by Kit Morgan
“Don’t say it, don’t you dare,” Belle spoke in a soft tone.
Her aunt’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You little whore.”
Belle closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Right now, spending the night in the livery stable with Uncle Wilfred sounded mighty good compared to spending the rest of the night with her aunt. She turned on her heel without a word and marched back to her room. She’d worry about getting herself out of the house and downstairs after she packed a satchel. She could hear Aunt Irene huff and puff her way down the hall after her.
Belle reached her room and slammed the door behind her. At this point she didn’t care if she slammed it in Aunt Irene’s face. She went to where she hung her dress and took off her robe. She waited for her aunt’s verbal explosion from the other side of the door. But there was none. No outburst, no screaming, no insults. Just the sound of a key turning in the lock. Belle gasped.
Aunt Irene had just locked her in her room.
* * *
Jefferson mounted his horse and sat a moment to get his bearings. A wave of dizziness hit and he gripped the saddle horn with one hand to keep his seat. The dizzy spells were coming more frequently, even when he wasn’t drinking. They started when Jack and Sam were sent to prison. He shook his head a few times to clear it, then turned his horse around to head home. He heard the saloon double doors swing open as someone stepped outside. The creak of leather followed. Who ever it was just mounted a horse. Jefferson hadn’t so much as passed the Sheriff’s office when the man rode up beside him.
“None of my business, mister. But I couldn’t help overhear what those youngins and you was talkin about.”
“What’s it to you?” Jefferson slurred.
The man shrugged. “Well, my guess is your sons are Jack and Sam Cooke.”
Jefferson stopped his horse in front of the mercantile. “What do you know about Jack and Sam?”
“Not much, just what folks say along the trail.”
Jefferson squinted at him in the moonlight. “Do I know you? Have we played cards?”
“We’ve played a few times, remember?”
Jefferson took another look and then sat up straight in his saddle. He took a swig from the whiskey bottle in his hand. “You do look mighty familiar.”
“I should. Mind if I have some of that?” The man asked as he pointed to the bottle.
Jefferson held it to his chest in a protective manner and eyed him. “What’s your name, I can’t remember.”
The man flashed him a brilliant smile. “Jeb’s the name. Now do you remember me?”
“Not right now I don’t,” he said and slowly handed him the bottle.
Jeb took it from him and took a long swallow. He suddenly grimaced before he spit most of it out. “You call this whiskey? This is terrible!”
Jefferson eyed the bottle. “Does me fine.”
“Then you have no idea what good whiskey is, my friend! I have a bottle back at my camp. Why not come with me and share it?”
Jefferson eyed him. He couldn’t remember the man very well but did recollect playing cards with him last week. And a good bottle of whiskey was tempting....
“Come with me and you can tell me what really happened to Jack and Sam. I hear your step sons done swindled em good.”
“Worthless, the lot of them! Jack and Sam should have it all by now. The new house, the stock...” He glanced at the upper story of the mercantile and saw the lamp burning in the window. “... The women. Those step sons of mine took it all!”
Jeb leaned toward him. “Bet you’d like to get back at em, now wouldn’t ya?”
Jefferson snarled. “That’s a mighty stupid question, ain’t it?”
Jeb laughed. “When a man takes something from you, you take something from him to get even.”
Jefferson looked at him a moment then glanced to the lighted window of the mercantile. His face contorted with his rising anger. He reached over and grabbed the bottle of whiskey from Jeb.
“Yeah, you’d like to pay those boys back for what they did to Jack and Sam. And like I said, take from them something to make things even, right? I can help you do that.”
“Can you now?”
Jeb once again smiled. “You have no idea. For instance, I can get the steers those boys were given and turn around and give them to you. Come with me and I’ll tell you how.”
Jefferson slowly grinned before he took another swig from the bottle and sat up straight on his horse. “Now that sounds mighty fine.”
“I’ll show you how to get even. Yessirreee.”
