by Reece Butler
“I’d be careful about who ye call a savage, Jennet.” Gillis spoke quietly, but the man paled and snapped his mouth shut.
“Someone’s attacked my family,” said Ross. He made the knife disappear again. “We’re leaving.”
“But what about the cattle I need?”
Gillis raised an eyebrow at Smythe. “Ye should hae thought a’ that afore ye put them on the table with yer ranch.”
Smythe followed them outside, still stuttering protests. He backpedaled quickly when the four of them mounted their large horses. The raven flew behind the mercantile and circled, waiting.
“We have to split up.”
“I’ll go with the bird. You go home to Amelia,” said Trace to Ross. “If she’s missing, your birds will tell you where to go. This one knows me. He’ll guide me.”
“I’m with Trace,” growled Gillis. “Yer wee wife needs ye. I feel a need to kill someone.” His hand clenched as if clutching a sword.
“Done.”
Ross and Nevin trotted past the hotel. By the time they reached the jail, they were galloping. Trace and Gillis followed the silent raven beside Emslow’s boardinghouse. They discovered a well-worn path up the south side of the town and followed it. After an hour, they smelled smoke and sped up, still moving quietly.
The raven suddenly screamed and dove toward a plume of smoke. Wings back, it fell like a rapier. Trace and Gillis raced their horses toward screams and gunshots. They pulled their pistols, ready for anything.
They rounded a hill and found the remains of a burning sod-roofed cabin. Two men waved their arms to keep the raven away. It hovered between them and the smoking ruins. Trace pulled up and put a bullet an inch from the bigger man’s foot. He screamed and danced sideways. Gillis rode up behind the remains of the smoking building, checking it out. He circled and came back down.
“Move and you’re dead,” said Trace.
The men lifted their shaking hands.
“Turn around. Give me a reason to kill you.”
Trace fought to keep from pulling the trigger when he saw them. Their eyes opened wide. They looked at each other. A silent signal passed between them. They turned to him and sneered.
“Yer too late. The bitch is dead. Burnt herself up.”
The raven rose into the air. He flew in front of the men, tilted his body feet first, and dropped toward the one with black powder scars. He screamed and covered his head, dropping to the ground.
“My black friend says you lie. That’s a good thing,” said Trace.
“We left her here, nice and safe,” said the standing man.
Something about the man’s face was familiar to Trace. He had no time to think of it now.
“Yeah, we wath gonna athk fer gold and give her back.”
The whining lisp of the man on the ground grated on Trace’s nerves like a bad memory. He recognized the powder burns on the man’s face. It was long, long ago, and he couldn’t remember why it was important. He gave a mental shrug and set it on the back burner to bubble up later. He pulled a length of rawhide loose from his saddle and tossed it to Gillis.
“Tie ’em up.”
Gillis stared at one then the other. His eyes narrowed, and his red face darkened.
“Mayhaps we could torture ’em for a bit?”
“Why?” Trace played along with Gillis’s game. The men licked dry lips as they looked from one captor to the other.
“Mayhaps they’ll tell us sommat else. Amelia’s not the first woman they caught.”
Trace hadn’t seen Gillis so eager to attack before. With his wild, red hair all over the place and the evil way he grinned at the men, he could be one of the highland berserkers of old.
“I know thom thingths—”
“Shut the hell up!” The blond punched the other. “You wanna get us kilt?”
They both jammed their teeth shut. A pair of smaller ravens arrived from the direction of the ranch. One landed on Trace’s outstretched wrist, a muddy, blue ribbon in its beak.
“That’s Amelia’s favorite ribband,” said Gil.
Trace looked the bird in the eye. “How’s Amelia?”
The bird made a rattling sound, nodding its head before crooning. It took off and landed in a nearby tree.
“Thank God, she’s going to be all right.”
“Damn. Are ye sure we cannae burn ’em, just a wee bit?”
“Nope. They’re going to the sheriff.”
