Part V

© 2005 by Elizabeth Delayne



From his years on the road, Thad had friends. He had connections. Staying in Cartersville for the short term left him with an opportunity to see them, and in seeing them, think of Ellie less.

Slightly less.

The week was full of discussions and long, fruitless journeys on the trail. By the time the weekend rolled around, Thad was exhausted, his eye on the next weekend, on his wedding, on his new life.

But after church on Sunday, Thad was restless. He slipped away from those friends and connections and wandered around Cartersville. The air was warming, the ground drying from the rain they'd had the night before. His stride was long and easy, his eyes far and distant. He could see Ellie—almost see Ellie walking on his arm around town. He knew what he would say to her, could guess what she would ask.

But he didn't know. Not for sure. She had a quick and curious mind; an intelligent mind, that explored and pondered. He'd found, through her, that he didn't need to leave his home to go on a quest.

Still, he was in Cartersville without her. This was not the way he had planned it. They should be married now. They should be taking those trips together.

And maybe talking, finally, about the dark places he hadn't.

She would understand. Of course she would. Hadn't James? Hadn't he told James all the heartbreak and loss? The Indians that had been mistreated? The darkness he'd encountered on the trail ...

"Thad Whitaker!"

He turned, frowned as Sam McKaby, one of the Cartersville deputies, ran toward him. There was an urgency in his friends expression. "What is it?"

"Shatler's in Lenox."

There was no hesitation, Thad thought. Sam was sure. Thad felt the shock of it roll through him.

"What?"

"We brought in a man last night for disorderly conduct. One of the witnesses said he'd been talking, one might say recruiting. He said he was meeting up with his boss--they'd found a cozy place in Lenox. A widow's farm, to the west of town."

Ellie.

"Rushing Waters went for the horses. We're heading out. Now."

*

"You--you can't be here," Roberta said, and step up onto the next step. She stretched her hands out behind her and fumbled for the railing.

"A nice, empty place like this?" he said, and slowly turned, taking in the farm yard.

Roberta looked too—how could she not. This was James's place, with her. It was their place, for their family. Their barn wasn't just a storehouse for the animals and their food, it had also been James's workshop. How many nights had he labored inside the barn, but come inside in time to read to his family? Or walked in from the fields, unloading his tools after a long, hot day?

She could remember him giving Mary a ride on his shoulders across, her daughter laughing and full of life ... of him holding Lucas up to the coral so their son could put his hand to the mane of the gentlest of their horses.

Or of him walking by with Ellie, sharing a bond that seemed so effortless...

"Fine place for a family. Fine, fine place. You've got a nice family, Roberta. A beautiful little girl. A handsome boy."

She looked back at him, found that he was staring at her. He took a step up, standing close.

Too close.

He reached up a hand touched it to a curl that fell against her cheek. A week ago, she'd found it charming. Now her stomach rolled. Her fingers curled into fists.

"Stay away from my children."

"Now—you're too much of lady to take that tone. I have no intention of harming your children ... but you could introduce me."

"Never."

His hand that grabbed her arm was unforgiving. His eyes were dark, dark and hateful ... and it was if she could smell death on his breath.

She recoiled from his touch but was unable to drop her gaze.

"You will introduce me."

*

"Something wrong," Ellie murmured as she pulled the wagon to a stop. She felt it in her spirit. Something made her nervous, something called her to look--and look closer. The familiar farm scene had yet to appear on the horizon, but something, she thought, was wrong. It was still and quite, the sun shining bright, the land bare as it stretched across to the mountains beyond.

"It will be fine," Ruby said and reached across to clasp her hand.

"No--it's ..." Ellie looked across the land again, and down. "There's prints everywhere. Horses, a lot of horses have been through. Been here. Heading toward the farm."

"You can tell?" Ruby murmured, but from the tone, Ellie knew she believed her. "How can you tell?"

"Been around Rushing Waters--who's been here? Who's been visiting? Here?" Ellie asked and swung down from the wagon.

