Liberty Belle (28 page)

He held up his hands. “No, Miss. I couldn’t accept any money for the pleasure of drivin’ you. Mr. Wade pays me well to watch out for you.”

“Watch out for me? What do you mean?”

“Well, don’t tell him I told ya, but Wade has a soft spot in his heart for you. He gives me money to make sure no one bothers you.” Tobias climbed into the wagon. “I best be goin’. Don’t want that Rowen fella to see me here.” A quick nod and he left.

Wade has a soft spot for me.
Hope soothed her heart and even lessened the ache of her blisters. Wade did care. She knew it. Then why was he running from her?

###

Wade gripped Mark’s shoulder as the last rider passed from view. The gang charged down the other wider trail. Not wanting to scare the boy, Wade helped him mount and pointed to the faint path. “Let’s get to our claim.”

The trail wove through juniper and shrubs the size of small trees. About to wonder if they’d strayed from the path, Wade rode into a clearing. He breathed in a dose of clean air and gazed at a lush meadow. A sparkling stream tripped out of the woods on the north side and skirted along the edge of the field. The perfect place for a ranch. His desires from long ago resurrected.

“You think this is my father’s claim?” Mark’s smile returned.

“By the X on the map, I’d say it is. We’ll camp by the creek and pan for gold.”

“It’s like I dreamed. Pa told me about it, said being here would heal me.” The boy turned to him, tears in his eyes. “I still believe him.”

In the failing light, the boy’s resemblance to his father scattered Wade’s dream. He threw his stare to the ground as the old hatred for Taylor shook him.

Closing his fists, he slowed his breathing and reminded himself it wasn’t Mark’s fault. Not sure of his voice or what words he’d speak, Wade pointed and reined Fuego toward the creek. How long would it be before he unfairly lashed out at the boy? Most of the time, he never thought about Mark’s father, but others, like today, the old lust for vengeance ambushed him.

Wade tethered the horses and set up camp.

Mark kept quiet. Sadness hung heavy in the air between them. The boy must be thinking of his father.

Just as well the kid stayed away from him for now. Long shadows warned he’d better start a fire and finish staking out the tent Jacob had loaned him.

“Too late to pan for gold. We better cook the beans and bacon. I bet you’re hungry.” Wade held out a pan. “Fill this with water.”

Limping noticeably, the boy seemed more subdued than normal.

Wade threw his thoughts and energy into making a fire. Soon, crackling logs helped repel the chill of the coming night.

He stared into the flames and cringed as Taylor ghosted through his memories. His home in flames, the telegram telling him of the immunity granted to his enemy. And the reminder of the day when his dying enemy begged to know Mark would be cared for, and Wade had denied him that peace.

I’m watching out for him. For now.

“Here’s the water.” Mark set the pot down.

They ate a quiet supper. Wade didn’t push the boy for talk. The boy remained uncharacteristically downcast. Wade pointed to the tent. “Why don’t you go sleep? I’ll stay out here a while.”

Mark nodded and shuffled into the shelter without saying another word.

Wade hoped the kid’s fever wasn’t returning, but more than likely he was suffering from a wounded heart. After putting a few more logs on the fire, Wade walked the perimeter of the camp. Tiredness invaded his body, despair his soul. Giving in, he leaned against a boulder and gazed into the heavens. So vast, dark, and unrelenting. Like God. Wade collapsed and slid down the rock.

He used to believe that if he worked a little harder, he could make things right, but the hard work never earned him anything but disappointment. He wasn’t even allowed to take revenge on Taylor. The Lord snatched everything he wanted from his grasp.

“God, I know you don’t look kindly on me, but for Mark, I ask that you heal his leg. If You intend to punish me by hurting him or Libby, kill me instead. I’d rather die than see them hurt.”

Only the silent stars gave witness to his words. Wade waited, but heard nothing. Felt nothing. With gritted teeth, he flung a rock at the black sky. Somehow, he’d have to get away and leave Mark. Find someone who would care for him. Like Libby.

Libby? Maybe this Terrence Rowen was a good man. Tobias said the man’s wife had died. The man certainly had the money Libby was accustomed to. His mind made up, Wade closed his eyes. They’d both be better off without him.

A twig snapped.

Wade froze. He scanned the surroundings.

Nothing.

