Mary Connealy (15 page)

Finding a likely spot, Braden studied the sky and decided it was a wee bit early. He’d go on to Ian’s, gather wood for a while, and leave Tucker sleeping for another hour. As soon as he stepped into the clearing by Ian’s cabin, he saw the white paper fluttering on the front door. Braden rushed forward and pulled the note free.

I have gone to get proof of what happened to my father. Do not worry about me. I will be back in time for breakfast.

Amy

Braden stared at the note, fury riding him as he thought of the headstrong, impetuous woman. She might meet up with whomever wished her ill. The ache in his heart at the thought of losing Amy forever nearly drove him to his knees.

“Ian, wake up!” Braden hammered on the front door with the side of his fist, regretting that Amy’s reckless behavior was going to put all of them in jeopardy.

Ian opened the door in his bare feet and long underwear.

Braden shoved the note into his hand. “You can’t leave Merry. I’m going after Amy.”

Meredith appeared in the door, peeking over Ian’s broad shoulders.

“Get Tucker first,” Ian said. “I don’t want you out there alone.”

Braden shook his head. “No time.” He turned toward the river.

“Braden!” Ian’s voice stopped him.

He turned back.

Ian reached over his head and pulled down the Winchester. He thrust it at Braden. “Wear those boots, too. They’re waterproof.” Ian jerked his chin at the boots that lay on the ground. Braden realized there’d been four pairs lying there last night. Now there were three.

“I don’t want to leave Merry home alone. We’ll go for Tucker together. He’ll be after you as soon as he can get on the trail.”

Braden jerked the boots on and ran for all he was worth toward the river. He glanced over his shoulder to see Ian and Meredith walking swiftly toward Tucker’s cabin in their nightclothes, Ian’s arm protectively wrapped around Meredith’s waist.

Braden charged down the rocky beach. When the creek bank grew too steep, he’d weave into the shallow water, his feet splashing, his lungs heaving as he pushed himself. The gun hung heavy in his grip as his arms swung in time to his long-legged pace. The voice of God pushed him as surely as if the wind had hands. And the cry of the raven shouted for him to
hurry, hurry, hurry
.

Sixteen

Amy looked into the shifty eyes of Barnabas Stucky.

“Well, if it isn’t the pretty little lady from the boat.” Stucky’s clothes, new on the boat, now hung off him like filthy rags. The smell of him nearly made her retch. His hands with broken, dirt-caked nails, reached for her, and she backed away until her shoulders were pressed against the mantel.

“You’ve been a hard one. But you’re not gettin’ away this time.”

The look of pure cruelty on his face spurred Amy to action. She grabbed for the knife in her ankle sheath. Stucky’s hands closed on her wrist before she could reach it. He dragged her forward, shoving her into a chair so hard it knocked the wind out of her. Jerking at his belt, he pulled it free and bound her hands in front with the coarse leather.

“Who are you?” Amy’s heart hammered in her chest. Why hadn’t she waited?

“My brother sent me to find you when he got this cabin. He knew you were the only one on earth who’d complain.”

“Complain? Because Papa sold out?” Amy’s stomach sank, knowing the truth without the man speaking another word.

“No, ’cause your pa refused to sell out. Here’s your plumb stupid old man sittin’ on gold that’ll make the Klondike Gold Rush look like a little pile of granite. Your father owned it all and didn’t even know it was there. When Owen found the gold, he took the claim. This is a land for the strong, and your father was an old, weak man.”

“That is a lie. My father was getting older, but he was still a strong man. The only way your brother could have hurt him is to shoot him in the back or push him off a cliff.”

Barnabas was close enough that she could smell his fetid breath. His teeth, yellow and broken, were bared at her in a savage mockery of a smile. “Reckon that’s what he done.”

“So, your brother is a coward just like you,” Amy taunted. “He would never take on a strong man face-to-face when you are too afraid to face a woman half your size.” Amy thought of her knife. If she could goad him into releasing her, perhaps to prove his courage, she could win any fight they had.

Barnabas laughed and tightened the belt around her hands. “Once Owen got to the cabin, he found all your letters and the daguerreotype you sent your pa. He wanted to make sure you never found your way home.”

“And he knew just the snake that would do his dirty work, didn’t he?” Amy strained under the leather binding as she spat the words at her captor.

Barnabas laughed. “Owen knew I was fresh out of Yuma prison and needin’ money. I wouldn’t have had to come all the way here if that wagon had done you in on the streets of Seattle.”

