by lake, e a
Betsi poked Jeremy. “Okay. Another minute or two and we make our way to the gate,” she whispered. “I see there’s still a guard there, so let me do the talking.”
Jeremy eyed the guard carefully. “Well, that usually works best for us, so fine with me. He doesn’t appear to be armed at all. Seems safe enough, I guess.”
Betsi cringed hearing his voice. “None of the camps have any ammo left. At least that’s the popular consensus.” She looked back to see if he picked up on her bitter tone, which he hadn’t. “He still might have a knife. And if he calls for back-up, they could have some type of weapons. So let’s go in real easy and let him know we mean no harm.”
Jeremy turned to her, puzzled. “But we don’t mean any harm, do we?”
A tremor ran through Betsi as she tensed. Turning to face him, she smiled. “Of course not, sweetie. I was just saying that we just need to be cautious.” Reaching out, she took his hand. “Okay, nice and easy.”
As they approached the gate, a woman appeared next to the single sentry in the opening. Noticing Betsi and Jeremy, the conversation halted, and the guard approached, watching their every move. “Can I help you two?” he called out from about 30 feet away. Slowing, Betsi felt her heart race. She watched as his right hand rose, palm open at them. “Stop right there please. State your business.”
Betsi moved forward after telling Jeremy to stay in place. Slowly, she inched toward the unarmed man. “We’re travelers. From Salt Lake, seeking refuge. And looking for someone.”
The guard made his final steps and stopped within arm’s reach of Betsi. “And who might you be looking for, young lady?”
Timidly, Betsi continued. “I prefer to discuss that with your camp leader and perhaps the assembly.”
The man’s face remained stone-like and unchanged. His head swiveled slightly from side to side. “You’d best tell me what you need. I’ll pass it along to them. Word is trouble’s coming. So we’re being a little cautious you understand.”
Betsi gave a small smile and smaller nod. “I need to see Cara Wake, now please. Her and I were friends back in Salt Lake.” As Betsi spoke, the woman behind the guard hustled away from them, around the outside of the fence.
“And what friend may I say is calling on Mrs. Wake?” he asked.
Unsure how to respond, Betsi fell silent. She thought of using Carla’s name again; Cara knew Carla, too. After a long pause, she lifted her face to speak. “Sarabeth, Sarabeth Bond,” she announced with pride. “Tell her Betsi is here.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Steven and George pulled on the second post to be replaced. Letting out a grunt that sounded like a bull moose in rut was near, George finally broke the post free from its dirt enclosure.
“Holy Hannah!” George shouted, falling to the ground. “That baby was wedged in there good and hard. You’d almost think we used cement.”
Steven moaned on the other side of the 18-inch diameter post. “I hope those other two are having just as tough a time as we are,” he replied, slumping forward to catch his breath.
George laughed. “They ain’t half our age, Steven. They’ll probably finish their three and still have time to help us reset this one.”
Nodding his agreement, Steven knelt in the brown fall foliage. Looking away from George, he noticed three of his men approaching, gloves on and ready to work.
“You guys going out to pull wood for us, Harley?” he asked their temporary leader.
“Yeah, but where’s the four men you promised in return,” Harley chaffed. “Three can’t carry hardly nothing in from that far out. We’ll be at it all winter.”
Steven nodded in the direction of the interior of the camp. “I thought I sent you four volunteers before. Didn’t they show up?”
Harley grinned at his boss. “You sent us boys, Steven. We need men.”
Now Steven grinned. “Unless you can find yourself four free men, or desire to haul that wood all day by yourselves, I recommend you take those boys and make ‘em work.”
A brief stare-down ended with a shrug from Harley. “I thought the missus said we ain’t supposed to take Joshua or any of his friends that far out.”
Continuing to stare, hoping to appear undeterred, Steven’s lips tightened. “You sneak them out, Harley. You know what to do. Just don’t let Cara see you doing it, or we’re both in a world of hurt. Got it?”
