Nathanial

by J. B. Richard

  “Settle down.” Nolan pulled the youngster off him. “I ain’t gonna hurt anyone.”

  Nolan entered, the kid on his heels, and Jesse followed close. At first glance, Nolan hadn’t noticed, but wrapped in the stack of patchwork quilts lay a small girl. Six years old maybe. The blankets covered her little body so well he’d thought her to be a wrinkle. Sweat glistened across her brow and beaded her lips.

  “Fetch some water.”

  The boy rushed out.

  Jesse shoved his pistol into its holster. “The woman probably went after Doc.”

  “Reckon so.” Nolan squatted, picking up the rag the boy must have been using to sponge his sister’s head. He pressed the damp cloth against her cheeks. Damn, she was hot.

  The kid returned with a bucket, sloshing water as he hurried and plunked it next to Nolan. Nolan dipped the cloth, then placed it on the girl’s forehead.

  “I’ll wait and see to her until their ma and hopefully Doc gets here. You go on and follow that single rider. If you don’t catch up to him before he gets too far into Indian country, you pull back. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” Jesse ran through the door. A few seconds later, his horse’s hooves pounded the ground at a run.

  No longer shying away, the kid stood next to Nolan, but his eyes were on his little sister, listlessly moaning, her head turning side to side, eyes closed.

  “She’ll be okay, won’t she?” He looked up at Nolan.

  That was for Doc to say after he examined her, whenever that would be. Hopefully soon. Nolan had helped nurse his kids through sickness, but he didn’t have a clue what was going on with this pale, hacking child.

  “How long has she been like this?” None of the kids had presented as ill the other day when he’d seen them. Of course, they hadn’t been there long, and he’d only glanced at the children while trying to do his job, sidetracked by Nate and his uncanny fascination with the kids’ mother.

  “Woke in the middle of the night fussin’ and bawlin’. Been like that since.” The kid flopped down next to his sister. “Pa should’ve stayed and helped us. He couldn’t take the cryin’ and left like he always does. It ain’t right, but Ma don’t say anything.” He smacked the wall with a fist.

  Nolan felt bad for the boy. From hearing stories of Nathanial’s past, he understood all too well what this kid was going through. No child should ever feel unwanted. It alarmed him that the boy’s mother had been part of those early years that Nate hated to talk about. She had recognized him at a glance. That for damn sure didn’t sit well with Nolan. She’d just left him with a bad feeling. But at the moment, his main concern was these kids.

  “I’ll split some wood to keep the fire going. You keep sponging her head.” Nolan straightened. There was an ax sticking in a log in a pile at the side of the house. He wrenched it free, then gave her a wide swing over his shoulder, striking the wood. Splinters flew.

  If the boy’s pa had left in the middle of the night, there wasn’t much chance of Jesse catching up. The best Nolan could hope for now was to get some answers from the woman when she returned.

  When he finished, he sank the ax. Sweat soaked his shirt. There on the ground behind the log pile was an indent, a partial impression of a horseshoe. It wasn’t the same as the one Jesse had spotted while riding there. Nolan was positive about that.

  He squatted, touching the edge. A nail was working its way out, making a slight peculiar mark, but his keen eyes caught it. If not soon fixed, the horse would no doubt lose a shoe, slowing the animal’s pace. That would help if Nolan had to traipse God knew where after the rider. There was no place around for miles to get a shoe mended.

  Hopefully, he could learn what he wanted to know from the woman.

  Nolan walked toward the well. A bucket hung on a string, a ladle tucked inside. Drips of sweat stung his eyes. Anything wet would bring relief to his parched throat.

  Down the lane, approaching at a trot, a wagon rattled. There was the woman at the reins. Two little ones sat next to her, one of them clutching the baby, all of them bumping up and down. Doc was in his black buggy behind her, both carriages swaying over the rocks and ruts.

  She jerked up on the reins in front of the house. Her mean glare and stiff neck were enough to tell Nolan that her disposition toward lawmen hadn’t changed overnight, not that he’d expected it to.

