“We might as well face it, Petra girl, we can’t hide out from the world; it’s bound to find us.”
With her head tilted up to his, she nodded. The sorrow he read there in the depths of her blue eyes and the sober, droop of her full lips, pained him. She didn’t care for the truth any more than he did.
Turning her gaze down to her plate, she heaved a sigh. “It’s just that I like the feeling of you and me being the only two people on earth. All I need is you—and Gabriel. I don’t want to think about what’s happening out there—beyond this haven I’ve found. All I want is for the world to leave us alone. I know we could be happy for a very long time, if we just stayed apart from everyone else.”
Buck set the fry pan on the stove and came back to sit at the table. “That’s what I always thought,” he said, his hand going to Gabriel’s warm, soft as bunny-fur head.
Buck’s gaze locked with hers. Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears.
“It’s no life, no life at all, Petra. I thought I was doin’ just fine, livin’ out here by myself. I hated bringing you here. You were the trespasser, you and Gabriel, you were the intruders, keeping me from what I thought I wanted, solitude, days and nights of empty hours of solitude. But now, I can’t imagine going back to a vacuum of emptiness.”
Swiping the tears from her eyes, Petra lifted her chin and looked him defiantly in the eye. “I’ll tell you what’s worse. It’s much worse to find yourself alone in a room full of people, people you thought were devoted to you. It’s worse to be alone and to have no one who cares if you live or die. I’ve been delivered into your care, Mathias, for a reason. You are the answer to my prayers.”
He couldn’t help it—that made him laugh. “If that’s true, then the Lord has a keen and vicious sense of humor, if there is a higher power, that is. Which, I’ve never put much store in.”
Petra rose and put Gabriel in his cradle. She looked down on him with wonder. Her boy smiled back and cooed, kicked his little legs and found his feet.
She went back to the table, bent over, and put both her hands to Buck’s cheeks. “You are an angel, Mathias. You’re my angel,” she whispered, and leaned in for a long, deep kiss.
Buck growled, dragging her across his lap, one hand on her butt and the other coming around her back and under her arm. “To hell with breakfast.”
Picking her up, he carried her across the room to the bed. They collapsed, arms and legs entwined, lips devouring, and then, from above stairs, they heard Smiley cough, then retch and bark like a seal.
With his hand up her shirt, caressing her breast, Buck hissed. “Shit.”
Petra pressed her forehead against his. “Maybe you can sleep down here tonight.”
Buck nodded in silent hope.
Straightening her shirt and sitting up in the bed, Petra sighed. “I’ll bring up a plate of food. And some for Mr. Cummings.”
“One way or another we’re gonna find time for us,” Buck promised her, and himself, as he pushed off the bed.
“Like I told you, the only higher power I know has a vicious sense of humor and usually the joke is on me.”
One more kiss and he headed upstairs with the mail in his hand. At least he’d have something to read while playing nursemaid to the old peckerwood.
Chapter Twelve
Smiley had settled down after taking a few bites of Petra’s skillet dish and some clear broth. Afterward, Buck poured more of his secret remedy down the man’s gullet, which took effect within minutes. Now with Smiley sleeping like the dead, Buck sat on the floor, his back against the wall, to read his mail. Downstairs, the baby fussed for a few moments before Petra responded, her gentle voice singing through the house and up the stairwell. Buck longed to join her.
From the bottom of the stairwell, Petra called his name in a voice between a whisper and a hiss, “Mathias?”
Buck got to his feet, going out the bedroom door and standing at the head of the stairs to look down the stairwell into her upturned face, “I’m going outside to do a wash.”
“Bundle up. Take the mackinaw. I’m up here readin’ my correspondence.” She shook her head at him and giggled, then headed outside with Gabriel snug and secure in his sling against her bosom, and a bundle of soiled diapers wrapped in one of the baby’s flannel blankets under her arm, ignoring Buck’s order to bundle up.
He went back to his place on the floor and picked up a magazine, flipped through it, then exchanged it for one of the newspapers.
