A Big Sky Christmas (24 page)

It was a rare sunny day, and as a result slightly warmer, when the wagon train stopped next to a creek so the immigrants could fill the water barrels lashed to their wagons. The creek had some ice along its edges, but it wasn't frozen over as it would be later on in the winter.

All the scouts were out except Jake Lucas and Dave Pearsoll, who had been left behind to keep an eye on the wagons as the pilgrims went about their chores. Jake saw Savannah McCoy walking along the creek bank with the preacher's kids and strolled after them. The youngsters were carrying buckets to help fill their father's water barrels, and he supposed Savannah was watching out for them.

They stopped at the edge of the creek, and when Savannah saw him coming, she smiled. “Hello, Jake.” The two of them were on friendly terms, even though Savannah had never been around Jake much when Bodie wasn't there, too.

He returned the smile and tugged on the brim of his hat. “Nice day, ain't it?”

“The nicest we've had lately,” she agreed. She watched with approval as Alexander and Abigail Bradford filled the wooden buckets in the stream and then started back toward the wagons with them.

“Why don't we walk down there where those trees are?” Jake suggested, pointing to some bare-limbed aspen that grew about fifty yards downstream.

“Why would we do that?” Savannah asked with a slight frown of puzzlement.

“I want to talk to you about Bodie.”

Savannah's frown deepened. “There's nothing wrong, is there?”

“No, not really. It's just that, well, him and me have been friends for quite a while, and there's something that's worrying me a mite.”

Savannah hesitated a moment more, but then she nodded. “All right. If it's about Bodie.”

The kids came back with their empty buckets. Savannah told them to keep carrying water to the reverend's wagon, then she and Jake walked toward the trees.

The trunks were close enough together that they formed a screen of sorts and provided a little privacy. When they stopped, Savannah turned to Jake. “Now, what's this about Bodie? What are you worried about, Jake?”

A grin stretched across his face. “I'm worried that he don't know how to take proper care of a beautiful girl like you.”

Before she could stop him, he had his arms around her, pulling her against him. His mouth came down on hers in an urgent, demanding kiss.

Savannah stiffened and shoved her hands against his chest, but she couldn't break away from him. Nor could she twist her lips away from his until he broke the kiss and pulled back slightly, grinning again.

Her hand flashed up and cracked across his cheek. “How dare you!” she exclaimed. “You . . . you . . . I never—”

“Maybe that's your problem,” he cut in. His hands were tight on her arms. “Listen, Savannah, you can do a lot better than Bodie Cantrell. I can treat you right, and I've got a lot more money than he does.” He didn't explain how he had come by that money. “Once we get to Montana, if you stick with me I'll show you a better time than Bodie ever could.”

“Let go of me, Mr. Lucas,” she said coldly. “If you don't, I'll scream, and the people at the wagons will hear me. Don't think they won't.”

He knew she was right. He wasn't ready to leave the wagon train just yet, so he released her arms, but he didn't step back. He still crowded close to her, and with the icy stream right behind her, there was nowhere she could go.

“Maybe I took you by surprise,” he said. “I'm sorry if I did. But I had to tell you how I feel. I had to show you—”

“No, you didn't,” she snapped. “You could have had the common decency to respect your friend . . . and me. From now on I want you to stay away from me, Mr. Lucas. Far away.”

Jake's face hardened. He asked harshly, “Are you sure about that?”

“I'm positive. And if you don't, I'll tell Bodie—”

“You don't want to do that,” Jake told her in a hard, menacing tone. “I know Bodie. If you tell him what happened here today, he'll figure he's got to come gunnin' for me. And if he does, I'll kill him. Simple as that. I'm faster than him, and if he draws on me, he'll die.”

He could see in her eyes that she knew he was telling the truth. Fear sprang up in them, fear for Bodie's life.

“If you don't bother me again, I won't say anything.”

“We understand each other, then.”

“We do,” Savannah said quietly.

Jake stepped back to let her go past him. As she did, he told her, “You're makin' a mistake. I can do more for you than Bodie ever can.”

She didn't reply, didn't even look around as she hurried back toward the wagons.

Jake stood there glaring and muttering curses under his breath until a sudden footstep from among the trees made him turn quickly and reach for his gun.

“Take it easy,” Dave Pearsoll said as he moved out into the open.

“What are you doin' skulkin' around here?” Jake demanded. “We're supposed to be keepin' an eye on those pilgrims.”

“You were sure enough keepin' an eye on one of them,” Pearsoll said with a sly grin. “A really close eye, looked like to me.” His grin disappeared as he went on. “I reckon I understand now why we're still with this blasted wagon train. We could've taken off for the tall and uncut weeks ago, once we were well clear of Kansas City, but no, you insisted that we ought to stay with 'em a little while longer, Jake. But it's just one of them you're interested in. The McCoy girl.”

“That's none of your business,” Jake snapped.

“It is when you're hangin' on to my share of that money,” Pearsoll said. “You're doin' just like Swint, draggin' your feet about divvyin' up. What's the idea, Jake? Are you hopin' something will happen to Clete and me so you can keep all of the loot?”

