River of Mercy (46 page)

A starless landscape came
'Twixt that scene and my aching sight.

T
HOMAS
D'A
RCY
M
C
G
EE

A
t times like this, Gant got more impatient than ever with his bum leg. And in weather like this, it was more of a handicap than at any other time. Consequently, he'd been downright black tempered most of the day.

It started early this morning before the sun ever came up. He'd been restless all night. Jake—even a bobcat deserved a name, didn't he?—had screeched on and off since bedtime the night before. Probably that's why Mac had been restless too, sleeping light and uttering a low growl every so often. Gant got up once to look outside, hoping Mac might quiet down if he knew his owner was up and alert. Nothing he could do about the bobcat, of course. He would probably soon be slinking off to wherever it stayed during the daylight hours.

Gant supposed he couldn't really blame the animals for his own sleeplessness. He simply couldn't shake the increasing uneasiness he'd been feeling since he'd learned from Gideon the day before that Rachel had returned to her own place. He had just about decided that the only way he was going to put his apprehension to rest was to keep watch over her himself.

Was he being totally irrational? What did he think he was going to do in case of trouble? His leg had gotten so stiff in the recent cold, rainy weather he could scarcely walk. He had had to take up the cane most of the time now just to get around at any reasonable pace. Not likely he'd be able to chase somebody down. In case of an intruder or something of the sort, the best he'd be able to do would be to beat him off with his cane.

In a spurt of raw frustration, he brought his fist down on the table with a growl of disgust. From his place by the door, Mac roused and shot him a cranky look.

“Right,” he muttered.
“Now
you want to sleep. Too bad. You had your chance last night.”

By the time Gideon came back from deliveries midafternoon, Gant was walking the floor more than working. He felt like a caged lion with a sore foot. But over the past few hours a growing urgency had nagged at him until he sensed he had no choice but to give in to it.

He motioned Gideon over as soon as the boy came through the back door.

“You have any plans for tonight?” he asked.

Gideon shook his head. “No. Why?”

“I could use your help.”

“Sure, Captain. What do you need?”

“Two good legs, but you can't do anything about that. So how about going with me to keep watch out at Rachel's for a while tonight?”

The boy frowned. “Keep watch?”

Gant tried to explain how he'd been feeling since learning that Rachel was back home. He didn't like being that open with the boy or anyone else about his emotions, especially when it involved asking for help. But pride allegedly went before a fall, and in his case that could probably be taken as a literal truth.

Gideon's reply surprised him. “To tell you the truth, Captain, I've been kind of uneasy about things myself.”

Gant looked at him. “You have?”

The other nodded. “Well, we've still got a troublemaker out there somewhere, maybe more than one, and if you think about it, my family seems to have been the target for a lot of his orneriness. If I had my way, Rachel wouldn't be staying alone out there right now, so close to the woods and all.”

Learning that Rachel's brother shared his apprehension cinched Gant's decision to do something about his increasing uneasiness.

By dusk they were on the road in Gant's buggy, buttoned down as snug as possible.

“This is quite a buggy, Captain. I expect you did most of the extras on it yourself. That so?”

Gant nodded. “I did a lot of it, except the frame, of course. I'd have to say I wouldn't want a future as a buggy builder.”

“Those leather flaps may come in real handy tonight while we're sitting out in the cold. And that seat in the back works real good for Mac.”

The dog chuffed his agreement.

“I appreciate your coming along with me, by the way,” Gant told him.

“Well, Rachel is my sister, after all. Why wouldn't I come with you?” They rode in silence for a time before Gideon asked, “Do you have any idea who might be behind all the trouble, Captain?”

Gant shook his head. “I wish I did. What about you?”

Gideon didn't answer right away. Then, “Ever consider that it might be Samuel Beiler?”

Gant looked over at him. “You suspect him?”

“I don't know. Just wondering, that's all. If it was him, and he's really gone to stay, then maybe there won't be any more problems.”

“That'd be good,” said Gant.

“But you don't think so?”

