by P. Creeden
The moment a bit of light broke through the doorway, she hesitated just outside the reach of the offending brightness. Was it really overcast outside or was Mrs. Honeycutt lying to her. Penelope hid behind the door, afraid to step out into the lit patch of sun on the kitchen floor. Could she really even consider for a moment stepping outside?
Mrs. Honeycutt stepped into the sunlight that slanted from the crack in the door. Then she opened it just a bit farther and squinted out into the yard out back. “There, now. See. No harm done. The sun feels good against the skin even though it’s mostly hidden by the clouds.”
Penelope swallowed hard. Could she really do this? Could she really consider it? If she kept thinking about this, fear would overcome her. She fisted her hands and stepped forward, away from her hiding place and into the kitchen. Mrs. Honeycutt took the cue and opened the door wider. Penelope shut her eyes and stepped forward, toward the sunlight.
Chapter 5
Penelope could feel the warmth of the sun against her skin, and the effects of the light were instant. Pins and needles spread across her skin, and fear gripped her heart. This was it. Everything within her wanted to turn around and run back into the shadows, but instead, she squinted her eyes open and stepped over the threshold and into the backyard. The clouds overhead covered the sun, just as Mrs. Honeycutt had promised. Their gray bodies undulated on the wind and moved visibly across the sky. Would they break apart like cotton wool and leave her fully exposed to the sun’s rays. Her heart stuttered at the thought. One of her hands fluttered to her chest. Fear still had her in its grip and was squeezing tighter. It wanted her to turn around and go back inside. It made her hold her breath until her lungs burned. Slowly she let out the breath she’d been holding.
Her head felt light and the world spun just a bit. Though her legs felt stiff, she forced them to take another step forward. Then she continued to breathe in and out. Her skin was no longer prickling. And as she took a full assessment of her faculties, she realized slowly that she didn’t feel any pain. No itching. No burning sensation. Just fear—and that, she had in spades. Two water droplets fell on her arms. Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she rubbed her bare forearms and squinted up at the sky again. Would it rain? Somehow the thought of the rain brought her a measure of relief. She’d not see her enemy, the sun, today if it were to rain upon them, right?
The rain began to fall a little more often than a spare droplet with seconds between. Penelope laughed and spun a little twirl in the grass.
“You see now,” Mrs. Honeycutt said in a hushed tone behind her. “You did it. Everything is all right.”
Penelope nodded. It was true. Everything was all right. Penelope now knew that she could handle the outdoors in the rain or when the sky was overcast. Perhaps she could get Mrs. Honeycutt to get a hold of the farmer’s almanac for her. If they made travel arrangements on the days when rain was predicted, maybe she could make it all the way to Colorado without incident. Hope began to bloom in her chest. Maybe, just maybe, she could actually succeed in doing what her grandfather had willed of her.
Water dripped from her hair into her eyes as the rain fell in earnest. But somehow, the last thing Penelope wanted to do was go back inside. Instead she continued forward, feeling the soft ground give under her slippers and the wet grass already soaking her feet as the rain did the same over her body. Her dress clung to her.
Mrs. Honeycutt had stepped back inside and called from the open doorway, “Miss Warner? Perhaps you should come back inside!”
The rain beat hard upon the tin roof that covered the shed and outbuildings just past the yard of the main house. They created a cacophony that made it easy to pretend that she didn’t hear the servant’s request. Then a sudden brightness filled the day as lightning struck, and thunder soon followed.
A cry escaped Mrs. Honeycutt as she yelled again, “Please return inside, Miss Warner!”
Even though Penelope turned back and faced her servant, she didn’t take one step toward the house. The last thing she wanted to do was return to the prison where she’d spent the last several years. The rain felt cool and soothing against her skin. It felt as though it were washing away years of dirt and dust and grime that had accumulated from within Penelope’s grandfather’s house. Her home. Her prison. And somehow, as the rain washed away all that imagined grime, it broke the shackles that tied her to the house.
