The Fire in Ember

by DiAnn Mills

  “John Timmons, where are you going?”

  Caught. “Sorry, Doc. A matter has come to my attention, and I need to handle it.”

  “It can wait till morning.”

  John wasn’t one of his nine boys. “No, it won’t.”

  Doc wagged a finger at him. “Go on then. But when you take to bleeding again, you’re going to get a lecture so bad that you’ll wish I’d taken you behind the woodshed.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “I hope the little lady is worth the delay in your arm healing.”

  “I — ”

  Doc waved him away. “As I said, you and Parker are cut from the same tough piece of leather. Get your courtin’ done and get back here, or I’m coming down to Bess’s after you.”

  Courtin'. He was beginning to despise that word.

  CHAPTER 24

  Mr. Oberlander.” Leah sized up the lines fanning from the man’s eyes, and fear rippled through her heart. “Won’t you come in?”

  “Evening, Leah.” He stepped inside, hat in hand. “Are the other boys here?”

  “Only Davis. What’s wrong?” She took a breath to gain control. “Please, sit down.” She motioned to a chair at the table. “This is about John, isn’t it?”

  “Yes ma’am. That’s why I’m here. But he’s going to be all right.”

  She touched her chest as though she could slow her heart’s incessant beating. “I’ve had a bad feeling all day.”

  “I’m sure it’s difficult having him work as a deputy during hard times. One of my hands who rode with John and Marshal Culpepper returned a bit ago, and I thought you should be aware of what happened.”

  She trembled. “Tell me, Victor. All I can think about is when Frank was shot.”

  “The posse found Leon Wilson in an old cabin. From what my ranch hand said, there were nine men who surrounded the place. John attempted to go in after Leon, but he was shot in the arm — just a flesh wound. Nothing serious.” Victor touched her shoulders. “He’s all right. Doc Slader treated him and thought it best for John to spend the night at his home. Mind you, Miss Leah, your son wanted to ride back tonight, but Doc wanted to keep an eye on him.”

  Leah nodded, biting into her lower lip to keep from crying. “Thank God, he’s all right.”

  “John’s a strong young man. My hand said he was attempting to bring Leon in for questioning without using force.”

  She sniffed. “My son, the hero.”

  “Yes ma’am.” Victor looked around. “Where are the other boys?”

  “Out checking on the cattle. I’ve been expecting them.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay until they get here.”

  She smiled and let relief flow through her. “I appreciate your kindness. Excuse my poor manners. Can I get you something?”

  “I’m fine. I’ll just sit here with Davis until your sons ride in.”

  For once Leah was glad to have Victor Oberlander for company.

  John didn’t realize how much his left arm hurt until he stepped out onto the dark street and attempted to take his usual stride toward the hotel. The laughter of those who chose to solve life’s problems with whiskey and gambling, and in the arms of paid women, resounded from the saloon. His father had used the diversion of strong drink and gambling as an ointment from Civil War memories. But he’d been faithful to his wife. Because of Frank Timmons’s weakness, John kept a watchful eye on his brothers. They remembered how their father coped with his demons, and John didn’t want them indulging in the same.

  He moaned with the sharp stab of pain, a reminder of what had happened to him in an effort to question Leon. The man’s body had reeked of alcohol. If he’d not been drinking, maybe he would have listened to Bob. Instead he lay dead. Sad to see a man’s life wasted. Made him more determined to find out who was working with him.

  But what about Bert? At times John feared she’d end up the same way. So much he didn’t know. What he did know was she’d been hurt and was scared. She had a kind heart and didn’t mind work … Music seemed to be a part of her, like a fire inside her. He marveled at the way she could pick up the fiddle and play like it was second nature. And when she sang, her clear voice reminded him of an angel.

  The day would come when he’d be able to say her real name, but not yet. Right now he had to stop her from running again.