She bent down, touched her hand to the dirt, to the print--a horses hoof print, one of many. "They've come through today, recently. It rained last night." She traced the print with her finger. "It's the mark of one who's ridding far and long. Needs new shoes."

Ruby peered over the side at Ellie. "What are you thinking?"

"We need to get help, Ruby," she said as she straightened. "I think Roberta and Martha are in trouble."

Alone, Ellie thought, and in trouble.



*

The room was crowded with men. Seven--Roberta counted, though she knew they were waiting for two more. They sat at her table, talked loud and long, their voices rough and "polite." She'd been told to fix them a meal--simple fair, coming from her own hands. She did it, on her own. She would not bring Martha further into this mess that she knew she'd created. And she needed Martha to hold onto Mary, to keep her safe, away from the men.

Their horses were stored away in the barn and staked out on the land, eating their feed, the feed James had brought from the land with his own hands.

Before the desperation could arise, she looked up, met Martha's eyes across the room. Martha sat in the rocking chair, rocking Mary, back and forth, back and forth, having calmed Mary. Martha seemed stable, Roberta thought. The fear didn't seem to roll of her. Not as it did her. Not as it had for months.

She never wanted to be afraid again. She never wanted her children to be afraid again.

Martha nodded her head slightly, encouraging her.

Roberta set a plate down in front of the Reirdon. He was the leader, she knew now, the oldest of the brothers. She's seen the younger around town for a time. Brock was his name.

But no one in town had known he was one of the Shatler's ... and everyone had heard of the Shatler brothers. Cold and mean, a ruthless gang of criminals. The madness they'd talked about in the oldest had been hidden from her before. Had she ignored it before?

Logan let out a wail. She jumped, turned from the stove and set yet another plate down at the table where the men waited.

Then she walked across and lifted him from the bassinet. Lifted her baby and held him to her heart. T had been a long time since she'd prayed, since she'd been able to pray, but the prayer stumbled from her heart.

Save us, O Lord.

*

"You were right, Ellie."

The sheriff swung back onto his horse. He had with him his single deputy and the men from town, men who had been at the church, left over from the morning service. Mostly farmers. Mostly friends, with families, Ellie thought as she looked across at James Forester. His son, Matt, rode beside him. Matt was younger than Thad. His eyes were deep and troubled.

Then there was Jeff Barton, Matt's ally and friend. He had a fiancé, a wedding for himself not far away. Other men, other family men, waited for orders.

"Ellie--you'll have to come with us," the sheriff said. "I need your eyes. You know this place, better then the rest of us."

"But you'll stay back," James murmured, his quiet voice authoritative. "When we move forward, stay back. Stay with Jeff."

"Don't be insulted," Matt offered. "Someone with a straight shot needs to protect Jeff."

Ellie glanced down at the rifle she held in her hand. She knew it's power. New what she might be asked to do with it. Her hand trembled under it's weight.

Thad had used his gun, she knew ... and it had changed him. There was a sadness in his eyes he refused to talk about ... and one she hadn't ventured toward, unsure what she would find.

With her free hand she reached up and touched the cameo.

"Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

*

It was as if time had stopped. Roberta watched the men. Their dishes ... her dishes, roughly shoved into the center of the table. They were drinking now, the drink something they'd brought in off their horses.

The door crashed open. The man at the door was gritty and raw, but his presence didn't dim the conversation between the men. They were, she was sure, used to such spectacles.

Roberta curled her arms around Lucas.

"Riders comin', boss."

The room suddenly got quiet. Shatler looked toward his brother. "You know what to do."

The men stood, and in one move lifted her table and tipped it. The dishes shattered on the floor even as they sent the table crashing down on top of them. Someone pulled out a pack of matches.

"No—" Roberta muttered, even as she looked over at Martha. One of the men was moving toward her, holding her back.

The smell of fire automatically filled the air. She turned back, watched as one lit a match, touched the flame to her curtains ... her pretty curtains ...

But it didn't matter. Her baby was with Martha.

