Debra Holland - [Montana Sky 02] (38 page)

As the conversation played through, anger and relief warred within his chest. Christine was safe, and the twins hadn’t set the fires. Yet the anger in his stomach threatened to boil over. He wanted to charge into the cavern and confront Ben about all the anguish he’d caused Samantha and the twins. But he held himself back. It sounded like Jack had things well in hand.

Wyatt stooped through the narrow opening, and, reaching back through the hole, helped Samantha through. Standing, she shook her legs out, relieved to stretch.

The children were about twenty yards away. Ben slumped against the front wall of the cavern facing them, Christine sitting next to him. The twins, standing in front of Ben, turned at Wyatt and Samantha’s approach. Jack held a rifle in one hand. Their green eyes lit up when they saw Samantha; ecstatic grins stretched across their faces.

Samantha couldn’t help the smile that burst from her heart to her lips.

“Pa.” Christine perked up, scrambling to her feet, preparing to run to her father.

“Don’t move, Christine,” Wyatt said sharply, holding up a hand to stop her. “I don’t want you to slip and fall, sunshine. We’ll come to you.”

With a sudden click of fear, Samantha realized Daniel and Little Feather weren’t there.

Wyatt tucked his hand under Samantha’s elbow, guiding her across the slick floor. When they reached the children, he released her, hugging his daughter.

Samantha glanced around, her eyes searching the dark hollows and crevices. “Where are Daniel and Little Feather?”

Jack pointed to Ben. “He done broke his leg. Daniel and Little Feather went to get help.”

Her concern must have shone on her face, for Jack shuffled closer to her.

The boy placed his hand on her arm. “They’ll be all right, Mama Samantha. The way back is easy.”

Mama Samantha.

Jack had called her mama. Firecrackers of joy burst inside her chest. Releasing Wyatt’s hand, she gave Jack a fierce hug, then smoothed back his unruly hair and dropped a kiss on his forehead. “I’m so glad you children are all right.”

Tim slid forward, and she repeated the process with him. Then she slipped one arm back around Jack, pulling both twins tight to her sides.

Jack glanced up at her, his face glowing with an inner joy. “Ben tole us he and Arlie burned down the outhouse.”

She playfully tapped his chin. “We heard.”

Wyatt crouched down by Ben. “Where does it hurt?”

Ben pointed to a spot several inches above his right ankle.

“We have to splint this before we get you out of here.” Wyatt stood. His gaze roved around the cavern and over the small pile of supplies. Forehead puckering, he tightened his jaw. “Don’t see anything we can use.”

Samantha released the twins, waving toward Ben. “How are we going to get him out? Is there an easier way?”

Wyatt ran one hand over the top of his head. He indicated the other dark hole on the opposite side of the cave. “That way’s cramped, isn’t it, boys?”

They nodded.

“Any obstacles blocking the path?”

“No.”

Wyatt rubbed his forehead. “I’m not going to be able to carry him. We’ll have to rig up a sling, or a travois or something, and I’ll have to pull it.” He slid a sidelong glance at Ben and lowered his voice. “Hate to think about what that kind of jolting will do to him.”

Samantha snapped to a decision. “The twins can go get Chico. We’ll put Ben on a blanket, and the horse can pull him out.”

Wyatt nodded. “Might work—if we can get Chico in here.”

“We can,” Samantha said with a confident nod. “While the boys are at it, they can find some straight sticks to use as splints.”

Jack shifted his shoulder back, standing straighter. “Be back in no time.”

Pleased at the boy’s assumption of responsibility, Samantha rubbed her hand down Jack’s arm. Her thoughts flitted down the corridor they’d crawled through to get here, and through the other imaginary tunnels. She chewed on her lower lip before turning to Wyatt. “Should they go out the way they came and run for the horses, or retrace our path?”

“Their way. There’s no offshoots to other caves, so we don’t have to worry about them getting lost.” He dropped a hand on Jack’s shoulder and squeezed, then proceeded to describe where to find the horses.

Christine dropped into a cross-legged position next to Ben, her hand patting his thigh.

