Echoes (39 page)

It was not possible to bathe completely, but she did her best each night to maintain some sense of cleanliness. After waters so bad that even boiling did not help, this bend of the Humboldt smelled fresh and for once wasn't gritty as the dusty air. She longed to wash away her uneasiness with the grime of the day.

Usually they were not alone in their nightly ablutions, for there was but one river and many of the same mind to use it. But when she and Arlie reached the muddy bank, she found it surprisingly deserted. Under other circumstances Molly would have reveled in the thought of washing without an audience. Tonight, however, the seclusion felt like a foreboding. The hairs raised on the back of her neck and a coil of tension tightened deep within her. Wishing she'd asked Adam to accompany them, she undressed Arlie and let him splash happily in the shallows.

The chirping crickets grated against her nerves and she found herself peering into the darkness. Every rustle of breeze, each gurgle from the river held a menace that intensified her disquiet. A soft, furtive sound spun her around with the certainty that someone was there, watching her. She stared out until her vision blurred, knowing she was right. Directly to the left was an embankment that rose above her head and dipped down sharply on the other side. Was someone there, laying in wait? But nothing moved, not even a bird disturbed the stillness. Was she imagining things now? Seeing threats where none existed?

Rubbing the gooseflesh on her arms she turned back to the river.

Only to come face to face with Brodie.

A startled shriek caught in her throat. He stood in front of her, holding Arlie by the hand. She lurched forward, reaching for the little boy as she demanded, "What do you want?"

Brodie sidestepped her easily, pulling Arlie out of reach. Even by moonlight she could see the wild look in his eyes. His jaw was clenched tight, his shoulders hunched, his stance hostile. Arlie squirmed like a hooked fish at the end of his arm.

"Go!" Arlie cried.

Brodie kept hold of Arlie's hand as he stared at Molly, his light eyes seeming to glow in the murk. "Why'd you have to do it?" he asked in a shaky voice. "Why'd you have to tell him those lies?"

Molly didn't attempt to argue, didn't endeavor to point out that it was truth, not lies that she'd told. Instead she said simply, "She was my sister."

"She was a whore. She came here thinking she could pass her bastard kid off as Adam's, but she was wrong." He jerked Arlie's hand and the little boy stumbled into him.

"Let Arlie go," she said, amazed at the calm and commanding tone of her voice. Inside she was quaking.

"You'll be sorry if you tell him anymore lies. I'll make you real sorry."

"I'm not afraid of you, Brodie. You're out of luck, this time. Unless of course you plan to kill me as well? But you won't get away with it again, not now that Adam knows what you are."

The last made him recoil but he recovered quickly. Her mouth was dry, her heart hammered painfully and her skin felt like it had thinned to translucence with the exacting alarm that gripped her. Brodie watched her through hooded eyes that made her think of a hawk ready to swoop on its prey. He was assessing and she was powerless to deflect the knowing probe.

"You're not afraid of me?" he murmured, his words pouring like melted butter, clogging her pores with fear for what he'd say next. "You don't wake up at night and think I might be watching you? Touching you?"

Her head was shaking in denial even as a voice inside her shouted with revulsion. Her skin took on a clammy chill while the blood beneath burned hot as coal.

"I know everything about you. What you do, who you talk to, where you go." Slowly, deliberately, he lifted Arlie into his arms. "I know what you like, what you hate. I know what's got meaning to you."

Angry at having been manhandled, Arlie tried to push away but Brodie held him tight. Tight enough to make Arlie whimper.

"Let him go," Molly said again, taking a step forward.

"No one knew about your sister. No one even thought twice about it. Why would they? Lord knows, I ain't got a mean bone in my body. Ask anyone and they'll tell you it's true." He nodded in agreement with himself. "Me and Adam had plans. Big plans to strike it rich and live like kings. You think I'm just going to let you ruin that?"

"Is that why you killed Vanessa? Because she meant changing your stupid plan? Do you honestly think you can do it over again and no one will be the wiser?"

