Loving Liza Jane (33 page)

“She ain’t my mother!” he shrieked, planting his fist into her jaw before she had time to dodge it, jarring her wits. “And that’s for what your boyfriend did to me.” His clipped words dispersed traces of spittle across her face. Razor-sharp pain cut clear to her jawbone, as waves of light-headedness washed over her. She tried to scream, but a filthy hand covered her mouth, blocking her airflow, increasing the dizziness. When he readjusted his hold, she eked out a tiny sound.

One more blow to the eye region had her moaning with gut-wrenching pain.

“Dear Father,” she whispered as she felt herself slither down the wall and fall into a heap on the cold, hard earth, “help me.”

She had no idea how long she lay there in her semiconscious state, but when she opened her eyes, she felt the sting of cold and pain, swallowed down a commingling of blood and bile, and sought out her offender. Waves of relief coursed through her when she realized he was gone. “Lord Jesus…” But the two-word prayer was all she could handle as she pulled herself slowly to her feet, grabbing hold of the wall to steady her, fighting down the urge to heave. Must get help, must get help…Lord, take me to safety.

It took every bit of concentration she could gather to put one foot in front of the other, her blurred vision making the trek all the harder, so when she first laid eyes on Sam Livingston’s glorious approach, she wondered if her eyes were playing tricks on her, or whether she was looking into the face of a toothless angel. It didn’t matter, for when he reached out his arms to her, she lost her footing and fell into his waiting embrace.

***

The pounding of approaching hoofbeats halted the Broughton’s evening meal. Even Molly dropped her spoon and squealed with delight at the thought of a visitor. Ben looked across the table at Lili and pushed back his chair, its shrieking legs protesting against the wooden planks.

He drew back the curtain to peer out the window, then threw wide the door. “Emma, what in the world?”

“Ben, you have to come quick,” said a winded Emma. “Liza’s been hurt.”

Ben pulled her inside and closed the door against the biting air. “What?”

“She was beat up in the alley between the post office and Sam’s Livery. Sam practically carried her into my place. Doc Randolph is with her now. Sheriff Murdock’s out investigating.”

Clement Bartel. Untapped rage boiled to the surface as Ben went for his coat and hat. On impulse, he yanked his rifle off its high perch. Turning his gaze to a frightened Lili, he battled to stay calm. “Lili, you clean up the supper dishes. I’ll be back as soon as I can. See to your sister.” Then to Emma, “Drive out to Jon Atkins’ place. He’ll want to know.”

“Jon Atkins?” asked Emma, her expression draped in confusion.

“Just do it, Emma.” He stared at her until she offered him an empty nod.

“Papa!” Lili’s scream punched him in the gut. When he whirled around, he bumped flat against her. Quickly he dropped to one knee and took the hysterical girl into his arms. By now, Molly had joined in the chorus, her screams echoing that of her sister.

“Stay with them for a few minutes before you head out to Jon’s,” he said to Emma over Lili’s head. She gave him another vacant shake of the head.

He kissed a salty tear on Lili’s cheek as it made a fast trail downward, then rocked back on his heel and cupped her face in both his hands. “Everything will be fine, sugar. You stay calm, you hear me? Your sister needs to know that she’s safe.”

“But who would hurt my teacher?” she asked between sobs. Her seven-year-old mind couldn’t possibly grasp the ugliness of such an attack.

“That is not for you to worry about.” What else could he say?

“Are you going to kill him?” she asked, eyeing the rifle under his arm.

Rather than answer the question, he eluded it. “I’m taking this for protection. Don’t worry. Everything will turn out fine. God is in control.”

So why was it, he wondered, as he made fast work of harnessing the team to the rig, that it felt like everything had suddenly spun wildly out of control?

He drove the rig with frightening speed, taking each bump with a wince, praying the wheels wouldn’t suddenly have a mind to go flying off their axle.

At Emma’s, he leaped down, threw the reins over a hitching post, and pounded a trail up the porch steps and into the house.

Several men whose names he didn’t know stood in solemn, hushed circles. Tenants? Ben tipped his hat at a shorter fellow.

“You Broughton?” the man asked.

“I am.”

“Albert Dreyfus,” said the gray-haired fellow as he offered a hand. “Mighty big shame. Who would want to hurt such a pretty little lady?”