“You almost pushed me off the boat.” Amy shuddered at the man’s twisted smile. The full beard he’d grown, only stubble on the boat, made him look more animal than man.

Stucky’s eyes, as cold and dark as an Alaskan January, narrowed. “I lost you at Skaguay. Figured you’d go all the way to Dyea and weren’t payin’ attention. That’s the only reason it took me as long as it did. Then I came home after you went over the cliff. I never dreamed you came out o’ that fall alive.”

He bent down until his face was level with hers. “You’re a hard one made for a hard land, ain’tcha, missy? Well, I’m a hard one myself. My brother finally let me move in with him onest you was dead. He’s gonna pay me cash money to clear his rights to this holding.”

Amy lunged for his throat with her bound hands. With a crude, growling laugh, Stucky blocked her, snagging the belt that held her hands. Amy kicked at him, landing a hard blow to his ankle that knocked one of his feet out from under him. He fell forward. Amy jumped from the chair. Stucky lunged at her and sank his fingers into her long braid. He jerked, slamming her back on the chair.

“You want to fight? We’ll fight.” Stucky grabbed Amy by the throat. His powerful grip tipped the chair backward as he stood and fumbled for a leather strap hanging over the mantel.

Amy clawed at his hand, fighting for breath. Clumsily, he bound one leg to the chair, then the other. Once she was pinned down, he wrapped a longer strap around her waist. Panting from the exertion, he moved away from her.

Completely immobilized, Amy saw the rage in Stucky’s eyes and knew she had to talk fast if she wanted to live. So far, Barnabas Stucky had shown interest in only one thing. “How much is he paying you? I could pay you more.”

Stucky laughed. “A hundred dollars. And don’t think you can trick me. I already checked in Seattle to find out how much money you had. People have bought their way out of trouble with me before. You didn’t have enough to beat Owen’s offer.” He laughed and curled his fingers into claws, then reached for her throat.

“One hundred dollars? While he gets my
gold mine?” Amy nearly stumbled over her words. “You saved it for him. You deserve half that mine. If you helped me get it back, I would give you the whole thing.”

Stucky stopped short, his hands extended. The calculating look returned to his eyes, this time layered with something other than cruelty. Greed.

“You’d never hand over this claim. I know better than that. But my brother should be payin’ me more. If he’s gonna be a rich man while I’m doing all the dirty work, then I deserve to be his partner.” Stucky’s high-pitched laughter filled the room again.

Amy heard the nervous mania that was so evident in all the stampeders. If he would just go, she might be able to get to her knife, then free herself and get away.

Oh God, forgive me. Forgive my impatience. If only I had waited.

“If Owen wants me to clear the title to this land, he’s gonna have ta pay.” Stucky checked Amy’s bonds, then gripped her chin and lifted her face. “I’ll be back, li’l Amy. Nothin’s gonna change for you, but it is for me. You’re gonna make me rich.”

Laughing, he turned and raced out of the cabin.

The second Barnabas vanished, Amy struggled to reach her ankle. The tie at her waist kept her from bending. Her leg wouldn’t rise. Minutes ticked by as she fought the leathers; they only tightened. She had no idea how far Barnabas would have to walk to find his brother. With a near howl of frustration, she pulled her hands to her mouth and began chewing on the brown, tough leather of Stucky’s belt. As the minutes turned to an hour with only a bit of headway on her bonds, she fought down panic, knowing he couldn’t be gone much longer.

The door flew open, and Braden charged inside, his leveled Winchester sweeping the room.

“Braden,” Amy choked, losing a battle against tears.

“Are you alone?”

“Yes, there are two men, both of them gone. But they will be back. We have got to get out of here!”

“I’ll be right back.”

Amy wanted to scream at him not to leave. She fought down the impulse. She knew Braden well enough to know he wasn’t about to abandon her.

Braden checked the bedroom Amy’s father had built for her.

Amy sighed with relief when he came back out.

“No one here.” He drew his knife from his belt. With a slash, he freed Amy’s hands, then made quick work of the rest of her bonds.

He helped her from the chair. “We’ve gotta get out of here before they come back. We’ll get you home. Then Ian, Tucker, and I will come and settle this.” Braden tried to slide his arm around her waist, but she stepped away.

“Let me get my father’s deed first. It will only take a second.”

“It can wait, Amy. We’ve got to get clear of this place.”

“He admitted that the man who lived here killed my father.” A renewed spate of tears shook her body.

