Beneath the Heavens

by Barlow, Lindsey;

  Joseph’s eyebrows scrunched together. “No. No, I have not. Why do you ask?”

  Ben shook his head, “A stranger came by asking for her. Well, asking for an Esther Callen. I told him she was indeed in Tall Pine, and he then asked where she lived and if she lived with her son. He seemed awfully curious about the boy.”

  Joseph’s eyes were narrowed, his face pale with concern. “Did you tell him where she lived?”

  Ben shook his head. “No, absolutely not. I regretted saying she lived around here at all, but I did not know if he was a relative. Once he realized I would not be telling where she lived, he took off. But a handsome, rich-looking man will get told pretty quickly where she lives. I was just hoping you knew who he was.”

  Joseph grabbed Ben shoulders. “A name, did you get a name?”

  “Uhh, something Clement,” Ben stuttered in surprise.

  Joseph released him so fast it knocked the Sheriff off balance, but Joseph didn’t even notice. Fury and fear gripped him as he jumped on Sampson and sped off toward Esther’s home.

  The road to Esther’s house never seemed so long, and Sampson never seemed so slow. Is it the same Clement? James Clement.

  Why would he give his real name?

  Because he planned on leaving—it would not make a difference. Most likely he did it out of habit. Maybe he was a relative of James Clement. Come for forgiveness or to give compensation. Joseph could only hope, but his gut told him otherwise.

  Joseph pulled Sampson in front of Esther’s home.

  “Esther?” he shouted. “Esther? Michael?” He jumped off his horse slamming himself through the front door. Nothing in the front room, all tidy except… his heart skipped a beat as he noticed a knocked over chair near the kitchen. Esther would not leave a chair knocked over.

  Joseph ran into the kitchen, and his blood turned cold. Esther was laying limp, blood matted through her hair from being struck. Her hands were tied to the stove and her feet bound.

  “Esther!’ Joseph ran, sliding on his knees by her side. He pulled out his knife and cut her loose. “Esther, speak to me!” He checked her pulse, alive and breathing. “Esther!” He pulled her into his arms, shaking her slightly.

  Esther groaned, rolling her head. “Michael,” she muttered.

  Joseph looked around. Michael. Where was Michael?

  Esther fluttered her eyes open. “Michael?” she said again. Her eyes opened fully. “Michael!” she said louder, trying to sit up. She looked at Joseph who was steadying her. “Do you have Michael?” she asked, her voice breaking into a cry.

  “No. Esther what happened?”

  Esther’s eyes went wide, and she leapt to her feet staggering into the counter as she did. “He took him. He took Michael. I need to go,” she cried, running crookedly out of the kitchen.

  Joseph raced after her, swinging her to face him. “Esther, what happened?”

  Esther’s face crumpled in pain and fear. “James Clement came,” she sobbed. “Michael was playing on the porch, and suddenly James walks in with a gun; he told me to tie myself up or he would shoot Michael, and then he knocked me unconscious.” She yanked away from him. “What have I done? He has my boy—my baby,” she ran out the door.

  Joseph had never had such a desire to kill, a desire to hurt and hunt another man. This man had come and taken Michael, his Michael, his boy, his deputy, his son. He would find this bastard and kill him. He would track him to hell and back if that’s what it took to get the boy back. Placing his hand on his holster he walked out as Esther was bringing out Lancelot.

  “Esther, stay here,” Joseph snapped. “I’m going to find him.”

  “I’m coming, too,” Esther snapped back, hauling herself onto the saddle.

  “No, you are not!” Joseph ordered. “I can’t be rescuing Michael while having to protect you. You are staying put.”

  Esther’s tears ceased for a second, “And if James shoots you? Joseph, I need to come. Please, if it comes to saving me or Michael, save Michael.”

  Joseph looked at her sternly and then gave a short nod before turning toward his horse.

  Esther nearly shouted at Joseph when he stood still. She expected him to fly onto his saddle, but for a brief moment he froze with his head bowed. She opened her mouth to say something until she noticed his eyes were closed and his mouth moved silently. He was praying. The lines in his face were etched with fear, worry, and heartache. Everything she felt was manifested in his tortured expression as he prayed.