Harley pondered his words. Steven couldn’t tell if he was going to do as told or run off and tell Cara about his transgression. “Okay, but you gotta deal with Mrs. Wake if she catches me. Deal?” Harley’s right hand slowly lowered to Steven’s reach.
Considering the deal, Steven thought harder than usual. Chances were she was too busy to notice. “Deal,” he replied, shaking Harley’s gloved hand.
From his left, he heard George’s muted chuckle. “Your thoughts?” he asked his foreman.
“You’re a dead man, Steven,” George replied, now beginning a heartier laugh. “She’s gonna bust you and you’ll be in her doghouse ’til winter.”
As both men rose, Steven smiled at George. “At least it’s a place I’m comfortable being.” Reaching down, they dragged the log away from the fence and went to cut a new green post.
Another two hours of cutting, trimming and shaping passed before George deemed the new post ready to be set. After dragging it 40 yards from the spot it fell to the hole in the ground, the pair took a break. Steven panted, his lungs searching for enough oxygen to replenish his screaming limbs. With hands on knees and his head hanging almost to the ground, he finally caught enough breath to speak.
“If we give it…” Another few pants followed. “…just a few minutes…” Pant after pant. “…maybe we can find someone to help us set this log. Right?” He waited for George’s reply. “Right?” he asked again, feeling better about his condition. George, it seemed, had it worse. Finally, he tipped his head to the right. Noticing his foreman walking away, Steven straightened slightly. “He must be off to find us help,” he whispered to himself.
Peeking over his right shoulder, George picked up his pace. Steven watched as he raced around the far back end of the fence toward the three gardens in the rear. Puzzled, he wiped his brow. I don’t think there’s any men back there…, he thought to himself.
“Steven.” He froze. That was his wife’s voice. And it sounded close.
“Steven,” she repeated a little louder. Slowly, he turned to see Cara approaching, far too quick for his liking.
“Well hello, darling,” he replied attempting to be as nonchalant as possible. She didn’t appear upset just yet.
“I’ve been looking for Joshua everywhere. Rosie is becoming a real pill, and I could use his help entertaining her,” she said. “Any ideas where he and Calvin snuck off to?” She smiled, but that worried Steven.
Searching the immediate area, he shrugged. “Ah, he must be around somewhere. Couldn’t have wandered off too far.” He offered up a kind smile and noticed hers had disappeared. “Maybe checking the traps out back or down by the creek fishing.” Her eyes narrowed; he felt the sweat coming on.
“So,” she began patiently, “he’s not helping with the racks like Grace said he was supposed to do.” Her fists came to rest on her narrow hips. “And he’s not helping with the fence like Grace thought he might be.” Her face tightened with each word.
Steven could only smile. This was not a good time for a knock-down, drag-out brawl with her, not for him at least. “Like I said, he’s around somewhere.”
Cara nodded and looked off in the direction of where the woodsmen were. “And he wasn’t one of the four lads that Harley commandeered, on your advice, to go fetch wood…” She moved closer to him. “…like Grace said she saw?”
His tongue became thick, like it was covered in dense glue. He tried to lick his lips, but with no saliva available, he was afraid they’d crack and bleed if he dared open his mouth. His wife’s glare intensified.
“Really,” she sputtered, “after all the
times I have made it clearly known that I don’t want him that far off, dealing with wood that could snap his arm in an instant. A pile could fall and crush him like a bug. There could be a bear attack, and they’d have little to protect themselves with.” She pulled on his coat collar, bringing his face down to her level. “And you disobey me.”
“Cara,” he started, his tone soft and loving, “he’ll be fine. He’s with Harley and two other men. They’ll watch out for the boys.”
Cara’s eyes shot open and a chill ran through him as he feared for his well-being. Tightening her grip on his collar, her voice rose another octave. “Harley? You think Harley is a good protector, a good example to be with? Harley, the man who broke his arm last fall chasing a raccoon up a tree? Just for fun?” She released his collar, attempting to throw him away. “You,” she screamed, “are amazing. I wonder sometimes what you’re thinking. I wonder if I was crazy to make you my husband.” She turned away, and he noticed her hands balled into fists. “I can’t believe you would do this to me, without even asking.” Spinning, she rushed him again. “Have you no consideration for my feelings on anything, Steven?”