Another flash of lightning and peal of thunder. They happened almost simultaneously as the storm drew closer. More laughter escaped Penelope’s lips, and instead of running toward the house, she spun on her heel and ran for the barn that held the cattle and horses that her family owned. Water dripped from her body and even though her dress weighed heavy upon her shoulders, Penelope felt lighter somehow. Overhead, the hayloft dampened the pounding upon the tin roof. The smells of animals and leather accosted her senses in a pleasant way.
“Daisy?” she called as she stepped deeper into the shadow-filled structure.
“Miss Warner?” a gruff voice said as Mr. Honeycutt stepped out of the shadows with a lantern. “Is that you?”
Slowly, Penelope nodded. “I came to see my pony. Where is Daisy?”
Mr. Honeycutt’s lips drew thin as he shook his head. “Your old pony passed away years ago, Miss. Don’t you remember?”
Penelope shook her head, frowning toward her feet and the dirt floor she stood upon. How could she have forgotten? She knew that Daisy was gone. She’d cried and mourned the loss of the pony when it had happened. Mr. Honeycutt had asked if she wanted to come see the pony off before they buried her. And instead of coming, she had gotten angry with Mr. Honeycutt for even asking her to come outside. And then without thinking of the pony or her loss again, she’d run out into the barn all these years later searching for her old friend. The pony had been older when Penelope’d gotten her as a child. To ask her to still be alive more than a decade after the last time she saw the old mare would have been too much. But for some reason, Penelope had almost expected the world outside the house to have stopped and waited for her. That was far from what had happened.
Sadness overcame her as she turned back toward the doorway of the darkened structure. Outside, the rain had begun to lighten. Though thunder rumbled overhead, it was already growing distant enough to feel less threatening. More rain fell into Penelope’s face from her hair, where it had accumulated. It mixed with the tears that stung her eyes. Sniffling, she swiped at her face to clear it of the unwanted moisture. What did she have in the world now? Everything familiar to her was gone or about to be taken from her. How was she going to overcome this?
The rain lightened to barely a sprinkle and the clouds had parted enough to allow the world to brighten with a bit more sunlight than it had before. But that didn’t strike the fear in Penelope’s heart that she’d expected. Instead, melancholy had pushed out every ounce of fear that her stomach could hold. Tears continued to blur her vision as she stepped forward and started back toward the house, unsure of what she was going to do next.
Arrows replaced the bullets that Jeremiah had been expecting, and the first one struck Thompson in the chest. With a cry he fell to the ground, and this time, blood mixed with the brown spittle that seeped over his chin. There was no faking involved. Shouts went up from the marshal and the other two deputies. The criminals they were escorting threw themselves to the ground off their horses without being told. Jeremiah dismounted quickly. The horses grew skittish and would barely stay still as they all used them as shields for the arrows that whistled by them.
“Savages! How many do you think there are? Do you see them?” Marshal Keeley shouted toward the deputies while his eyes scanned the same horizon they did.
Jeremiah tried to squint in the direction, but he couldn’t see anything that far off. It was all a blur. Frowning, he shook his head. “I can’t tell.”
“I think I see four of them,” Sunny called out, ducking down as another volley of arrows fell their way. One of them hit Thomp
son’s horse in the rear end. The horse whinnied and grunted and then took off as though suddenly realizing it was riderless.
The others horses danced. Jeremiah’s horse yanked back, pulling his arms nearly from the sockets as he jogged forward with the horse, speaking to the animal in hushed tones, trying to get it to calm down. Then Marshal Keeley fired a shot in the direction of the hostile Natives. Sunny and Deputy Marshal Joshua Tarley fired off rounds to the south as well. Jeremiah kept an eye on the prisoners, who were smart enough to stay on the ground. Arrows flew past them. The deafening bang of revolvers made Jeremiah’s ears ring as he worked to keep his horse calm and stayed down and tried to keep himself sane during the crossfire. For several minutes the melee continued until the marshal and the two deputies needed to reload their weapons.