  When Joseph’s eyes opened they were dark. His jaw was set. Esther knew what the transformation was. He was no longer the kind, humorous Joseph Silver. He was the Texas Ranger, a deadly shot, and an inescapable tracker.

  Joseph lifted himself onto his horse in one fluid movement. He glanced at the ground, calculating. “They went east by the looks of it.”

  Esther began to speak, but Joseph held up his hand. “Esther, I know you are scared, but I need you to be silent while I do this, all right?” His voice was serious and powerful, and yet it did not jar Esther. In fact, he calmed her. She was suddenly grateful for his strength, his assurance, and the aggression that she hoped would save her son.

  Esther followed Joseph quietly. Watching him as he studied the ground, getting off his horse to check the tracks when they left the main road. Every now and then he spoke out loud. “The man was smart getting off the road. He is probably going to ride out of state to be safe from Colorado’s jurisdiction and then head back east on a different route. He won’t be taking any main roads,” he said, but again, not to Esther. It was as if he was counseling with himself.

  After an hour, Esther and Joseph were deep in the forest. The sky was turning dark. This worried her. Michael would be cold. He had no coat. Just thinking of her little boy cold and afraid made her want to cry out. She looked at Joseph who every now and then would close his eyes and silently pray. This was usually followed by a curse and muttered threat to James Clement.

  Esther held on to Joseph’s strength. For some reason every time he swore to himself to wring James’ neck, it made her feel better. Every time his lips twitched with satisfaction when he re-found the tracks, she felt better. The traits in a man that for so long had frightened her: aggression, a strong temper, a desire to take control, were now soothing. Joseph was an ointment to her fear.

  Esther tightened her grip on Lancelot’s reins. She wanted this man. She had wanted Joseph as a person, but now she wanted him as a man, a strong, masculine man. She wanted to be his companion. She wanted to be one with him in heart, body, and soul. Being with him would not be captivity, it would be freedom. Marriage to Joseph would empower her, not subdue her.

  Joseph looked up to see Esther’s pale face watching him with an intensity that he had never seen in her before. He looked away, his mind was focused on one thing and one thing only: Michael. He was on his feet now as he walked through thick brush. It was getting dark and cold. Esther muttered that she was worried about that, but to Joseph, the dark and cold were his allies. Dark would force the scoundrel to stop, and the cold would force him to build a fire. Joseph walked through the thicket following the stomped brush where a grown man and child had walked.

  The gleam of moisture caught his eye. Joseph knelt down; it was too cold and late for dew. He looked closer—blood. Michael was bleeding. The bastard had made his boy bleed!

  Joseph sprung up. “Dear God, help me find this animal,” he whispered through clenched teeth.

  A small sound caught Joseph’s attention. He stopped breathing. He heard it again. What was it? A voice?

  He looked back at Esther, motioning for her to get off her horse and silently follow him. Esther did as instructed, hiking up her skirts so they would not cause any noise through the brush. Joseph followed the trail. He could hear the noise. A cry? Was it crying? As he followed deeper, the smell of smoke and fire reached his nostrils. He held up his hand for Esther to stop. Up ahead, he could see the flicker of a fire and make out two figures amidst the
dark trunks of the trees. Taking one inhale before holding his breath again Joseph walked forward, rolling his feet with the stealth of a cat stalking a bird.

  When he and Esther were closer to the clearing, he stopped her.

  “You stay here,” he whispered close to her ear. “You got a gun?”

  Esther shook her head. She had removed it back at home and in her frantic run to find Michael, she had left it. Joseph nodded and handed her one of his. Then he walked forward. He planned on shooting James clear through the heart with no negotiations, no prison. A man who raped a woman and kidnapped a child did not need a trial, especially when that child was one Joseph loved as his own.

  Reaching the clearing, he frowned. Michael sat tear streaked by the fire, his hands tied behind his back. James was nowhere. He must have left in search of firewood. Joseph drew out his gun, waiting a breath before hurrying to the boy. His priority was getting Michael, not killing this man. The gun clicked as he cocked it back, and he froze… nothing. The man was gone, hopefully long enough for him to get Michael to safety.