  The reality of her leaving hit him in the gut, and anger seemed to make the throb in his arm hurt even more. Were his actions tonight merely concern for a lost and lonely girl? Or was it a nagging suspicion that she was playing some kind of a game, and her sweetness was a cover-up for something else? He stomped onto the boardwalk in front of the hotel with the awareness that fury didn’t solve a thing. Easier to give out advice than it was to follow it.

  He stepped inside and glanced about, hoping to see Bert working. Bess bustled about the dining area, smoothing out tablecloths and placing silverware to the right and left of where a plate would be set. She glanced toward the door at him. If her glare had been a bayonet, he’d have been a dead man.

  “What are you doing out of bed?” Her tone should have startled him, but he was a man on a mission.

  “I need to see Bert.”

  “She’s in bed. I worked her pretty hard today.”

  “Check on her for me, will you? If she’s there, ask her to meet me out here.”

  “What do you mean ‘if'? I saw her go to bed.”

  John had no intention of explaining the situation to Bess. “I want to make sure she’s all right.”

  Bess shook her head and disappeared into the kitchen. A few minutes later she approached him with quickness in her step. Was that a new line on her face?

  “John, she’s not here. I’m sorry. No one saw her leave. She must have climbed out the window.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see if I can find her. She couldn’t have gone far on foot.”

  Bess frowned. “Unless she stole a horse.”

  A queasy sensation in his stomach once more churned doubt about the girl. “Let’s hope not, but I’ll start at the livery.”

  John hurried toward the livery, not knowing if he wanted to find her there. Sure would reinforce the accusations flying around if she was caught with a horse. A stable boy sat by a bale of hay reading a dime novel by lantern light.

  “Anyone show up tonight wanting a horse?”

  The boy’s head jerked to attention. He must have been knee-deep into the story. “No sir. Haven’t seen anyone.”

  “Are all of your horses here?”

  Confusion etched into his young face. “I reckon. Would you like for me to check, Mr. Timmons?”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  The boy rushed to his feet, novel in one hand and a lantern in the other. “They’re all here,” he said from the back of the livery.

  “Thanks.” John glanced out into the street, realizing Bert could have taken only one way out of town. And she was on foot. “I’ll take my horse. Can you saddle it for me? My arm is paining me a bit.”

  “Yes sir. I heard you were shot while going after cattle rustlers.” Already the boy had made his way to John’s gelding in a rear stall.

  “Yeah, got in the way of a bullet.”

  A few moments later, the boy led the horse to John. He tossed him a nickel and swung up into the saddle as awkward as a city slicker. A deep groan escaped his lips, and he felt embarrassed. Grown men, especially those who uphold the law, were supposed to be tough.

  Touching his heels to the gelding’s flanks, he set his sights on finding one girl on a dark road.

  Lord, I need help. Where would she have headed?

  When he found her, they were going to finish the discussion they should have finished the day he brought her home.

  CHAPTER 25

  Bert followed the road out of Rocky Falls southeast in the direction of Denver. Ordinarily, she’d cut across fields and keep moving, but no one would be looking for her tonight. The new moon lit a faint silvery trail and stars d
otted the clear night. As much as she hated that John had been wounded, the situation allowed her to leave town undetected.

  Still, she hurried. The five-dollar gold piece tucked into her britches would have to be rationed out if she were to make it to Denver and then on to Texas. She’d run for six months before, and she could walk even longer to keep all of the Timmonses safe.

  She wore the same clothes she’d worn the day Leon tried to hang her, except they were clean. But she’d remember wearing a dress — and so much more.

  The terrain heading to Denver was rolling, easy to walk, not like heading north into the foothills and then the mountains. However, she fretted about taking the flatlands, even though they were easier to walk; folks could see a lone figure for miles on those stretches.

  Heading west and north had its own share of danger. The mountains offered a reprieve from anyone trailing her, but the ability to hide came with a price. Narrow, rocky trails and dangerous ledges could send her to her death. And the higher she climbed, the more she risked colder temperatures. She’d made the right decision by heading south. Maybe in Denver she’d find work—change her name so Simon wouldn’t be able to find her. And then on to Texas.

