Providence (34 page)

“What is it?”

“Matt Johnson.”

Kate’s stomach tightened at the
mention of the name.

“He came by here a couple of days
ago wantin’ to buy me out,” Mike continued. “I ain’t sellin’, but he’s a hard
man to convince of that.”

“I know,” Kate replied, trying to
keep the bitterness out of her voice.

“Well, just so you know, he’s
still tryin’ to buy up just about every scrap of land around these parts, and I
don’t like the way he’s going about it.”

“You’re not selling so that should
be the end of it, right?” Kate said.

“Yeah, well, Selby’s weren’t
selling either, and I heard they lost their barn to fire last week. They can’t
make the winter, cause they lost their hay with it,” Mike’s voice was hard.
“They’re sellin’ now. I guess Johnson got himself a pretty good deal on that
place.”

“I see,” Kate said quietly. “Has
anyone contacted the marshal’s office in Guthrie?”

 “How’re they gonna prove
anything?” Mike asked. “I just wanted you to know so you’ll be careful. We’ll
be all right. Got my boys, and we keep a posted eye on this place ‘round the
clock. It ain’t easy, but it’s better than losing it.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Kate
said. Laying the rein along the mare’s neck she gave a light squeeze and rode
into the night.

***

Pale moonlight lay like liquid
silver along the ground. Creatures of the night skittered away from the woman
and the horse traveling unbidden through their domain. Kate rode with a loose
rein, trusting the mare to find her way along the unfamiliar trail. Glad for
the woolen jacket she had thought to bring, she snuggled deeper in its warmth,
as the night took on a distinct chill. Her body protested at the thought of
additional hours in the saddle even as her heart yearned toward home and
family.

She wondered what Jo was doing
now. Had Luke found her note? Were they worried, or had they gone to the
Insleys’ for the evening. Undoubtedly, they assumed she would be spending the
night at the Halls’. Wouldn’t they be pleased and surprised when she arrived in
just a few short hours? Sighing, Kate urged the mare on.

 Emerging from the narrow
path, Kate was glad to see the road ahead of them. Turning north into the
freshening wind, they continued on under the canopy of stars now fully visible
above them. Walking along under the bright moon of a cloudless sky, horse and
rider were bathed in the silvery light. Contentment settled over Kate, and the
gentle swaying of the horse lulled her into a dreamy repose.

A distant report brought Kate
fully to her senses. Her head snapped up, senses crackling as fear filled every
pore. Another shot sounded, and Kate felt a sharp blow to her chest. Bringing
her hand up instinctively to the wound, she looked in disbelief at her
blood-stained fingers. She began to sway. The mare, smelling the fear and the
blood, bolted forward, throwing Kate into the brush beside the road. Still
conscious, she listened in desperation to the diminishing sound of hoof beats.

Voices drifted to her ears.
Fighting the darkness that threatened to envelope her, Kate dragged herself
further into the woods, trying in vain to hide from the would-be assailants.

“She’s got to be around here
somewhere.”

“Look!”

“Blood. You must have hit her,
boss.”

“The horse took off.”

“Yeah, but look there, I bet she’s
dragged herself off into the trees.”

Fighting both fear and pain, Kate
closed her eyes, feigning unconsciousness. She could feel the muffled footsteps
on the dry ground as the men approached. The voices drew closer. Kate’s heart
beat a loud staccato rhythm in her ears.

 “There she is.” Came Matt
Johnson’s unmistakable drawl.

Pain exploded in her chest as a
rough booted foot pushed her over. She rolled with the kick, swallowing the
scream that tried to escape.

“Want me to finish her off?” The
voice was familiar. Kate concentrated on trying to remember where she had heard
it before. The solid click of a hammer being cocked echoed loud within her
ears. Dick West. His face rose from the depths of her memory.

“Are you insane? Two shots
already. We’re taking enough chance as it is. Someone hears that and they’ll
find us for sure.” Matt said. “She’s as good as dead. Look at the blood she’s
already lost. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Movement rustled the bushes
before a sudden sharp pain flared through Kate’s temple as a booted foot
collided with her head and darkness claimed her senses at last.