That was when Jeremiah could see something for the first time. It wasn’t more than dark blurs moving across the arid landscape, but Jeremiah was certain that he could see two of the natives taking advantage of the down time in the bullets to move to a closer position. A volley of arrows followed, but only three arrows came their way. If Jeremiah calculated right, that meant there were only five of the enemy, and two of them were heading their way. He pulled his rifle from the back of the saddle and though his eyesight might have been failing him enough that he couldn’t see more than dark blobs, he aimed for a little above the midsection of each and fired off two rounds.
Cries and shouts followed. Another dark blur climbed over the crest of the hill in the distance. Jeremiah let out a slow breath while he shot the third blob in the midsection as well. Another cry. And then silence. The men around him gasped and breathed heavily, grunted and grew quiet as well as though listening.
“Is that it? Did you really get them all?” Sunny asked.
“No way. You counted at least four, didn’t you?” Tarley asked, a bit of awe creeping into his voice.
But no more arrows came their way. And though Jeremiah kept his eye trained in the distance, he didn’t see any more dark forms crest the hill or any movement from the three forms that he’d shot.
Suddenly a hand clapped him on the shoulder, nearly making Jeremiah jump out of his skin. “Good work, Washington,” Marshal Keeley said in his deep baritone. “Now let’s get these men back on their horses. We’re not going to make camp, unfortunately. It’s not safe. Instead we’re going to ride through the night until we reach the next town. Then we’ll see about finding a way to catch a train. Now that we’ve flushed out which of my deputies belonged to Cody’s gang, we’re safe to ride the rails, I think.”
Better words could not have been spoken. Even Sunny and Tarley hooted and hollered, celebrating their small victory. Jeremiah couldn’t help but see some relief in the fact that they’d get this journey over with much faster than originally intended. The marshal worked with the two of them to get the prisoners mounted and checked their ties once more. Once they finished, Jeremiah met eyes with the marshal and nodded over toward Thompson. “What about him?”
The marshal shoved a foot in his stirrup and pulled himself into the saddle. Then he shook his head. “Let the dead take care of themselves. If we stick around to give the man a burial, we might as well dig enough holes for all of us. Any Indian who survived is getting reinforcements, I’m sure. It’s best if we move on.”
Jeremiah frowned, but followed suit and mounted his horse as well. He took one last look at Thompson, who’s empty eyes were staring up at the sky unblinking. Maybe the man was a dirty fiend, but it still made Jeremiah sad that he would be food for buzzards or coyotes instead of getting a proper Christian burial. But Jeremiah wasn’t an idealist. He could see the wisdom in moving on. He bowed his head and said a short prayer for the man who lay dead on the ground and then turned his horse and caught up with the rest of the group which continued heading west as the sun painted streaks of gold and red across the sky.
Chapter 6
After three more days of travel, they reached a town where the train passed through and went south. They sold the horses to the local livery, and Marshal Keeley booked passage on the train to Yuma in two private compartments where they could keep an eye on the prisoners without the seven of them being cramped in a space meant for four. They kept Earl Cody on his own while the other two were in a separate room. Jeremiah and the marshal stayed with Cody. The soreness in Jeremiah’s seat slowly dissipated as they traveled. It wasn’t often that he traveled by train. Being a cowboy meant long stretches of time in the saddle watching cattle on very little sleep. So sitting still in the train car made it difficult for him to keep his eyes open, especially as he watched the sunny day and the scenery pass by the window. It lulled him.
He stood and stretched his back in the small space.
“It’s nice not being on the back of a horse, isn’t it?” Cody asked.
Jeremiah eyed him, making sure that his glare had a bit of bite to it. He didn’t want Cody to think they were on friendly terms. The criminal had to be nearly forty, balding, and bit on the rotund side. His icy blue eyes seemed to be measuring everyone around him even as they crinkled when he smiled. Overall the man looked harmless, innocent, and downright jolly. It was amazing that they’d ever convinced a jury that he was guilty of any crime at all. Jeremiah shot a glance toward the marshal whose hat had been tipped forward so that it covered his eyes in the sunlight. It was part of the reason that Jeremiah, himself, had needed to stay vigilant. The last thing he needed was to fall asleep and let Earl Cody get the upper hand of both him and the marshal.