  Better yet, maybe he’d given up trying to find her. Figured she wasn’t worth it. He’d never believe she wanted to return Oberlander’s mare. Instead he’d think she rode the horse to wherever she was going.

  A plan … she needed a better plan and needed to stick to it.

  Bert yawned. The chores from today had made her more tired than usual. She’d sleep at daylight until about noon before moving on. Already loneliness had crept inside, leaving her cold and empty. The sound of hoofbeats seized her attention. She swung around, realizing she didn’t have a weapon and she couldn’t see well in the dark.

  “Bert, you have become worse than a case of chiggers.”

  John. Defeat caused tears to form in her eyes. Why wouldn’t he leave her alone? She turned back around and continued to walk.

  “You can keep on walking, but I’m riding beside you.”

  “Please leave me alone. I don’t know how else to make you see that it’s better this way.”

  “Try me. I might understand.”

  She read the hopeful lift in his voice. “There is nothing I can do.”

  “Why not tell me the truth about yourself?”

  Her shoulders slumped as the impossibility of what he asked coursed through her weary body.

  “Well?”

  “I’d be better off if you’d shoot me right now.”

  “That’s rather pathetic for a gal with spunk.”

  “The spunk’s all gone. Not so sure I ever had any.”

  “I think you’re feeling sorry for yourself.”

  “And what if I am?”

  “It doesn’t solve anything, Ember.”

  Ember. He’d not used her given name before. “I’ve told you all I can. I’m not running from the law or a husband.”

  “Fine.”

  What did he mean by that? “So you’re letting me go?”

  “Nope. Are you tired of walking yet?”

  “I’m not tired at all.”

  “How about running?”

  She was plenty tired of sores on her feet and a hungry belly, but she’d not admit it. “For a man who has a ranch as big as yours, you sure are hurtin’ for money to chase me down for less than one hundred dollars.”

  “It’s not the money.”

  First he called her Ember, then he told her it wasn’t the money. “Then what is it?”

  “A woman who needs help.”

  Now he called her a woman. “I can manage on my own.”

  “If I can catch you, so can whoever is after you.”

  John was right, but she’d not give him the satisfaction of confirming it. “I’m not one of your brothers for you to look after.”

  He chuckled. “I’ve noticed. You’ve noticed me too. That’s why we fuss so much.”

  Bert’s heart leaped. Had she heard right? “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do. Remember the time I reached for the basket of peas and our fingers touched? We both felt a jolt of lightning then.”

  “John, I’m not good for you.”

  “You haven’t convinced me about that. Climb up behind me and let’s get back to town. I’m hurtin’ and you need sleep. I want to know the truth, but I’m too tired to get it out of you. We’ll sort this out in the morning.” He sighed, and she assumed he was talking out of his head. “We can start by being friends and planting a seed of trust.”

  She knew exactly what he meant, and a part of her really wanted what he offered. “You were right the first time you sized me up. I’m trouble.”

  “Nothing new there.”

  Bert allowed the quiet sounds of night to keep her company while she pondered what to say. John deserved to know what he was up against in order to protect those he loved. Yet the thought of reaching out and grasping a day brimming with hope sounded nearly impossible. And she wanted to believe John could stop Simon, but John was good and cared about folks. Simon cared about no one but himself. “These men are not afraid to use their guns. And I’m worried about what they might do to you or your family.”

  “We can talk about all of it.”

  If only she could believe for just a little while—like a child’s fantasy where the world was perfect. Yet in the darkness with the bright stars and the sliver of a moon, she’d believe until sunlight brought her back to reality. “What about Evan?”

  “We’ll work it out.”

  Bert stopped and reached for the saddle, knowing he couldn’t help her up with his wounded arm. “I don’t understand any of this.”

  “Neither do I.”

  Somehow his admission comforted her, and she allowed herself to lean slightly closer into him. If only for tonight.