The Baker City Herald kept him up to date on local events. He hoped to find something about the Laski brothers. The date on the paper was two weeks old, but the headline at the bottom of the first page immediately caught his eye.
Missing Woman Sought In Mine Fraud Case.
In the December 28th issue of the Herald we reported that the investigation into the cause of the explosion at the Lucky Laski Brothers Mine, and the questionable conduct and businesses practices by the brothers, remained inconclusive.
With further excavation of the rubble from the explosion removed, authorities now know a cage stood near the opening of the mineshaft, a cage big enough to hold a large dog or a human being. Investigators also found evidence of a pitcher of water, a tin dinner plate, a fork, a drinking cup, dried blood and bits of burlap near the cage. The evidence suggests someone or something had been in the cage at the time of the explosion. It is the supposition of this reporter that whatever or whoever was in the cage escaped when falling debris tipped it over.
According to suppositions made to this reporter by Miss Yurvasi’s housekeeper, the brothers Laski, she believed, had locked Miss Yurvasi in her room and taken away her shoes and clothes, holding her a prisoner in her own home.
The housekeeper, and all of the staff at Miss Yurvasi’s residence, were dismissed two months before the explosion at the mine. None of them, that is the ones still in Baker City and still alive, had seen or heard from Miss Yurvasi.
The young woman, Miss Yurvasi, is now, officially, a missing person, and a person of interest in the Lucky Laski Mine fraud case.
According to the housekeeper, Miss Yurvasi was expecting a child, and she speculated the child’s father to be one of the Laski brothers. Miss Yurvasi is approximately twenty-three years of age, five-foot four, weighing one hundred and fifteen pounds, dark brown hair, blue eyes, and may or may not have a young child in her care.
Sheriff Raphael Bollo and his deputies are actively seeking this young woman as she may have vital information, and may be able to supply first-hand testimony concerning the Laski brother’s plot to defraud a number of prominent citizens of Baker City into investing heavily in the Lucky Laski Brothers Gold Mine.
The late Kurt Laski, who succumbed to injuries suffered during the explosion, leaves his elder brother, Beau Laski, to face trial at the Baker County courthouse on January 22 under the charges of fraud, assault and battery and intent to extort. Mr. Laski currently resides in the Baker City jail.
If Miss Yurvasi is not found, Mr. Laski may also be charged with Miss Yurvasi’s death, even though her body has yet to be discovered. If anyone knows of the whereabouts of Miss Yurvasi, or knows of her fate, they are encouraged to contact Sheriff Bollo at the Baker City jail immediately.
Buck read through the article again. He wasn’t sure, but he thought today’s date was January the 19th. He’d kind of lost interest in time with Petra here.
Kurt Laski—dead—that was good news. Beau in jail and going on trial. Good place for him. May he’d rot there.
Buck threw his head back against the wall, eyes closed, the newspaper slack in his hands.
Hell. What else did Petra know? She had to know something pretty damned important for the brothers to hold her captive like they had, and for the sheriff to be out scouring the countryside for her. Well, damn, she’d left a lot out of her story.
He asked himself what he should do about this newfound knowledge. The right thing would be to get Petra into Baker City and to the sheriff. There were peo
ple worried about her, worried about her and her baby.
In the back of his mind, Buck wondered about what had really happened, why she’d run. He’d asked her about it straight out, and she’d let on there wasn’t anyone who would care. He pulled his hand down over his face and shook his head, trying to stay awake. He’d show her the paper, watch her reaction and get the truth, the whole truth, out of her, then they’d decide what to do.
He couldn’t read another word, he had to rest, just for a few minutes. He’d close his eyes, rest, then he’d go down and have a little talk with Petra.
»»•««
Petra had begun to think she could stay with Mr. Hoyt forever—live here in seclusion, raise Gabriel with nothing more to worry about other than a passing guest from time to time. But Mathias had her questioning her reasoning. Maybe hiding wasn’t the answer. It wouldn’t be fair to Gabriel.
