Ransacker

by Emmy Laybourne

  “I should give you your watch back, before you go.”

  “I hope you won’t,” he said. “It’s yours now. And a promise of more to come.”

  Sissel laughed. “More gold, you mean?”

  “More gifts,” he said. “In general.”

  A few minutes later, they parted ways; the Hemstads, Owen, and Daisy headed north, to the Double B Ranch; McKray headed south, to Carter.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  It was several days’ ride to the Bennett ranch, far into North Montana Territory, and the time wore slowly. They were all alert and on edge as they rode through the forests and fields, but none so much as Hanne.

  Though she knew her Nytte would signal her if any one of her party was in danger, she could not let down her guard. She insisted she ride at the back of the group, swinging Jigsaw around to scour the trail behind them with her eyes. Pinkertons might follow, or the Baron’s group, or the law—who knew what charges they might face.

  She had killed again. Three men? Four men? She could not remember.

  She had washed the blood and sweat off her hands and arms, but there was still grime under her rock-torn fingernails. She studied her hands. How could such small, plain hands have wrought so much destruction?

  As Hanne rode she found there was no guilt in her heart over the killing of those Pinkerton men. They had stolen her sister. If placed in the same position again, Hanne knew she would do the same. But she did despair that she’d been so unwilling to submit to the will of the Gods. Instead of praying for them to inhabit her and fill her with light and understanding, she had wanted only the Berserker to overtake her. She had wanted to slaughter and avenge.

  She thought of this as she swept her eyes over the forests and valleys behind them. Would she pray to the Gods, when the time came to fight the Baron, and hope to be filled with light? Or would she welcome the Berserker? Would she even get to choose?

  When it got too dark to ride, they would stop for the night. Owen would say if their position was such that they could afford a fire. Hanne hardly cared. She just wanted to make it to the ranch—to arrive to a place that was defensible. She wanted her sister to sleep on a good bed, and eat a warm meal.

  The first night, Hanne had not been able to sleep. Everyone else had flung themselves down after a dinner of bread, cheese, and canned peaches, all lifted from the Pinkertons’ camp. Despite Owen’s repeated pleading that she lie down and rest, Hanne had prowled the circumference of the campsite, watching the forest, where the shadows cast by the rising moon seemed to creep up on them. Hanne didn’t want to talk to him, or to her brothers.

  Her shoulders and arms were sore from hauling rock, and the long scrape she’d got on her leg was beginning to scab over. Her weary body begged her to lie down, but she could not rest.

  She was upset with Stieg, she realized, because she’d left him with Sissel and he’d failed to keep her safe. It wasn’t fair, but Hanne knew that emotions were frequently unfair. She didn’t want to talk to him, though. Not to Stieg, or to Knut, or to Owen, even. She just wanted to stay alert, and she wanted them all to be safe.

  Eventually Owen got up and argued with her. He was going to take the watch and she must lie down.

  “Hanne,” Sissel said, interrupting their hushed discussion, “I’m cold. Can you come sleep with me?”

  “I can’t sleep,” Hanne said. “I don’t want to.”

  “Well, I can’t sleep and I do want to, but I’m too cold,” Sissel said. So Hanne went over to her little sister, huddled in her bedroll on the ground.

  Sissel was lying on her good side, her bandaged shoulder facing up. Hanne drew close behind her, cradling her sister with her body, and flung her bedroll cover over them both. Hanne rested her forehead against the back of Sissel’s head, burying her nose into Sissel’s dirty hair.

  Tears began to flow. Hanne tried not to sniffle.

  “Don’t cry, Sister,” Sissel whispered. “I’m all right.”

  Hanne squeezed her eyes shut. Her whole body began to tremble.

  “We’re all right, Hanne,” Sissel said. She turned her head. She couldn’t move much because of her shoulder, but she leaned back into Hanne.

  “I know. I’m sorry,” Hanne said softly. Her tears were dropping into Sissel’s hair. She wiped them away from her eyes, but she could not stop her body’s shaking.

  Daisy came over and licked at Hanne’s face.

  “Oh! Good girl, Daisy. Thank you,” Hanne said, squirming to get a hand up to push Daisy off.