  John laughed into the black corners of his room at Doc Slader’s home. When he’d returned from chasing down Bert and delivering her back to Bess, the man was asleep in his chair with a book on his lap. The moment the door closed behind him, Doc jumped and snorted. He called every one of his nine sons’ names, demanding what was going on.

  “It’s me, John Timmons,” he said. “I’m back and going to finish the night here.”

  “Night, my eye. It’s nearly dawn.”

  “Sorry to waken you.”

  “That’s all right. Are you bleedin'?”

  John’s bandage was not spotted with fresh blood, but it sure felt like someone had lit a match to it. “No sir.”

  “Do you need a cup of yarrow tea for the pain?”

  John wasn’t about to bother a man who needed to be in bed. Besides, the pain had grown worse because of his insistence on going after Bert. “No sir. I’ll be fine.”

  “I know better. But suit yourself.”

  John bid him good night and made his way into the room that doubled as a patient and guest room. He figured tonight he was both. He laid down, too exhausted to sleep. His mind focused on the shooting and every detail surrounding the unfortunate circumstances that left Leon Wilson in a pool of blood. The posse reacted with no sense at all once John was hit. And yet the idea that Leon had stolen cattle on his own, especially over one hundred head, didn’t seem credible. He lacked the intelligence to put together a clever plan—no disrespect for the man’s intelligence intended. Leon had been working with someone, but who? And the “who” was holed up somewhere with stolen cattle.

  The scene just prior to the shooting played out before him. John had crept behind the small cabin, and Leon shot him from inside. Whoa. How did Leon know where he was standing when a window didn’t exist in the cabin? Through the cabin’s cracks? Or a lucky shot? Or was a second man involved? John considered the direction of the weapon in relation to where he’d been wounded. The bullet had entered the back of his upper left arm and gone out the other side. Impossible for Leon. Why hadn’t he realized this sooner? The shooter had to come from the grove o
f trees behind the men. He needed to tell Bob, and he wasn’t going to wait until morning.

  Pulling himself from the bed, he once more fought with his boots while his arm ached. He touched it and realized the wetness on his fingers was blood. He could only imagine Doc’s lecture.

  CHAPTER 26

  The following day, John didn’t waken until nearly noon.

  For certain, he must have been beaten and left for dead, because every muscle in his body screamed for mercy, and his arm throbbed every time his heart beat. For once he wished he was a drinking man so he could allow the whiskey to numb him all over. Coward’s way out, but oh so tempting.

  Last night and early this morning clearly indicated John’s stupidity. When he returned from talking to Bob Culpepper and crept inside Doc’s house, he was certain the family would be asleep. Instead Doc was again snoozing in his chair by a dim lantern. John thought he’d gotten by with his second exit of the evening, but when he turned the doorknob to the bedroom, Doc startled. He lectured him for nearly fifteen minutes.

  “John, do you have scrambled eggs for brains?” Doc struggled to his feet. “Look at that arm. I can tell from here it’s bleeding again.” The words of wisdom flowed freely, with John being compared to a mule, his Uncle Parker, and a few animals’ posteriors.

  With fresh bandages, Doc ordered him to bed with the threat of hog-tying him there. Maybe John wouldn’t have felt so bad this morning if he’d listened last night. But if he hadn’t gone after Bert, she’d have been long gone by now. He’d come as close as a man could to telling her how he felt. When this cattle rustlin’ business was over, he and Bert had plenty to talk about.

  John had needed to tell Bob what he’d surmised about the shooting. Bob hadn’t appreciated being wakened before dawn until John explained why he’d come.

  “ … So Leon couldn’t have shot you. Another man in the woods behind us had to have pulled the trigger. Any idea who?”

  “Not at all. Thought you might have an answer. The shooter must have wanted Leon dead. Which leads me to believe the cattle rustlin’ isn’t over yet.”

  “You’re probably right. Glad I wired Denver for help.” Bob rubbed his face and yawned. “I’m up now. Guess I’ll get an early start on the day.” He peered at John’s arm. “You’re bleeding.”