Though the men complained, Gil insisted on tying them up and laying them across their horses. Trace didn’t object since he was a mite angry himself. There was something on Gillis’s mind, but the man was as stubborn as a tree. Trace would have to wait to find out what.
The larger raven flew toward home while the other pair followed them toward town. Now and then, they’d land on the men’s backs and peck at their pants. None of their injuries were much, but they sounded painful from the men’s screams. And humiliating. He chuckled to himself.
* * * *
Ross raced his horse along the valley. The trip home had never seemed so long. He knew Nevin followed at a slower pace, watching his back. He finally raced into the yard and leaped off his horse.
Jack ran out of the house.
“She’s going to be fine.”
Ross tossed his reins to him and ran into the kitchen. Simon stood at the stove, sipping coffee.
“Where is she?” demanded Ross, his chest heaving.
“Upstairs with Beth. But don’t—”
Ross pounded up the stairs, his lungs tight from holding his breath for so long. When his head cleared the floor and he saw Amelia sitting up in bed, his steps slowed. She looked at him and shuddered. Did she hate him that much for not protecting her?
Her hands were thick with bandages. Strands of her long hair twisted out at the ends, singed. Red spots dotted her face. Blisters. He snarled when he recognized the outline of a hand where someone had slapped her face.
“What happened?”
“It’s best if she speaks as little as possible,” said Beth. Calm and cool, she stood beside the bed. “Shall I tell you?” He turned to her, unable to look at the disappointment on Amelia’s face. He nodded.
“Two men came. They took Amelia. Daniel held back and followed them. They went to a small cabin, locked her inside, and said they’d be back. Amelia sent Daniel for help. The ravens alerted us, so Simon and Jack were at the house when Daniel arrived. Amelia escaped by setting fire to a corner of the sod roof and climbing out. Simon carried her back. She’s got some burns, and her throat is raw from the smoke, but she will be fine.”
He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached.
“Did they touch you?” He finally looked back at Amelia.
She nodded, her chin trembling. She dropped her eyes, not wanting to see him. “But—”
He staggered and turned away. Again, he was too late. She didn’t want him, had turned away in disgust.
Memories hit. Little girl cries of fear. His throat burning as he screamed as well, running as fast as he could to her. The tears that he had to blink back so he could see and not trip.
The blond man’s scream when she sliced his face with her knife. Her sudden quiet when the brute punched her. Then his grunts. And those of the next. And the next. And the last.
His heart almost bursting in fear, panic, and rage as they rode away. Fear that he would not have the chance to kill them. One turned back, laughing that he wanted another taste before she died.
His quiet moccasins made no sound as he ran up behind the man lying on his cousin. He slid his knife between ribs and into a black heart. The man screamed as he hauled him off her body.
Too late. Her eyes stared up at the sky.
He remembered nothing until someone took her out of his arms. They told him he cut the man so he would never be whole again. That he carried her back, staggering under her weight. The weight of his shame was far heavier. They sent him back to his father. His father’s blow knocked him sideways. He la
y as his father roared that he was banished from the tribe, sent back to them in disgrace as a coward.
He knew then that he was damned. Only if he killed all the men would he be accepted. He took on the blood debt and spent every minute working toward erasing it.
For a while, he thought Amelia, who knew nothing of his failure, might want him.
But he’d failed again. Failed his wife. She’d lived but must hate him for it.
He turned away, unwilling to look at her and see his shame reflected on her face. He walked down the stairs in a daze. Someone pulled on his arm. He shook it off. Halfway to the barn, he heard feet running toward his back.
“Mr. Ross? Is Mrs. MacDougal going to get better? They won’t let me see her.”
He couldn’t face his wife. He had no choice with the boy. He turned. Daniel trembled in front of him. Wet lines tracked over his dusty cheeks. Ross nodded. Young shoulders slumped in relief.
“You did a good job today, Daniel. She’s hurt, but she’ll heal.”
Ross managed to choke out the words the child needed to hear. He couldn’t deny Daniel what he so craved at the same age.
“Can I help you catch them?”
