That sound bothered her but she didn’t turn back. If there was anyone in the house, Wade had very possibly alerted them.
She heard another sound, much softer, the hush of iron on leather, and turned back to see Wade pull his Colt revolver and take careful aim at the house. Abby was approaching from the south. There were two windows on the ground floor and more on the second. She knew that if Wade saw someone at those windows, he’d cover her.
Protect her.
Kill for her.
Die for her.
Abby hesitated to admit it, even to herself, but she felt the same. She knew a fraction of how much Jesus must have loved her because of the determined look on Wade’s face and the deep resolve she felt in her heart to protect him.
God, please let me be worthy of his love. Please help protect us both. Please, please, please don’t make it necessary for either of us to kill or die.
Abby inched forward. The moving grass would hopefully be mistaken as the blowing wind. She prayed.
Wade aimed.
God, please hear the praying and forgive the aiming.
Nothing. No movement. No sound. Minutes passed. Then half an hour.
Sid could see Paddy twitching with impatience. Sid wasn’t far behind. He hadn’t heard a thing but that one snap of a twig. “There’s nothing out there, Boog.”
Boog turned narrowed eyes on him, and Sid froze as surely as if he’d been hit with a high mountain blizzard. Those eyes threatened slow, painful death, and Sid had no doubt Boog could deliver that death without a qualm if it meant protecting himself.
Sid hunkered down again. His partner was woods savvy, no doubt about it. But there were animals in the woods, the wind gusted, trees sometimes had a branch snap and fall to the ground. He dropped his own vigilance and let Boog play his game.
Suddenly Boog, already taut with acute attention to the area in front of him, stiffened even more, raised his gun, and took careful aim.
“Abby, get down!” Wade felt an icy chill of fear, and he had to stop her.
She dove low, invisible behind the waving grass.
Silence stretched.
Wade stared at the seemingly empty house. What had scared him? Had God Himself given that warning? Or was Wade reacting to some subtle movement at the window? A faint noise? Or was he scared of his own shadow?
There was nothing.
Then there was Abby. She hadn’t gotten down at all. She’d continued forward, so smoothly that Wade hadn’t noticed until she emerged from the grass right next to one of the south windows and pressed her back against the house. With a look at Wade, a smirk it had to be, she moved closer to the window as she silently took her knife from between her teeth and eased her head past the glass.
Wade couldn’t believe she’d ignored him.
No, no, no. Please, God, don’t let her die.
Waiting for a gunshot to end Abby’s precious life, Wade snapped. He screamed loud enough to impress Abby’s Flathead family at a medicine dance and charged from behind the tree. Waving his arms and shouting, he rushed the house. He could draw their fire if someone was inside.
“Wade, no!”
Boog, on his knees crouched low, suddenly reared up and brought his rifle to bear. Then he twisted his body. “Get down!”
His low, harsh order drove the three other men to the ground.
“Not a sound. Nothing! Flathead hunting party!” Boog had barely whispered, but the terror in his voice was enough to make Sid obey him without question. Boog was scared right down to his belly, and Sid had never seen the man scared before.
Not one of them moved. Sid didn’t think he even breathed.
Seconds passed. Minutes.
A whisper of noise reached Sid, and he stared through the grass that surrounded their camp.
They’d been riding since before dawn, pushing hard after the gold. He’d let Boog and Harv rest at the Griffin place while he’d ridden in for Paddy and made an excuse to Chester for why they’d be gone a couple of days.
Pushing as hard as four hardened men could, they’d brought spare horses and switched saddles to keep going. They’d made good time and now were near the mountain valley where they’d killed off those interfering Flatheads.
There shouldn’t have been anyone here. It had been long enough for the larger tribe to come, bury their dead, and return to the Bitterroot Valley. But Sid saw through the tall grass a group of warriors. These riders, ten in all, were armed with rifles as well as bows and knives, unlike those they’d attacked earlier.
