Around the River's Bend (31 page)

Caleb Files had waited impatiently. He had been successful in gobbling up almost all of the lands he had set his heart on, but Sabrina Fairfax was settled square in the middle of a large tract of land, and he lusted after a clear title to the whole enormous section. His failure to get his hands on it made him irritable, and inevitably he came to the conclusion that he was going to have to use stronger methods. His only confidant, Jack Fry, saw this coming, and late in February Files finally signaled the end of his patience.

“I've
got
to get that land the Fairfax dame is sitting on, Fry.”

“I told you the government would never help you. You've gotta be right in the middle of them lawyers and congressmen to get anything out of 'em.”

“You're right. So, we're going to have to put some pressure on the girl. She's bound to be broke. I offered her a pretty fair price, but she turned me down.”

“If the woman was dead, you wouldn't have any trouble, Files.”

Files turned and stared silently at Fry. He knew Jack Fry to be a man of vicious temperament. He had killed before and seemed to have no more scruples than a wild animal. “That's right,” he said. “But I told you, Fry, I'd be the first one they'd suspect if anything happened to her.”

“Not if the Indians killed her.”

“I don't want to know anything else about this,” Caleb said quickly. But his voice was insincere, and he added, “Of course, I'd save a lot of money. I wouldn't mind spreading some of it around if something happened to the Fairfax woman.”

“I need a little money in advance, Files.”

Caleb Files hesitated for a moment. He had not sunk quite as low as Jack Fry, yet his greed took possession of him. He took some gold coins out of the safe and said, “I don't want to hear any of the details, Fry.”

Fry did not answer. He fondled the gold, letting the coins ring in his hands as he rippled them, and he grinned wolfishly. “I'll see you later. I have some business.”

****

Fire Cloud liked to think of himself as a war chief. But then, any warrior who could get a dozen braves to follow him called himself that. He would never be a mighty leader like Dragging Canoe or Tecumseh, but he had the ego of such men. Fire Cloud was not a big man, but he made up in meanness what he lacked in bulk. He was half drunk now, for Jack Fry had plied him with whiskey. He sat listening as Fry spoke, his obsidian eyes glittering, and from time to time he took another pull from the bottle. Whiskey was the Indians' worst enemy and Fire Cloud's best friend more often than not.

“ . . . so this is what I want, and I got plenty of whiskey and guns for you and your warriors.”

Fire Cloud studied the white man. He knew Jack Fry was a vicious killer. That did not trouble him in the least. “Five rifles, bullets, powder, and ten kegs of whiskey.”

Fry knew he had his man then, and he bargained halfheartedly until they finally settled on a lesser price. He leaned forward and said harshly, “Let's go over this again so I'm sure you understand. You have to kill the woman, but leave the man—Sion Kenyon. Put some of your arrows in her that can be identified. Take her scalp.”

Fire Cloud shrugged. “Yes. We will kill the woman. Now give me the guns and the whiskey. . . .”

****

“I never heard of hominy grits when I lived in England,” Sabrina said. She smiled, and her laugh filled the cabin. “Maybe I can go back and get rich by teaching the English to love hominy grits like they love roast beef.”

“I'll go with you,” Hannah said. “You can introduce me to King George.”

“I'm afraid I didn't travel in his circles.”

The two women were having a lively conversation about the differences between England and America. They had already discussed some of the meats Sabrina had now grown accustomed to.

After a time Sabrina changed the subject, saying, “I haven't forgotten the sermon Rev. Anderson preached on Christmas morning. I don't know why, but I just can't get rid of it.”

“You don't want to get rid of it. When a sermon stays with you like that, or even a single verse in the Bible, that's God speaking to you.”

“Do you really believe that, Hannah?”

“Of course I do!”

“But with millions of people in the world, do you think God really cares about each one of us on an individual basis?”

“Why, certainly! He knows what each one of us is thinking and every single act we've ever done.”

“I can't imagine that.”

