by Lydia Olson
“No, it’s quite alright. I’m actually enjoying the conversation. I haven’t spoken to someone like this at length in quite some time.”
“Nor I. It’s quite pleasant.”
“Yes,” Sarah said as her smile grew wider, “it is.”
Not long after that they arrived on the outskirts of the lake, and the sun began its final descent as darkness settled over the desert.
Chapter Eight
A chill settled in quickly by the time David reached the lake with Sarah. He didn’t wait for her to ask for it, so he gave her his jacket as soon as the stars started to shine overhead.
“Thank you,” Sarah said as she sat down on a rock. “It is quite cold.”
David then set about gathering firewood, breaking off branches with his bare hands from several of the nearby trees and gathering them in a pile. David then set about gathering some brush and stuffing it between the pieces of wood, then retrieved a pair of rocks and finally reached into his boot where he fetched a small cloth bag tucked inside.
“What is that?” Sarah asked.
“A knife and a flint for starting a fire,” David said. “I always knew stuffing this in there would come in handy.”
David took out the flint and began striking it on the rocks. It took close to a full minute to get a spark going, and once he did, the embers lit up the brush between the logs and set it ablaze. David blew on the fire to give it oxygen, the fire growing until it consumed the logs and finally offered them a place to warm their bones.
“I never thought,” Sarah said as she inched closer to the fire, “that I’d be so glad to see a fire.”
They sat in silence for several moments as they warmed their hands. David then stood up, moved to the shoreline, and began sifting through the pieces of driftwood scattered about before finding a stick the length of his leg. He sat down across from Sarah, took out the knife, and started shaving off the tip to make it into a spear.
“Spear fishing,” Sarah said. “I think I’ve only read about that in books.”
“It’s quite easy, once you get the hang of it,” David said. “Again, my uncle taught me.”
“Where did he learn it from? Most western men aren’t accustomed to such practices.”
“He learned it from the natives,” David said. “My uncle actually had a penchant for sketching. He used to go camping every few weeks, and at one point, he came across a tribe that allowed themselves to be sketched. My uncle spent two weeks with them, and they taught him a few things. Yes, sir. That man was quite eclectic.”
“Eclectic,” Sarah repeated.
“I trust you’ve heard the word before, Miss Teacher.”
Sarah laughed a little. “Yes, I have. Most people just don’t know or use it.”
David shrugged. “I can thank my mother for instilling a good vocabulary in me. She taught me to read when I was six.”
“That’s quite an impressive feat. You’d be surprised how many people don’t or aren’t even inclined to read.”
“I always enjoyed it. She would read to me when I was a child to get me to sleep.”
“My father would do the same,” Sarah said. “In fact, we used to read to each other every night when I would return home from teaching.”
David looked at Sarah. “What about your mother?”
Sarah looked down. “She passed while giving birth to me.”
David shook his head. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I feel like I keep stumbling upon old hurts of yours.”
“No, David,” Sarah said, waving him off. “You should stop apologizing so much. I have nothing but fond memories of her. Well, I mean memories that my father told me about her, but I still have them, nonetheless.”
“Do you look like her? Your mother?”
Sarah nodded. “My father said I am the spitting image of her. I just wish I could have met her.”
David smiled. “I wish I could have seen my uncle one last time before he passed. He was such a good man. I’m still shocked that he left me his ranch. I just pray that I’ll get there in time to take possession of it.”
“I’m sure you will, David. Have faith.”
David felt comforted by Sarah’s words and smiled warmly. He then set about putting the finishing touches on his spear, sharing the silence comfortably with Sarah as his mind started to wander.
She is quite a lovely young woman, he thought. Smart. Beautiful. Competent.
No, David. You cannot allow yourself to indulge in such thoughts. She is set to be married to another man. No, your responsibility, your relationship with her is based on nothing more than survival—so keep it that way.
David couldn’t help but take the occasional glance at Sarah as he finished his spear, Sarah looked off into the distance wearing his jacket and his hat. It was a pleasant sight to behold, and David hoped that one day, maybe soon, he’d be able to share it with a woman who wasn’t already spoken for.
Why did God put her in my path? To show me the standard for the type of woman I should marry?
Oh, stop, David! You cannot dwell on such things right now, so why are you? There is so much more at stake right now. Just focus. Take things one minute at a time.
“There,” David said, holding up his finished spear. “That should do.”
He moved to the edge of the water, looking down as he used the illumination from the fire nearby to begin his search for food. He waited a moment, recalling what his uncle had taught him about spotting the fish and making sure to make as little ruckus as possible.
“Do you think it will take long?” Sarah asked.
