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Agreeing, Willem let his eyes absorb a new building, one he had not ventured into just yet. “Even after I busted her as an adulteress, did you see her defiance? The way she ignored us as we prepared to leave? She wasn’t frightened. I saw many timid faces behind her, even Steven wasn’t overly assertive. But she was something else.”
Turning right, the pair skipped down a set of marble steps. At the bottom, they turned left and continued down the long, dark hall. “A little more light would be nice,” Willem offered.
Finally, they turned right one last time and met Andy in the corridor. Somberly, he looked past Howard at his cousin. “We might have a problem,” Andy started. “We got a guy here from Camp Nine that claims to have intel, something maybe we can use. But the little prick won’t talk to me. Only wants the boss.”
“I really don’t want to interrogate a prisoner tonight, Andy,” Willem snorted. “Just beat it out of him and let me know in the morning. Perhaps we should move the hangings up to noon. Get it over with earlier that way.”
Howard turned toward Willem. “I thought you said trial at one and then hangings, if needed, later.”
Rolling his eyes, Willem sucked a deep breath in through his yellowed teeth. “They don’t need a trial, Howard. We just need to hang them and be done with this chapter. We say they’re spies, they’re spies. Case closed.”
Andy shoved between the pair. “I get to run the show tomorrow, right? I get to do the hanging?”
Pushing his cousin aside, Willem moved toward the cells. “All in good time, cousin. All in good time. I suppose I should give the poor sap his two minutes of begging, since I walked all the way over here. Which one am I here to see?”
Andy pointed down the dark corridor. “Third door down. There’s a candle burning in there already. You need a lantern, too?”
Willem patted Andy’s shoulder once. “No, I’ll make do. Just give me and Howard two minutes alone with him. Then come get us. I doubt he has anything too interesting to share. Probably just wants to beg for his life.”
Howard pushed open the metal door to a room that once must have been a supply closet. Near the back of the room, dimly lit by a single candle near the front, a lone figure sat on the floor. Howard pushed a chair into the small space for Willem to sit upon. Unsure of whether to sit or stand, Willem finally decided the day had been long and tiring enough, so he sat.
“So,” Willem began, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, “you wanted to see me?”
“I asked for the boss. That you?” the young man responded.
“That I am, lad. That I am.”
“Who’s the other guy? Can he be trusted?” the hidden voice asked.
Howard stepped back into the hall. “I’ll go talk to Andy. He said he had something to speak about. You need a lantern, Will?”
Willem shook his head, forgetting Howard wouldn’t see his motion. “No need, Howard.”
The door closed, and Willem focused more closely on the person further inside the short, narrow place. “So, what can I do for you?” he asked, yawning.
“I want to make a trade,” the voice requested. “I’ll give info and you let us seven go. Deal?”
Leaning back in the stiff metal office chair, Willem grinned. “I doubt you have anything that worthy to trade. But I’m in a good mood, so try me.”
The figure shifted, turning head-on to Willem. “I know who killed Henry and Virgil Tarlisch. I can give you his name in exchange for freedom.”
Willem snickered. “You’re wasting my time. Talbot Bond killed them. Everyone knows that. Even stupid mountain people like you.”
Willem heard the man scoot forward, nearer to his chair. “That ain’t what I was told. I heard a different name. From a man on his deathbed.”
Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Willem leaned toward the man. “Oh, you fool. The deathbed confession of a sick and confused man is of no use to me. Especially if the man was Talbot Bond himself. He’d say anything to lay the guilt elsewhere at that point.”
Closer he moved, causing Willem to lean back. “He told me his own son did it, Henry Tarlisch’s son. Willem Tarlisch is the killer, not Talbot Bond.”
Rising quickly from his chair, Willem snorted. “Did he tell you why I killed my father and brother?”
“Some sort of argument was all he said.”
“Well,” Willem whispered, moving closer to him than the door. “Since you’ll be dead tomorrow, let me enlighten you. My father and my brother were asked to consider giving up our family’s land. For the good of the Salt Lake Basin, they were told. Nothing in exchange; it was just to be a goodwill gesture. Basically turning us into slaves to Erickson and the council. Father was against it, but soft-hearted Virgil wanted him to reconsider. Father felt since it was Virgil’s birthright, he should have a say. A say in giving away our land, land that had been in the Tarlisch name for more than 100 years.
“I told them both no. But that idiot Virgil, he just wouldn’t let up. After 10 minutes, maybe a little more, Father decided to go with Virgil. I saw my life slipping through my fingers. Everything I had worked for, Father had worked for, generations had toiled over, was about to be gone. So I grabbed a rifle leaning against the wagon and fired the first round of the war, striking Henry Tarlisch square in the middle of his back. Then I fired the second shot, and Virgil was dead. A lot of shooting went on after that, but none of it mattered. They took our land, and I spent six years planning on how exactly I would take it back. And now I’ve won.” Willem sighed.
