Chase the Wind (37 page)

“As you well know, there aren’t any other girls here even close
to your age. There are none that could handle the tasks the Millers
would need you to do. You are the logical choice.”

“I won’t go. You can’t make me.”

Father Clarence took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, his
stout stick tucked under his arm as he massaged the bridge of his
nose, as if talking to Jenny was tasking him beyond his limits. He carefully replaced the glasses and put the stick out in front of him,
placing both hands squarely on it. “Now is not the time to be
difficult. You’ll give these nice people the wrong impression.”

“Where is his wife?” Jenny asked. She was trying to buy time for Chase, who was making his way quietly up behind the priest, hob
bling on his broken leg, his crutch held like a club before him.

“You told me she was feisty,” Miller said. “I reckon she’s worth
every penny I paid ya.”

Jenny looked in amazement at the weak eyes, the greasy, thinning hair, then saw the man lick his lips as he returned her look. Jenny shuddered, then saw Chase balancing himself on his good
leg, his eyes lethal as he nodded at Jenny, encouraging her to fight.

“We’re going to have to force her. She won’t go any other way,”
the priest said with a sigh.

Jenny shoved the chair at them, then ran around the table, plac
ing her hands on it to give it a shove. Miller and the priest split
up, one corning around each side of the table.

“Watch out!” Miller yelled.

Father Clarence turned in time to see Chase raise the crutch over
his head. He swung his stick like a club and caught Chase’s splint,
sending him down with a cry of anguish as he clutched his leg.

“Chase!” Jenny screamed as Miller grabbed her around the waist
from behind. Jenny began fighting, scratching at his arms, kicking
out as she bucked against the hold he had on her. The table went
flying as she caught it with her feet, knocking Father Clarence in the stomach. He doubled over as she continued to fight. Then the
priest straightened up and hit Jenny in the jaw with his fist. Stars
exploded in her head as a red haze filled her eyes, and she slumped
over. The only thing that kept her from hitting the ground was
Miller’s arms wrapped securely around her waist.

“I told you not to mark her,” she heard Miller protest through
the ringing in her ears.

“She’ll have plenty of time to heal before you reach California,”
the priest hissed.

Miller leaned Jenny’s limp body back against one arm, turning
her face with his hand, checking the bruise already rising on her
delicate cheek before running his hand down over her breast. “Yep,
worth every penny.” He nodded at the priest, who looked at him
with bored contempt.

Chase managed to climb up on his hands and knees, his stomach rebelling at the pressure the floor was putting against his leg. Miller threw Jenny over his shoulder, her hair trailing down over her head
and dragging on the floor as he made his way out. Chase lunged
for Miller’s knees as he went by, grabbing only a handful of Jenny’s hair for his effort. Father Clarence swung his club down on Chase’s
back, and his face hit the floor as the breath was knocked from his
body. The priest locked the door on his way out, taking the key
with him. Chase heard the delicate ping of metal hitting the floor
outside the door as he tried with all his might to draw air back
into his body.

“Jenny,” he was finally able to gasp. “Jenny?” Chase crawled to
the door, reaching up to try the knob. The chair Jenny had flung
was close by, and he pulled himself up, waves of nausea washing
over him as the room spun out of control. He closed his eyes,
forcing his rebellious body to respond, to move forward to the
window. He finally reached it, and caught sight of a covered wagon
parked in front of the mission. Miller threw Jenny into the back of
it, then turned to talk to the priest. The wagon began to bounce
as if it housed a wildcat, and Jenny’s head poked out the back only
to be met by the back of Miller’s hand, knocking her back inside.
Then all was still.

Father Clarence looked around to see if anyone was watching, then stepped back as the wagon began to move away, even waving
when it made the turn onto the road to St. Jo.

“Jenny . . .” Chase whispered as a single tear tracked down his cheek. He turned away from the window, his leg catching in the
chair as he turned, causing him to lose his balance. He went down,
hitting his head on the table; he was unconscious before he hit the
floor.

Chapter Seventeen

Jamie was whistling as he drove the buckboard back to the mission.
The team of horses bobbed their heads as they plodded along, keeping time in their own way to the tune of “Good King Wen
ceslas.” Sister Mary Frances began to hum along, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine, the sound of the birds singing, the sight
of the spring flowers bobbing in the breeze along the road as if
they too were keeping time with the tune.

“Why are you whistling a carol in the springtime?” the nun
asked.

“I don’t know. It’s one my father always whistled and I guess it just stuck with me,” Jamie answered. The hat was pulled low over
his face to keep the curiosity of the townspeople they passed at
bay, but he sat tall and proud on the bench, his hands sure on the
reins as they made the return trip from the farm they had just
visited.

The elderly couple had been so amazed at his size that they
didn’t even question his scars as they interviewed Jamie about his
skills. He admitted to being more at home with animals than plants,
but he was willing to work, as was his sister, and under the gen
tleman’s fine tutelage they would soon become experts, he was
sure. The lady had beamed at him, then fixed him a plate of sugar cookies with a glass of milk. Jamie grinned at her with delight as he bit into one, his hair falling over his eyes as he devoured the feast placed before him. The woman had cooed over him, promising to fatten him up and even offering to give him a much-needed haircut. Jamie promised to get one before they returned on Sunday, and they left, anxious to return to the mission and share the news with Jenny. Jamie continually checked his new boots as they rode, making sure the fine black leather had not gotten scuffed on his tour of the farm. He had his pants legs tucked into the calf-high boots, showing off the expanse of them to any who cared to see, and Sister Mary Frances smiled to herself at his obvious joy and
pride.