If Boog had fired a shot, the Flathead warriors would have been all too ready to fight. It was one thing to come upon a sleeping village with only a few armed men, none of them bearing rifles. It was another to take on ten adult warriors. That was certain death.
The hunting party was far enough away and upwind. They didn’t notice Sid and his gang. Pure luck, because Indians were a noticing kind of people.
Each rider had a deer slung over his saddle as the group rode up the mountain, undeniably on their way into the valley Sid had just cleared of Indians.
His fury grew in direct proportion to the terror he’d felt a few minutes ago.
The Flatheads vanished into the trees that covered the mountainside most of the way to the top, before it dropped off into the lush green bowl of a valley that hid Harv’s gold.
Once they were gone, Boog turned to Sid as if he needed to work his fury off on someone. “Cleared out that valley, huh? It don’t look like they’re gone. It looks like there’re more of ’em than ever.”
“Just shut up! Give me a minute to think!” Sid saw Boog’s mouth close, but it wasn’t because Boog obeyed. No one ordered Boog around. So Boog must’ve decided to be quiet for reasons of his own. Probably doing some thinking for himself.
“Let me shinny up there,” Paddy offered, his eyes bright and sick to think they could massacre again. “I’ll find out how many there are. I’ll count ’em and come back and report.”
“They’ll have lookouts, you fool!” Harv sat up, looking after the hunting party. Then, as if he’d heard something, he began scanning in all directions.
Sid controlled a snort of disgust. Of course there might be more. He’d been scanning from the moment he’d spotted the riders.
Harv was a bigger fool than Paddy.
“Let him go.” Boog wasn’t suggesting; he was ordering.
Sid should have called him on it. Sid was the boss. But calling Boog on anything could lead to shooting trouble, and neither of them dared fire a shot. It’d bring those Indians right down on their heads. Sid jerked his head toward the upward slope. “Go scout, Paddy, but watch your back.”
Practically drooling with excitement, Paddy slipped into the heavy woods surrounding them and vanished.
Paddy was good, Sid had to admit it. If anyone could get up there, get the lay of the land and come back alive, it was the Irishman. But once he was there, if anyone was stupid enough to open fire on someone, it was Paddy. Then they’d all die.
“I’ve gotta make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” Practically growling, Sid stood, crouched down, and headed after Paddy.
“No one there.”
Abby’s terror exploded in something she felt a lot more at home with—rage. He’d run out into the open to draw fire to himself. She grabbed Wade’s shirtfront and yanked so hard he stumbled forward. “You could have been killed! Are you crazy?”
Suddenly she wasn’t pulling him forward. He was coming forward all on his own. His arms went around her waist and he lifted her right off the ground. “Why, Abby Linscott, you were afraid I’d get hurt.”
“No I wasn’t!”
“You care about me.”
“I’m tempted to hurt you mysel—mmpph!”
Her words were cut off by Wade’s lips, and her terror, flipped to rage, now flipped by this kiss to…to…God help her…to love. She’d been unable to resist kissing him on that overlook, but she’d held back her heart. But now it tumbled free, fal
ling into love.
No, no, no, God. I will not be in love with this man.
It was already too late. She wrapped her arms around his neck until she might have strangled him.
The man didn’t show a speck of fear as he kissed her senseless.
Then, so suddenly she thought her head might be spinning, he put her down and pushed her away. “You behave yourself, woman.” Then a ridiculous grin spread from ear to ear on Wade’s face. “Kissing me like that isn’t proper until we’re married.”
Married! Married? No, no. She’d be in that stupid house with his grouchy father, surrounded by the horrible whites for the rest of her life. Wearing gingham, of all disgusting things. She’d reached for her knife several times today planning to slit the skirt up the sides like her doeskin dress, but so far she’d controlled the urge.
Abby was back to wanting to kill him. She dove at him, but he was too fast for her.
He rounded the house and was up on the porch. The only reason he got away was because her knees were wobbly from that kiss. He pulled open the mansion’s door and vanished inside.
