Gather The Children (Chronicles of the Maca Book 2) (23 page)

Inwardly Lorenz was breathing a sigh of relief as he moved to the door and pulled it open. He wedged his rifle against the door and walked back to the other form, grabbed the legs, and followed Rolfe out the door; neither of them looked at Kasper leaning against the jamb of the hall opening, unable to move. Kasper's face was twisting from pain and white was outlining his mouth. He let the shotgun fall on the floor and kept trying to fight down the pain and nausea that seemed to radiate from the inside out.

They dragged the bodies into the shade of the overhangs. Rolfe dropped the legs and immediately pulled the boots off. “Du best do the same. These boots are vorth keeping or letting Kasper sell them for a cut.” He stooped down and flipped off the man's hat and then the belt before going through the pockets and dumping the contents into the man's hat.

Lorenz watched for a moment, a bad taste forming in his mouth, and then he shrugged, bent down, and began the same procedure on the body in front of him. It wasn't like he hadn't stripped a dead man before.

Tom Jackson and Owens came running from the tavern, the Mexican following behind them. Jackson rested his crutch at the head of the man Lorenz was stripping and said, “Well, y'all got them.”

Rolfe looked up. “Ja, that poy shoots plenty gut.”

“Where's Kasper? I heard five shots.”

“He's still inside; probably calming his missus.” Rolfe didn't bother to add the wrong twin got the balls. Thoughts like that were better left unsaid. “Vone did get off a shot, but it vent vild. Vhat's this?”

He pulled a thin, leather folder out from under the man's shirt. Inside was a page of thin paper, stamped with a seal. Rolfe ran his eyes over the writing. “Mein Gott, O'Neal vrote out a contract for them.” He waved the paper in the air, folded it, put in back in the leather folder, and handed it to Lorenz. “Here take this to Herr Schmidt. He'll get over the dead bodies quicker. I'll finish that vone for du and for Mac.”

Lorenz took the folder, glad to be away from the stink of dead bodies, and hurried inside. He glanced around the empty store and continued into the kitchen. His aunt was carrying a glass of water to the living room, her face set, her brown, work shift swaying from her rapid steps. She raked Lorenz with a baleful look and disappeared into the doorway.

“Here, mein Herr, drink this,” her tone was so soft Lorenz barely heard her. This was so unlike Tante's usual sharp tongue, he almost tiptoed into the room, holding the leather folder out like a peace offering.

Uncle Kasper was on the sofa; his shoes on the floor, an afghan covering his lower body and part of his torso. On his forehead was a wet washcloth, and earlier someone had placed a pillow underneath his head and shoulders. Kasper's face was still a deathly pallor and his mouth drawn in a taunt line. He opened his eyes and whispered, “I need a bucket.”

Tante swung her gaze on Lorenz. “It's his heart. He's not to move. The bucket is just outside the kitchen door. Get it.” She turned her attentions back to her husband.

Lorenz set the folder down on the side table and retrieved the bucket for them. He'd seen men die in lots of ways, but never in their own home. He brought the bucket and realized he still wore his new hat. He pulled it off and looked down at the two, Tante Gerde kneeling on the floor, using the glass of water to wet the washcloth which she was using to sponge Uncle's face. “Is he gonna be all right?”

“Ja,” Gerde answered. “He must rest. Go away.”

Lorenz backed towards the door. “There's proof there that they was being paid by O'Neal.” He spun and headed back outside where the air was fresh and easier to breathe and sudden death easier to understand.

“Vat they say?” asked Rolfe.

Lorenz rapidly described the situation inside. He figured somebody ought to go tell Mama and Papa what had happened. “Maybe I should ride home and tell them what's happened,” he ended.

Rolfe considered. “Nein, ve got to dig some graves.” He weighed the money he'd found in one man's pocket and looked at Lorenz. “There vas money in the other guy's pocket, ja?”

“Yeah, about four two-bit pieces and a couple of bills.”

“Dot's enough. Ve pay Kasper for a tarp, cut it down, and vrap them in it for a burial shroud. Let's see vhat they got on their horses.”

“Uh, I'll be happy to hitch up and go tell Miss Rolfe and the MacDonald's that everything is all right here, and about Kasper,” Jackson offered. “Business is kinda slow anyway.”

Rolfe's blue eyes swept over Jackson and amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Ve vould appreciate that, Tom. Come next veek, ve may haff some shoeing for du und du can join us for a meal.”