Braden’s jaw tensed. “Make it quick.”

She turned toward the mantel.

“We won’t let him get away with it. I’m sorry we didn’t come here sooner and find out what happened.”

Amy reached for the raven and sun. “No, it is my fault. God has been telling me right along to be patient, to let Him set the time for justice. But I did not listen. And you put yourself in danger because of my stubbornness. I should have waited for help. I am so sorry.” Her tears blinded her as she fumbled with the stiff wooden levers.

Braden rested one hand on her trembling shoulder. His strength helped ease her tears.

“This is the first time you’ve ever admitted you were wrong.”

Amy glanced over her shoulder, glad for his teasing tone that steadied her. “That is because this is the first time I have been wrong.”

Braden coughed, then laughed out loud. “And it’s the first time you’ve ever said you needed help.”

Amy looked up at him and opened her mouth.

Braden laid one finger on her parted lips. “Don’t say it. I know. You’ve never needed help before, either.”

Amy shrugged and felt sheepish because that’s exactly what she’d been planning to say. “Let me get the deed. Then we will get away from here. He will be gone a while, I expect, but I do not want to take a chance.”

Braden jerked his chin in agreement. Amy reached for the carved mantel again just as heavy footsteps sounded on the path behind the house.

“They are coming.” Amy started for the front door.

Braden grabbed her by the wrist. “Too late!”

Seventeen

Braden raced for the back room, dragging Amy along. He swung the door open, lifting so it made almost no sound. Amy held her breath as the two men’s voices grew closer.

Once in the back room, she ducked behind Braden, who swung the door shut and turned to face it. Amy sensed Braden’s rigid attention to every sound outside the door. He lifted his rifle so it pointed toward the ceiling, his thumb on the hammer, his finger on the trigger.

The men were arguing as they strode down the trail.

“You’ll pay up or you’ll kill her yourself.”

Amy heard Stucky’s vicious, heartless discussion of her life and death reduced to a matter of dollars and gold dust.

“I ain’t gettin’ my hands dirty killin’ a pretty little woman in a territory where there’s only about ten of ’em,” Stucky continued. “Not for a measly hundred dollars. An ole trapper disappears—nobody thinks too much of it. A young woman living with a solid family like the Raffertys goes missin’, and questions’ll be asked sure as certain.”

“I’m not givin’ you half this claim,” Owen raged. A hard fist pounded on the outside door. “I’ll up the price to two hundred dollars, but that’s highway robbery. We made a deal. And no one knows you’re here. No one’s gonna blame you for nothing.”

Owen’s voice sent chills down Amy’s spine. This man had killed her father. This man had hired a man to murder her. All for gold. Now he bartered for her life with less emotion than most people would show buying a bolt of cloth.

Braden watched through a crack between the saplings bound together to make the door. He took a second to look away and gave her a nod of encouragement. His eyes, sharp and intelligent, told her he’d protect her with his life. She stood behind him, her left shoulder pressed against the wall like his. The fingers of his right hand steady on his rifle, he reached behind with his left and caught her hand, lacing his fingers together with hers.

Amy had never felt more connected to another human being. Braden offered her protection, using his body to shield her. She tightened her grip on his hand as his strength drove the chill away.

“Thank you,” Amy whispered. She pulled her hand free of Braden’s so he’d be able to move quickly.

The door to the cabin swung open.

“She’s gone!” Stucky’s voice mixed with shouting from Owen.

“You said you’d tied her up.” Owen’s fury cut through the room. “We’ve got to find her.”

Amy froze. The walls weren’t that solid, and movement could possibly be seen through cracks. Any creaking wood, even just from shifting weight, might draw the men’s attention to this room. She saw Braden’s shoulders tense beneath his brown shirt and didn’t realize what he meant to do until he’d moved.

Swinging the door open, Braden stepped into the main room. “Put up your hands.”

Gun level, his voice bitter cold, he froze the two men in their tracks.

Amy peeked around Braden’s broad shoulders. Neither man had a gun. She could see that now. Braden must have noticed this fact and decided to end the nightmare right here.

“Both of you sit down.” Braden gestured with the muzzle of his gun toward the two chairs in the room. One of them still had leather straps hanging from where Amy had sat bound.

“What are you doing in my house?” Owen backed away, looking between Braden’s eyes and the gun. “This is trespassing. I’ll have you arrested.”

“This is one of them Raffertys,” Stucky said.

Owen cut him off. “He don’t have no proof’a nothin’.” Owen scowled at his brother, then slumped into a chair.