  “What the hell do ya want? I told ya before my man ain’t here. And I don’t want bothered with your bullshit right now.” She hopped down, then turned, being handed the baby by a little boy who proceeded to jump down, followed by another small boy.

  The pistol was on her hip, but the leather thong remained over the hammer spur. Her words had sounded threatening, edgy, ready to snap. Nursing an ill child could wear on a person. Nolan experienced that himself, and he only took over when Kate needed a rest from caretaking. This woman was on her own. And now she’d had plenty of time to slip that leather strap off had she meant any real threat.

  Doc, carrying his black bag, his brow curiously wrinkled, walked up. “Hello, Sheriff. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “This ain’t the time for chitchat. Git on your horse and git out.” She pointedly stared at Nolan. To Doc, she said, “Penny’s in the house.” She jerked her head in that direction but continued to hold her hateful gaze on Nolan.

  Doc hustled, disappearing inside. That mouthy rip turned to follow, the baby in her arms. The other two had gone inside before Doc.

  “Wait a minute.” He knew she was worried about her daughter. He’d be acting no different had it been one of his kids, but he needed answers. Some things needed explaining.

  At the door, she spun on her heel. Her lips pursed, ready to give him another earful. He put up his hands. Causing her more of a headache at a time like this wasn’t his intention, but that didn’t negate the nagging feeling pecking at him. If she and her man were involved in something illegal, he would stop them. Arresting her meant those kids would be without a mother—and, it seemed, a father—but he would do it. Had to. Laws applied to everyone, not just those without children. Perhaps it wouldn’t come to that. For the little ones’ sake, he hoped not.

  He was there to gather information, not take her to jail. “I’ll wait out here. Do what ya need to inside, but I won’t leave until we talk.”

  The door slammed.

  A few minutes later, out ran three boys. Nolan swallowed another ladle of water, then sat in the shade. The rowdy youngsters tussled in the yard, squealing and carrying on. It made him wish even more that he could go to Birch Creek and have time alone with his family.

  He also wondered how Jesse was making out. Had he caught up with the single rider, maybe this woman’s husband? But he could have been the other rider. Why had two different men been there, or were they working together but had split for some reason? Could be they were still allies but had needed to separate for a purpose Nolan could not guess.

  The door flew open. “Willie, take your bothers. Catch us some fish for supper.”

  All three boys sprinted toward the shed. Within a few seconds, the older two each had a rod, and then they tore off in the direction of the creek.

  The woman stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

  “What do you wanna know?” Her hands were squarely on her hips, expressing her annoyance that Nolan was still there.

  He stood, brushing the dirt off his pants, then joined her at the house. She wasn’t wearing the pistol, but there was nothing soft about her stance, as if ready for a brawl. He wasn’t one to beat around the bush, blunt at times, and she seemed to want to get this questioning over with.

  “Two men rode out from here.” Nolan pointed south, then east. “Who are they? Why were they here?”

  “My visitors ain’t any of your damn business. I don’t have to tell ya nothin’.”

  A proper mother wouldn’t want to leave her sick child or any of her children. Nolan hoped his bluff would work. He grabbed one of her wrists, and with his other
hand, he pulled a pair of shackles out of his pocket and slapped them on her before she realized what he’d done. One hard jerk and she stumbled beside him as he dragged her toward the bay.

  “You son of a bitch. You can’t lock me up. What about my kids?” She twisted in his grasp. He squeezed harder.

  This was exactly the response he’d wished to provoke.

  “For the time it takes for you to open up, I think they’ll be fine all alone here in the mountain. Does your oldest know how to shoot in case those Cheyenne you seen come snoopin’ ‘round?” He grinned, knowing he’d have Jesse guard the place all night if need be, and Doc could stay with the sick girl.

  Her eyes twinkled with a fiery hate. She spit at his face, but he ducked.

  “Now, now, that might cost ya a whole extra day in jail. Let’s be civil.”

  She wrenched to escape, but he was far too strong for her, keeping her at arm’s length.

  “Names?” He waited.

  “I don’t know. Honest. I burn a red candle in the window. I can always use the extra money.” She took a deep breath, sticking out her chest, bellying up to Nolan, and keeping those pert breasts right under his eyes. “One was a trapper, the other a fella just passin’ through. I don’t ask names.” She pressed against him. “I seen that wife of yours in town. Looks like a prude. I bet I can pleasure you in ways she’s never dreamed of.”