“Gillis and Trace Elliott went after them. I’m going to make sure they’re caught.”
“Can I go with you? I can hide from Pa.”
He would not let the pain in his heart hurt the boy. Not like he’d been hurt. He knelt so his face was at the same level as Daniel’s.
“I need you to stay here. With the three of us away, you’re the only MacDougal man. Can you help Mrs. Elliott take care of my…Mrs. MacDougal?”
Daniel nodded. “You gonna shoot ’em?”
Ross shook his head. He slowly reached behind his back and pulled his biggest knife from the downward-facing scabbard under his shirt. He held it up so the light caught the wide blade.
“Shooting’s too easy for scum like that.”
Daniel’s eyes widened. He gulped in awe. “I’ll keep her safe until you come back, Mr. Ross.”
Ross nodded though he wouldn’t be back. Amelia would have Nevin, just as she wanted from the beginning. Gillis would roar and bellow, but he’d eventually settle when the boy was born. Maybe when the last man was dead, Ross could return and face his failure.
Maybe.
Chapter Thirty-Six
A raven rode triumphantly on each captured man when Gillis and Trace entered town. The men’s pants had a few holes. Blood trickled where beaks had punctured deep. A crowd had already gathered in front of the jail, waiting for them.
Frank Chambers scratched his cheek as the four horses approached. A few guffaws erupted when the ravens flew away and the men began screaming of how they were attacked. Ropes tied wrist to ankle under the horse’s bellies kept them from moving anything but their heads and mouths.
“They attacked Amelia,” said Trace. “Hauled her from her home and locked her up. We caught them coming back to get her.”
The crowd got louder. A couple of men ordered their women to go home.
“Did you find her?”
“No, she’d already escaped. But the ravens say she’ll be fine. One brought this.” He held up the tattered ribbon. “It’s Amelia’s favorite, one she wears every day.”
Gillis dismounted, vibrating with rage. He slashed the rope on the nearest man then the other. They slid headfirst to the ground under their gaunt horses. He looked around, spotting Daniel’s friend. The boy stared, eyes goggling.
“Billy, take these horses to Stumpy’s and fix ’em up,” he growled. “Tell ’em I’ll pay.”
When an eager Billy led the horses down the street, Gillis grabbed the men by the backs of their shirts, one in each paw. He half carried, half dragged them into the jail. He strode across the room and threw them into the cell, slamming the door shut behind them with a crash.
Dizzy from their heads being down for so long, they fell to the floor. One landed on his ass and yelped, quickly rolling onto his stomach. They groaned for a moment before hauling themselves to their feet. They yelled that they were innocent until a glare from Trace shut them up.
The room filled, everyone talking. Frank put his finger and thumb together and let out a shrill whistle. Silence descended.
“Anyone seen these two before?”
They glowered from behind the bars. Both medium height, one with shaggy, blond hair and bushy moustache, the other brown with a beard that didn’t cover the powder burns creeping up to his cheekbones.
“I seen ’em around fer a bit now,” said Old Walt. “They slunk around like they had no business bein’ here. I figger they knows someone in town.”
“State your names,” said Frank.
The blond glared at the other, who dropped his head.
“Tav and Zeb,” said the blond. “And we ain’t sayin’ nothin’ more.”
Frank looked up when Nevin pushed through the crowd, panting. He stopped beside the sheriff. “I know who they are,” he said. “And as soon as Ross gets here, there’ll be hell to pay.”
“How’s Mrs. MacDougal?”
“She’ll be fine. But that’s not what Ross is after them for.”
The men backed up as Nevin moved forward. He pointed to the blond.
“You grabbed her first, didn’t you? Threw her to the ground as if her life didn’t matter.”
Tav shook his head. “We jist tied her hands and put her on the horse. She come quiet.”
Nevin slid a knife out of his sleeve, hidden from the others in the room. He waved it back and forth before Tav’s face. The man put his hand over his nose and lips.
“Remember who cut your nose? It wasn’t from shaving, was it?”