As angry as Samantha felt with Ben, she couldn’t turn away from a hurt child. The sight of his woebegone face did a lot to reconcile her toward him. Perhaps he’d been adequately punished. Christine seemed to think so, and her little-girl compassion shamed Samantha for her own lack and tugged her toward the boy. She should take a closer look at Ben’s injury.

Wyatt finished up his instructions. “Hurry, but be careful.”

Jack flashed him an impudent smile.

Samantha touched Jack’s arm. “Go with God, son.” She patted Tim’s cheek. “You too.”

Tim flushed, ducking his head.

Jack nodded, seemed about to say something, then turned, grabbing a lantern, and ducked into the tunnel, Tim on his heels.

Plucking a knife from his pocket, Wyatt said, “While we’re waiting, I think I have to sacrifice the rest of your blanket, Samantha.”

“Go ahead.”

Wyatt cut the blanket into strips. “Need some of these to cushion the splints. And”—he cocked an inquiring eye at Christine—“the children probably need their knees padded. What do you say, sunshine? Your knees hurtin’?”

“Yes, Pa.”

He pulled off his jacket, handed it to Samantha, and unbuttoned his white shirt.

“What are you doing?” stammered Samantha.

“Tear the shirt into strips. We’ll need plenty to tie the splint in place. Not to mention the padding. The shirt’s already ruined.”

Heat rose in Samantha’s cheeks. As he undid each button, a corresponding warmth tingled in her breast.

Wyatt shrugged himself out of the garment and handed it to her. The lantern glow flickered over his torso, highlighting and shadowing his muscles. Samantha knew she should modestly look away, but like metal drawn to a magnet, her gaze pulled to him. Her hands took on a life of their own and wanted to follow, touching, exploring…

Seeming unaware of her reaction, Wyatt slipped his jacket back on, erasing the view of his body from her sight, but not from her mind. The memory of his broad shoulders, the downy black hair on his chest, and his well-defined arm muscles, made her ache inside with need—the reality better than the dreams that had shadowed her nights since she’d first met him.

A whimper from Ben wrenched Samantha’s thoughts back to their situation, and she chided herself for allowing them to stray in the first place. What kind of woman was she to be dreaming such thoughts when a child was in pain? But a more tolerant voice reminded her that it was only natural that seeing the half-naked body of the man she loved would distract her.

Soon. Soon they’d emerge from the nightmare of the last few days. But first they had a lot of wrongs to right.

Jack’s happy feelings floated like foam frothing on a river. He shoved the lantern a few feet in front of him. The base scraped across the surface, the light catching the wavy copper, green, and brown lines weaving through the rock. He crawled toward the lamp, then propelled it forward again. Behind him, he heard Tim’s harsh breathing and the thud and rasp of his hands and knees as he followed.

The insides of his stomach seemed so light, even the bruising of his hands and knees on the uneven floor couldn’t stop the unfamiliar emotion. He wished he could halt and savor the experience like he had that first peppermint candy stick Miz Samantha…his mama—he couldn’t help but smile to himself at calling her that—had given them the first day of school.

His bubbliness on the inside contrasted with the weight of duty riding him like a saddle. But the sense of responsibility brought its own share of goodness.

Thompson trusted Jack and Tim to do the job right.
Just the thought made him want to straighten, but if he did, he’d bump his head on the sharp stone jutting down from the ceiling in the middle of his path.

He maneuvered around the pointy part, mentally measuring the distance between the tip and the sides of the tunnel. Chico should still be able to fit; it would be tight though. But Jack would bet anything the vain little stallion would be only too glad to be the hero of the rescue.

Tim spoke up, his voice echoing through the darkness. “Almost there. I remember this here pointy stone. Bashed my head on it.”

Jack winced in sympathy. “Next time through here, us ’uns will warn the others. Don’t want Mama”—he rolled the word around on his tongue, making the syllables last—“Samantha bumping her head.”

“Yep. Don’t want nothin’ to hurt our Mama Samantha.”