She went charging after him. Yes, he needed strangling, but she was sorely afraid if she got her hands on him again, it would be to grab another kiss.
Sid caught Paddy just as he clambered up the last of the steep rise.
Paddy poked his head over the canyon rim then jerked it back, flipped over on his back, and slid down a few feet. “Injuns, hunnerds of ’em.”
Sid took one look at Paddy, his eyes wide with fear. He lay flat on his back, his arms spread a bit as if to cling to the ground.
Sid inched upward for his own look.
“Careful.” Paddy’s voice was hoarse. Paddy was a man who liked to kill, and he never seemed too afraid of dying himself, like the danger was a drug he was addicted to. But right now, Paddy found no fun in what he’d seen.
Slowing down, Sid picked a spot where a gnarled pine grew only a few feet high, its long needles lying on the ground. He lifted his head the bare minimum over the ridge, slowly, careful to make no sound or sudden movement. And he saw.
The entire Flathead nation must have moved into this valley.
Before, there’d been a handful of tepees and only a few adult warriors, no guns that Sid had found when scouting. Now there were dozens of armed men. Tepees filled nearly the whole bowl-shaped valley that topped this mountain, lining both sides of the rushing stream that poured down from a higher mountain to the north.
They’d waited too long and now they were locked away from the gold. Maybe forever. The tribe might leave for winter hunting grounds, but this was no hunting party. They’d put up their tepees. Women stirred pots. The hunting party was already skinning the deer they’d brought in. Women were tanning hides, probably from yesterday’s hunt. Children shouted and played along the water’s edge. They were here to stay.
Sid turned just as Paddy had and lay on his back, his plans tasting like ashes in his mouth.
“There’s no chance we’ll find the gold. Not until they move on.” Paddy said what Sid already knew, and Sid had a strong urge to slam his fist into Paddy’s mouth until he shut up forever.
The gold was out of reach. Sid realized in a moment of perfect clarity that he now needed the M Bar S more than ever. He needed a place nearby to stay until the Flatheads moved on. His defeat turned to bitter determination. “Let’s go. Let’s get back to Sawyer’s and finish what we started. This tribe’ll move on come cold weather and we’ll come for the gold then.”
“It looked like a permanent settlement to me.”
The only reason he didn’t put a bullet in Paddy right then was the noise it’d make.
Sid started back to Boog and Harv fast, because one more stupid word from Paddy and even a village of Flatheads coming down on them wouldn’t stop Sid from shutting Paddy’s mouth permanently.
“No one here. But someone’s been here recently.” Wade jabbed a finger at the pile of tin cans. The jagged edges of the lids looked like they’d been hacked open with a knife. “He cleared out. Nothing left. If a drifter went out hunting for an hour or two, he’d probably leave his gear behind.”
“Maybe.”
Wade smiled up at her. He could still see that anger when he had been reckless. Now why would a little woman who claimed to hate him care one speck about a man getting hurt?
She didn’t hate him half as much as she wanted to. Of course, he’d suspected as much when she’d let him kiss her silly up on the mountainside while they watched the house.
God, I can see she cares, and I can see she doesn’t want to. Help her. Help me to say the right thing. Ease her grief for her Flathead family and her hurt at their rejection.
Wade realized that Abby’s rejection by her Indian world was far too similar to his rejection by his father. It was no wonder they had turned to each other. Two people alone in the world.
Despite the fact that Wade was now back at his father’s house, Wade felt adrift. Abby could be his anchor.
“Enough adventure for one day. Let’s be on our way.” Abby crossed her arms and glared at the huge front room they stood in. A stairway swept in a graceful arc upstairs on one side of the room. Doors opened off the other side of the mammoth entrance. “This house is even more ridiculous than yours. I didn’t think that was possible.”
“My father’s house, not mine.”
“Wade”—Abby let up her glowering for a second—“how can you stand the way your father treats you? Why don’t you stand up for yourself?”