Jackson nodded, swiveled on his crutch, and set off for the stable. Rolfe and Lorenz quickly removed the contents of the saddlebags. Each contained their camp gear, a shirt, an extra pair of trousers, and a clean bandana, but little food. “I bet they vere going to get supplies here und kill the Schmidts before paying.” Rolfe spat at the ground. “Ve go get the tarp. That poy can put up the horses and guard the trappings from them on the back porch. It'll keep him out of our vay.”

Lorenz followed Rolfe figuring it wouldn't be long before Rolfe found an excuse to let him do all the digging while he went for a beer. He was seriously thinking about offering Chalky money to do the digging, but realized he didn't have any. Rolfe would insist that everything they'd emptied out of the men's pockets belonged to Rolfe or MacDonald. He was thankful he'd paid attention when Martin was telling him about how everything belonged to the Papa until the Papa said otherwise.

He was half right about Rolfe. Rolfe waited until they'd dug the hole out wide enough for both men and lowered them into the ground. They started piling the dirt back in when Rolfe squinted at the sky and declared it was time for a beer. He looked at Lorenz. “Du vant vone, poy?”

Lorenz grinned. “No, suh. I don't like beer, and I ain't supposed to go in there without Papa.”

Rolfe nodded and hurried off while Lorenz kept shoveling. The clouds were forming and re-forming, never dense enough for rain, but always threatening. The day was becoming hotter and stickier, the ground seemed to become heavier with each shovelful, and his stomach was growling. He heard the clops of an approaching horse and wiped the sweat from his face and eyes.

MacDonald dismounted and looped Zark's reins around the split rails of the cemetery fence and came toward him, a strained, set smile on his face. The dark eyes probed at him and as he came nearer he asked, “Are ye all right, laddie?”

Lorenz took a deep breath and felt his whole body relax. He couldn't believe he was so glad to see this huge form blocking the sun. “Yes, sir, is Mama mad?”

MacDonald glanced down at the half-filled grave and nodded. “Oh, aye, that she tis, but she tis more angry with me than with ye.” He gave Lorenz a rueful smile and then surprised them both. The huge arms went out and he picked Lorenz up and hugged him. “Thank Gar, ye are well. I sorrow for what has happened.”

Lorenz felt the heat from his body and heard MacDonald's tongue make a “tsk” sound in his right ear and then the left ear.

“Uh, Papa, what if somebody's watching?”

“Who cares?” MacDonald lowered him to the ground, his hands resting on his shoulders. “Now what tis this about Kasper?”

“He's on the sofa. Tante Gerde says it is his heart and she doesn't want anybody to disturb him. She's been so busy taking care of him that I don't think she's bothered to fix any lunch.” He glanced skyward to confirm the sun was slightly beyond its zenith.

“Damn,” MacDonald looked towards the store. “Have ye done all this work by yereself?”

Lorenz gave a quick grin. “Naw, Rolfe, Mr. Rolfe helped until it was time to shovel the dirt back in. There ain't too much left to do, but I don't know what kind of words to say once it's done.”

MacDonald grabbed the other shovel. “There twill be nay words over these two.” He flung the dirt in rapid motion.

They worked in silence until it was finished. Then they mopped their heads, lifted their hats to let the breeze blow through, and headed towards the store. As they passed the Schmidt plot, MacDonald spoke. “I have an idea.” He smiled broadly and placed his hands on his hips and looked downward.

Then he turned to Lorenz, his eyes dancing with amusement again. “We are going to bury Kid Lawrence.”

Lorenz looked at him in disbelief. “Won't that be kinda hard to believe with me walking around upright?”

MacDonald chuckled. “And just who tis going to call MacDonald a liar?” He clamped his hand on Lorenz's shoulder as they walked. “We twill use the money or goods that those two had on them to pay Cruz to dig an empty grave. He can throw some rocks in to make it look like someone tis buried there. I twill have Kasper or Tom carve out the tombstone. Twill be very nice.” MacDonald doubled the r sound in very, so pleased with himself he did not bother trying to hide his considerable accent. “We twill tell the world that Kid Lawrence died defending his kin. Tis a fine solution should yere Mr. O'Neal nay send a telegram confirming that ye are innocent.”

At the fence, MacDonald picked up Zark's reins and they headed towards the stable. He made sure Zark was watered and checked out the new horse and riding gear. “We twill let Kasper sell the saddlebags and the contents, and we twill split the money with him.”