  “Try to let go,” Sissel said. “The fight is over. For now at least. Curl up to me and let’s try to sleep.”

  Hanne did as she was told, and Daisy lay down on the other side of Hanne. She was sandwiched between the dog and her sister, and eventually she succumbed to the warmth and slept.

  * * *

  THEY WENT ON riding doggedly, stopping only when the horses needed rest. By the morning of the second day, their meager supplies had run out and for breakfast all they had was coffee. But Owen told them not to despair—they were almost to the ranch.

  They had passed near to the town of Bullhook Bottoms, a bustling town much like their own Carter. Knut asked if they could go in and get some food, but Stieg snapped at him—no. Not when they were so close.

  They had ridden along a well-traveled road, bordered by a cattle fence on one side, and now approached a wide gateway set in the fence, with an arch above. At the center were logs shaped into strange letters, a reversed B back-to-back with a proper one. Almost like a rune, Hanne thought.

  “What does that stand for?” Knut asked.

  “Double B,” Owen said. “That’s the brand for our ranch. All our beefs have it stamped on their flank.”

  The gate was designed to be opened from horseback.

  Owen lifted a pull rope, and their group walked the tired horses through the gate. Daisy was the only one with any energy at all. She frisked in the long prairie grasses, impatient to get on to the house.

  “What does it mean, Double B?” Knut asked as Owen wheeled Brandy around and shut the gate behind them.

  “Well, just double B. That’s the name of the ranch. But B’s for Bennett. So I guess you could say it’s Bennett and Bennett.”

  Hanne knew how her betrothed’s mind worked and imagined Owen would now be thinking about the fact that he was now the one and only Bennett.

  The road led over a small hill.

  Owen urged Brandy onward. He was chewing the inside of his cheek, his expression dark and anxious.

  She edged Jigsaw over to Brandy, and the two horses momentarily put their noses together and whickered, as if commiserating.

  “Are you all right, Owen?” Hanne asked.

  She wished she could reach out and hold his hand, but she was not a skilled enough horsewoman to come so close.

  “It will be good to get a hot meal,” he said. “I just hope there’s food in the larder.”

  “We’ll make do with whatever we find,” Hanne said.

  Owen nodded.

  * * *

  THE RANCH CAME into view as they came over the hill. Hanne hadn’t understood the scale. Not at all.

  The ranch sprawled out in the box canyon below. The house itself was massive, a two-story home with a stone foundation and pillars, and flat-hewn logs for the upper floor. A wide sitting porch surrounded the house.

  A fair distance behind the house stood several outbuildings—one a large two-story barn, the other a low, elongated building that she supposed was a bunkhouse. An elaborate system of stalls and holding pens spread out from the barn, covering perhaps a half acre. Pasture fields spread outward into the valley, and there was a natural pond back a ways.

  Windbreak trees stood in lines and semicircles at the edges of some of the pastures, a line of tall oaks edged the ranch house itself.

  “Gods above,” Stieg murmured, bringing his horse up beside Hanne and Owen.

  “That’s all yours?” Knut asked in amazement as he and Sis
sel came up.

  “That’s what the letter said,” Owen replied. He shook his head.

  “What is it?” Stieg said.

  “It’s empty,” he said. “I’ve never seen it so empty.”

  He was talking about cattle, Hanne understood. It was true, only a few dozen animals could be seen, dotting the pastures beyond the barn.

  “Well, let’s go see what’s what,” Owen said, and he urged Brandy onward.

  * * *

  AS THEY CAME up to the house a skinny old woman in a loose gray work dress and a flapping apron came off the porch. She stood squinting with one hand held up to shield her eyes.

  “Lucy!” Owen called.

  She clapped her hands and rushed out into the yard, coming to grab the bridle of Owen’s horse.

  “Owen Bennett, thank God,” she said. “They said I was a fool to stay on, but I was determined to wait!”

  Owen dismounted and Lucy nearly flew into his arms. She hugged him tight.

  “Oh Lord, Owie, they’re all gone.”

  Hanne saw the old woman’s face was shining with tears.