When he didn’t answer, Cody shook his head slightly, the smile never hesitating on his lips as he shot his glance toward the window. “You know why they’re moving me to Yuma, right?”
Honestly, Jeremiah didn’t know, and truthfully, he didn’t care. He was only here to get the job done. He liked the idea of making the world a safer place, and from what he’d read about Earl Cody in the papers back in Colorado, he was a murderer and a thief—a man who needed to be kept under tight wraps. Slowly, Jeremiah sat back down in the padded train seat and pounded the tops of his thighs a little. The muscles there had already gone tight because of the lack of movement for the past couple hours on the train.
“They think that my gang won’t be able to get me out there. They think I have too many connections in Colorado to be safely kept in any prison there. They may be right on that latter part, but on the former part, we’ll just have to see.” Cody’s smile had gotten a bit more unsettling, and a sinister gleam shone in his narrowed eyes as he continued to keep his countenance toward the landscape.
One thing was for sure. This train ride wasn’t going to be short enough. Jeremiah couldn’t wait until they’d dropped off these criminals and he’d never have to look this man in the face again, much less hear the words from his honeyed tongue.
The journey took only a little more than two days and a half. They stayed on the train for the full ride, not taking the option of disembarking in Phoenix to layover when given the option. They slept in shifts and occasionally alternated who was in which car with the respective prisoners, although Marshal Keeley remained with Earl Cody for the full ride.
God blessed them with an uneventful trip the rest of the way to Yuma, and they dropped off the prisoners in their new home. Jeremiah stood in the warden of the prison’s office with Marshal Keeley as the marshal used the space to wrap up his business with all of the deputies. When he finally got to Jeremiah and paid him the eighty-five dollars for the two week’s work, but held onto it as Jeremiah reached forward to take it. “Do you think you might be interested in staying on as a deputy marshal, Washington? You did good work out there. I don’t know if we’d have been able to make it as far as we did without you.”
Jeremiah’s lips drew thin. “I’m afraid that it might have been a bit too much adventure for me. Perhaps if I was younger. But considering I’m past thirty and might want to find a woman to settle down with someday soon, I’m not sure it’s the kind of life that I want to start with
.”
The marshal nodded and released the money. “I can understand that. But you have a talent for work as a lawman. You might consider working as a bounty hunter. You’d make your own decisions on what jobs you take and which you don’t. If you decide to go that route, I can get you a meeting with a few connections I have. Consider it a favor. However, someday, I might like to call on that favor and ask you to work with me as a deputy for a job or two, if you are willing. Will you be returning to Creede?”
Jeremiah nodded. “After staying here in Yuma for a week or so, that’s the plan.”
“Well, if I ever stop in that way again, I’ll look you up.” Marshal Keeley offered his hand for a shake.
Taking his hand in a firm grip, Jeremiah said, “Thank you again, Marshal. Can’t say it’s been fun, but it was definitely an adventure.”
The marshal huffed a laugh. “You could say that again.”
With a nod, Jeremiah stuffed his pay in the pocket in his pants and started to make his way out of the prison. The guards nodded to him as he had to pass through three gates with his badge on his chest along with the other deputies before reaching the outside. Once he was past the main wall, he couldn’t help but look back at the fortifications of the prison he’d been in. He was glad to be outside of the walls. Glad to be rid of Cody and the rest of the criminals who’d made the trip hard. He dusted off his hat once, said goodbye to the other deputies and then headed for town. He hoped the local inn served up steak, because he could surely use one now.
Over the last two days, the sky had been thankfully overcast, and Penelope had ventured out. But on this day, Mrs. Honeycutt had already warned her that the sun shone plentifully outside. And Penelope could tell by the way the servant woman’s lips thinned that she was worried about her reaction.