“Well, try to imagine this, Sabrina. You and I were born at a certain time and we'll die at a certain time. But God wasn't born. He always was, and He knows at this moment everything that everyone who ever lived said and did and thought. It's never out of His mind. So, if you prayed a prayer this morning, God heard it. He always hears our prayers.”

Sabrina stared at Hannah. “I can't understand all that. It's too big for me.”

Hannah laughed. “It's too big for me, too, but I think that's the way God is. I think that's the way we'll be in heaven. I think we'll always be living with what we did here—the good things, that is. We'll always remember finding Jesus and praising Him and singing to Him. It'll all come back to us. That's the reason we ought to spend as much time loving Him and serving Him as we can.”

Sabrina grew quiet, and after a time Hannah changed the subject. “You never mention Drake Hammond anymore.”

“There's nothing to mention.”

“Everyone thought you'd marry him. Drake certainly thought so.”

“He's a handsome man and he has money, but that's all he has.”

“Most women would say that's enough.”

“You know better than that, Hannah. Those things change. The handsomest men and the most beautiful women lose their looks. I've been thinking about that a lot. Will a man love me when I grow older, my skin toughens up, and I grow gray hairs and lose my teeth?”

“Some men would. Look at my parents. My dad practically worships my mother. He's always saying sweet things to her and touching her. Why, they hold hands half the time when they're walking along together.”

“That's sweet, isn't it?”

“Yes, it is. And I want to be just like that with my husband.” She turned and said, “Can you see yourself growing old with Sion? I think that's the test of whether you really love a man or not.”

Sabrina answered, “You know, I think I really can, but—” Sabrina never finished her sentence, for the door suddenly shot open, and a group of Indians burst into the room. The man in front was small, not much larger than a boy, but his eyes glittered with fury. The two women, paralyzed with fear, backed up against the wall.

Two of the larger Indians started forward. One carried a knife and the other a tomahawk. They laughed drunkenly as they advanced toward the two women. One of them said something to the smaller man, who obviously was the leader. He had a tomahawk in his hand and murder in his eyes, but suddenly the leader seemed to change his mind. “We not kill these women.”

One of the braves looked at him and said something in their native language, but the smaller Indian said, “No, we take captives.”

Fire Cloud laughed and moved toward the two women. They shrank back from him, and he laughed again. He grabbed Sabrina by the hair and said, “You'll be good squaw.” He looked over at Hannah and said, “And I trade you for many horses.” He shouted something at the other Indians, and Sabrina guessed his command was, “Take what you want!”

Sabrina couldn't move under the small man's iron grip. She did not cry out, but when she looked at Hannah, she saw that her friend was as filled with fear as she was. But Hannah managed to say, “God will take care of us. The men, they'll come for us.”

The Indian's face darkened and he let go of Sabrina's hair just long enough to slap Hannah across the mouth. When she fell backward, he snarled at her, “No, you will be a Cherokee's slave forever!” He grabbed Sabrina's hair again and held the edge of his tomahawk against her temple. “You will learn to please me. I always wanted white woman for squaw.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

No One but God

The nightmare seemed to be never ending for Sabrina. Her hands had been left free, but Fire Cloud had tied a leather thong around her neck, and when she had stumbled or been unable to keep up with the men, he had jerked at her so that the rough rawhide had worn her neck raw and even caused it to bleed. The same fate had been dealt to Hannah, and the two women were practically dragged along as the Indians hurried through the woods.

They had walked nonstop for four hours, and then Fire Cloud, who led the line of warriors, closely followed by Hannah and her captor, who laughed harshly at Hannah's distress, suddenly stopped. He called out something to his followers and leered at Sabrina. “You rest.”

Sabrina was totally exhausted, but she knew that the worst had not yet come. She sat down on the cold ground with her back to a tree and was joined by Hannah. The Indians milled around talking gutturally and examining their prizes. One of them amused himself by putting on one of Sabrina's dresses, which he had stolen. The others gloated over the booty they had taken, and if Sabrina had not been so frightened and shaken to the bottom of her emotional stamina by what had happened, she would have wept to see her possessions being handled by the savages.