“I don't know what to think. I just know that whoever is behind all the trouble belongs in jail. And I'd like to see him there.”

Gideon nodded. “So would I. The sooner the better.”

It turned out to be a thoroughly miserable night, with rain splattering the roof of the buggy and a thin but cold wind rushing through the trees. Even though Gant was considerably older than the boy next to him, he wagered Gideon was just as uncomfortable as he was. Even Mac had taken to whimpering now and then as if to remind them that he was a bit put out with their present situation too.

They spent the next three nights in the same spot in the same kind of weather, huddled under the warmest blankets they could find. And saw nothing—including Rachel. They never caught so much as a glimpse of her, nothing but the faint golden glow of lamplight filtering from her windows.

For once Gant was relieved not to see her. It meant she was staying safely indoors.

Their second night there, he heard a sound that caught him up short. A screech, echoing through the darkness, not all that far away. A bobcat. But it couldn't be
his
bobcat. Not all the way out here. And yet he had heard it once before, or at least he'd thought he heard it. The night he sat in this same spot, keeping watch after Rachel's break-in. That night, too, he couldn't believe his ears, and yet he'd been almost certain.

“You hear that?” Gideon whispered.

Gant nodded.

“That's a bobcat, isn't it?”

“Sounds like one.”

“You don't think that's the one that's been hanging around town, do you?”

“Doesn't seem likely,” Gant said. “They like to prowl, but I doubt he'd wander out this far.”

Or would he?

On their third night—actually, it was past two in the morning—they decided to go back into town a little earlier than before. Gant's leg was one large throbbing pain, thanks to the weather and sitting hunched up in the same position for so long a time. Then too, Gideon seemed to be coming down with a cold and was feeling pretty rough himself.

Gant had begun to feel hopeful that their troublemaker
had
been Samuel Beiler, having seen nothing out of the ordinary the past two nights. Maybe things would now settle down in Beiler's absence.

He was just pushing the blanket away to reach for the reins when Gideon put a hand to his arm. “Captain—”

Gant turned to look at him, but Gideon had leaned forward and was staring at Rachel's house, at this time of night a lightless, indistinct shell.

“Look,” Gideon whispered. “See that?”

Gant saw it, all right. A faint light, flickering in the darkness, illumining a figure with a lantern. Someone was headed for the back of the house.

At the same time, somewhere on the hill a bobcat cried again.

Something awakened Rachel. She sat upright, not as if she'd been dragged out of a drowsy, confused deep sleep, but instead suddenly wide awake, listening.

To what?

She heard nothing, yet her heart raced, and her blood pounded as though something had set her spinning into a panic.

She waited another minute or so, but when she still heard nothing, instead of lying back down, she got up, shrugged into her robe, and crossed to the window. It was totally dark with rain pattering on the roof and splashing against the window.

Seeing nothing, she started to turn away but then stopped.

Was that a light moving toward the house?

She waited…and saw it again. It flickered, wavered, and then disappeared.

But no, there it was again. Moving toward the back of the house.

Frozen in place, she clutched at her throat and made a small moaning sound.

What to do? Should she cry out, try to frighten them away? Or hide? That was it. She would hide. But where?

She glanced around. There was nowhere to hide in the bedroom.

Where, then?

No. With all the strength she could muster, she forced herself to shake off the fear. This was her house. Her home. She wouldn't be frightened into crawling under a bed or creeping into a clothes closet. She would find some other way out of this.

She looked around the room, her eyes going to the lamp on the bedside table. Maybe if whoever was out there saw light in the house they'd know she was awake, watching, and they'd go away.

Her hands shook wildly, but she finally got the lamp lighted and set it closer to the window, where it could be seen from outside.

She thought of the kitchen drawer where she kept the knives. But no, she'd never be able to use a knife on someone—the very thought made her cringe. Besides, a knife could just as easily be turned on her.

But there was the mallet for pounding meat. And the rolling pin.

She pulled her robe tighter and started for the kitchen. To find a weapon…and wait.