They arrived at the mission, and the nun waited while he took care of the team, not wanting to ruin the surprise for him when he told Jenny of their good fortune. She noticed that he had a cocky jaunt to his walk as they entered the mission. The boots were sure to make Logan and Joe envious, he knew. They found the office door locked, which did not surprise them, but repeated knocking brought no response.

“Do you suppose they could be in the orchard?” Sister Mary Frances asked.

“No, I checked when we rode by. Besides, it’s suppertime.” The bell was indeed tolling in the tower above, and the nun smiled at Jamie’s tendency to put mealtime above all else. They heard footsteps and looked up to see Sister Abigail coming down the hall.

“Sister, I’m sorry I didn’t know that Jenny and Chase had gone with you. Father Clarence was quite upset at the waste when I carried the lunch tray down,” the young novice said.

“They didn’t go with us,” Jamie said as he pounded on the door. “Jenny, Chase, open up!” he shouted against the stout wood.

Sister Mary Frances placed her hand over her heart as the realization of what Sister Abigail had said sank in. They saw the knob rattle as if someone had grabbed it from the other side.

“Jenny!” Jamie shouted. “Open up!”

“I don’t have the key,” Chase’s voice responded.

“Chase, where’s Jenny?”

“The key is out there somewhere. I heard it hit the floor.”

Jamie fell his heart fall when the weakly spoken words came through the door. He stepped back and began searching the floor, finally catching the gleam of brass next to the baseboard. His hand trembled as he tried to insert the key, and Sister Mary Frances finally placed her own delicate hand over his large one and guided the key into the lock. She helped him turn it, and they found Chase sitting next to the door, his back against the wall. Jamie immediately searched the infirmary, calling out for Jenny.

“She’s gone,” Chase gasped as Sister Mary Frances ran her hand down his leg. His eyes were huge in his pale face as he looked up at Jamie. “The priest sold her to a man named Miller. He’s taking her to California.”

“How long?” Jamie’s voice was steely, his eyes dark with anger. His face had turned bright red, the scar a vivid white as rage settled over him.

“This morning ... I don’t know, I’ve been unconscious. I tried to stop them, but the priest hit me with his cane.”

Sister Mary Frances went to place her hand on Jamie’s arm, but he stepped past her as if she weren’t even there.

“Jamie, wait,” she called after him as he took off down the hall towards Father Clarence’s office. She gathered up the skirt of her habit and ran after him.

“I’ve waited too long already,” he spat over his shoulder as his long strides ate up the distance. He kicked open the door to the priest’s office, causing it to bounce against the wall before it swung back. Jamie halted the backswing with an outstretched hand and stepped in.

Father Clarence calmly looked up from the cup of coffee he was sipping as Jamie stepped around the desk and pulled him to his feet, his hands about the priest’s neck. The cup of coffee hit the floor with a crash.

“Where is she?” Jamie hissed between clenched teeth as his strong hands tightened around the white collar. The priests hands scrabbled uselessly against the iron muscles in the arms that held him. His face turned purple, his eyes bulging as he tried to draw a breath. Sister Mary Frances burst in, panic-stricken as she watched the priest fight the stranglehold that Jamie had on him.

“Jamie, no!” she cried, then watched as the sheriff, who had been drinking coffee with the priest, raised his gun and brought the handle down against the back of Jamie’s head. Jamie jerked, his hands still tight around the priest’s neck. The sheriff raised the gun
again, striking harder, against the temple this time, and Jamie slid
to the floor.

Jamie Duncan took a thorough inventory of all his parts as he lay on a hard cot in a jail cell in St. Jo. His head was pounding, and each beat of his heart seemed to echo through his body in a torturous rhythm. He considered the pain and decided he could live with it. He swung his long legs over the cot and sat up. The small confines of the cell swam before him as all of his internal organs settled back into place. He put his head in his hands, and groaned
as he touched the goose egg on his temple.

“Oh, so you’ve decided to wake up,” the sheriff said. He was
leaning back in his chair, his boots propped up on the desk.

Jamie ran his hands through his hair, trying to get his wandering brain to settle on something. He was in jail and he had received a blow to the head: Those two facts were painfully obvious. He held
his hands out in front of him, looking at them as if they held the answers. Suddenly an image formed in his mind of his long, lean
fingers closing around a white-collared neck. Jenny . . . Jenny was
gone. He jumped to his feet and staggered to the bars, wrapping
his hands around them.

“My sister’s been kidnapped.”

“No, she’s been adopted. I saw the records,” the sheriff said.

“You don’t understand. She didn’t want to go. Father Clarence sold her, and they’re taking her to California against her will.”

“Father Clarence said that your sister went willingly after Mr. Miller made a generous donation to the orphanage.”

“She didn’t go willingly. They beat her up. Ask Chase—they beat
him up, too.”

“Now, who do you expect me to believe, a priest or a half-breed?”
The sheriffs booted heels hit the floor as he sat up straight. “If I
were you, I’d be worried about the predicament I was in instead
of my sister.”

“What predicament?” Jamie couldn’t believe the sheriffs casual
attitude. “My sister has been kidnapped, and you need to go after
the people who did it.”

The sheriff pointed a finger at Jamie. “No, you need to sit down
and shut up. You’re gonna be here for a while, and you need to
stay on my good side.”