  Michael jumped as Joseph stepped into the clearing. Joseph quickly held up a finger to his lips. Michaels’ face lit up into a trusting smile.

  “I knew you would come for me,” Michael whispered, his voice hoarse from crying. “The man said that I was his son, but I told him I already had a dad, and that it was you.”

  Joseph patted Michael on the shoulder as he quickly untied him. “That’s right Michael. Your mom is back in the woods. We need to go now.”

  A twig snapped. Joseph jumped up, instinctively shoving Michael behind him, with his gun pointed at the intruder.

  “Well, well, well,” a broad athletic looking man with jet-black hair and smooth, tan skin stepped forward with a gun raised. “This must be the famous Joseph I’ve heard about.” He laughed. “The great Texas Ranger here to save the boy of the woman he loves.”

  Joseph glared, itching to shoot. This man couldn’t be a faster shot than him, but his finger was on the trigger; he needed to gauge a little longer.

  “Oh yes, Ranger, word gets around in a close-knit town like Tall Pine. The beautiful reclusive Esther and the handsome Ranger.” He stepped forward but stopped when Joseph aimed his gun at his head. “Too bad the story ends with you dead and the woman alone.”

  “How about the story ends with me walking away with the kid, and then maybe I will leave you alive. Or, at least, give you a less painful death,” Joseph said dryly.

  James shook his head. “Points for bravery, Ranger, but I take what belongs to me, and that boy is mine.”

  Kill now, Joseph thought. No, he still had to wait. If James shot him, it could go clean through him and hit Michael.

  “I’m giving you one more chance,” Joseph warned through gritted teeth. “Put the gun down and I walk out of here with you alive.”

  James glowered. “Maybe I did not make myself clear. I take what is mine. Just like I took Esther.” He smiled wickedly. “Tell me, Ranger, have you had a taste of her yet? She’s good, isn’t she? Though, she doesn’t seem to be quite the kitten that she was when I played with her.”

  The shot came so fast that Joseph’s instinct reacted before his mind could. James fired his gun before his words were finished. Joseph flung Michael aside and to the ground, twisting as the bullet grazed his right shoulder.

  Not waiting for the second bullet, Joseph flung himself at James and pushed the gun upward. The impact knocked James’ grip loose. The gun flew, and both men struggled to reach it. Joseph grabbed James by the neck and slapped his head to the ground. The man was barely stunned; alert enough to punch Joseph in the face.

  Stars blurred his vision, and blood poured from his nose. Somewhere from the corner of his eyes he saw Esther picking up Michael and running into the woods. Good, they were safe. James must have seen them, too, because he staggered to his feet running for the gun. Joseph grabbed the man’s legs pulling him to the ground and pinning him as he knelt over him, punching him in the face one, two, three times.

  Strong pain in Joseph’s ribs sent him toppling off James, who had grabbed a sharp rock and driven it into Joseph’s side. Joseph attacked again, wrapping his arms around James’ neck, bringing both men back to the ground. James grabbed Joseph’s arm with one hand and reached for a knife strapped to his belt with the other. He drove his right hand backward, intent on sinking the knife into Joseph’s heart.

  Joseph saw the glint of the blade and released James’ neck, catching the hilt of the knife in time. James spun around trying to drive the knife downward. Joseph was stronger. He began to lift the knife further away from his face. James suddenly kneed hard between Joseph’s legs, dropping him. He plunged the knife down and Joseph managed to steer it away from his face, but it still sunk into his right arm.

  Joseph cried out, punching James with his left arm. James pressed down on the knife, forcing Joseph to his knees.

  “You know, I’ve never liked guns. Knives always were my favorite toy,” he laughed breathlessly, raising the knife to slit Joseph’s throat.

  Joseph braced himself to throw his body at James when a gunshot sounded and James staggered back. He looked down at his chest; blood seeped through his shirt. The two men looked up to see Esther holding a gun cocked and smoking.

  “Esther, you—” James coughed.

  Esther fired another shot into his chest. James fell backward with one final breath before lying still—lifeless and bloody.

  Joseph staggered to his feet, clutching his wounded arm. “Michael? Where is Michael?”

