Debra Holland (34 page)

The shadows lengthened. She slowed to peer behind trees and under bushes. Yet as Harriet searched, images tumbled through her mind. She remembered remarks and looks she’d ignored, like Samantha’s look of pity and understanding when Harriet needed to flee from the news of Elizabeth’s pregnancy … Mrs. Cobb’s insistence on her attending the Sanders’ moving party.
She wanted to punish me
. In retrospect, she could think of dozens of remarks and knowing glances that had hinted of people’s knowledge of her infatuation.

Panting, she rested against an elm, scanning ahead.
I’ll have to leave this town. Find another place to teach where nobody knows me.

That decision brought relief. She could start all over with a clean slate. Focusing on the decision, Harriet refused to let herself mourn the loss of Sweetwater Springs...of students and friends...of Ant and David.
Not now. Time for grieving later.

 
Now she had to find David.
Where is he?

Confident she’d find him near the pool, she straightened away from the tree and traipsed downstream, the gurgle of the water over stones guiding her.

Harriet reached the clearing by the pool with a sense of relief. So strong was her expectation of finding David here that she had to blink several times before she realized he wasn’t.

“David,” she called. “David, where are you?” She peeked behind some trees and parted the branches of some bushes. “David, come out. It’s all right. Your uncle won’t hurt you.”

Once she’d searched the clearing without finding him, Harriet continued downstream. But the farther she moved, the more she became convinced she was going the wrong way. Finally, she decided to follow her intuition and turned, heading upstream.

A sense of urgency made her increase her pace. She passed the place where she’d started and kept on going, scanning the surroundings, and her ears pricked for any sound from David. She’d made so much progress with him. He’d just begun to talk. “Please, God. Let him keep talking. Let him be able to make a joyful noise to you,” she whispered.

In an answer to her prayer, a distant yelp cut through the air.
 

David.
Her heart leapt into her throat. She spied a large stick on the ground and scooped it up. Then she gathered her skirts with her other hand and began to run. But she hadn’t gone far when she had to stop and gasp for breath. The tight corset constrained her from going farther, and Harriet feared she’d pass out.
I knew I should have burned this corset!

As soon as she caught her breath, Harriet picked up her pace, but didn’t break into a run. It wouldn’t do David any good for her to keel over before she reached him. She listened for more wails but didn’t hear anything. Surely if something was wrong, he’d yell for help?

She rounded a tree and saw David seated on a mule, his body stiff. His father stood next to him, squeezing the boy’s leg in a painful grip. He wore a stick tied around one leg. Without stopping to think, Harriet sprinted toward them, brandishing the branch.
 

Lewis saw her and shot her a predatory grin that would have sent chills down her spine if she wasn’t so focused on rescuing David.

“Let him go,” she yelled, banged the branch on the man’s arm.

Lewis lost his grin and snarled at her. Letting go of David, he reached for his gun.

David came to life, flailing and kicking. One elbow caught Lewis in the ribs while at the same time, the heel of his boot connected with Old Blue’s sides. The mule brayed and laid back his ears, shifting his weight into Lewis, knocking the man off balance onto his bad leg.

I have to keep his hand away from his gun.
Harriet whacked Lewis again. While, the man was unsettled by the mule and his struggling son, she reached up and yanked David off the mule. Then she kicked Lewis in the knee of his bad leg.

The man let out a string of curses. “You’ll pay for that!” He made a grab for the boy, but missed.

David landed in a heap on the ground but jumped to his feet, his eyes bright with unshed tears.

“Run for your uncle,” Harriet ordered, not taking her gaze off Lewis.

“But,” David croaked.

“Run!”

David took off.

Harriet shoved the end of the stick into Lewis’ side.
 

The man let out an expletive and grabbed the wood, jerking her toward him. He stank of body odor and whiskey. He caught her hair, giving it a nasty pull to bring her face closer to him.

Tears came to her eyes, but Harriet refused to cry out. She fisted her hand and thumped it against his thigh.
 

He cursed and backhanded her across the face.

Agony knifed through her, and she couldn’t breathe. Her knees buckled from pain, but his grip on her hair kept her tied to him. Thousands of needles stabbed into her scalp, making her want to scream. She bit her lip to hold it in.

 
He relaxed his hold on her hair, but didn’t let go.

Harriet collapsed against the mule, inhaling the dusty smell of its hide.

“I have you now, girly. You fight anymore, and you’ll get a fist to your face. Break that pretty nose of yours and lay you out. Makes no difference to me whether you’re conscious or not. Pleasure is pleasure.”

“Ant will kill you,” she ground out.

He slapped her face again. Her head snapped to the side. For a moment, the light dimmed. A ringing in her ear deafened her.

“Thanks for the reminder, girly. Guess I don’t have time to pleasure myself after all.” He reached for his gun. “Too bad for you.”

* * *

Ant hurried to the river, urgency spurring him onward. Reaching the water, he realized he didn’t know which way to head. He’d just chosen downstream when he heard the sound of yelling, which settled the question. Turning, Ant drew his gun, moving through the trees as quickly and silently as he could.

David burst out of a stand of willows, panic on his face.

Ant dropped the Colt into the holster and reached out to catch him.

“Uncle Ant,” the boy gasped out. “Pa’s got Miss Stanton.”

“You’re talking.” Ant gave him a quick hug. “Go get Pepe. Then saddle Chester and ride to town for help.” He released him.

David pelted away.

No matter what happens, he’ll be safe.

But Harriet!

Although Ant wanted to race to Harriet’s aid, he restrained himself, drawing his gun and creeping through the willows.
It won’t do to get us both killed.

Ant couldn’t help some sticks crunching under his boots, but the sounds of the struggle covered up his footsteps. He parted the drooping branches to see Lewis backed against the mule, one hand fisted in Harriet’s hair, the other on his gun.