Fed up with being ignored and trapped, Arlie smacked Brodie's face with his small hand. Without looking away from her, Brodie grabbed Arlie's face in a tight grip and turned it to his. The boy hiccupped and stilled, staring into the malevolent eyes of his uncle.

With measured movements, Brodie leaned in and planted a rough kiss to Arlie's forehead. The gesture held as much threat as a loaded gun to his head and the meaning ripped through Molly like a bullet. She understood his ominous message completely. Blood rushed to the white indents on Arlie's cheeks where Brodie's fingers had been and he let loose a cry of confusion and pain.

"Please put him down, Brodie."

"Please is it now?"

The pit of her stomach plunged at the mocking tone. She licked her dry lips, staring helplessly at Arlie trapped in Brodie's arms. He was howling, his face red and frightened as he reached for her with outstretched hands.

"Don't do this. Brodie, please, let him go. He's just a baby. He never hurt anyone. Oh God, Brodie let him go—" Hot tears stung her eyes. She was begging, but what else could she do?

A sound of disturbance came from the embankment beside them, catching them all unaware. Brodie snapped his head around and looked fiercely at the darkness.

Without missing a beat, Molly cried out, "Adam?"

It was a bluff, but a good one. Brodie jerked, squeezing another wailing scream from Arlie. Molly prayed that someone at camp would hear the boy's cries, but she knew that the distance, the lowing animals and the animated activity of the campers would no doubt hide any sounds made from so far away.

Brodie clamped a hand down over Arlie's mouth. His eyes shifted from Molly to the embankment to the shadows beyond and back. The moment stretched into two, three, four, as the tension rose notch by notch. Then the sound came again, this time distinctive. Footfalls. Coming towards or away, they couldn't tell. Arlie squirmed and fought against the vicious hold, but Brodie held tight. Still, nothing moved.

Suddenly Arlie shouted, "Ay Ay!" and the sound of thumping footsteps came clearly through the night. In the same second came a yelp and a black shape lunged over the rise straight at Molly. The scream in her throat exploded before she recognized Lady hurdling to a stop at her feet.

The dog stood poised before her, trembling and whining with distress, her loyalties clearly divided between the three. She knew that someone was in trouble, but didn't know who. On the other side of the embankment, the footsteps pummeled the ground, fading in the opposite direction of where they stood.

"They're going back for help," Molly said triumphantly, praying to God she was right.

Brodie made a sound deep in his throat and swung Arlie roughly to the ground. Molly swooped, reaching for the boy with dizzying relief. But Brodie grabbed her arms in a grip tight enough to crack the bones and shook her so hard her neck snapped back and her teeth chattered together. Then he shoved her backwards with such force that she careened into a pile in the dirt.

Brodie was climbing the embankment before she'd realized what had happened. He paused at the top and looked back at her in warning. Molly knew without being told that their encounter was far from finished, but his words sliced her to her soul.

"Better watch over him," he said. "Bad things happen all the time on the trail."

Chapter Forty-Two

Molly wasted no time scooping Arlie up and racing back to camp with Lady dashing at her side. Arlie sobbed in her arms, but only when she reached the safety of the wagons did she pause to comfort him.

"Are you hurt?" she asked. Eyes round and damp, Arlie shook his head. Tears burned her eyes as she hugged him to her. His clothes were still beside the river with their towels and soap, but she would not go back for either. Brodie might have returned. He might be waiting to...to... She dropped into Mrs. Imogene's rocking chair and held Arlie in her lap. If it hadn't been for Lady appearing from the dark and the footsteps that had echoed, who knew what Brodie might have done?

"What were you doing by the river?" Molly asked the dog. "Who were you with?"

Lady looked as if she'd dearly love to explain what she'd been doing, but settled for licking Molly's hand instead.

She felt numb as she readied Arlie for bed. She needed to find Adam and tell him what had happened. But what if she found Brodie with him? What if Brodie saw her talking to Adam?

I’ll make you real sorry...