  Michael rushed out from the trees. “I’m here, Joseph!” he cried.

  Esther stumbled back as Joseph brushed past her, dropping to his knees and griping Michael close to his body.

  “Thank God! Thank God,” he cried. His voice shook with sobs as he buried his face into Michael’s neck. “Thank God, you are alright Michael.”

  Esther stood stunned. Her body was not shaking. Her mind was at peace and her soul calm. She had her son and she had… Joseph. She had her family. Watching this grown man cry over her son, having seen him track and pray, how could she doubt that Joseph did not belong to her and her to him? He was her equal in every way, and she was his.

  Michael placed his head on Joseph’s shoulder as the grown man continued to sob.

  “Joseph,” Michael said, “are you crying because you love me?”

  Joseph laughed and pulled Michael away, cupping the little boy’s face in his hands and kissing the freckled cheeks.

  “Yes, Michael, I am. I love you so much.” He kissed Michael’s face again. “You are my joy Michael, and you always will be.” He looked back at Esther. “The first shot would have killed him, you know.”

  Esther’s lips fluttered with a quick smile. She arched an eyebrow. “Oh, I know. The first shot was for taking my son—the second was for seven years ago.”

  /

  Joseph did not know how long he stayed by Michael’s bed. Esther had put the boy to bed, not leaving his side until she heard Joseph’s stomach rumble. Reluctantly, she covered her boy in soft kisses and allowed Joseph to take her place.

  Joseph took the limp hand, running his own thumb over the soft skin. His own love for the child surprised him, the protective instinct he had was a strength he had never felt before. “Dear Lord, thank you,” he wept, placing his head on the bed. “Thank you for keeping the boy safe. I give my life to you. Take it, it’s yours.”

  “Joseph,” Esther called softly, “I have supper for you.”

  Joseph gave one last kiss to the hand before standing up. The poor boy had not wanted to go back home unless Joseph came, and so all three had to ride into town to explain what had happened to Sheriff Ben before returning home. Michael had fallen asleep before he even touched his bed.

  “I don’t want him to have nightmares,” Joseph whispered.

  Esther smiled. “He won’t, knowing you are here.”

  A bowl of hearty stew with chicken made Joseph realize ho
w hungry he was. He sat down, devouring it in a few mouthfuls. He would miss Esther’s food.

  The thought made him drop his spoon and rub his temple. Two more days, and he would leave. Two more days.

  “What is it, Joseph?” Esther asked, pinning him with her eyes.

  Joseph stood up shaking his head. “I need to go, Esther. I am sorry.” He headed for the door.

  Esther stood up, touching his bandaged arm. “Joseph, wait—please don’t go. Stay here tonight.”

  Joseph spun around to face Esther; he took hold of her shoulders, boring his gaze into hers. “Esther, do you not understand how painful it is to be around you? To be around that boy in there? In two days I will be gone, and I will never see either of you again. That boy whom I would give my life for, will be out of my life, and you—” he lowered his gaze before pulling her closer. “And you who I’ve wanted from the day I met you, the woman who I loved before I even knew what love was, you will never stop weighing on my heart. You will never again be by my side, though you’ll never leave my thoughts.” He released her. “I am sorry, but I can’t take the torment.”

  “Joseph!” Esther clasped his face, pressing her body into his. Warmth filled her while need consumed her. “Then don’t leave me,” she whispered, moving her lips closer to his.

  “Esther what are you—what do you mean?”

  “I want to be with you, Joseph. I want to be your wife. I long and ache to be your wife, in every way.”

  Joseph’s hands wrapped around her waist; cautiously he pulled her into a kiss. Esther felt a lovely dizziness come over her as his mouth teased her own, pressing gently, his hands digging into her skin as he tried to control himself. Suddenly, a sensation unlike anything she had ever felt consumed her. She was a woman who had been thirsty all her life and was finally drinking water. Lifting her hands from his face Esther tangled her fingers in his thick hair, pressing into him, needing to feel his warmth, deepening the kiss.

  Joseph groaned in disbelief and pleasure as he wrapped his arms completely around her torso kissing her with such firmness and desire that her lips felt raw, and it was wonderful.