Just the manner his twin echoed Jack’s way with that special word squeezed some wetness into his eyes. Tim had suffered even more than he had when their ma died, a piece of his twin curling up inside in a ball of pain that even Jack couldn’t reach. Maybe now that part of his brother would unwind, be more like the boy he’d been. No—Jack blinked back the moisture, amending his thought—be better than the boy he’d been.

A few more push crawls brought him in range of the pearshaped opening of their living cave. He scampered through and straightened. With a rickety gait, he picked his way around the remains of their bed pallets, his twin close on his heels, and ducked out the exit.

Jack bounced a few steps down the slope of the mountain. Then he set the lantern at his feet, stood, and stretched. Tim almost collided with him, then scrambled the rest of the way to the flatter ground.

Taking a second to breathe in the pine-scented night air, Jack admired the faraway white stars winking at him in the blackness of the sky, while the fat three-quarter moon beamed down approval. He tilted his head to listen to the hoot of an owl. Being under the mountain for several days sure made a boy appreciate the outdoor life.

Jack grabbed for the handle of the lantern, and loped down the slope. “Come on,” he called to Tim, snagging Tim’s arm as he passed. “Us ’uns got a job ta do.”

Half stumbling, half running, the twins fumbled their way across the valley toward where Wyatt had left the horses. They had to watch for an occasional bush eager to reach out whippy branches to catch them up, but for the most part the way was free. Cattle had grazed here recently, otherwise the grass would have been knee-high.

In spite of the seriousness of their errand, Jack reveled in the feeling of freedom. He leaped over a low bush, throwing his arms up—soaring like an earthbound bird and causing the lantern to sway.

Tim laughed, hopping like a grasshopper over a clump of flowers. Together they skidded around a root of the mountain jutting into the valley, and pulled up short before the horses.

Startled, Bill jerked his head up and backed up to the end of the reins tied to a bush. Chico snorted a greeting, and Mariposa stretched out her nose, looking for a treat.

Jack placed the lantern on a flat rock. “You take Bill.” He ambled over to the Falabellas. He rubbed Chico’s nose. “Us ’uns got an adventure in store for you, boy.” Hugging Mariposa around the neck, he said, “I’ve missed ya, little lady. Ya miss me?” He untied the reins, walking with them toward the buggy seat.

Voices echoed through the darkness, causing Jack to spin around and squint down the valley. Lantern light bobbed, outlining shadowy forms. “Over here,” he called, waving his arms.

Help had arrived.

For the first time in hours, Jack relaxed. Doc Cameron would see to making things right with Ben.

Livingston, Cobb, and Arlie Sloan’s father appeared, wreathed in lamplight. Jack opened his mouth to greet them, but suddenly all the men seemed to move at once. The banker and Sloan each seized one of Tim’s arms. Cobb pounced on Jack, thumping his chest with the palm of his hand, pushing him against the buggy. The air whooshed from Jack’s lungs.

“Caught you red-handed, you little thief,” Cobb hissed, spraying Jack with onion breath. His red nose twitched. “Stealing the horses. Gunna string you both up for this one.”

“No.” Jack wiggled, trying to escape.

“That’s enough, Cobb.” Livingston’s voice sounded knifesharp. “We’ll decide the penalties for these two ruffians later. For right now, I want to know about my nephew.” He looked down his nose at the twins. “Do you know where he is?”

Jack stared back defiantly. “He’s in the caves. Done broke his leg. Us ’uns are bringing the horses to help.”

Tim made a jerky motion toward the buggy. Livingston had a firm grip on his shirt collar.

What?
Jack wanted to ask. And then he understood. His twin was signaling him to steal off with the buggy. He nodded his agreement.

Tim stopped the jerking, hanging almost limp in Livingston’s grasp.

He was a right smart brother, was Tim.

Cobb shook Jack. “Little liar. No horse is going to get through that cave system. Now tell the truth.”

Desperation edged Jack’s voice. “I am tellin’ the truth. Mr. Thompson and Miz Rodriguez is with him. They sent us to git the horses and bring some splints too.”