Amy slipped out of the back room and stood behind Braden.

Both men’s eyes widened. Barnabas Stucky’s face turned beet red, and Owen bared his teeth until Amy expected him to growl. The two men looked alike now that she saw them together. Middling tall, stout of build, dark hair streaked gray, full shaggy beards—in that they looked like most of the men who came north. But they also shared ruthless blue eyes and cruel lips. Hate etched the same lines into their faces.

Braden held them captive, but now what did they do?

As if she’d asked the question aloud, Braden said, “Stay behind me.” He planted himself between the front door and the two snarling men with Amy at his back. “Tucker’s on the way. We’ll hold ’em here ’til he comes, then go on into Skaguay and leave them with the sheriff.”

“We ain’t done nothin’ wrong.” Owen erupted from his chair.

Braden leveled the rifle. Amy couldn’t see Braden’s expression, but she saw Owen blanch and sit back down.

“Whatever you want here, mister, just take it,” Owen sputtered. “I’m a law-abidin’ man. I don’t know what you’re talking about, takin’ us to the sheriff. There’s no call—”

“You killed my father.” Amy stepped up beside Braden, her temper too hot to think of safety. “You have tried to kill me four times.”

“He’s tried four times?” Braden glanced at her, his brow furrowed. Then he went back to watching his prisoners.

Amy nodded and pointed at Stucky. “He admitted it. On his brother’s orders, he tried to kill me in Seattle, then twice again on the boat. He never caught me alone for long enough.”

She looked at Owen. “So do not waste your breath with lies. Braden came in and found me tied up, and we heard what you said to your brother when the two of you came back to the cabin. It is not my word against yours. Braden is a witness, too. You cannot explain that away.”

“Hey, whatever my brother did ain’t no business o’ mine.” Owen glared at his brother.

Stucky’s jaw tightened. Fury burned in the man’s eyes until Amy thought he’d attack Owen. She realized that unless they could break Owen’s story, Barnabas, who had tried to kill her but never managed it, might be arrested. Owen, the man who had murdered her father, might go free.

Before Barnabas could accuse his brother, a noise caught their attention from behind. Amy whirled around and looked into the eyes of Darnell Thompson, the other man who’d paid so much attention to her on the boat. He held a Colt revolver in his hand, pointed steadily at Braden’s midsection.

Braden’s finger tightened on the trigger. Amy prayed, knowing her recklessness had brought Braden to this moment. She might be responsible for his death.

“Ease off, Mr. Rafferty. I’m not here for you. I’m here for him.” The gun shifted from Braden to Owen. “I’ve been hunting you for a long, long time. I lost your brother’s trail in Dyea, and it’s taken me a long while to get here. But this is the end of the line for you and your claim jumpin’ ways.”

Thompson, dressed like a stampeder with three-months growth of beard and a probing, assessing look in his eyes, reached into the pocket of his brown wool pants and pulled out a badge. “I’m a Pinkerton. If you even remember anymore, you killed a man in Texas nearly four years ago and sold off his homestead. You prey on men who live alone, far from anyone. But this Texan had friends. He was a loner, but his father is a powerful man back East who kept track of him quietly. When his son came up missing, he called in the Pinkertons.”

“So you have proof he is a thief and a murderer?” Amy stepped sideways to let Thompson inside.

“I followed Stucky north, hoping he’d lead me to his brother. I saw Stucky gettin’ ready to shove you over the railing of the
Northward
.”

Amy’s eyes widened in shock. “You saw him? Why did you not arrest him?”

“I saw what was in his eyes, miss,” Thompson said. “The evil intentions he had toward you. But he didn’t do anything because I stepped in with that trumped-up story about wanting to come with you. I was just makin’ talk until your watchdog got there.”

“Watchdog?” Amy’s forehead wrinkled.

“Rafferty. I saw him coming your way, and when he got close enough so Barnabas couldn’t hurt you, I eased back. Another reason I didn’t accuse him of anything was because I wanted him to lead me to his brother. Now, I’m taking Owen back to Texas to stand trial. And I reckon we’ll just throw Barnabas right on in with him.”

“But what about my father?” Amy looked between Thompson and Braden. “How does a jail cell in Texas add up to justice for Papa?”