“I get even my own way.” And with a look born from months of jealousy and rage, he turned his horse toward the mercantile and threw the whiskey bottle as hard as he could at the lighted window. It crashed through the glass, hit the lamp, and knocked it over.
“Lead the way. I could use some good whiskey.” Jefferson said as he turned his horse around.
Jeb laughed as the first flames shot up from the parlor floor and caught the curtains on fire. He then kicked his horse and the two of them galloped out of town.
* * *
“How long do you think he’ll stay?” Colin asked as he absently picked at the reins in his hand.
Romeo shifted about as they waited. Duncan patted his neck to calm him. “Not sure, but at least we can make sure he gets home all right.”
They waited behind the last building on the street, the one directly across from Doc Waller’s house. They could easily watch Jefferson leave town as the road went right past them, yet from their position they would go unnoticed. They would follow him home at a distance.
“I’m going to talk to Wilfred tomorrow.” Colin said casually.
Duncan gave a low chuckle. “Harrison and I were wondering how long you’d be able to hold out. But Wilfred won’t be a problem. It’s Mrs. Dunnigan you have to worry about. Have you thought...”
A sound caught their attention.
“What was that?” Colin asked. “Sounded like glass breaking.”
Suddenly they heard horses approaching at a good gallop. Two riders rode out of town but didn’t stay on the main road. Instead they veered to the left before passing the brothers and headed across the prairie.
“I dare say, who is that leaving in such a hurry?” Colin asked.
“I’m not sure but I think one of them was Jefferson.”
“What? Heavens man, it’s amazing he can stay on his horse with as much whiskey as he’s had! He must be gripping his saddle for dear life!”
Duncan kicked Romeo and cantered to the middle of the road leading into town. Something wasn’t right. He turned as an odd light caught his attention. “Colin!” He spun Romeo around and rode up to the wagon and came to a skidding stop. “Get on, now!”
Colin didn’t hesitate and jumped onto the back of Romeo behind Duncan. The two raced down the street to the mercantile. The upper story was in flames.
“Good God!” Colin yelled and jumped off. “Belle!” He ran up the steps and went to run through the door but it was locked. He kicked it open, entered, and immediately ran for the stairs leading to the second story. Smoke had already filled the stairwell, forcing him to cover his nose and mouth with the bandana he wore around his neck.
“Belle!” He reached the top of the stairs and tried the door. Locked. Oh Lord please! He backed up a step and tried to kick it in as well. It gave, but stopped. Something was blocking it from the inside. Duncan was suddenly behind him.
Colin again tried to kick it in. Still it did not open. “Belle! Can anyone hear me? Mrs. Dunnigan!”
“What’s wrong?” Duncan yelled over the increasing roar of the fire.
“Something’s blocking it!”
“Together then!”
And with that the two brothers stepped back, then rammed into the door with their shoulders as best they could. What ever was blocking gave way but not quite enough.
“Again!” Colin cried. And they rammed the door a second time.
Luckily,
it was enough, and the door cracked, the barrier holding it loosed enough now to allow the door to open.
“Mrs. Dunnigan!” Colin cried as he saw her flattened against the wall in the kitchen. One wall of the parlor was completely engulfed in flames. They had seconds to act. They grabbed her and pulled her from the wall, through the parlor and toward the stairwell.
“Noooo!” She cried.
Duncan got behind her and pushed as Colin pulled. Mrs. Dunnigan was actually fighting them. Colin couldn’t believe it! Did the woman not realize she could get them all killed if she kept it up?
They got her through the door to the landing. Colin continued to pull her to the stairs. “You take care of her, I’ve got to get Belle!”
“Noooo!” Mrs. Dunnigan cried. “You can’t!”
She made no sense and they didn’t have time to figure out what she meant. Colin raced back in to find Belle. She had to be in one of the bedrooms, there was no other place she could be. He struggled to breathe as he ran down the smoke filled hall. He tried the first door. It opened. “Belle! Where are you?” He could hardly see because of the smoke. He ran back out into the hall and went to the second door.
