
“You promised me we would bring our family together again.” She pointed at Mason. “Hell, he’s not family.”
What could Isabelle say to that? She wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t right either. Mason saved her from having to respond. His words stole her breath.
“It’s true I’m not family, but I do love Isabelle. I plan to become family when I marry her.” He spoke so matter-of-factly, it took her a few moments before she digested what he said.
Charlie’s mouth dropped open and for the first time in weeks, perhaps months, Isabelle saw the child that hid behind the foul-mouthed façade. Grief, loneliness and pain shone from her brown eyes.
“Marry her?” She swiveled to look at Isabelle. “You’re going to marry him?”
“Whether or not I marry him, I will bring our family back together and you will always be my sister. I love you.” Isabelle didn’t have time to consider the impromptu marriage proposal. She reached for her sister, but Charlie darted out of the way.
“Everybody lies. You lie. Camille lied. Mason lies. Everybody fucking lies!” Charlie stomped away, her fists clenched and back ramrod straight. She went to the oxen and spoke i
nto the big one’s ear.
“I apologize if I spoke what I was thinking before asking you.” He took her hand and dropped to one knee. Her heart stuttered at the sight. “Isabelle Chastain, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
It was her turn to be overwhelmed with emotion. She joined him on the ground, knees to knees. She cupped his face. “I love you, Mason, and nothing would make me happier than marrying you. What I need from you right now is time.”
Disappointment flashed across his features before he found a smile. “I understand. Perhaps we can revisit the question soon?”
She kissed him and pulled herself away before she lost herself in his mouth. “Very soon.”
Isabelle wanted so much to crawl into the wagon and snuggle with Mason, close out the world and forget where they were and what they had to do. She was so very tired. The responsibility to keep moving, no matter what, rested on her shoulders. Hiding with the man she loved was not an option.
Tomorrow would be here soon and in two days, Fort John. Isabelle had faith they would find Josephine and then, eventually, Frankie. There wasn’t any other choice.
The snow fell softly at first. Beautiful white bits of icy crystals that reminded Mason of dandelion puffs. They flitted and floated through the air as the wagon moved east. His muscles tightened and he held on to the reins. He was surprised to find how easily he managed driving the wagon. The last six weeks had strengthened him. Ironic considering he had been nearly dead when Isabelle and Charlie found him.
The oxen wanted to turn away from the wind. No doubt the snow stung their eyes as it stung his own. He held on to the leather and kept them on course. They were less than half a day from Fort John, if Camille had been correct. Isabelle and Charlie counted on him to keep at his task, and for them, he would get them there.
The weather wasn’t the icy, sleety, wet mess that had driven them into the Beckers’ clutches, but he had no idea how bad the snow would become. He had no frame of reference, being a man from the South. There was rarely snow and when there was, everyone stayed at home and he wasn’t allowed to go outside.
The Jewel: The Malloy Family, Book 11 Page 17