  Nolan laughed, shoving her away. She stumbled backward, tripped when she stepped on the hem of her skirt, and fell on her ass. Apparently, she’d used her looks to get out of trouble before and had no shame in doing it again.

  He stepped in front of her and leaned down into her face. “I know you’re lyin’.”

  He wouldn’t tell on the boy. The kid wasn’t supposed to talk to Nolan, and he didn’t want him getting into any trouble for innocently stating his concern about his father leaving. The rest of what she’d said, he chose to ignore. The ring on his finger symbolized love. Part of that was trust and loyalty, and he had no interest in breaking that commitment with this whore or anyone else.

  “It’s true,” she screamed at him.

  He yanked her to her feet. His patience was wearing thin, and the fact that it was hot and he was tired wasn’t helping.

  “I ain’t ever hit a woman, but you’re pushin’ me damn close to it.” Nolan’s jaw clenched. “Your husband, what’s his name?”

  “John Smith.” She spit it out awful quick, too fast, as if rehearsed.

  John Smith was a bland, run-of-the-mill name, and it was probably a lie. An honest man didn’t have to hide who he was or have his woman do it for him. It was obvious the skank wasn’t going to give him any good information.

  “There was a second man. His name, what is it?”

  She glanced around at the shack, the rickety buckboard, the poor conditions in which she and her children survived. “Just some ugly trapper who wanted to grunt over a woman for once instead of using his hand.” She lifted an elbow toward the woodpile where he had found the second horse print. “My kids need warmer clothes before winter.”

  It was possible for her to do some whoring in the bed of the wagon or the shed. The house was but one small room, and her children would have been in there. Her face was without expression, and Nolan was leaning toward believing her. But it was hard, given that she’d boldly lied to him once already. Maybe she’d just switched her tactic. Her voice had been softer, more ladylike, which might have been a trick to get him to feel bad for her.

  He didn’t feel any pity for her, but he did remove the cuffs.

  “Ma!” Willie came running out from among the trees. Held high in one hand was at least a dozen trout. “Fish were really bitin’ today.”

  The other two caught up, huffing and puffing.

  She smiled. “Go on and clean ‘em. We’ll have us a fine supper.”

  The boy hastily handed his rod to one of the others, then spun, about to take off running.

  “Willie.” Nolan called him back, and the boy halted. “Your ma was just tellin’ me about your pa.” Nolan snapped his finger several times. “What’s his name?” He rubbed his head as though he couldn’t recall.

  “Walter,” the boy said.

  Nolan wished he had mentioned a last name too, but one honest word was a start. “Does he like to take ya fishin’? He teach ya how?” he asked before the boy’s mother, whose face was bright red, could say anything.

  Nolan wanted to get a sense of how often Walter came around. Earlier, the boy had mentioned his pa leaving when things were tough, and it seemed that was more often than not. If Walter was an outlaw, the woman knew it, or she would not have lied. But that didn’t mean she was directly involved. She definitely had her hands full there.

  “No. Ma taught me. Pa’s away more than he comes ‘round.”

  She waved the boy to go, and he did, his little brothers on his heels.

  She turned on Nolan. “You sneaky bastard. Stay away from my kids. Don’t involve them.”

  “Involve them in what?” He picked up the reins of his horse.

  “Whatever you’re dreamin’ up that my man, John Smith …” She drew out the name. “Is supposedly involved in.” For the second time, the door slammed.

  Nolan stepped into the saddle, his horse already walking as he steered the gelding toward town. He would search every wanted poster for anyone named Walter.

  CHAPTER 5

  It was after dark by the time Nolan got home. He’d found no papers on anyone with the first name Walter. At the barn, he dismounted. The door of the house behind him opened with a squeak. He glanced over his shoulder. Kate stood in the doorway, looking breathtaking as always.

  Nate pushed past her, running out.

