Cole's Redemption (Love Amongst the Pines) (6 page)

             
"Not yet, but we've been managing all right. I can catch and cook a mighty fine rabbit here and there. Uncle Dermott likes to fish. My Pa used to leave during the summer months and go around to the local towns and earn money at cards."

             
"Oh." 

             
Her voice quieted and Cole knew her tough visage was slipping.  "We were a right happy family.  Then, Ma got consumption and she couldn't take the long trips anymore. So when
Pa'd
come back, he'd tell us about all his adventures. It went on like that awhile.  Then, one day, he got thrown from his horse. Landed clean on a rattlesnake. By the time me and uncle Dermott found him, he was dead."

             
"I'm sorry."

             
"Ma took it really hard. Not long after, she came down with a terrible fever. I took care of her as best I could. I guess sometime life just hands you things that are bigger than you can carry."

             
Cole closed his eyes. The truth of her words stung him, just as bad. His burdens had been so heavy that it was easier to give into his pain and just hand himself over to fate.

             
And fate had taken him to a small town in the middle of nowhere, before a hanging judge and community full of angry people.

             
"Can I ask you something?"

             
"You can. That doesn't mean I'll answer, but go ahead."

             
"Did you really kill that man in cold blood?"

             
Cole stared at her as the breath left him. She studied him with wide brown eyes, so dark that they looked opaque. Her face was smudged with dirt, and her grimy blond hair was chopped raggedly around her face.

             
She looked like some street urchin from one of Mr. Dickens's stories, or worse. He sensed innocence about her, and
a stubbornness
as well. She wore them both like the tattered oversized shirt she wrapped around her small form.

             
"Yes. I did." He watched her carefully, waiting for her to recoil in horror at his admission. Instead, her expression tightened.

             
"Did you have a good reason for killing him?"

             
Open and honest, she was judging him, all right, but not the way the people in Whispering Pines had. In fact, her scrutiny scared him far more than the possibility of facing a short rope and a tall tree.

             
"I thought so at the time."

             
She nodded. "You get some sleep. I'll watch over you. Doc
said
that we need
to change those bandages and soak your hands every morning. I'll do it directly after breakfast. Don't worry about me taking care of you, I done lots of things for my Ma."

             
Before Cole could argue, she leaned forward and pulled up the worn sheet until it rested feather light across his chest. Then she rose, and went to the table and two rickety chairs on the other side of the room. In minutes, she was seated, reading quietly to herself by the light of a low burning candle.
             
             

             
Like a lullaby from his distant past, her soft voice filled the room with a singsong fashion.

             
"For every thing there is a season..."

             
"A time to be born and a time to die..." Miriam
Remmington
stood in the darkness, gazing out the boarding house window. The empty streets of St. Louis looked very much like the dozens of towns she had encountered on her journey west.

             
A widowed mother with a lost son, this was the first time she'd ever traveled beyond the confines of her beloved Boston.

             
"
There
now, Mrs.
Remmington
," her companion, Melanie Dayton, said. "We don't know for certain what happened to Mr. Cole."  A woman in her fifties, Melanie's figure was well endowed and a bit thick in the middle.  She stood half a foot taller than Miriam and wore her gray hair in a tight
Chingon
.  Miriam thought that while she always wore a 'brook no arguments' expression, she was likely the most
kind hearted
person in the world.

             
"No, we don't."  The candlelight flickered behind them, throwing ghostly shadows across the room, calling forth painful memories of those that she'd loved and lost.  Marian tried to focus on the window instead.

             
"I have to say that it leaves me in a quandary. Who would send you that notice about your son and why?"

             
"It's not a notice,
Melly
, it's a wanted poster. To think, my son, my Cole, wanted for robbery and murder!"

             
"Whatever this mysterious correspondent intended, you know now, and you've set out on a journey to help him. That's all that matters."

             
"What if I don't get there in time and it's too late? What if they've already caught him and he's in jail, or worse?"

             
Melly
patted her shoulder gently. "You mustn't think that way. You have to believe that you'll get there in time to help him!"

             
Miriam took a deep breath. Her friend was right.  She looked out once again into the forbidding night. Outside the window was another town, another stop on the long journey west.

             
"I want to help him," she stated quietly, "but what if he won't let me?" Her voice sounded small in the enveloping darkness.

             
"Aw, Miss.  Of course he'll want your help. You are his mother, after all."

             
"I'm not so sure.  When he left, he was so angry! I didn't understand him then and I'm not sure I do now."

             
"Maybe this isn't a matter of understanding, Mrs.
Remmington
. Might be it's just a matter of loving him. He does know you love him, doesn't he?"