“That's just loco,” Jake scoffed, although in truth such a prospect had entered his mind more than once. “I'm just still not convinced that Eldon won't come after us. Hell, he could be on our trail right now. It makes more sense to stay where we've got friends who'll back our play if it comes to a fight.”

“Friends,” Pearsoll repeated. “Like the McCoy girl. She didn't look any too friendly when she slapped your face.”

Jake felt himself flushing. He blustered, “She'll come around. She just needs some time, that's all.”

“And maybe for something to happen to Bodie. That'd make things easier for you, wouldn't it? Maybe more inclined to keep your word to your real friends and honor the deal you made with them.”

“Forget it. Nothing's gonna happen to Bodie.”

“Is that so? You know good and well that if you're ever gonna get that girl, he'll have to die. You change your mind about that, let me know.” Pearsoll turned and walked off toward the wagons, leaving Jake standing there with a worried frown on his face.

He didn't want to admit it, even to himself, but maybe there was some truth in what Pearsoll said.

 

 

“I'm getting tired of carrying water,” Abigail said. “Can't we do something else?”

“Miss Savannah asked us to do this,” Alexander told her. “I don't want to let her down.”

Abigail made a face, but she walked back toward the creek with her brother. As they dipped the buckets in the water, she exclaimed, “Alex, did you see that?”

“What?” he asked as he looked around.

She pointed. “I saw something up the creek that way. It looked like a pretty bird with bright-colored feathers.”

“All the birds have gone south for the winter,” Alexander pointed out. “You're just saying that because you want me to say we can quit fetching water.”

“That's not true! I did see it, and if you'll come with me, I'll prove it.”

“What are you doing, Abby?” Alexander asked as his sister set her bucket aside.

“I told you. I'm going to find that bird.” She started walking along the creek, toward a bend in the stream a couple hundred yards away where low brush lined the banks.

Alexander looked around for Savannah, but didn't see her. A few minutes earlier, she had been talking to Bodie's friend, that other scout Mr. Lucas. But he wasn't in sight, either.

Abigail was beyond where the wagons were parked, and she wasn't slowing down. Alexander knew how impulsive and dadblasted stubborn his sister could be when she put her mind to it. She was going to get in trouble if she wandered off. She would get
both
of them in trouble, since their father would take it for granted that Alexander should have been looking out for her.

He trotted after her, calling, “Abby, hold on.” When he caught up to her, he frowned. “I'll come with you to look for that stupid bird that's not even there.”

“It is, too,” she insisted.

He ignored that. “But then we've got to go back. Just a few minutes, all right?”

“I saw it right up here, moving around in those bushes.”

Alexander still didn't believe it. Either Abigail was seeing things, or she had just made up the story. If she had made it up and their father found out about it, he would punish her. Making up stories was lying, he always said, and lying was a terrible sin.

Sometimes it seemed to Alexander that most things in life were terrible sins.

The closest wagon was about a hundred yards away when they walked around the bend and into the brush. Alexander looked around. “I don't see anything except a bunch of old dead bushes—”

At that moment, something closed around his right ankle and jerked. Before he knew what was happening, he'd been pulled right off the creek bank. Somebody grabbed him, looping an arm around his ribs and squeezing so tight he couldn't breathe. At the same time, a hand covered his mouth and clamped down equally hard, so he had no chance to yell.

His eyes widened in horror as he saw an Indian standing a few feet away. The man wore buckskins and had feathers in his hair—feathers!—and the worst thing of all was that he had hold of Abigail and was clutching her tightly to him as she kicked and squirmed. The Indian was more than twice her size, and Alexander knew his sister had no chance of getting away.

He knew that an Indian had hold of him, too, and even though he fought, there was nothing he could do. The Indians began walking through the creek, taking their two young prisoners with them.

Nobody at the wagon train even knew they were gone, Alexander's panic-stricken brain screamed.

Jamie knew something was wrong as soon as he got back to the creek where the wagons had stopped to water up. He heard shouting. There was anger in the sound, of course, but there was also something else.

Fear.

He swung down from the saddle and dropped the reins. Sundown would stay ground-hitched. He walked toward the large group of immigrants gathered beside the stream. Several people were talking at once, but the loudest voice belonged to Reverend Thomas Bradford.

“—unforgivable!” he was saying. “I knew I couldn't trust a . . . a shameless jezebel like you to watch my children! I never should have allowed them to associate with the likes of you! I should have put a stop to it as soon as they started sneaking off to visit you!”

The crowd parted without Jamie having to say anything. It was just a natural result of his imposing presence. He saw that Bradford was shouting at Savannah. The preacher's rough-hewn face was as red as a brick, while Savannah's, by contrast, had all the color washed out of it. She looked frightened.

Moses stepped up. “Please, Reverend, there's no need to browbeat Miss McCoy—”

“You stay out of it, you damned Christ-killer!” Bradford roared.

Moses went pale, too.

Bradford went on. “This harlot was probably seducing some man when she should have been watching my children—”

“That's enough,” Jamie said as he moved forward. He hooked his thumbs in his gun belt and confronted Bradford. “There's no need for talk like that. You'd better be glad Bodie Cantrell isn't here right now, mister. If he was, I reckon he'd be going after you for saying such things. I'm tempted to myself.”