“A noose, when it comes, collects all a man’s debts.”
Thompson tugged the front of his Stetson low on his forehead. “He’ll pay for it all, miss. Don’t you worry. I’d like you to write a letter explaining all that happened here for me to take back. He’s done this a heap of times and left a trail of death across this country. But this is the first time he’s ever stayed put long enough for me to catch up with him. He’d kill the landowner, sell the property as his own, and then move on. Not sure why he stayed here.”

“I know why.” Amy nodded. “This is the first time he has ever found gold.”

“It’s mine. No one is going to take it from me.” Owen lunged out of his chair at Amy.

Braden grabbed his shoulder and sat him down hard.

“We’ll just have your word for this theft because there’s no proof your father’s dead without a body. Some old trappers keep moving. But your testimony will add weight to the charges.”

“I can do better than write a letter. I can prove he stole this land.”

Thompson gave her a long, sharp look.

Braden smiled encouragement at her.

She carefully skirted the two outlaws and went to the mantel.

Touching the sun and the raven at the same time with her left hand, she pressed in on the hidden drawer until she felt the catch snap. Sliding the drawer open, she stared down at the old deed, yellow with age. She slid the papers out carefully and gently unfolded the brittle document. This was the last thing connecting her to her father. Tears burned her eyes as she thought of the gruff but loving man who’d brought joy to her childhood and whom she’d missed terribly all her years in Washington. She’d never see him again.

Turning, she took the deed to
Thompson
. They looked down and saw that the land title was unreadable.

“What is that?” Braden glanced at the papers but went back to watching Owen and Barnabas. Amy noticed
Thompson
’s watchful eyes only looked away from the men a second at a time, too.

“It is in Russian.” Amy’s voice faded. She swallowed and continued. “I had forgotten. I always knew the drawer was there and what it contained, but we did not get it out often. Probably not since I was too young to read.”

“That isn’t a deed. It’s chicken scratchin’s that prove nothin’,” Owen raged. “And some man comes in here and says he’s a lawman.” Owen glared at Thompson. “He don’t have any say over me up here in the Alaska Territory.”

“You won’t be in the Alaska Territory for long.” Thompson pulled shackles from the pack he carried on his back. Thompson gave one last grim look at the deed. “Too bad that’s in Russian. To have solid evidence in Alaska would strengthen my case in Texas. Don’t reckon there’ll be anyone between here and there that’ll read Russian.”

Amy’s heart ached when she thought of her father and all she’d lost. “He killed the only man I knew who could read it.”

“He’s covered his tracks with killing for years.”

“This time he picked a man who didn’t kill so easy.” The deep voice filled the cabin.

They all whirled around.

Petrov Simonovich stepped into the cabin.

“Father!” Amy launched herself at the thin figure who had replaced the robust man who’d raised her. She’d take him however he looked.

Her father caught her to him with a soft grunt. “My Amy.” His arms wrapped around her with a strong grip that belied his slender frame. “You’ve come home.”

Amy heard a crash and turned to see Owen running toward the small cabin window. Thompson dove for him and dragged the killer to the ground before he could escape. Barnabas jumped at Braden, who’d lifted his gun off the prisoners when Amy had distracted him.

Amy’s father set her aside, reached for the man grappling for the gun, and hurled him against the solid wood mantel with a dull thud.

Braden took one look at Barnabas as he crumpled unconscious to the floor, then turned to Thompson. “Let him up. I’ve got you covered.”

“Yep, ’n’ if you don’t, I do.” Petrov chuckled.

Braden gave Petrov a narrow-eyed look.

Petrov clapped Braden on the back. “Sorry, boy. I know you’re doin’ fine.” He turned back to Amy and pulled her firmly into his arms.

“They told me you were dead, Papa.”

Petrov grunted. “Not the first time nor the last they’ll prove up to bein’ stupid.”

Amy smiled and clutched her father tight, afraid to believe her own eyes. “Where have you been all this time? You stopped writing months ago.”

“That one there”—Petrov nodded at Owen as Thompson pulled him to his feet—“shoved me over a cliff last winter, clear up north of here, broke my leg in the fall. He stood over me and laughed about leaving my body for wolves.”

Amy turned and pulled back her leg to give Owen a swift kick.

Her father stopped her, laughing, and hugged her again. “Always was a feisty one, my Amy.”

Amy saw Braden nod and heard him whisper to Thompson, “That’s the honest truth.”

Amy’s father looked over her shoulder for a long time. Amy pulled back far enough to know he was staring at Braden. A firm jerk of her father’s chin seemed to settle something between him and Braden. Then Papa set her on her feet and reached for the deed, which had fallen to the floor.