“Where is she?” Ben asked, his breaths nearly matching the rate of his pounding heart.

“In there. Doc’s with her.” Albert pointed to the small room with closed door. It was the same room where Molly napped in a crib during the day. He remembered there being a small daybed off to one corner.

Ben sent up a hasty prayer and approached the room, knocking lightly before he turned the knob and entered.

Doc turned at the sound. “Ben, she’s sleeping now. I gave her laudanum for her pain.”

At first glimpse, Ben barely recognized her for the red, swollen cheek, split open at the jaw and covered with a bandage.

“I had to stitch the wound. It should heal with barely a scar,” Doc said, knowing full well where Ben’s eyes had fallen. “I have good, steady hands.”

The tender skin around her puffy eyelid had blackened where the blood vessels had burst with the impact of the blow she’d taken. Her usual neat head of hair lay in a mass of twisted curls around her head, dried blood adding to the tangle. Ben gasped in shock and dropped to one knee at her bedside. Without thought for what the doctor might think, he picked up her hand, finding it limp and lifeless, but taking comfort in the fact that her skin was still soft and warm. He kissed the top part of her hand, then gently turned it over and did the same with the palm, finally bringing her hand between both his hands, where he cupped it as he would a treasure.

“She looks much worse off than she is, Ben,” Doc Randolph whispered. “She took a beating from that Bartel fellow, but she’s feisty enough to be up and around before you know it.”

Ben turned his gaze upward. “How do you know it was Bartel?”

“She confessed it to Emma before drifting off into a restless sleep.”

“Emma failed to tell me that part.”

“It’s Will Murdock’s job to handle things from here, Ben,” Doc said in soft tones. “Emma probably saw no point in telling you.”

He’d known all along that Clement was the guilty one, but this simple confirmation from Doc only fed his fury. No doubt, Emma had guessed how he’d react and decided to keep the information to herself.

“When will she wake up?” His eyes went to Liza’s motionless body.

“She’ll be out for a while. Best not to disturb her.”

Ben nodded, relieved to see the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the down comforter. “I’ll stay with her.”

“Good. I’ll be on my way, then. I’m due out at the Johnson’s farm. Myra is about to deliver her sixth.” Doc shook his head and gave a low chuckle before he sobered again and put a hand to Ben’s shoulder. “The teacher will be fine, Ben.”

“And then what? Bartel attacked her. What will keep him from coming after her again?”

Doc frowned. “I’m just as frustrated by that as you, Ben, but Will Murdock is a good man. He will see that justice is served. Probably on his way out there right now to arrest him.”

Ben counted Liza’s breaths from the chair that he’d pulled up next to the bed. Every so often, he picked up her limp hand and gently squeezed in the hopes of reassuring her she was not alone. When she didn’t respond, he rubbed gentle circles into her forearm with the tips of his calloused fingers and whispered comforting words. “I’m here, Liza. I want you to know you’re safe and you’re not alone. He won’t hurt you again, honey.”

But even as he spoke the words, he wondered how he could make such a promise. Unless someone stopped Clement Bartel, he was bound to strike again.

A good hour passed before Ben heard the stomping of feet just inside the house and then the quieter approach of footsteps. Ben’s head went up when the door opened and Emma stepped inside, followed by Jon’s towering presence.

“How is she?” Emma whispered, her face consumed by worry.

“She’s been sleeping the entire time. Were my girls okay when you left them?” Ben asked, still haunted by Lili’s frightful scream.

“They had calmed down considerably. I didn’t take off for Jon, uh, Reverend Atkins’ place until I felt comfortable in leavin’ them.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

Jon’s eyes fell to Liza’s still frame as he stepped in closer. Not surprisingly, he reacted in much the way Ben had; he dropped to one knee and took Liza’s small hand in his. “Oh, sweet Liza,” he whispered.

Ben stood. “Here, have a seat.” He supposed it was only right that Jon usurp his position as caregiver now that he had arrived.

Without acknowledging Ben’s generous maneuver, Jon sat, holding to the teacher’s small, lifeless hand, deep concern etched in every aspect of his expression.

“Who would do this, Ben?” Jon asked.

Ben eyed Emma. “You didn’t tell him either?”

Jon forced a burst of air through his closed-up mouth. “I couldn’t get much more than a few words out of Miss Browning. Did you expect her to tell me who did it?”