He cursed. He’d left his rifle by the tent, his holster on the saddle. He had to protect the boy. Wade eased from the rock and slipped through the night. He reached the tent, grabbed his gun, and checked on Mark. The boy hadn’t awakened.

Listening intently, Wade crept away from the shelter. Weapon in hand, Wade tensed.

Crunched leaves and dirt sounded behind him.

He turned into the butt of a rifle. Reeled from the blow. And all went dark.

Chapter 28

Wade fought to free himself from the fog, but the clearer his mind became the more painful the pounding in his head.

“Mr. Wade? Mr. Wade?” Mark’s worried voice penetrated the milky cloud.

A twig snapped. Someone—

“Easy young fella. Sorry I gave you a thumpin’.”

Forcing his eyes open, Wade stared into the grizzled face of the largest man he’d ever seen. He struggled to sit, but the stranger pushed him down.

“Better rest a bit. Your head is hard, but my rifle’s a little harder. The boy’s all right if you’re worried ’bout him.” He scratched his neck. “Fraid my buffalo coat’s got fleas. Name’s Beaver Dan. Boy told me why you’re here.”

Wade concentrated on keeping his head from coming apart.

Mark grinned. “Beaver Dan knew my pa. He’s the one that sold him the gold claim.”

Wade put a hand to his forehead. He grimaced as it came away sticky with blood. “You greet all your friends with a gun to the head?” He eyed the man and wondered if he’d been part of Taylor’s gang.

“Ha. Well, these is rough parts, and I didn’t get old by askin’ questions first. I told Martin I’d protect his claim.”

“Not sure I can say nice to meet you, Dan.”

“Can’t say I blame ya.” The old mountain man turned to Mark. “Get a cup of coffee, it’ll help clear his head. Then you better scoot and go back to sleep. We got a lot to do tomorrow.”

Mark left and returned with a cup of the brew. “Can I stay up a little longer?” Mark grinned with excitement, but even in the flickering firelight, Wade could see dark circles under his eyes.

Wade swallowed a mouthful and instantly regretted it. “No, you best go to sleep. I promised Miss Libby I’d watch out for you. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t take care of my partner?”

“Guess I am tired.” The boy shrugged and limped to the tent.

Dan frowned. “Poor kid. Sure looks like his pappy, though.”

Wade tensed at the mention of Mark’s father. “You knew him?”

With a grunt, Dan got up, grabbed a stick, and poked at the fire. “Yep. I’m shamed to admit, I met him in jail. Some time back, I sold my furs in Missouri, let loose, and tore up a saloon. Should a known better, but I was new in the ways of the Lord.”

After pouring himself a cup, Dan held the pot toward him.

Wade shook his head, amazed the coffee, or whatever it was, hadn’t eaten a hole in the pot. “How’d you know about the claim?”

“Like the boy said, I sold it to his pappy. Been trappin’ and roamin’ about these mountains for the last …” He scrunched his lips. “Well, more years than I can count. This meadow’s always been my favorite place.” Dan stared at him.

Shifting his position, Wade squirmed under the man’s intense gaze.

With a satisfied nod, Dan sat Indian-style in front of him. “I’ll get to the straight of it. I got to know Martin Taylor in that jail. He was a broken man. Haunted by the wickedness he’d done. Hounded by the way he’d done his boy and heartbroke over losing his wife. Even though I done wrong by bustin’ the saloon, I know the good Lord put me in that jail cell just so I’d meet Martin. Like the son I never had, we got close. I’m an old man, not many winters left in me, and I wanted someone to pass it on to. I chose Martin.”

The knot in Wade’s stomach tightened. He didn’t want to hear about his enemy. Not in a flesh and blood way. Taylor was a murderer, nothing more. Flexing his fist, Wade looked away.

“Son, I sense you got some of that same torment. You want to tell me? Like how you come to have Martin’s claim and his son?” Dan’s sharp voice, pierced through the air.

“Mark probably told you, I found him after Indians attacked. Taylor was dead.” That was all the nosy stranger needed to know. All Wade wanted to tell.

“What’s your full name?”

Wade glared. What business was it of his? Yet, something in Dan’s gaze broke him. “Wade Calder.”

“Uh huh. You the lawdog that was hounding him? Martin told me there was one who wasn’t going to give up.”

“Maybe. I’m sure there’s others.”

Dan leaned back and looked up into the heavens. “He told me about your family.”