Locked.
“Belle?” He yelled as he pounded on the door.
Nothing.
He tried to kick it in.
Nothing.
He rammed it with his shoulder.
Still nothing.
“Belle!”
He began to choke. The smoke, the flames. They were becoming too much for him. He hadn’t the same strength as before. If he didn’t get out now, he wouldn’t get out at all. But he had to find Belle!
He again rammed his body against the door. “No! NO! Belle!”
Someone grabbed him from behind and began to pull him away from the door.
“No! Belle!” Colin began to cough and couldn’t stop. His vision blurred and his knees went weak. Someone picked him up and he suddenly realized he’d been slung over a very broad shoulder. “Nooo!”
And then nothing. Only blackness. His last thought, Belle. His precious angel who surely was no more.
Fifteen
The sun shone hot and bright. Belle could barely see because of the intense glare. There was nothing around her except the light which seemed to move of its own accord, if such a thing was possible. Was it? She didn’t know.
She couldn’t think straight; her mind was clouded, as if full of mist and shadow. Yet how could that be when there was such brilliance all around her? Colin suddenly came to mind. She thought she heard his voice. But where was he? Belle could see nothing beyond the light which encompassed her. Until she heard the crash.
Belle opened her eyes, the fog in her mind clearing slightly. It was dark, yet light. She suddenly realized she couldn’t breathe. Light. Smoke. “Fire!” She screamed and sprang from the bed.
She began to cough and became disoriented. She turned to the door and could barely make it out. A chair was propped underneath the doorknob. She’d been so angry with Aunt Irene for locking her in her room; she figured she’d lock her out as well. It gave her anger some satisfaction at the time, but now might be her undoing.
She made for the door, stumbled and fell. She began crawling instead and coughed horribly. She tried to cover her nose and mouth but couldn’t manage to crawl. She instead held her breath, reached the door and pulled the chair away. Light and heat were on the other side. The wood of the door hot. Very hot. Belle was trapped.
“Oh Lord! HELP!” She cried. But how could anyone hear her above the roar of the fire raging on the other side of the door? She rolled away from it to head for the window, only to roll into a pair of feet. She screamed at the contact and realization she was not alone. Hands grabbed onto her and someone tried to pull her to her feet.
“My aunt! My aunt is ... is there!” She cried and pointed at the door as she got to her knees. But her rescuer said nothing and instead began to drag her to the window. She half crawled, half pushed herself to help hasten them along, unable to stand. Unable to breathe.
Her hand hit something on the floor near the window. It was metal and sharp at one end. Several ends actually. Her rescuer grabbed the object off the floor and tossed it out the broken window. He then pulled Belle to her feet, opened the window, and began to shove her through it.
“No! I can’t!” Belle cried. She couldn’t see the ground below. They were too high. If the fire didn’t kill them the fall surely would. But her rescuer was determined to get her out. Belle’s head emerged through the window and into the night air, and though smoke now also poured from the room to outside she was able to get in a few breaths of what she needed.
Air. Beautiful, sweet air. It gave her some strength, and she looked down. A wagon was under the window. And something was in the back of it. And she prayed the Lord saw fit to make it soft enough to land on because before she knew it, she was falling. Falling and praying like she’d never prayed before and all within a scant second. She landed with her hands out, as if to break her fall. The wind knocked from her as she lay on her side atop what seemed like folded blankets.
She heard the thud of a body land next to her, felt the wagon shake with the impact. She thought she heard a horse but wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything. But then, how did the wagon get there?
The body next to Belle rose up and literally crawled right over her. She heard horses neigh as they began to panic because of the fire. The wagon quickly moved from the burning building and past her uncle’s small barn before it turned toward the prairie and away from the danger. Belle looked up and saw her room in flames. Had they not gotten out when they did, they’d both be dead.
But who had rescued her?