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” she said, her face pinched.

“It was Clement Bartel,” Ben told Jon. Then to Emma, “Did she give you any details, Emma?”

She wrung her worried hands. “No, just that Clement Bartel dragged her behind Sam’s Livery and delivered her a few blows. She said he mumbled something about paying her back for the way you’d hit him in the schoolhouse.”

“Why that…” Ben sauntered to the door, his purpose revived.

“Where are you going, Ben?” Jon asked, placing Liza’s hand atop the blanket and standing.

“Out to find that no-good piece of crud. Any coward who hits a woman to get back at a man isn’t worth a barrel of cow dung.”

“Ben, wait a minute.”

Jon bolted out the door behind Ben, leaving Liza with Emma.

Ben started to climb aboard his rig when he realized Tanner was over at the livery. “Would you mind driving my rig home and checking on my kids a bit later? You can tie your horse to the back.”

“Sure, but Ben, listen to reason. Let the sheriff handle this. He’s better equipped…”

“I’m equipped,” Ben said, lifting his rifle out from under the floorboard and setting off across the street.

“Ben, listen,” replied Jon, keeping step with him. “Just this morning I read from Proverbs that we are not to take matters of judgment into our own hands. ‘Say not, I will do so to him as he hath done to me: I will render to the man according to his work.’ Don’t you see it’s out of your hands? God will see that justice is done, if not in this world, then the next.”

Ben paused to eyeball his friend. “And I mean to see that it happens in this world.”

“It’s not your game to play, Ben.”

Ben’s gut recoiled. “This is not a game.”

“Look—I’ll go with you. How would that be?”

Ben stopped midstride. “Stay with Liza for a while, Jon, and then drive my rig home.”

Ben urged Tanner to take each turn in the road with care. Nightfall was always a challenge, even to an experienced rider, but the glow of a full moon and a sky stocked with stars made the jaunt easier. A quick stop at Will’s office had told Ben all he’d needed to know. The sheriff wasn’t in. And since he might need help in arresting Clement, Ben meant to be there for him.

Halfway up the mountain, however, he ran into Will Murdock himself, alone.

“Ben, what are you doing up here?”

“Come to lend a hand. Where’s Clement?”

The sheriff ran a gloved hand over his scruffy face. “Disappeared.”

“What do you mean disappeared?”

Will Murdock reined in his horse on a piece of flat terrain. Ben followed suit. “Angus said he ran off a couple of days ago. I made a thorough search of the property, Ben, the barns, sheds, and every room of the house. The room that the boy slept in is missing all of his clothes and personal belongings, along with several blankets.

“Angus said Clement took off with most of the food supply and his best horse. I don’t need to tell you the old guy seemed more put out with that than anything else. ’Course that might be due to the black eye Angus was sporting. Figured on the inside the old fella was saying good riddance. Yep, my guess is the boy’s skipped town for good.”

One side of Ben felt relieved that he wouldn’t have to kill the punk tonight, but another went through untold anguish at the thought of him roaming the hills.

“So that’s it, then?”

“Not exactly. I’m putting together a posse first thing in the morning. We’ll scour the hills and surrounding farms, but my guess is the kid’s hightailed it out of here by now. Even Clement Bartel isn’t stupid enough to wait around for us to catch him. He’ll know after what he did to the town’s beloved schoolteacher that everyone will be on the lookout for him.”

Ben wanted to believe that was true, that they had seen the last of the villainous delinquent, but something told him it couldn’t be that easy.

“What time are you heading out in the morning?”

“First light of day,” Will answered.

“Count me in,” Ben said, turning Tanner toward home.

“I figured as much. See you in the morning,” Will answered.

***

“Ouch, that hurts,” said Liza, jerking backward when Doc Randolph touched a tender spot under her eye.

“I’m sorry,” he answered. “Just making sure that your jawbone isn’t cracked. I’m fairly certain it’s not, but it’s mighty hard to tell with all that swelling. In truth, you look a bit worse today than you did yesterday.” He sat back on the bed and tipped his balding head at her, as if studying her from a different angle might result in some change.

“Would you hand me a mirror?” Liza asked, sliding up on the pillow Emma had provided.

“You don’t need a mirror, Liza,” Emma cut in. “You look just fine.”