Nevin spoke quietly but with deadly intent. Tav gulped. He shot his eyes to his companion and back again.
“Don’t know what you talkin’ about,” he blustered. “Some Injuns jumped us once.”
Nevin shook his head. “One little girl did it. Isn’t that right?”
“How’d he know that?” said Zeb, almost squeaking.
Tav slapped Zeb’s head. “I said, shut up!”
“What’s this all about, son?”
Nevin slid the knife away and turned. Without him noticing, the room had been cleared. Gillis, Trace, and the sheriff looked at him.
“Unless we hold him back, Ross will hit them like a porcupine as soon as he sees them.”
Gillis scratched his beard with both sets of fingers, like a dog would attack an itch with his hind leg. He growled almost the same as well.
“These the men he’s be wantin’ to kill?”
Nevin nodded. “He’ll turn Warrior on us. I was in the barn when he headed back out. He said he’ll kill these two for touching his wife then go after the others and never come back. Having two of the ones he’s looking for right here and not being able to skin them alive will make him crazy.”
“What about Amelia?”
Nevin cursed. He winced and rubbed his forehead as if he had the mother of all headaches. “Ross thinks she doesn’t want him because he didn’t protect her. Just like last time these two attacked someone he cared about.”
“What’d they do before?” asked Trace.
“That’s for Ross to say.”
“He’s not here, and I’m the one asking. Now,” said the sheriff. He motioned them to the far side of the room.
Nevin leaned a shoulder against the wall. Trace and Frank faced him.
“Years ago, these men and two others raped and murdered our cousin,” said Nevin. He spoke so quietly the sound didn’t reach far. “She was nine. Ross saw everything. He was too far away to stop it. When one of them came back, Ross killed him. He’s been searching for the other three since. These are two of them.”
“Shee-it.”
The prisoners backed away from the intense glare from three furious pairs of eyes.
“That’s is too long to prove anything, especially on the word of someone who was a boy at the time,” said Frank. “If Ross kills them for
that, he’ll hang. Taking his woman and threatening her is bad, but it might not be enough to hang them.” He turned to Nevin. “Where is he?”
“He followed the trail back to where they held her.”
“You should have a look at the place,” said Trace. “Bars on the windows and door. She wasn’t the first woman held there.”
“How’d she get out?
“Set fire to it and escaped through the roof as it burned,” said Nevin.
Trace nodded, a smile cracking his stern face. “Ross needs a strong woman like that.”
They turned as the crowd outside erupted.
“Here he comes!”
Trace peered out the window. “I’ll take his right arm. Nev, you take the left. He might listen to Gillis if that’s all he can see. Stay out of the way, Frank. I don’t want him to kill you as well.”
* * * *
Ross recognized the horses tied to the hitching post outside the jail. Trace, Gillis, and Nevin. The whole fam-damily, here to see his shame. Nothing new.
He pushed everything deep inside and ignored the jabbering crowd. He dismounted and looped his reins over the post. He opened the jail door and walked in, slamming it shut behind him.
He faced forward and took a step. Trace grabbed his bicep and forearm.
“What the hell—?”
Nevin grabbed the other arm. Gillis stood to one side. Ahead, two men held onto the bars of the cell and stared at him defiantly.
“You got nothing on us,” said the blond one.
His moustache didn’t hide the ugly flap of loose skin above his lip. Someone spoke, but the thunder in his head blocked everything out. His entire being centered on two faces. The second man’s brown beard covered as much of his face as possible, but even after all those years, he recognized the powder burns.
Suddenly, he was a child again, hearing the men laugh in the distance as they threw her to the ground. Back then, he had only a vague idea of what they were doing. Now, he knew.
Had they done that to Amelia as well?
He screamed a war cry and surged forward. He managed to push a few feet before the men holding his arms stopped him. The evil ones backed away. He saw their terror. Exulted in it. But he wanted pain. Screaming pain as he sliced the skin from their flesh. Inch by slow inch.