Now would be a good time to reply, he thought. And something decent; not cute or sarcastic. That might lead to a week of sleeping on the chair, unintended. As he opened his mouth to beg for forgiveness, a new voice called out from the front of the camp.
“Mrs. Wake? Mrs. Wake?” Sheila approached, saving Steven from a certain death – or worse. Coming closer, she seemed oblivious to their ongoing one-sided war. “There you are, Mrs. Wake. There’s a pair of new arrivals at the front gate. A man and his wife.”
Cara straightened her jacket and turned to give Sheila her full attention. “Okay, I will be there as soon as Steven and I finish our discussion.”
Sheila’s head shook quickly. “No. The woman is asking for you by name. Says she knows you. Perhaps you could come right away. She seems almost, well, frantic.”
Cara shot Steven one last leer, as evil as she ever had in his mind. “All right,” she replied, following Sheila to the front gate. “Let’s go find out what all the commotion is about then.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Andy and his henchman glowered at the Camp Eight assembly members. They gave Andy the impression of an honest group, but he didn’t really trust their leader – Jed whatever-his-name-was. Perhaps it was because he was a young leader; he didn’t look a day over 30 to Andy. Perhaps it was his attitude. Jed answered questions, politely at that, but gave the impression of holding something back. Most likely the reason Andy didn’t like the man was his gaze, far off into the forest as he answered questions, almost like he were hiding something, like the rest of the assembly knew Jed was lying and didn’t want to make any eye contact in fear of giving away his half-truths.
“So, Talbot Bond was here you say,” Andy repeated his question for a third time.
Thoughtfully, Jed nodded. “Yep,” he drawled.
Andy’s stare intensified. “And he left three weeks ago?”
“Yep.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Andy rubbed them. This was worse than pulling a sliver from a bear’s paw. “Did he tell you anything interesting? Anything worth sharing?”
Jed stared at the ground, rubbing his whiskers. “Not that I can remember. Somewhat of a boring fellow.” Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, he motioned to the eldest member – at least he looked the oldest to Andy. “Frank, you remember anything special about that Bond fellow?”
Frank’s mouth twitched as his eyes focused on the behemoth next to Andy. Letting his gaze fall back on the youngest Tarlisch, he shook his head slowly. “Nope. Kind of a boring fellow, if I recall.”
An anger boiled inside Andy, like a pot of lukewarm water just set over the fire. He motioned for Freddy to join him, away from tainted ears.
“Something wrong, boss?” Wilson asked.
Andy snuck a peek at the assembly, now standing in a tight circle deep in some type of discussion. “I ain’t buying what they’re selling. From what I know of Bond, he’s anything but dull. Will always said he was as clever as a fox, even more so sometimes.” Focusing on the man who was a good head taller than himself, he continued. “And what’s with all the colorful garb here? These are strange folks, Freddy, don’t you think?”
Wilson watched the assembly, not Andy. “We need to ask them about the Albrecht girl. You haven’t done that yet.”
Andy turned his head and hollered at the group. “We’re looking for a girl too; well, a woman I suppose. Goes by Betsi Albrecht, maybe Sarabeth. Traveling with her husband. Seen anything of them up here?”
Jed Fordham stepped away from his gathering. “Yeah, there was a gal here, just the other day. Went by Atwater. Said she was looking for her dad. We sent her on to Camp Nine. Never heard of no Atwaters up here though. Maybe they have over there in Camp Nine.”
Andy’s attention flipped back to his henchman. “Seems like everyone’s on their way to Camp Nine. Maybe we should be. You think?”
Wilson leaned to whisper in his boss’s ear. “I think it’s best if we do a search of the camp first. Seems like the prudent move in this situation.” Leaning away, he awaited Andy’s reply. “If that’s what you think is best, I mean.”
Andy grinned. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Thanks, Freddy.” He winked at his friend. Focusing on the assembly, he called out again. “We’d like to search the camp.”