After a moment’s silence, the voice in the dark spoke again. “That’s about the way Talbot Bond told it, just before he died. Said if I asked, you’d be too proud to deny it. Guess he was right.”
Willem stood and reached for the door handle. “Make sure you tell Bond he was right when he greets you in the afterlife tomorrow. Nice to get that off my chest actually.”
“So you’ll let me go ‘cause I know, and I promise not to tell no one, right?”
“Actually,” Willem pondered aloud, “I’ll hang you because you know. Take that one to the grave, boy.” A long silence followed. Willem felt a twist in his stomach, like something was about to happen. “No clever reply?”
The voice laughed. He actually laughed at Willem’s words. “He didn’t just tell me. He told my poppa too. So, I guess him and me know.”
Willem sat again. “And let me guess, dear old dad isn’t one of the seven in here, is he?”
“Nope.”
Options flew through Willem’s mind. Weighing every choice carefully, he snapped his fingers. “I don’t care. You still hang. Your father can spread whatever rumor he wants. I’ll have it dismissed as sour grapes. A father’s grief creates an unbelievable story.”
Another long, uncomfortable silence followed. When the dark figure rose, Willem stepped back. “I never said he was my father, Mr. Tarlisch. I said he was my poppa.”
Frowning, Willem’s eyes shifted between the door handle and the feet of the stranger. “Howard,” he called. With no response, he let loose a scream, “Howard!”
The door ripped open and Howard rushed into the room. “What?”
“Get me a lantern, now,” Willem demanded.
Turning back to the faceless figure, he seethed with anger. “Something tells me I’m not going to like what the light will illuminate, will I?”
Only a small chuckle answered his question.
Howard brought the light and handed it to his friend. Willem shoved the beacon into the opening, and the unknown figure covered his face, the light too bright for his eyes. Willem glared at the face as the arm slowly slid away, revealing its features.
“Damn it,” Willem snapped. ”Damn it all to hell!”
CHAPTER FIFTY
Howard looked past Willem at the young man in the rear of the room. “What’s the problem, Will?”
“You don’t see it, do you?” Tarlisch scolded.
Howard studied the face closer, finally answering no.
“The red hair, the pale skin, those damned green eyes.”
Howard’s eyes shot wide. “No,” he wailed. “Damn it, Will, what’s he doing here?”
Handing the lantern to Howard, he reached for the young man. “Of all the people Andy should have checked out, of all the reconnaissance he should have done, this one was important. Instead of bringing us seven stupid woodsmen, he brought us hell. How wonderful. How proud he must be right now.”
“We got to get rid of him,” Howard demanded. “We gotta send him back.”
“He knows everything. He knows our secret, he knows his mother’s secret, and so does his poppa.”
Confused, Howard peeked back at Willem. “Who?”
“His grandfather, Steven,” Willem cried. “Of all the people, we took him. What’s your name, boy?”
“Joshua, sir. Joshua Wake.”
Willem paced, contemplating the dilemma set before him. He knew someone had to hang; his troops needed this victory. Someone had to pay for the years spent in their desert prison. Just retrieving Betsi would never be enough to compensate his army for their loyalty. If blood wasn’t spilled, and soon, the next person his group would come for just might be himself.
Killing this boy, Willem knew, was unfathomable. Steven Wake was far too loved. His grandson’s death would be the battle cry that began a war that the Red Rangers could not win. Worst of all was the boy’s mother. Just when he believed her to be broken past the point of return, she rose like a phoenix, showing Willem her true resolve. Unbending, unbreakable, immortal. Even if Steven chose to sit this one out, Cara Wake would be the death of Willem and all who stood with him.
Covering his face, Willem collapsed back onto the chair, laughing. “We hang him, this is all over in six weeks. We’ll be swinging from trees in the courtyard. I can just see that fiery redhead, mounted on a white horse with 10,000 followers coming for our heads.” Willem looked back at Howard, both men’s faces tense. “We let him go, perhaps he and grandpa can keep their yaps shut.”
Joshua smirked at the pair. “I told ya, I’m trading info for seven lives. A Wake can keep a secret better than anyone can.”
“Howard, we have dozens of poor dirty souls down in the south jail. Send word over there to have seven of them transferred here, tonight yet. Then I want you to take Joshua and his pals here, and shove them in the back of a wagon. Have Landry, and Andy, and Andy’s pet monster take them up into the hills a ways. Then turn them loose.” Finishing, Willem shook his head at Howard. “What’s this world coming to when secrets aren’t safe anymore? What’s a poor man to do?”
Howard turned to leave when Willem jumped from his spot and grabbed at his arm. “I need to talk to Landry, Freddy too. Send them over here while you send Andy to fetch the seven from the south, okay?”