Luke rode toward the barn in the
gathering dusk. Jake and Jonathan had headed home to check on Nana. Luke
sighed, anticipating another long day of harvesting on the morrow. Stopping the
young horse near the corrals, he glanced down at the house wondering why Kate
hadn’t lit the lamp or started a fire to warm the house against the inevitable
evening chill. Perhaps she was with Nana.

Luke dismounted, and set about
unsaddling the colt. As he turned the buckskin into the corral, he saw the bay
gelding standing with his head low, dried sweat marring the normally gleaming
coat. An uneasy feeling settled over Luke. Frowning, he pitched hay into the
horses at the corral and went to check those stalled within the barn. Raven
whinnied at him, demanding his supper. It wasn’t like Kate to leave the horses
untended. He fed Raven and the mares in the pen behind the barn, filled water
troughs, then hurried to the house.

Dry laundry fluttered in the
evening breeze from every line and rail. Mounting the porch steps in two
strides, he yanked the door open. “Kate!” he called into the dim interior. His
voice reverberated in the empty rooms. Fighting down the panic that tried to
overcome him, he scanned the kitchen for any clue as to her whereabouts. His
gaze fell upon a sheet of paper beneath the lamp on the plank table.

Grabbing the note, he strained to
read it in the failing light. The words written there eased his mind, and he
breathed a deep sigh of relief as he realized that Kate had gone to the Halls’
to help with the birth of Greta’s child. Sinking into a nearby chair, he felt
the adrenalin drain from his body, then let his gaze return to the note to read
the last line again; “..don’t worry about me, I love you, Kate.”

***

“Humph! Greta Hall ain’t never
had no trouble havin’ babies. Don’t see why she needed Kate this time,” Nana
complained from her bed.

Jo sat beside her playing with
the doll, while the men sat around the Insley’s small table finishing the last
of their supper.

“Fine lot we make without a woman
to cook for us,” Jake said, tapping a rock hard biscuit on the edge of the
table and wrinkling his nose at the burned bacon and cold tinned beans.

“Well, if you’d let me cook, I
could have made you a good dinner,” Jo countered from her perch on Nana’s bed.

 “You’re too little to reach
the stove,” Jonathan observed.

“Ain’t neither, momma lets me
stand on a chair.”

“Quit bickering, you two. We’ll
just have to make the best of things until Kate gets back,” Jake thundered.

Jo sulked, sticking her tongue
out at Jon when Jake’s back was turned.

Luke coughed to hide his laughter
at her antics. “Nana, do you need anything else?” he asked trying to change the
subject.

“I’m fine as can be expected,
considering.” Nana sniffed. “I would take a spot of that tea Kate sent,
though.”

“Coming right up.” Luke jumped up
and moved the kettle nearer the heat. “Speaking of Kate’s return, when exactly
do you think she’ll be back?”

“Well, if she’s not here by now,
I expect she’s staying the night there. Can’t imagine she’d risk traveling
after dark,” Jake said.

“I suppose you’re right,” Luke
sighed. “Where is the Halls’ place anyway?”

“It’s about ten miles south-southwest
of here, just a few miles north of the Comanche Reservation.” Jake said, eyeing
Luke before he decided to continue. “You take the road south out of here, go
about eight miles or more, then you’ll see a great stone cairn they built to
mark the path to their place. Turn back to the west at the marker, another
couple of miles and you’re there. They’ve got a pretty good quarter section
down that way.”

 “Humph! Other than being
too close to the injuns if ya ask me,” Nana added.

The kettle began to whistle. Luke
reached for it without thinking. “Ouch!” he exclaimed, dropping the handle and
shaking his hand.

“Here’s some butter,” Jon
offered.

Luke shook his head. “It’s not
that bad.” Glancing around, he found a rag to use before picking up the kettle
once again and pouring the steaming water into Nana’s cup. Carrying the tea to
Nana’s bedside table, he asked, “Can Jo stay here tonight?”