A light snow had started to fall. She stuck the last clothespin over the corner of the last diaper on the line and turned her head up to the sky. It had been weeks and weeks since she’d gone any farther than out here to the cistern or around back to the outhouse. She looked over her shoulder to the path leading out to the hot spring. On some days, she could smell it. Today, with a light wind whispering through the sage, the air smelled sweet even though it was snowing. Patches of blue opened up amid the billowy clouds, allowing the sun to burn through. The snow, when it hit the ground, barely made a wet spot in the dust.
With Gabriel asleep against her bosom, she hoped Mathias would sleep for a while. She didn’t think she would be missed if she walked down to the hot spring. She needed some exercise, some time to think. She hadn’t slept much last night, alternately worrying about being discovered by Mr. Cummings and wishing she had no need to hide any longer.
She almost started down the path, but turned back to the house and went upstairs. If Mathias was awake, perhaps he would go with her to the hot spring. It would be nice to have his company. She peeked around the doorway. His long legs stretched out across the room, his back against the wall, his head drooping to one side. He had newspapers in his lap and all about him; he’d fallen asleep. He looked cold. She reached over and pulled a blanket off the footboard, then carefully draped it over his legs and chest.
She stood there for a minute looking at him, a smile on her face. How she loved this man, so very good, not just to her, but to everyone, animals included.
“You one of Buck’s whores?”
Mr. Cummings voice sounded more like a croak. But it had the power to stop her heart quicker and more surely than a bolt of lightning.
His question went in one ear and out the other, of little consequence, making no sense. After all, the man had been hallucinating most of the previous night; he couldn’t be expected to make much sense in his condition.
“Mr. Cummings,” she said before putting a finger to her lips to shush him, “is there anything I can get you? Water perhaps, or something hot—maybe soup?”
“If I felt better, I’d go a couple of rounds with you under the sheets. Didn’t think Buck kept any hens in the house over the winter. You must be somethin’ special.”
Alarmed, she glanced over to Mathias to be certain he remained asleep. She drew herself up and gathered her composure. She could deal with one randy, sick old man on her own, surely.
“Hens, Mr. Cummings?”
Blinking at her, his bloodshot eyes peering at her, Smiley pulled back. “He’s keepin’ you, ain’t he?”
It was just as well Mr. Cummings followed his audacious question with a sneeze, as Petra fought against her urge to slap him.
Squaring her shoulders, her arms wrapped around her son, who had started to stir in the sling against her body, she felt compelled to defend her presence. “Mr. Hoyt has offered his home to me and my son as a refuge. He has shown me nothing but kindness and generosity.”
Mr. Cummings found her outburst amusing and started to laugh; unfortunately, this brought about a fit of coughing, which consequently sucked the poor man’s breath out of him. For a few moments, Petra feared he might pass out for lack of air. He had started to turn blue.
With his eyes wide, bloodshot and watery, he wheezed and snorted while Petra patted him on the back. He calmed enough to take a few tentative sips of water before falling back against his pillows. His eyes closed.
“You’re kind’a uppity, ain’t’cha, for a whore.”
When he opened his eyes, he looked right at her bosom and the sling where Gabriel kicked and squirmed. “Hey, you got a kid.”
Petra pulled back, her body protecting Gabriel. Gabriel let out a little squeak of protest.
“You got a kid there, don’t yah? You look kind’a foreign with all that hair and them eyes. Hey, wait a gal-darned-minute, I bet you’re that Yervasi woman?”
Behind her, Mathias struggled to his feet, rubbed his eyes. “What the hell is going on?”
The room began to close in on her, and the roiling acid in her stomach rose up like lava into her throat. She swallowed hard.
Turning her attention to Matt, she said, “I…I inquired if Mr. Cummings required anything. I’m sorry we woke you.”
She started to back up to the door, then turned and rushed down the stairs and out the front door, tears blinding her, she stumbled down the path to the hot springs with no clear destination in mind.
Chapter Thirteen
Towering over Smiley, Buck watched the man struggle to sit up. Smiley’s face turned red and sweat trickled down his temples while Buck stood there offering no help whatsoever.
“You know who you got here, Buck? She’s the woman in the paper, the one they been lookin’ high and low for. I’d bet my ass on it.”