  “Pa!” The boy hightailed it across the yard, then skidded to a halt at Nolan’s feet. “Can we go to Birch Creek? I helped Ma fold blankets, put them in the wagon, and packed my clothes.”

  Nolan grinned, ruffling his son’s hair. “I need to talk with Jesse first. But when I do decide, you’ll be the first to know. I promise.”

  “Jesse ain’t here. He ain’t come home yet.” Nate took the reins of the bay and led the horse into the barn where Nolan helped him strip the heavy tack and store it properly.

  All the while, he pondered where Jesse was. He should have been home by now. Honestly, Nolan had expected him to show up at the jailhouse. When he didn’t, he had assumed he’d come there instead.

  The likeliness that he’d had trouble with Walter was slim. Too many hours between when that man had left his family and when Jesse had started after him. It was more presumable that he had a run-in with the Cheyenne.

  Nolan was just about to grab his saddle and throw it on the bay when the sound of a horse trotting into the yard carried inside. He hustled toward the door, Nate right behind him.

  “Jesse!” Nate bounded off.

  Jesse reached down and scooped Nathanial up, plopping the boy in the saddle in front of him.

  Both boys were smiling, but Nolan took a closer look. Jesse’s shirt was bloodstained on his left shoulder. “What happened?”

  “Damn scalp hunters. Almost had me.” Jesse stepped down.

  Nate stayed sitting on the mare.

  “Nathanial, take Jesse’s horse inside, brush her down, and give her hay.”

  “Yes, sir.” The boy and horse disappeared into the barn.

  “Go on and let Ma patch ya up,” Nolan said. He would help Nate.

  “I’m all right. It ain’t that bad. Just a mean slice.” Jesse rolled his shoulder.

  “You see anything of our man?” Nolan didn’t expect he had but wanted to know for certain.

  “His tracks go straight south. He’s running. I trailed him the whole way to Black Mesa before I turned around. He didn’t show any signs of stopping.”

  Black Mesa was a place where, when the light was just so, the rocks took on a deep purple, almost black color. It was miles farther than Jesse was supposed to have gone.

  Nolan grabbed his
hat and smacked his leg with it. “I told you to pull back. Not to go that far into Indian country. You’re damn lucky to have gotten out of there.”

  “Yes, sir. But I wanted to be sure of where that fella was headed.”

  “Well, we ain’t gonna follow him. Not now while the Indians are on the fight.” Nolan shoved his hat on.

  “That ain’t what I was thinkin’.” Jesse smirked.

  “Are you gonna tell me or make me guess?” Nolan lifted the saddle off Jesse’s mare. Nate had the pitchfork, throwing hay into the stall the mare would soon occupy.

  “Now that we know he’s gone, you can take the family to Birch Creek without worry.”

  Nolan chuckled.

  “Please, Pa.” Nate had finished his chore. The fork stood against the wall. The boy’s hands were tightly clasped in a praying position, fingers intertwined, showing hopefulness.

  It did seem things had worked in their favor. Based on what both the mountain woman and her son had said, Walter’s routine was absence rather than homecoming. Black Mesa was quite a distance, and he was still running south. The next town was Buttonwood. Sheriff Berk was a hard man, a good, honest lawman. He didn’t tolerate much trouble in his town, so if Walter was headed there and was involved in anything criminal Berk would figure it out. Plus, he had two smart deputies. Nolan had nothing on the mountain couple, no evidence of wrongdoing, though he still believed the man was guilty of something and she was willingly going along with it.

  As far as Gray Rock, Jesse had been right. He was quite capable of handling things and could easily round up help or a posse if need be.

  Nolan smiled. “Let’s go tell your ma we’re going to Birch Creek.”

  The boy cheered, jumping up and down. Jesse gave a whoop and clapped Nolan on the shoulder.

  After a later supper of warmed-up stew and after Nate was tucked in bed and Jesse got a few stitches, Nolan finally had a minute alone with Kate. He slipped into bed next to her. Her head rested on a pillow, her red hair spread everywhere, eyes closed, and blankets up over her shoulders. He scooted over until he was pressed against her and gently placed an arm around her. She was thinner, except for the roundness of her belly. Her eyes fluttered open. They smiled at one another, then kissed.