  Knut helped Sissel to dismount. Hanne noted Sissel’s face was alarmingly pale. She swayed on her feet. Hanne slid off Jigsaw and went to Sissel’s side.

  Lucy released Owen from the embrace and wiped her eyes with her apron.

  “Forgive an old woman’s tears. It’s good to see you, boy, that’s all, and who do you got with you?” Lucy continued. “And when’s the last time you all ate? And good Lord above, is that Jigsaw?”

  “I’ll tell you everything, Lucy, I promise.”

  “And here’s my Daisy dog!” Lucy said. She bent down, and Daisy licked all over her face. Lucy grabbed Daisy by the ruff and kissed her back.

  “Let me introduce you to my fiancée, Hanne Hemstad, and her family.”

  “I’ll be!” Lucy exclaimed. She wiped her face and hands on her apron as she stood up. “My Owie got himself a bride. I’ll be!”

  Hanne offered her hand, but the cook swept her into a bony hug.

  “This is Stieg and Knut and Sissel,” Owen said. “And we’re starving.”

  “Then save the introductions!” Lucy exclaimed, giving them half a wave. “I’m gonna ring the bell for Daniel. You remember Daniel Harris, he’s one of the hands your father hired on, rest his soul. He stayed on to help keep the place running. I been payin’ him wages out of the grocery money. I didn’t know if that’s what you’d have wanted, but I was determined to keep things as best I could until you got here. Anyway, Owie, you get the horses put away and I’ll get cooking.”

  She hustled off toward the house.

  “I got a good ham!” she hollered over her shoulder. “Plenty of eggs!”

  “That’s Lucy,” Owen said. He had a smile on his face. The first smile Hanne had seen there in days, it seemed.

  “She’s a good talker,” Knut said.

  “She’s a good cook, too,” Owen added.

  Hanne turned to Sissel—she had the sense something was wrong with her—and Sissel took two steps and fainted into Hanne’s arms.

  * * *

  OWEN LEFT THE horses at the front of the house, where they immediately began to crop the grass. He opened the large wooden front door and led the way for Knut, who was carrying Sissel.

  Inside, the house was dim and cool, despite the bright sunshine outside. Heavy curtains were drawn against the heat of the sun.

  Knut immediately bumped into a delicate table near the door. Hanne turned and steadied it. Another table flanked the entrance on the other side, each draped in a lace cloth and bearing a fancy glass-globed lamp.

  Owen led them to the right, into a formal sitting room. Knut laid his sister down on an elegant rose-colored fainting couch, now serving its purpose.

  “Lucy,” Owen called. “We need some water!”

  “I’ll get it,” Hanne said. She left the parlor and headed to the back of the house, down a hallway with floral wallpaper. Framed photographs hung on the wall, and Hanne caught glimpses of pale-headed children and prize steer as she hurried along.

  From the back of the house came the sound of a dinner bell—a metal triangle being hit with a rod. That must be Lucy calling for the ranch hand.

  At last Hanne came to the kitchen. It was large, with bare stone walls, and a door that led to the outside off to the left. There was a long table for cooking, and another one near the corner for informal meals, with six chairs around it.

  A fireplace was set in the back wall, tall enough that Lucy could’ve stood in it if she’d wanted to. Pegs had been stuck in the mortar between the stones that made the chimney, and all sorts of pots and pans hung down. A six-lid woodstove stood nearby, its stovepipe running along the wall to feed directly into the chimney.

  Hanne saw what she was looking for—running along the right-hand side of the room was a counter with a water pump above a sink basin. Shelves with everyday plates, glasses, bowls, and mugs lined the wall.

  Lucy hustled in from outside, lugging a large ham hock. She set it on the worktable with a thud.

  “I need some water,” Hanne said.

  “Dear Lord, you scared me!” Lucy said.

  “My sister has fainted. I just want some water for her,” Hanne said. She crossed to the pump.

  “Poor thing,” Lucy said. “You all been traveling hard. I can see it. And her injured. Well, I wish I had lemons for lemonade. That’s a good reviver. But I got ginger root. I’ll make her some sweet ginger tea.”