Just as she asked, David struck the spear into the water and snagged a fish. He then held up the spear, the fish still writhing on the other end as he pointed to it proudly.
“Not long at all,” David said as he brought the fish over to the fire and proceeded to cook it over the crackling flames.
***
The ranch that David’s uncle had gifted to him was ablaze, the fire hot, searing, and stretching to the heavens. David, sitting some distance away, was bruised and bloodied and looking forlornly as the ranch continued to burn, and smoke filled up his lungs.
“God, no,” he said in defeat. “Please, God, no!”
But his prayers went unanswered, and David watched as the doors to the barn off to the left flew open, and his of horses raced out. They were completely ablaze, terrorized and fleeing from the scene, looking like something out of a nightmare as they ran off into the night. As soon as they disappeared, David looked to his right and saw the two-story house once painted white but now black from scorch marks created by the fire. HIs eyes filled with tears as the roof started to cave in on itself, and he grabbed a handful of dirt next to him off the ground and crushed it as hard as he could.
“This can’t be happening,” David said. “This can’t be happening!”
“David!” a voice called from inside the house. “Help me!”
David stood up, feeling adrenaline coursing through his body as he heard the voice. Who is that? he thought. Why do I know that voice?
“David,” the voice called out again, a little weaker this time. “Please, you must help me!”
David approached the house as the fire continued to consume the property, now focused on nothing else but the voice calling out to him from inside.
“David,” the voice said again. “Please, God, where are you?”
“Oh my God,” David said to himself, his heart racing as he recognized the voice calling out to him. “That’s Sarah!”
David ran as fast as his feet would carry him to the house, running faster than he ever had in his life as he ran toward the towering inferno in front of him and kicked open the door. The smoke hit him instantly the second he entered the house, waving his hands wildly to part it as he looked feverishly for Sarah around the burning home. “Sarah!” he called frantically, “where are you?”
“Up here!” Sarah’s voice cried from the second floor. “Oh, please, David! Help me! I’m trapped a
nd the house is burning down!”
David vaulted toward the staircase, skipping every other step as he quickly ascended to the second floor, but as soon as he reached the top—a flaming timber fell, blocking his path, and knocking him on his back. He tumbled down the stairs, groaning as the wind was knocked out of him before he came to a stop by the front door.
David stood up. The entire staircase now consumed as Sarah continued calling out for his help. But there was nothing David could do—the house was completely on fire, and a horrible dread settled over him as he realized the two of them were going to perish inside.
“Hey, boy,” a familiar gravelly voice said behind David.
David, still on his back, turned and looked up. Standing in the front door with a gun in his hand a cigar in his mouth, was the evil villain, Tucker Willis.
Tucker cackled as he shifted the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. “I told you,” he said, “that you shouldn’t run into me again …”
David waited in terror as Tucker raised the gun, cocked back the hammer with a spine-chilling click, and pressed it flush against David’s forehead.
“David!” Sarah called out from upstairs with a primal scream. “Help! Me!”
As David closed his eyes, he said a little prayer as he heard the trigger pulled, followed swiftly by the deafening sound of a gunshot accompanied by a flash of blinding white light.
***
David shot up, awake, his shirt clinging to his chest from sweat. It took him a moment to gather his bearings, but once he did, he realized that the burning house, the doomed Sarah, and the infamous Willis putting a gun to his head had been nothing more than a terrible dream.
David looked to his left, where Sarah was sleeping soundly on the ground, the fire in front of them still burning, and the lingering scent of the remnants of the fish they had consumed still noticeable in the air. Knowing that he was awake, and that they were out of harm’s way—at least for the time being—David stood up, grabbed the repeater rifle, and pulled in a deep breath of air.
Since his heart was still racing, David decided to walk for a short distance but stayed close to Sarah as he did so. He stretched his legs and let the chill of the night air dry the sweat caused by the nightmare, and once it had, he moved back to the fire and slapped himself lightly on the cheek to keep himself awake.
“Stay on guard,” he whispered to himself. “Don’t fall asleep again.”
His attention shifted to the slumbering Sarah, her back to him, her breathing soft and quiet. She looked as though she was sleeping easily, with no signs of bad dreams or nightmares plaguing her as they had David.
After a moment, he stood up and walked around Sarah, getting down on one knee just a few feet away from her. He couldn’t help but admire how softly and soundly she slept, and for the second time that day, he hoped that the day would come that he would find a woman just like her to stand by his side.
Why did I dream about her? he thought. Why did I dream about that outlaw?
No, it doesn’t matter, David. She is taken by another man. Your only responsibility is to deliver her to him safely, nothing more.