After a few moments the wagon stopped. They were now a good distance from the buildings, at least a hundred yards. Thankfully the mercantile stood alone. The buildings on either side, one of which was the Sheriff’s office, had at least thirty feet between themselves and the now raging inferno. At least they wouldn’t go up in flames along with the mercantile.
Belle tried to swallow and turn around. The wagon was familiar, as were its contents. She then suddenly realized she was in the wagon Colin had used to drive her out to the picnic and back to town. It belonged to the preacher and she and Sadie had loaded quilts and blankets into it. Aunt Irene and Uncle Wilfred had brought them out in case some folks didn’t have one. She’d forgotten to take them back to Aunt Irene when Colin brought her home.
“Auntie!” Belle cried. Oh Lord! My aunt! My aunt! I’m so sorry I was angry with her!
A hand touched her and she began to sob uncontrollably. Soon arms were around her and she held onto her rescuer with everything she had. A hand stroked her hair, patted her back to comfort her, but it did no good. She couldn’t stop the tears from coming. She’d lost her aunt and uncle! Lost the only relatives she had.
Or had she? Where was Uncle Wilfred? Was he home when the fire broke out?
She tried to calm herself, took a deep breath, and coughed. The coughs came hard and fast and the next thing she knew, forced her to retch. The hands of her rescuer still stroked, patted and again pulled her into a pair of arms. A small pair of arms. Belle wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand then pushed herself away to see who saved her life.
“Oh!” She breathed. “It’s you!”
Belle’s rescuer gave a hint of a smile, his eyes round with concern. It was the Duprie boy. Only, he wasn’t a boy. Without the animal skin hat covering the facial features and long hair, anyone could see the Duprie boy was in reality a young woman.
A very beautiful young woman from what Belle could see in the moonlight. Probably even more so if one removed the several layers of dirt, buckskins, and furred accessories she wore. All of which were obviously used to make her look like a boy.
She scooted away from Belle and glanced quickly about. Her movements reminded Belle of an animal and when she finally turned back to Belle, she again held great concern in her eyes.
&nbs
p; “I think I’m ... cough all right. I need water.”
The girl pointed to the town.
Belle couldn’t help it, she began to cry again. The girl immediately took her back in her arms.
“Uncle Wilfred! I don’t know if he was there!” The coughing came again. The girl continued to hold her until she calmed then pulled away to look at her. Once again she pointed to the town, but with earnest.
“My uncle, is he alive?”
The girl nodded, her mouth barely forming a smile.
“Oh, thank God!” Belle cried and grabbed the girl to her in a fierce hug. “We have to go back! I have to be with Uncle Wilfred! I have to know what happened to my aunt!”
The girl looked at the flames that still raged, then to Belle. She nodded then, and quickly got out of the wagon.
“What are you doing?” Belle asked, confused.
The girl grabbed one of the horse’s bridles, and began to lead it. She walked a wide half circle to turn the wagon toward town and stopped. She climbed back on, took the reins, and held them out to Belle.
Belle stared blankly at them. “Aren’t you coming with me?””
The girl shook her head.
“But why not?”
The girl pointed to her head, touched her hair, then her face.
“Oh. No one knows you’re really a girl do they? Only your father?”
She nodded. Then again held the reins before her. Belle crawled over the wagon bench and sat next to her. She took the reins and then hugged the young woman who saved her life. “Thank you. If there’s something I can do for you...”
The girl again pointed to her head, touched her long hair, and her face. She then held a finger to her lips and made shhhh sound.
“I understand. You don’t want anyone to know you’re a girl.”
She nodded, and then hopped off the wagon. She stepped away and went to the back of the wagon and took something from it. She let part of it fall to the ground as she began to coil the rope attached to it. Belle gasped. The girl held a three pronged grappling hook in her hand. Of course! That’s how she got into her room to save her! It also explained how she’d gotten into the mercantile to retrieve the bag of candy earlier. But what kind of woman performed such feats?