  Hanne pumped the handle up and down, and after only a few strokes, clean, cold water gushed out.

  She took a glass and held it under the water. She gulped down some, then filled it again. She also took a flour sack towel from the counter and wet it.

  “I fell behind in the baking,” Lucy said. “We don’t have bread—I’m ashamed of it. But I’ll get a meal together soon enough. And I’ll get that ginger tea going and coffee, of course.”

  “Thank you,” Hanne said. “I’ll come help in a moment.”

  “No need. No need! This here is my dominion, and I know what I’m doing!”

  * * *

  IN THE FRONT ROOM, Hanne came and sat next to Sissel on the couch. Stieg was seated on an elegant wingback chair, watching over Sissel.

  Hanne dabbed at Sissel’s forehead with the damp cloth.

  “Owen and Knut went to water the horses,” Stieg said.

  The towel came away dirtied with grime from the trail.

  “I think she’s just exhausted,” Stieg said.

  “We all are,” Hanne said. Her voice was tight. She hadn’t been alone with Stieg since the awful events on the mountainside.

  “You’re angry with me,” Stieg said.

  “I’m tired and hungry. Let’s not talk now.”

  His eyes were flashing. “You think I let Sissel be kidnapped—but you don’t know any of it. You don’t understand how willful she had grown. And secretive!”

  “If we must discuss it,” Hanne said, her voice cold, “then I don’t want to do it now. I do not want to say anything I will regret.”

  “Very well.” Stieg stood and stalked from the room without another word. She could see from the way he held his body that he was furious.

  “It’s not his fault,” Sissel said softly.

  Hanne turned to find her sister’s eyes open. They shone with the muted light that came in at the edges of the brocade curtains.

  “I was stubborn and foolish. Oh, Hanne, if only you knew all the mistakes I made, you wouldn’t be mad at Stieg.”

  Hanne handed Sissel the glass of water. She took a long sip.

  “I don’t want to be mad at either of you,” Hanne said. “I’m worried we have a fight ahead of us. That’s what we need to focus on.”

  The house was quiet around them, save for the ticking of a grandfather clock in the hallway.

  “Hanne,” Sissel said. “James died because of me.”

  Hanne drew back. “James was a spy!”

  “H
e was. Yes. But I still believe he was a good person.”

  “He wasn’t,” Hanne said.

  “No,” Sissel said. “He tried to warn me. Once he realized that the Pinkertons meant to kidnap me, he tried to tell me.”

  Hanne said nothing. She knew her lips were pressed tightly together. She knew she was frowning—she probably looked just like their mother at that moment, always disapproving.

  Hanne heard the boys’ voices from the porch. Owen was talking with a man who was saying, “Yes, sir,” and “No, sir.” He must be Daniel.

  “You liked James,” Sissel said.

  “I liked him because he made your life bearable!” Hanne said.

  “He died trying to protect me,” Sissel said. “And that makes me terribly sad, because he was good. He was!”

  Sissel covered her face with her good hand and wept. Hanne heard the boys come in. Owen poked his head into the room, but Hanne silently signaled to him that he shouldn’t enter.

  She listened to Owen lead her brothers toward the kitchen.

  “You’re overtired, Sissel. You need to rest. We all do,” Hanne said. “Lucy is making a meal, and I’ll see about a bath for you.”

  “I caused the cave to collapse, Hanne. I caused men to die. Mr. Peavy was there. I keep seeing his face. How do I live with that?”

  “I’m not the person to ask—”

  “You’re the only person I can ask!”

  Sissel sat up and reached her hand toward Hanne. Hanne took it into her own hands. As strong as her little sister had become, there was a deep need in Sissel’s eyes. Need and pain. Hanne steadied herself so that she might respond with kindness.

  “I have felt terrible guilt, Sissel. After I killed the gamblers, back home, I wanted to die. Ever since I became a Berserker, I have felt a dark, black shame.”

  Sissel squeezed Hanne’s hand. Hanne’s throat tightened with emotion.

  “But then, once Rolf taught me to pray—to surrender, it changed. In Wolf Creek, I surrendered to the Gods, and when they filled me with their power, I saw…”