“'Course she can,” Nana replied.
“She can have Jon’s bed, he’ll make do with a pallet on the floor.”

“Thanks,” said Luke. “I suppose
I’ll turn in for the night. Goodnight, Jo, you be good for the Insleys,” he
said scooping her up.

“Goodnight, Mr. Josey,” Jo said
giving him a hug around the neck.

“Nana needs your help here,” he
whispered in her ear, “so you do everything you can for her, okay?”

Jo nodded vigorously, “I will,
but I miss my momma.”

“I miss her, too.”

“You do?” she asked, her blue
eyes wide.

“I do,” he answered solemnly,
setting her down again. “Harvesting again tomorrow, Jake?”

“We’ll be there early.”

 “I’ll be ready,” Luke said.

Stepping out into the night air,
he was struck by the chill already frosting the grass and trees. Dark clouds
scudded across the full moon, beginning to obscure its glittering light.
Turning his collar up against the stiffening breeze, he started down the path
toward the barn.

Closing the door behind him, Luke
fumbled for the lamp and matches, his fingers stiff from the cold. Adjusting
the wick, the room was soon bathed in a soft glow. This wasn’t how he had planned
on spending the evening. How he had looked forward to seeing Kate, and together
telling Jo the news. A disquieting feeling settled over him.

Walking to the window he could
feel the chill seeping in around the edges of the pane. A fire would be welcome
tonight. Luke wasn’t even sure the ancient iron stove in the corner worked. He
opened the grate to a puff of soot. Digging through the remnants of long ago
fires, he decided the old thing could probably be coaxed into lighting. Luke
remembered an ash bucket just outside. Opening the door invited a blast of
arctic air. He grabbed the bucket and slammed the door shut against the chill.

 Cleaning the stove took
more time than he anticipated, but an hour later the pot bellied furnace was
empty, the flue was opened and rammed clean, and Luke’s face was a black mask
of grime. Grimacing, he wiped his hands and face on an old rag. All he needed
now were some logs and kindling. The woodpile was near the kitchen porch.
Buttoning his jacket against the night, he picked up the lamp and a canvas tote
and stepped out into the dark wind.

The moonlight faded in and out
between the blowing clouds. Glancing at the sky, Luke didn’t think rain was
likely, just a good blue norther. A sound from behind made him whirl around,
senses keen. In the shadows near the front of the barn, Luke could just make
out a large shape. Holding the lantern ahead of him, he walked toward the
noise. The clouds cleared momentarily allowing the moon to shine against the
white coat of a horse. Hawk!

“Kate?” Luke called. “Kate, where
are you?”

The mournful whine of blowing
wind was his only answer.

Reaching the horse Luke’s fears
mounted. The reins were loose, the torn bridle hanging low on her brow. Mud and
briers dulled the normally bright coat. Her right front leg was cut and badly
swollen. Grabbing a handful of mane Luke led the limping horse into the barn.
As he set the lamp on a barrel, he adjusted the wick to cast a brighter light.
In one swift movement he removed the badly damaged headstall and bit, noticing
as he did the swollen bars of her mouth. Loosening the girth, he saw the blood.
Dried brown spots covered the pommel and marred the white mane.

 Great waves of fear crashed
upon the shores of his mind. Breathing rapidly, Luke tried to calm the angst.
Think, he told himself, How am I going to find her? How long has she likely
been out there? What do I need? Even as his mind whirled, he automatically put
the mare in a stall, checking the hay and water as he did. Grabbing a halter
from the hook on the wall, he slipped out to the corral, and haltered the
startled buckskin.

In a moment he had the horse
saddled and ready to go. Setting his foot in the stirrup, he stopped, returned
to his room, and came back with a bedroll that he strapped on behind the
cantle. There was a blanket, hardtack and jerky, and some first aid supplies
rolled up in the oiled canvas. Pulling his hat low over his brow, he turned out
the lamp, mounted the colt and set off down the lane leading to the road south.