             
Miriam hesitated. "I thought so, once. That was so long ago. It's been almost two years, and I've not had a single letter from him. I only pray it's not too late."

             
"Please, Mrs.
Remmington
, you need to rest. We've a far piece to go.  You'll not do him any good if you find him and then fall ill."

             
Miriam turned toward the bed. "I've not slept well since this nightmare began."

             
"You must try.  The stage leaves promptly at six. Just remember, every hour brings us closer to finding him."

             
Miriam took her friend's hand. "Oh,
Melly
, you are a comfort to me. I'm so glad you agreed to come west. I know this is a long way from being the ideal position as a lady's companion."

             
"Nonsense! I've always wanted to travel, to see the sights of this great land. I have you to thank for that opportunity. I'm just sorry it is under such sad circumstances."

             
"I promise to make it up to you,
Melly
, as soon as we find Cole."

             
"I know you will.  Now, off to bed and I'll put the candles out."

             
In a few moments, Marian was in bed, wrapped in the heavy quilts and pretending a warmth she didn't feel. She watched silently as
Melly
put out the last of the candlelight, her figure becoming a blur of dark skirts in the dimness.

             
Miriam sighed. If only she and Cole hadn't argued. If only she'd been able to keep him in Boston.  Given enough time, she was sure she could have made him understand that she loved him more than anything.

             
In the end, she had failed, and like a wounded animal, he'd slipped away in the middle of the night.  Now, she might lose him forever and the pain was almost too much to bear.

             
But bear it she would, until she found her son.  There simply was no choice about it.  If there
was
a chance she could save him, she would do whatever it took.

             
No matter the consequences.

             
When morning finally came, Cole startled awake. The sudden, jerking movement brought its own form of torture. His hands, now swollen to nearly twice the size of the night before, throbbed mercilessly.

             
"Damn," he muttered. "Them
paws
hurt bad?" Cole squinted into the early morning light. A tall, lanky man

was
leaning over him wearing soiled overalls and a half crooked grin.

             
"Yes, they do." Laying his head back on the pillow, Cole took a deep breath.

             
"Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you was to think about something else."

             
"I doubt it."

             
"I got some fresh well water. I don't expect you've had so much as a swallow since yesterday."

             
Cole licked dry lips, his mouth as rough and dry as the bottom of an empty cracker barrel.

             
Hands trembling, the older man brought over a half filled mug. Gently, he lifted Cole's head and trickled in the fresh, cool liquid.

             
"Thanks," Cole nodded after two deep swallows.

             
"The name's Dermott Lane." The older man stuck out his hand for a shake, and then glanced down at Cole's bandages. Shrugging, he looked up with a sheepish grin. "I guess you
ain't
up to a handshake."

             
"I'm afraid not."

             
"I'm
Natty's
uncle. She don't have
no
Pa or Ma anymore. We're all the family we got."

             
"I'm pretty much a loner, myself."

             
"Natty thought so. She said that if you had anybody, they'd have come for your hanging."

             
The memory of the previous day sent a stab of pain through Cole. Add his aching hands, a searing headache, an empty stomach, a full bladder, and he was at the pinnacle of misery.

             
Trying to sit up sent daggers of pain through his hands and it left him breathing hard and slightly nauseated.

             
"Looks like you're in one hell of a mess, mister."

             
"Yeah," he panted, finally laying back. "Here, let me." In a minute, he was at Cole's side, helping him to sit up on the edge of the cot. Across the room, he could just make out the small figure curled up in the adjoining bed.

             
"Thanks," Cole mumbled his head and stomach finally settling. "I need to go to the outhouse," he stated after catching his breath.

             
"Can't. It's broken. Natty and I just usually run out into the woods."

             
"I don't think I can make it," Cole stated, resigned.

             
"Let me get you a bucket.
Maddie
had to use it when she was too winded to get out of bed." He crinkled his face. "Now, I wonder where she got to? It's been a coon's age since I saw her last."

             
"Is she
Natty's
mother?"

             
"Yeah. How'd you know?"

             
"Natty told me about her. She died a week ago."

             
The older man's face fell.  "Ah, that's right. I remember now. Such a shame."

             
Cole sat silent while
Natty's
uncle drifted into the haze of his memories.

             
"Could I get that bucket now?"

             
"Bucket? What for?"

             
"On account he can't go outside, and we don't have no outhouse,"
Natty's
voice came from the pile of blankets on the other cot.

             
After he and Dermott finished with necessities, Natty was up and busy cooking something over the fireplace. A huge black pot hung on an iron bar over the flame. Within minutes, the room was full of the heady smell of stewing meat and vegetables.