David walked away, held his head high, and sat in front of the fire with the repeater rifle in his hand, keeping an eye on the fire to make sure that he remained awake for the remainder of the night as he sat guard beside his traveling companion.
Chapter Nine
Tucker approached the top of the stairs at the saloon in Clarendon. Downstairs, Kelso was drinking his money away as he tried to swoon a pair of barmaids, the music on the piano downstairs playing a lively tune as Tucker, with a bottle of whiskey in his hand, approached the last door on the left and knocked twice.
“Who is it?” someone called back.
“Tucker.”
A sigh came from inside the room. “Come in,” the voice said.
Tucker entered with a devious smile on his face, taking a generous swig of the whiskey before he walked inside and closed the door behind him.
A man sat with his back to Tucker, a small pile of money in his hands. A barmaid by his side wearing a tight red dress that exaggerated her cleavage, with a lecherous look in her eye, and a hand resting on the man’s shoulder.
“Well, well, well,” Tucker said. “Deputy Crane, how is life treating you?”
The man in the chair, Deputy Crane, the same man who corresponded with Sarah Harris, turned around, stood up, and held his head high. He was a good-looking man. He had a chiseled jawline with a three-day stubble and a slick combover complementing a pair of smoky blue eyes. With a hint of a smirk, he handed over the money to the barmaid next to him. “Go on, doll,” he said in a deep, baritone voice. “Double check that for me.” He pointed at her. “But don’t steal nothing.”
The barmaid winked as she left the room. Crane, dressed in brown slacks and a crisp white dress shirt, sat on the edge of the desk and waited for her to leave before he began speaking.
“Thought I told you to lie low for a few days, Tucker,” Crane said.
Tucker shrugged and took a sip of his whiskey. “Hey, I had to come and pay you, remember?” He reached into his pocket and produced the stolen money he had accrued, tossing it over to Crane, who began peeling off the bills.
“It’s all here?”
Tucker nodded. “It’s all there.”
“And who did you steal this from, I wonder?”
Tucker waved him off. “Just a pair of businessmen travelling on the road.”
Crane ceased speaking and looked up at Tucker suspiciously. “You didn’t kill them, did you?”
Tucker said nothing, but the look in his eye told Crane all he needed to know.
Crane hissed and tossed down the money onto his desk with a slap. “You dumb, sadistic idiot! What did I tell you about killing people? You’ve been leaving bodies all over this state!”
“I had to, Crane,” Tucker reasoned. “They saw my face.”
Pushing off the desk and pointing a finger at the man, Crane warned, “Then wear a mask, you fool! I’m having a hard enough time covering for you as it is.”
“That’s what partners are for my friend. If you didn’t want to cover up my messes, you shouldn’t have gotten into business with me. After all—I’m the one kicking you back a piece of what I take after every score. That’s the only way you can afford those pretty little shirts of yours, and those ads you were putting in the paper to find a bride.”
“You stay out of my affairs,” Crane said. “They’re none of your dang business.” He shook his head and sighed. “Where are the bodies of the men you killed?”
“About five miles east of here,” Tucker said. “I imagine the mountain lions and the coyotes got to them by now.”
“Fine,” Crane said in defeat. “I can send someone out to fetch anything that’s left. Sheriff is still out of town for a spell.”
Tucker laughed. “That’s why you’re hanging around the saloon, aren’t you? Playing with those little barmaids, too …”
Crane scowled. “How many bodies did you leave behind?” he asked. “I need to know exactly what it is I’m cleaning up.”
Tucker narrowed his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “Let’s see, there were two businessmen, the driver, and his partner riding shotgun. There was a couple of women, but…”
Crane’s mouth turned into an O-shape as he slowly and ominously approached Tucker. “Tell me,” he said with a grave tone, “that you didn’t kill a woman.”
Tucker was now nose to nose with Crane as he looked him dead in the eye. “No,” he said. “I didn’t.”
Crane breathed easy. “Thank God. Everyone loses their mind when a woman goes missing. It’s a big headache.”
“Oh, she’s probably dead,” Tucker said. “I made her go on a little run through the desert. She’s probably in the belly of some bear by now. The other one, too.”
“What?” Crane said, eyes wide. “You cut those ladies loose?”
Tucker shrugged. “I
did. So, what of it?”
The lines in Crane’s forehead tightened, a reddish hue coming into his cheeks as he slapped away Tucker’s whiskey bottle, shattering it. He grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him into the wall. “What is wrong with you, Tucker?”
All Tucker did was laugh.
Crane slammed him harder into the wall. “I asked you a question!”
Tucker, now frowning, cocked his head to the side. “Deputy or no deputy,” he said, “I’ll put a bullet in you if you don’t get those pasty little hands off of me. Now.”