Even in the fading light, he could see Harriet’s face was bone-white except for a red splotch on one cheek. The coward had hit Harriet—beaten her, as he had beaten Emily.

A lightning flash of anger struck Ant, igniting an animal instinct to defend. He couldn’t get a shot in without risking Harriet, so he dropped his gun into the holster and charged, barreling into Lewis before the man knew what hit him. With one hand Ant forced Lewis’ gun arm up. He fisted his other hand, driving it into Lewis’ stomach.

Lewis growled and released Harriet, who jumped back. But hampered by her skirts, she tripped and landed on her backside.

Lewis retaliated with an uppercut to Ant’s side.

Ant grunted, absorbing the pain. He kicked Lewis in his broken leg, hard enough to knock him off his feet, while at the same time grabbing for the gun and bending it out of Lewis’ fingers.

A shot went off, the sound made his ears ring. But he wrenched the gun away and had it in his possession. He knocked Lewis on the head with the butt end, just as Lewis elbowed him in the stomach.

Ant doubled over and gasped for breath.

Lewis staggered back a step into the rump of the mule.

With a loud bray the mule kicked. Its hooves connected with Lewis’ midsection, sending him flying.

Panting, Ant straightened. He raised the Colt, took careful aim at the man on the ground. Lewis lay sprawled on his back amid the rocks edging the river. He didn’t move, his body limp.

Keeping the Colt trained on Lewis, Ant edged closer. But what he saw made him release a deep breath of relief and holster his gun.

Lewis’ eyes gazed blankly at the sky, his head at a sharp angle. To be sure, Ant knelt down and felt for a pulse, even though he’d seen enough dead people to know death when he saw it. He stood, turned to Harriet, and took quick steps to help her up.

Harriet, her hair straggling around her face, threw herself at him. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling her tremble.
 

Safe.
He closed his eyes in gratitude.
Thank you, dear Lord! Thank you, thank you!

They embraced for a moment without speaking. Although Ant wanted to kiss her, he didn’t push. He’d woo Harriet. Give her time.

Reluctantly he loosened his arms. “Are you hurt? Can you move?”

Harriet rubbed her head, an expression of pain on her face. “I think my hair is six inches longer.”

He smoothed his hand over her head. “Where does it hurt?”

“All over.”

Ant messaged her scalp.

She gave a little moan. “That feels good.”

He rubbed her head for another minute, feeling some of the tension leave her body. He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I promise to do more later, but Pepe is going to come charging over here any minute now. And if we don’t stop David, he’ll lead a posse back from town.”

“I can move.”

“That’s my girl. Don’t look at Lewis,” he ordered. “You don’t want to see him. Pepe will take the mule, then he and I will come back for the body later.”

Harriet kept her face turned away from the body.
 

Ant took her hand. When Harriet didn’t pull away, he had to quiet a stir of hope.
Might be that she’s just shaken up.
Together they walked downstream.

When they cleared the trees, they saw Pepe running with the shotgun, a determined look on his face. He skidded to a stop. A single glance took in their joined hands and relaxed bodies. “The bad one, he is no more, eh?”

Ant waved his hand in the direction of Lewis’ body. “Go see for yourself. We fought, but it was the kick from the mule that tossed Lewis onto the rocks and killed him.”

“
Bueno, Señor
.” Pepe rattled off a string of Spanish that included “hombre malo” and a few indecipherable words.

“That mule’s a hero,” Ant said. “Take him in and give him some warm mash and a good grooming.”

“
Sí, Señor
.”

Ant glanced down at Harriet. Color had returned to her cheeks and the skin was beginning to bruise on one side of her face. “Old Blue has earned warm mash for life, don’t you think?”

Although a haunted look shadowed her eyes, she gave him a half smile that twisted his heart.
Soon please, God, she’ll laugh and be happy.

* * *

With shaking hands, David mounted Chester and, inside the barn, kneed her into a trot. As soon as they cleared the open doors, he kicked the horse into a gallop, heading for town.

He heard a shout behind him. “David, wait!”

Uncle Ant’s voice.
 

David glanced back and saw Uncle Ant holding hands with Miss Stanton. He slowed Chester and wheeled the horse around, trotting back to them. He released the reins, and slid off into his uncle’s arms. Uncle Ant gave him a big hug, holding him in the air, and letting his legs dangle before setting him down.

David wiggled away and launched himself at Miss Stanton, almost bowling her over from his onslaught.

She braced herself, clasping him to her.

“Miss Stanton, I thought he was going to kill you like he did my mother.”

She held him close, dropping a kiss on the top of his head. “But he didn’t, David love. He didn’t. We’re safe now.”

As David burrowed into Miss Stanton’s arms, he felt his uncle place a hand on his shoulder. He turned, looked up at his uncle’s face, and saw the pain in his eyes.
Uncle Ant must have killed my pa.
At the thought, the knot in his stomach unwound.

 
Uncle Ant’s words confirmed the knowledge. “Your father’s dead now, David. We saw the body. I promise, he’ll never hurt you again.”

For a moment, David felt a wave of sadness, then he glanced at Miss Stanton and saw the bruise on her face, and his heart hardened.
My pa was a bad man. It’s good he’s dead.
But he couldn’t help the wistful wish, one he’d often had, that he had another man for his pa—a good one.

Uncle Ant crouched until his face was at David’s height. “I’m so sorry for what I did with your mother’s book. I became a bully. I frightened you...and Miss Stanton. I was wrong. Can you forgive me?” He looked at Miss Stanton. “Can you
both
forgive me?”

Miss Stanton gave him her pretty smile.

Pa never apologized.
David nodded, then for good measure, said, “Yes.”