Still holding Lucas, she ran across the room and shoved Lucas into Martha's arms. "Go—" she said, and pushed her. There were windows in the back. Martha would know. "Get them out of here."

"Roberta—"

"Go—"

She turned and faced her foe.

*

As they rode, Ellie adjusted the grip on her rifle. She kept her eyes peeled and frowned when the farmhouse came into view. Men were exiting the farm house, jumping on horses.

Fleeing, she realized. From what? From them?

The paced picked up, the riders pressed forward. In the flurry, she wasn't told to stop, to hold back.

Jeff went with the men.

Without thinking, Ellie rode on.

But as the men detoured, following the line of outlaws riding away from the house, Ellie headed toward the farm house. She could see the fire through the windows. The glass had cracked. Smoke lifted, a dark column against the blue sky.

The longings in her heart spilled over and for a moment ... a split second, she thought she saw her father standing in the window.

She slid from her horse and ran for the door.

"Ellie!"

She turned and saw Martha round the side of the house. She had Lucas in her arms. Mary held onto her hand.

"You ... you're all alright."

"I don't know," Martha's eyes were wide with panic. "Roberta ... she didn't make it to the back

Ellie turned and tried to peer through the door. She could see the flames licking at the walls of her home, feel the heat on her skin.

Roberta ...

Without thought, Ellie bolted up the front steps.

"Ellie!"

Martha's cry was lost on her as she pushed in through the smoke and found herself surrounded by flames.

Afterward, she wouldn't be able to recall the specific details ... blinded by smoke, scorched by the heat, she'd almost missed sight of Roberta, on her hands and knees as she struggled for the door.

Somehow, they reached each other ... and struggling to stand, make it for the door. Weakened, Ellie stumbled down the stairs and they tumbled together onto the ground.

Roberta fought for air, her coughs ragged. Ellie brushed back tears and looked up at the house, built by her father's hands. Flames licked at the roof.

She'd helped him, she remembered, carry shingles onto the roof. They'd repaired it just last spring, side by side.

And now it was disappearing ... so quickly, she thought ... it was burning so quickly.

Over the crackle of fire, she could hear Lucas crying and Roberta's weeping. And then there were men there, bundling them up, pulling them back.

The farm house simply collapsed upon itself, brought down by fire.

Tugged onto horseback, Ellie reached up to touch the cameo.

It was gone as well.

*

Thad worked to breathe, but it was hard. The hard ride had still taken them a day, and they were too late. The old farmhouse was a pile of ashes, grown cold. He'd stopped, taken a moment to look around, because he hadn't known what to do. There were a hundred of memories pouring around in his head ... of James, of Ellie ... of the family.

And of another family in the mountains ... of Jeremiah and his family.

"Looks like people have been here ..." Rushing Waters said as he came from around back with Sam. "They followed the tracks toward the mountain ... then came back, headed toward town. Others have come back ... and gone back to town."

So, it wasn't like Jeremiah's cabin. If there had been bodies, they'd already been dealt with.

"We should head toward town, see what they know," Sam said, but Thad only studied the ground, his heart in his throat.

"Thad—you said Ellie was with your brother's family."

Thad bent down, and shifting the dirt, pulled up the familiar cameo he'd given Ellie before leaving. He turned to Rushing Waters. His hand trembled as it rested in his palm.

Rushing Waters reached up and placed a hand on his arm. "You don't know, Thad. Not for sure."

He looked toward the mountains, toward the twin set of graves where James was buried next to his first wife. Was there a third grave, he wondered, or preparations for a third grave? Would they have turned the old house he'd fixed up into a place to keep the bodies until the caskets were ready?

"Thad?"

This time, it was Sam. He stood on his other side.

And he pointed east.

"It looks like we're about to find out."

There were two riders heading toward them, now at a gallop. Thad took two steps, his hand closed tight around the cameo.

Then he smiled. She wore her pants, her hair up in her hat, but he knew her ... he knew her shape, her posture on a horse. He knew ....

Thank you, he prayed, and with his hand curled around her cameo, kept his eyes on her.



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