They found Chalky on the back porch chewing on one of Tante's rolls. He stuffed the last of the roll in his mouth, and stood an eager, expecting look on his face. “Do yu all reckon what ah told wuz worth some extra money? My Ma'am sure will be needin' hit.”

Lorenz swallowed, and MacDonald kept his face bland. “The information ye brought twas all that ye said. However, I would like to talk with Mr. Schmidt ere I pay ye. It may be there twill be some work for ye ere ye return home.” He looked at the saddlebags and hat stuffed with the dead man's belongings and turned to Lorenz.

“Tante didn't want them in the place. She acts like they're cursed.”

MacDonald shrugged and hurriedly verified the contents. “We twill leave them here for now.” He walked to the door and knocked. “Hallo, the house.”

“Ja, I'll be right there.” After a moment, Tante Gerde appeared, drying her hands on the apron, her work shift stained with her sweat, wrinkled, and grime-streaked from being on the floor. Her face was stonier than usual and she paused to brush back a strand of hair. Lorenz wondered how that strand of hair had dared escape from her bun. “Good afternoon, Herr MacDonald,” she said through tightly held lips.

“Good afternoon, Frau Schmidt. I wondered how Mr. Schmidt tis.”

Gerde decided to open the door and let them in. “He is better and resting.”

“Would it be possible to speak with him?”

Gerde considered and decided if she did not let the husband of Kasper's twin see him, she would have more visitors tomorrow. “Ja, but just for a little while. I do not want him to tire. He must rest.”

They removed their hats and stepped into the kitchen, the heat from the woodstove radiating throughout the room. The slight breeze coming in the open window and door did little to dissipate the heat. Lorenz spotted the bowl of rolls sitting on the table and ran his tongue over his lips. Gerde softened enough to say, “You may have one or two.”

He lost no time in grabbing two as he trailed along behind them, munching as he walked. At the door of the living room, Gerde barred his way. “Just one at a time, please.”

Lorenz leaned against the doorjamb and continued eating. He was close enough that he could hear everything that was said.

Uncle Kasper had the afghan pulled up to his chest, but Aunt Gerde had placed another pillow under his head, effectively elevating his upper body. The leather folder lay on his stomach, his hands still grasping it. He gave them a wan smile. “It seems the spirit is willing, but the body is weak.” To Lorenz his hair looked whiter than the grey shade it have been a few hours before.

“Look at this.” Using one hand, Kasper raised the folder. “There is a contract in here and signed by O'Neal. It promises those men one-hundred dollars after they bring back proof of my death. It seems my life is not too highly valued.” There was a slight trace of bitterness in his voice.

MacDonald opened the folder and read the contents. He returned the package to Kasper. “Ye twill, of course, keep that to show the law when they come calling for Lorenz and Mr. Rolfe.”

“Of course.”

“Good. I have been thinking now would be a good time to bury Kid Lawrence with today as the date of his death. I twill pay Cruz to dig the grave in our plot and throw in some large stones ere he shovels the dirt back in. If ye dinna feel like carving out a wooden marker for over the grave, perhaps Mr. Jackson would do the honors.”

Tante Gerde straightened, her eyes opening wide at the thought, and said, “That is a good plan.”

Kasper seemed to be thinking and then looked up. “Yes, it is a good plan. It would satisfy the law. I believe I can at least whittle out a wooden marker for over the grave. That won't require me to walk or lift anything heavy.”

“How long do ye believe ye twill need to rest?”

Kasper gave a rueful smile. “Until I can move without being in agony and not become exhausted. It's Gerde I worry about. She will have to do the work of both of us.”

“Ye should hire Chalky. He should nay return to his homestead. He twill find nay but death there. He can bring in the wood and water for Gerde and take care of the horses in yere stable; mayhap even some of the work in the garden. There should be space enough in the storeroom to place a cot or sleeping blankets, and room and board would be part of his pay.”

Kasper closed his eyes for a moment, and Lorenz could see the weariness that folded over him. Then the grey eyes came open, dull and flat, beaten by the economics of the situation. “There is no money.”

“There tis a bit left that Lorenz found on the one man, and ye can sell the saddlebags and gear that the man carried. We twill split the money. Till that time, I twill be happy to pay the laddie as it would be nay more than a quarter a week, plus his room and board that ye would supply. Gerde twill be free to tend ye and the store.”