She started to remove the rawhide noose from around her neck, but Fire Cloud, who was gnawing on a piece of the dried venison he had brought along from the cabin, reached down and struck her. “No!” he shouted. He glared at her, his eyes glittering, and then laughed at her fright. Going back to the pouches in the sack, he pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He drank it, and the other braves crowded around to join him. They shouted and sang and most of them came around to put their hands on the two women. The roughness of their touch was an abhorrence to both women, but neither of them opened their mouths to protest.

The warrior who had been leading Hannah—they had learned his name was Horse—brought some meat over in his bare hands and threw one chunk down at Hannah and another chunk at Sabrina. He said something in his native language, which they took to mean
eat
.

“We'd better eat all we can,” Hannah said. “We're going to need our strength.”

Sabrina forced herself to eat the meat, although it was gritty and the thought of it having been in Horse's filthy hand nearly sickened her. Still, she knew Hannah was right.

For a time Sabrina leaned back against the tree and closed her eyes. She was grateful for the coat that one of the Indians had thrust at her as they had forced the women from the cottage. She knew Hannah was praying, for she had seen her lips move, and as she sat there amid the raucous laughter and shouting of the drunken Indians, she found herself wishing she had followed her instinct during the Christmas message. She had felt an urge to simply call upon God in the name of Jesus. She had not done it, and now she wondered despondently why she had not. The thought came to her that she could do it now, but to her that somehow seemed cowardly.
I didn't let God into my life when things were going well, and now I can't go crawling to Him like a beggar
. The thought brought a sense of fresh despondency. She finally stopped thinking altogether and let her mind go blank, though she was conscious of the Indians' drunken voices and their rank smell as they came close. She suddenly came wide awake when a loud voice speaking in English penetrated her thoughts.

“What are these women doing here?”

Sabrina opened her eyes to see Jack Fry standing in front of her. She pleaded, “Get us out of this, please!”

Fry's eyes were as cold as polar ice, and he simply ignored her plea.

Both women were shocked when Fry turned to Fire Cloud and said, “I paid you to kill the woman. And where's the man?”

“He no there.”

“Why didn't you kill this woman?”

“We carry them far off. They never be found,” Fire Cloud said. His lips moved loosely, and his speech was slurred. His eyes were still bright, but they seemed to be covered with some sort of film.

He was crazy drunk, Sabrina saw. She glanced at Hannah and saw that she was staring at Fry. “He's the one that hired them,” Hannah whispered. “He won't help us.”

Fry was shouting now, and Sabrina and Hannah were sickened at what they heard. Sabrina well knew why Fry had hired the Indians to kill her. He was on Caleb Files's payroll—an instrument of death in the rich man's hand.

Fry was carried away in a fit of anger. He shouted wildly, “I paid you well, Fire Cloud, and you haven't done your job!”

Fire Cloud grew quieter, and his warriors watched warily from the circle where they had gathered. They knew that unlike some war chiefs, their leader was most dangerous when he was quiet.

Fry cursed and ranted, but Fire Cloud simply shook his head and said stubbornly, “We take women far off. No white man ever find them. Go away.”

“I ain't goin' away till these women are dead!”

Fry suddenly pulled a pistol from his belt. He turned toward the two women, saying, “If you won't kill 'em, I will!”

Sabrina saw Fry raise his pistol, and she looked right down the barrel.
This is the end
, she thought dispassionately. She was somehow devoid of fear, and her only thought was,
I've missed so much, and Sion will be grieved
. She waited for the explosion as she watched Fry's finger tighten on the trigger, but suddenly there was a clunking sound, and she lifted her eyes to see Fry's eyes suddenly open wide with shock.

And then Sabrina saw the hatchet. It was buried in Jack Fry's skull clear to the handle. She heard Fire Cloud laugh his high-pitched drunken giggle while the other Indians cried out loudly and lifted their fists.