With one hand on Smiley’s forehead, Buck shoved him back, taking a good deal of satisfaction when Smiley’s head bounced against the wooden headboard, missing the pillow altogether.
“What the hell did you say to her?”
“That’s the Yurvasi woman. Buck, what’s she doin’ here?”
Getting down, spreading out his fingers to encircle Smiley’s chicken-shit little neck, Buck got eyeball to eyeball with his patient. “Tell me what you said to her.”
Smiley’s eyes bulged, at last aware Buck intended to squeeze the life out of him.
“I’m sick, Buck. You read the paper yet? There’s a posse lookin’ for the Yurvasi woman. Is she one of your whores? She’s got a kid?”
Buck grabbed Smiley’s bewhiskered chin and shoved it aside. “I know she’s got a kid, you old buzzard. Jesus.”
Buck raked his fingers through his hair trying to think, then sprinted down the stairs taking them three at a time. A quick look into his room told him Petra wasn’t inside the house. Going out to the porch, he didn’t see any sign of her. He marched all the way around the outside of the house, and nothing. Standing on the porch, his gaze went to the barn, but the doors were still closed, and he knew he wouldn’t find her there. It wasn’t like her to wander off, and she had Gabriel with her.
He rushed inside to find the wool mackinaw still on the peg beside his fleece-lined sheepherder’s coat. He put on the coat and hat, then grabbed the mackinaw and his rifle, and went back outside. This time, as he circled the house, he looked for footprints.
Petra’s moccasin boots left little imprint in the fine prairie dust, but now he had his wits gathered about him, he could see she’d struck out for the hot spring. She’d be cold, he thought, taking long strides, covering the distance between the house and pond in quick time. Hanging clothes without a coat on was one thing, but going out into the open without proper protection he thought just plain foolhardy. Gabriel would fare well, tucked up against Petra’s breast for warmth.
Besides the frigid temperature, the hot spring held its own dangers. Wolves, mountain lions, bull elk—all kinds of animals congregated where the lush vegetation grew in abundance, to say nothing of the lure of the warm water. The marshy landscape around the pond could deceive a traveler into believing they had
solid ground beneath their feet, when in actuality it was floating bog.
The very thought of Petra falling into the bog, going under with Gabriel strapped to her bosom, drove Buck crazy with fear and sent him jogging along the path, gasping for breath. Only a little farther now and he’d find her, he promised himself.
He stopped on the brink of the steaming pool to scan the circumference and saw no one. Around him, the icy breeze whispered through the ice-covered reeds and cattails, the pitch changing from a shrill whistle to a heavy sigh. A flock of pintail ducks swam in a lazy circle at the other end of the pond, appearing unfazed, undisturbed. A ruff-legged hawk had found a perch on a dead tree limb sticking out over the water, no doubt waiting for his lunch to appear.
Buck had diverted some of the water into a side pond for bathing and built a shelter over the pond so a body could bathe there even in a blizzard. He’d made a plank walkway across the marsh to access the pool. The shed would be the only logical place for Petra to go. The boards were slick with frost and ice, and he cursed her for risking her life and her son’s, making the crossing without guidance, without his steadying hand.
On the outside of the structure, at the peak and along the edge of the shelter’s shake roof, vapor had risen from the spring and condensed to form magnificent icicles. Hanging down in rapier splendor, some of them at least five or six feet in length, the points of ice dripped in the warmth of the sun, creating a sparkling curtain of silver droplets that spread across the opening. Dark shadows hid the details of the interior of the shelter from the sun’s glare.
Ducking his head into his coat collar, Buck entered the shelter, cold droplets of water bombarding him on the head and face. His eyes adjusted to the darkness after a moment or two. Impatiently he waited, seeing at first only her silhouette. She shifted from side to side, rocking her son, singing to him, her head bowed down to her child.
His relief at finding both of them safe resulted in a flood of hot salty tears that spilled over the rims of his eyes unchecked. He gulped down a breath of cold, dank air, his shoulders shuddered, and his knees wobbled when he leaned the rifle up against the wall of the shelter.
Dance Hall Road Page 12