Howard nodded. “Got it. We need to get this over with. Andy’s already asking questions out there, like if we know where Bond is. If we just ran into the mountains for Betsi. Stuff like that.”
“I figured as much,” Willem replied. “We’ll take care of this and get it all cleaned up. We’ll have our hangings, and Cara Wake can have her woodsmen she so bravely begged for.” Pushing Howard down the hall, he called out again. “Make haste, Howard. Time is ticking.”
Turning back to Joshua, Willem squinted, almost as if in pain. “Tell granddad we’re even. Got it?”
Joshua grinned. “I think he already knows,” the youth replied. “Now have someone unlock my friends.”
After tucking her sleeping child into bed, Cara returned to the fire in the front center of the camp. Seeing Steven telling tales to several younger members, she joined him on a log and slid her arm into the crook of his, crossed in front of him.
“You have duty tonight?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he replied, turning to kiss her forehead. “Are you okay?”
She nodded against his arm. “I will be. I know now that I really wasn’t hiding anything from anyone. Perhaps only the truth from myself.”
She watched the flames burn high into the night sky, a dark sky lit with millions of glittering stars. She thought about trying to count them, something she’d done as a child. Something Joshua and Rosie did by the hours on clear nights.
“How long will it take the men to walk back from Salt Lake do you suppose?” Seeing his grin, she knew he held no ill feelings from their earlier spat.
“About two days,” he answered. “Boys have a tendency to dawdle a little, but they’ll get hungry. So they’ll hustle back mighty quick when their bellies are empty.”
“Good. I’ll miss him, but I know he’s coming back.”
“Yeah,” Steven replied. “Your son will be just fine.”
She pulled him closer, taking in the woodsy odor of his clothes. “Our son, Steven,” she whispered. “Our son will be fine.”
Their chore accomplished, Andy and Freddy walked back to the wagon. Andy wasn’t sure why he and his friend had to follow them up the mountain a ways. These boys should know the lay of the land, Andy assumed. What he did know is that he was done playing babysitter.
“I can’t figure this whole thing out, Freddy,” Andy quipped. “First he’s pissed because I didn’t grab them as spies. Then we grab them, and now he yells at me to take them back. And on top of all that, he makes me bring seven different fellows to be hung tomorrow. I think Will has lost his mind.”
Freddy was silent during the trip, both the wagon ride up into the mountains, and now their walk back to the wagon. “I think you just need to keep your mouth shut and do what Will tells you to.”
Andy stopped and turned in the darkness to face his friend. “I heard a rumor that old man Bond is dead. I also heard Will knew this before we went up there. All we brought back was our cousin. You know what I think?”
Freddy placed a large hand on Andy’s shoulder. “I don’t care what you think, Andy. Just keep your mouth shut.”
“I’m going to do some investigating when we get back. I think Will is playing us for fools. I’m a Tarlisch; he can’t treat me like that. He needs to listen to me just like he does Howard. Hell, Howard ain’t even Will’s blood. This is just all screwed up, I tell you.”
A shot rang out in the dark; a shot too close to be an accident. Glancing ahead, Andy saw Melinda standing in the wagon, her right arm extended.
“Damn it Landry, it’s us, don’t shoot!” Andy screamed.
“Sorry,” Melinda called back. “Couldn’t tell which one was which in the dark.”
Andy stared at the figure, confused by her answer. “What?”
Another shot and Andy Tarlisch fell to the ground, dead.
“Sorry about that Freddy,” Melinda declared. “But those were Willem’s orders if Andy got out of line.”
Reaching for the hold to pull himself into the wagon, Freddy watched Melinda slide to the opposite side of the buckboard. “No problems, I knew it was coming. Tried to shut him up, but you know Andy. Stupid as the day is long.”
Landry whipped the team of horses, spinning the wagon back for Salt Lake. Both rode quietly, thoughts lost in the day. Freddy finally broke the silence. “Andy was my friend, but he didn’t get it. Right or wrong, Willem’s the boss. That’s who I answer to, Andy too. He just didn’t get it.”
Landry nodded, letting the horses take their time on the dark and tricky downhill return. Before too long, she turned. “Freddy,” she said, “can I tell you a secret, kind of a big one?”
“I suppose if you got to.”
“I’m pregnant, with Will’s child. Maybe it’ll be a boy. Maybe he’ll take me as his wife too, you think?” She turned forward as the horses stumbled on the rocky trail.
Freddy twisted slowly to face her. Sliding his left hand behind her head, he grabbed her ponytail, forcing her face to shoot straight up. With his right, he drew her pistol and poked the barrel against her right temple. “I don’t think so,” he answered, pulling the trigger.
Pushing the lifeless body from the seat, he heard it
hit the ground below. Taking the reins, he continued the team on their current path.
With a deep breath, he spoke out loud, only to himself, and perhaps the horses. “I guess Willem was right. Ain’t no one who can keep a secret no more.”
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