“You mean about slaughtering my father, mother, brother, and sister. How he left them covered in blood, the house on fire. When I close my eyes, I still see their bodies.”

The revenge ignited, Wade stood. He couldn’t be still. The fire of hate inside rose. “I vowed to kill Taylor and would have if the Indians hadn’t beaten me to it!”

He hurled the tip cup, spun away from Dan, and saw Mark standing outside the tent.

###

Monday morning and Libby was ready before the sun. Her first day of work. She’d still not met the children. Poor little tykes, losing their mother and then their last teacher running out on them. Libby prayed she’d make a difference in their lives.

At least she wouldn’t be lonely today. She missed Flora and Mark but mostly Wade. Mr. Sweeny said he’d return soon. Maybe that badgeless lawman would come calling on her. In all their times together, they’d not been able to really talk. She had so many questions, but either they weren’t alone, or he put them off for another day.

Pacing through her small cabin, she looked toward the main house. What would Terrence Rowen think of her teaching? Of her? She was going to ask him for a lock on her door. She’d seen that surly Andrew watching her cabin and didn’t trust him. Last night, she’d heard more horses and shouts.

Finally, the time came for breakfast. After yesterday’s disastrous attempt at making biscuits, she couldn’t wait for a good meal. Perhaps she should have asked Mother to teach her how to cook, but then she’d never seen her mother prepare any meal. Libby groaned for Ethel, their white-haired cook, and all the missed opportunities to tell her that she created such wonderful meals.

No sense dwelling on the past. Libby had a job to do. Strolling along the path to the main house, she drew in the fresh air and called on that Longstreet courage her father always talked about. Hopefully, Terrence wouldn’t realize she’d never taught school before. Not lessons of reading and writing anyway.

She knocked at the back door. Her stomach rumbled. Visions of bacon, eggs, and biscuits that were fluffy, and not rocks like hers filled her head, setting off more shouts for food from her insides.

Heavy footsteps from behind startled her.

Andrew breezed by her and threw open the door, entered the house, and waved her inside. “Breakfast is in the small dining room. Follow me.”

He is no servant.
Head held high, she matched his steps. She’d done nothing to anger the man and wasn’t about to let him intimidate her. To protect the children, she’d have to tell Terrence about Andrew’s behavior.

He stopped without warning and Libby bumped into him. She grimaced and stepped away. “Excuse me.”

“Stay here.” He gave her a blazing stare and went into the study. He shut the door and left her in the hall.

Rubbing her arms, she strained to listen but heard only mumbled words from the room. Her heart raced. Had Mr. Rowen changed his mind?

I didn’t come all this way to be left in a hallway.
Shaking off her fear, she stomped past the study, walked through the main dining room, and followed the aroma of sizzling bacon.

With delight, she found the breakfast area, a cheery room with high windows and red-checkered curtains. Smiling, she saw the boy and girl sitting at the table.

“Hello. I’m Miss Libby Longstreet, and I’ll be your new teacher.” She sat at the table across from them. The boy eyed her warily while the girl broke into a wide grin.

A biscuit in her hand, the doll-like Jane, slipped from her chair. Robert grabbed his sister’s arm. “Father said you’re not to talk to her until he comes in, remember?”

With a baby pout, the little girl sat back down and smashed her brother’s biscuit. “I member, but I like her.” She held out a crushed piece of bread. “Want some?”

An older whiskered man stepped to Libby’s side and placed a plate in front of her. “Jane, you eat your food. I’ll get Miss Longstreet her own breakfast.”

Her stomach rumbled in relief. “Thank you. Smells delicious.” Libby smiled as she recalled the mess she’d made in her kitchen.

“Hope you like it, Miss. If you want more let me know. There’s plenty.” He picked up Jane’s smashed biscuit and shook a finger at her.

Libby wanted to gulp down the food, but she was responsible for the children now. She needed to make sure she set a good example for them. Should she pray? They didn’t go to church on Sunday. Maybe Denver didn’t have enough houses of worship yet. Regardless, her parents had stressed the importance of thanking the Lord.

Bowing her head, Libby closed her eyes. “Lord, thank you for this food, and bless those who prepared it for us. Amen.”

Fork halfway to her mouth, Libby gazed at her pupils. Apparently, praying over a meal was foreign to them. She’d have to incorporate Bible teaching into their lessons, but first, she was going to devour every bite of food in front of her.