He would. No matter what the consequences, he would exact his revenge. She'd have to be careful. She needed to be certain Brodie was elsewhere and then she'd find Adam. She'd tell him about his threats, show him the bruises on her arms. She'd make sure Adam understood that they could not be taken lightly. She had to convince him that Brodie had proven himself to be capable of seeing his threats through. It took more will than she ever thought she possessed to keep herself from going to Adam now. But in her mind's eye, she could see Brodie sitting with Adam at their campfire, just waiting for her to make the fatal error. She would have to wait until everyone else was asleep.

By the time she climbed into the wagon, Arlie was already deep in slumber, sprawled with abandonment on his pallet between Molly's and Mrs. Imogene's. Weary beyond words, she lay down to wait while the sick feeling of dread pounded at her temples and Mrs. Imogene's ferocious snoring chased her fear.

In the center of the corralled wagons, the cattle lowed and shifted. The horses roped off to the side nickered in response, seeming in harmony with the orchestrated rasping and chirping of insects in the night. Fires had been banked, campsites set ready for the morning. She sat up and peered out the opening in the back of the wagon, trying to gauge if she should go now or wait a few more minutes.

Suddenly, an inhuman scream came from the mass of milling cattle and then they were moving like a tide crashing towards shore. Molly scrambled back as the throng surged forward and wild-eyed, the beasts stampeded into the wagons.

The Tate's schooner shook with the force of the massive animals slamming against it as they all tried at once to escape through the narrow openings in between. The sound of splintering wood cracked the night and shouts of panic and cries of terror rose from the waking campers and joined the melee. Horses screamed and reared, breaking tethers to race away from the frantic herd.

Arlie scrambled into Molly's arms and Mrs. Imogene jerked out of sleep with a "Lord save us." Molly watched in horror as two oxen careened broadside into the Swanson's wagon and sent it crashing on its side. The shrieks that came from within ricocheted through her head. Frenzied, the beasts collided with another wagon and rocked it crazily on its wheels before it smashed to its side amidst more screams.

It seemed to last forever, the destruction and terrifying pandemonium. Molly and Mrs. Imogene held hands and prayed while Arlie clung to her, sobbing with fear. When at last the rumbling din subsided and the stampede made it free of the wagons, three had been overturned and many more damaged. The quiet rang in Molly's ears, pierced only by the disbelieving gasps of the survivors.

With Arlie clutched in her arms, Molly and Mrs. Imogene joined the other emigrants that staggered toward the center, staring at the damage with shocked eyes and open mouths. Those that had endured the worst of it huddled together, looking as lost as abandoned children.

Molly saw Adam hastily pulling on his suspenders as he pushed his way through the gathered people to her side. Wordlessly he stopped before her. Oblivious to the chaos around them, Adam and Molly faced one another in silence. Before either could speak, Captain Hanson began calling to the men. Adam exhaled, looking as if he meant to say something, but settled for a gentle touch to her check. Reluctantly he turned to join the others.

Chapter Forty-Three

"Did you hear me?" Craig demanded. "I've got bad news."

His voice yanked Tess out of Molly's world as violently and as suddenly as she'd been thrust into it. The effect reeled through her in waves. She was in Tori's house. Craig Weston sat across from her at the kitchen table. But she was pinioned by the duplicity of the moment and she couldn't separate, couldn't staunch the aches in her body or the burn of her lungs. She stood suddenly and knocked her chair back on the floor.

"Tess? What is it? You look—" Craig jumped up and steadied her as she swayed on her feet.

"I need to use the bathroom."

She fled up the stairs, closed herself in the small, tiled room and leaned back against the door. Her breath came in ragged gulps and her stomach churned with fear and confusion and the certainty that what came next would be much, much worse.

She flinched at the sight of herself in the mirror. Had she expected to see Molly in the reflection? Or was it the terrified eyes staring from her pale, drawn face that made her heart seem to freeze in her chest. She splashed cold water on her cheeks, wincing as she reached for a towel. She didn't need to push her sleeves up to identify the cause of the pain. Brodie's hands had nearly crushed her bones, hadn't they? Still the sight of the dark, ugly imprints on her skin made her groan. She sank to the closed lid of the toilet, holding herself as her worlds collided with force enough to stop her breath, to squeeze the very life out of her. It was too much. She couldn't take it anymore.