“You don't know what she did!” Bradford leveled a finger at Savannah. “My children were with her, and now they're gone! Disappeared!”

Now they were getting down to it. Jamie turned to Savannah. “What happened?”

“Reverend Bradford is right,” she replied in a shaky voice. “It's my fault. I was supposed to be watching Alexander and Abigail while they fetched water, and they . . . they vanished while I was busy talking to someone else.”

“They can't have gotten very far on foot,” Jamie said, keeping his tone calm and reassuring. “Where was the last place you saw 'em?”

“They were right here along the creek, getting water for their father's water barrels.”

Lamar Hendricks spoke up. “I've been asking around, Jamie, and a couple people saw the children walking up the creek toward that bend.” He pointed. “But I looked up there and there's no sign of them.”

There might be sign that Hendricks wasn't experienced enough to see, Jamie thought. “I'll take a look.” He glanced around, spotted Jake in the crowd. “Come on, Jake.”

The young man fell in with Jamie as his long legs carried him along the creek bank. Several other men tagged along, including Hendricks.

The banks deepened around the bend. They were about four feet high, and the ground was covered fairly thickly with brush on both sides of the creek. Jamie studied the growth, looking for broken branches that might indicate a struggle. When he didn't find anything, he turned his attention to the creek itself and the narrow band of muddy earth at its edge.

His jaw tightened as he spotted a familiar-looking indentation. He pointed it out to the men who had come with him. “That's a footprint. The fella who made it was wearing moccasins.”

“Indians!” Hendricks exclaimed.

“Looks like it.” Jamie nodded and pointed to a vertical mark on the bank. “Something skidded along there. A foot, maybe, like somebody slid down the bank . . . or was pulled.” He pointed again. “Another footprint there, but not left by the same man. There were two of them.”

Hendricks said, “They lurked here and kidnapped the Bradford children.”

“Maybe. I want to look around some more.”

It took Jamie another few minutes to locate hoofprints left by unshod ponies on the far side of the creek, beyond the clump of brush. The Indians had left their mounts there, skulked along the creek to spy on the wagons, and then when Alexander and Abigail had come wandering up the creek for whatever reason, had grabbed the kids and carried them off.

This was bad, Jamie thought, but it could have been worse. Indians seldom killed such young captives. They might murder children in the heat of battle, but if they went to the trouble to take prisoners away with them, they usually kept those captives alive. They would either make slaves of the children, or more likely raise them as members of the tribe.

He didn't intend to let either of those things happen. “How long have they been gone?”

“Less than an hour,” Hendricks replied.

Jamie jerked his head in a curt nod. “I'll get after them. There's a good chance I can bring 'em back. There were only two Indians. Probably just out hunting, although they could have been scouting for a war party, I suppose. If I can catch up to them before they get back to their village, I'll rescue those kids.”

“But what if there wind up being more Indians?” Hendricks asked. “You'll need help, Jamie. I'm coming with you.”

Several other men voiced their eager agreement with that sentiment.

Jamie didn't want to be saddled with a bunch of inexperienced pilgrims, but if there was a whole war party out there, he probably couldn't risk taking them on by himself. That would put the children in too much danger.

He compromised. “I'm starting after them right now. Hector Gilworth ought to be coming in soon. Jake, maybe you can go find him and bring him in sooner. Hector can put together a rescue party and lead it after me. He ought to be able to follow my trail. No more than a dozen men, though. The rest need to stay with the wagons. This could be a diversion.”

Hendricks said, “What do you mean?”

“They could've grabbed the kids thinking they'd use 'em to lure most of the men away from the wagons, while the rest of the war party circles around and hits the train from another direction. I don't think that's what's happened here, but we can't risk it.”

“I understand. We'll do what you say, Jamie.”

Jamie's long legs carried him back quickly to the wagons. As he was about to swing up into the saddle, Reverend Bradford stormed up to him and demanded, “What did you find out, MacCallister?”

Jamie knew the truth would just set off the reverend even more, but Bradford would find it out soon enough from one of the others even if Jamie didn't tell him. “It looks like Indians have them, but I'm going after them right now. I'll bring them back.”

Bradford looked horrified. “My God!” he burst out. “My poor innocent children, tortured and scalped—!”

“Nobody said anything about them being tortured and scalped,” Jamie snapped. “Usually when Indians take white kids like that, they adopt 'em into the tribe.”

That seemed to bother Bradford more. Eyes wide, he said, “I'd rather them be killed than see them turned into godless heathen savages!”

Jamie put his foot in the stirrup and swung up onto Sundown's back rather than say what he was thinking. He supposed most people would share the sentiments Bradford had just expressed. That made no sense to Jamie, though. Life was too precious to throw it away that easily.

He turned the stallion and heeled Sundown into motion, splashing across the creek. It took him only a moment to pick up the trail of the two unshod ponies as they headed north. He followed it, his eyes constantly scanning the landscape for signs of danger.