“The Bible says to honor your mother and your father.”
Pursing her lips, Abby studied Wade. “I know this verse, but I don’t think God asks us to let our parents heap cruelty on us. Do you?”
“I’ve struggled with that, for a fact. What do you think?” Wade prayed silently, wishing she’d have the answer to the question of his life—how to honor his pa.
“I think that we can honor our parents from a position of strength.”
Considering, Wade shrugged. “But what does that mean, exactly?”
“Do you feel God urging you toward calm? Or do you want to fight your father, demand his respect the only way he understands, with your own anger?”
Wade crossed his arms. “I’ve never been able to demand a thing from Pa. He’s always treated me badly and I’ve never found a way to change it, short of leaving.”
“Then why did you come home to him?”
“You were there. He sent for me. He was dying, Red said. I had to obey that summons. I didn’t expect to have to live with the old coot. I expected to be on hand to bury him.”
“And now it looks as if he’ll live, probably for years. Are you going to accept that and let him pour hatred on your head for the rest of your life?”
She sounded so kind. Not like his Abby at all. A fighter by nature and by upbringing, she was more likely to go for her knife than to coax cooperation out of anyone. That was one of the things Wade liked best about her.
“So you think I should…what? Yell back?”
Rubbing her mouth as if considering just that, finally Abby said, “You’ll do as you see fit. But I don’t believe it’s honoring your father to let him get away with the things that make his son hate him. In fact, you’re standing quietly by while your father commits a terrible sin.”
Stunned, Wade could only stare at her. His heart, already soft toward the whole world, softened even more. “I think you’re right.”
Wade’s spirits rose as he thought of his father and the hate that festered in him. It was indeed a sin for Wade to patiently accept his father’s sin. He smiled. “Say, when we’re married, we can build a tepee and stake it out anywhere you want. We can go up into the mountains and live off the land.”
“We won’t be getting m–mar–married.” Abby closed her eyes tight then seemed to force them open. “I will bind myself to no white man.”
Wade had to admit that was a long, long way from “I do.” But he had time. “We can start out wi
th a small tepee then work on a bigger one when the babies start coming.”
Abby turned and stalked toward the door.
Before she reached it, Wade, in a strange mood of utter confidence that he was going to change Abby’s mind, with God’s help, followed, tormenting her for her own good. “I’m a crack shot. I’ll keep us in deer meat. You can plant a garden ….”
Abby moved faster across the thin stretch of overgrown weeds, away from the house and him.
“I saw a really nice valley not too far from the cabin where I spent the winter ….”
Abby vanished behind the clump of trees, heading for the horses.
Wade decided to shut up before she pulled that knife again. And he ran in case she stole his horse.
He thought he was getting to know his little wife-to-be pretty well.
CHAPTER 27
Mort met them at the front door roaring. As usual.
“Old man—”
Wade caught her around the waist and dragged her past the beast at the door. “Ignore him, honey.” He grinned at her.
She could have taken a swing at him, but it just didn’t seem worth the effort.
“You know we need to work on that reflex you’ve got to pull your knife every time you’re the least bit aggravated.”
Looking down, Abby saw she had it in her hand. Reflex must be right, because it hadn’t been a conscious choice. But she’d been raised to loathe and fear whites. Nothing she’d seen had convinced her to forget that raising. Except she’d learned she liked kissing one white man very much…too much. “I don’t need to work on it at all. I’m very good.” She tucked her weapon away.
“I didn’t mean that.” Wade had her nearly through the front entrance area, heading toward the kitchen. Any part of the house where they wouldn’t have to listen to Mort’s growling. Honestly, the man belonged in a cave. “I meant—”
“You called her ‘honey’?” Mort followed in his chair. They never should have put wheels on the man.
Abby was going to lose the hearing in her ears if that grizzly man didn’t stop roaring like a trapped bear.
Mary Connealy Page 78