Tightlipped, they nervously eyed one another.
“Let me change that,” Andy yelled, approaching the group with Freddy in tow. “We’re going to search your camp. We just need to be sure everything is as you say.”
Jed eyed the young man. “And if we don’t agree?”
Andy’s grin doubled. “I’ll turn my people loose, and we’ll burn this place to the ground –
after we search it, of course. Then we’ll hang you and your friends here, just to show everyone the respect that a Tarlisch deserves.” Stepping so close he could smell what Jed had for lunch, he tipped his head. “That sound better?”
With a look of indifference, Jed replied. “My camp is your camp, boy.” Spreading his arms, Andy and Wilson walked past, motioning for several others to join them. “Asshole,” Jed added under his breath.
The horses turned from the camp and took their riders away to the south. Daylight would soon be in short supply, and Andy knew it. Also in the back of his mind was the fact the Willem probably wouldn’t come until morning. He had to get a man back to Salt Lake to let Willem know where to head. And then he and his team needed to meet up with Landry, who hopefully had Camp Nine surrounded by now.
“Freddy,” he yelled behind, “have Jones and Hill head back to Salt Lake. Tell them to guide Will and Howard up here to Camp Nine, down below Deer Creek Reservoir. Have them go back up the canyon by Twin Peaks. That’ll be the quickest.”
“They aren’t getting back there for four hours or so. We need to secure the other camp so no one sneaks out,” Freddy said. “You know it will be noon tomorrow before Willem gets up there, right?”
“I know that,” Andy scoffed. “I just hope when he gets here he appreciates everything we did.” The pair fell in line with the others as Jones and Hill rode back to the north. “Maybe now he won’t kick me around no more. You know, ‘stupid little cousin Andy.’”
Wilson stared ahead. “What do you care what he thinks? Do your job, do it well. That’s all he’s asking of you. Just don’t act so stupid like you have a tendency to do sometimes. That is what he wants, I think.”
Andy cringed. “Why is everyone against me? Why are you against me, Freddy? What do I have to do to make all of you happy?” His saddle squeaked as he turned to his right. “I thought you were my friend.”
“I am your friend, Andy,” he replied, still watching the trail. “I still got to answer to Willem, you know. He ain’t my family. If you screw up, he’ll chew you out. If you screw up, and finds out I let you,” Freddy spun and focused on the younger man,
“he’ll hang me. And we both know it.”
Riding forward and picking up speed, Andy grinned.
Two scouts from Lieutenant Landry’s group waited for Andy’s arrival on the trail, a little more than a mile from Camp Nine. Slowing their horses to a walk, Andy nodded at the pair.
“We all set boys?” Andy asked, noticing that the sun had cleared the tree tops to the west and soon would fall behind the mountains. When that happened, darkness would devour the forest.
One of the pair stared tight-lipped at the other. The second man held the update. “We ran into a little problem on the way down here. So Landry has everyone staged about a quarter mile south of the camp. She was just waiting on you.”
Andy’s nostrils flared hearing their report. “What the hell you mean, ‘staged’? She’s supposed to have that camp surrounded by now,” he fired back.
Cautiously, the rider made his way to Andy’s side. “Just follow me. She’ll explain it all.”
His head shook, looking far off into the mountains in the east, wondering what could possibly have held up Landry’s progress. “She damn well better,” Andy spit back.
With no further words, the large company of riders galloped south.
“What the hell you been doing, Landry?” Andy shouted. “That camp was supposed to be surrounded by now. Willem is gonna kill you if Bond has escaped ‘cuz he knew we were coming.”
Melinda’s casual expression showed no emotion for Andy to gauge. “We had a problem, Andy. About four miles west of here. We ran into an Upland Guard unit.”
Waving a loose hand, Andy snorted his displeasure. “So what? I’m sure there’s Guard everywhere up here.”
Melinda moved closer. “We had a bigger problem than them just saying hi. It got hot, fast.” Her eyes nervously roamed the 70-plus riders Andy had brought; seemingly searching for one person.
