River Song (40 page)

"No, Dad. You misunderstood." Cole turned and faced him, determined to end the conversation. "I'll never forget her, because I don't plan to let her out of my sight again. Don’t bother---"

“Mr. Fremont?”
came
a frantic voice.
“Oh, Mr. Fremont?"

Two heads, one thick with blond hair, one barely covered with silver strands, turned towards the voice.

"Oh,
Gawd
, Mr. Fremont."
The ranch hand jogged up to them, his hand clutching his chest.

Cole stepped between his father and the hand. "What is it, Stormy?"

"Oh Lord, Mr. Fremont, it's Buck Wheeler." Although nearly thirty, Stormy's features and expressions were those of a young boy, and would always give him a look of youthful innocence no matter how wrinkled and grey he became. Now in his excitement, his eyes flashed round and wide, making him look younger still.

"What about, Buck, Stormy?"

"He's hurt, Mr. Fremont. He's been hurt real bad."

"How?
Where?"

"Uh," Stormy rolled his eyes and screwed up his features, laboring to remember something he'd seen only moments ago. "Oh, ah, he's stretched out in the barn. How he got there, I don't know. But I think he's hurt real bad."

Cole gripped the man's elbow and dragged him alongside as he hurried toward the double doors. "How bad is he, Stormy?"

"Pretty bad, Mr. Fremont."
Turning away from his employer, he looked down at the ground and muttered, "I think he's
daid
."

"What?" Nathan's voice boomed from behind them. "How can that be?
You been
drinking on the job again?"

Again Stormy's expressive brown eyes grew huge and innocent. "Oh, no sir, no, I wouldn't do that. I
don't never
do that no more."

Cole released his grip on the frightened hand and turned to Nathan. "Come on, Dad. Let's go have a look."

They walked in silence, each mired in their own thoughts. Once they stepped inside the barn, as they discovered Buck sprawled in the stall, they spoke as one.

"Hell and damnation."

Cole dropped into a crouch and automatically reached for Buck's wrist even though he knew life no longer pulsed through the man's veins. The open eyes stared at the ceiling, but they could not see, and his features, twisted more with surprise than pain, were frozen for all eternity.

Then he noticed the small, perfectly round hole in Buck's shirt. Tearing it opened, both Nathan and Cole studied the unusual wound, noting that it was too small to have been caused by a bullet, too round for the blade of a knife to have entered. In unison, the men's gazes moved upward to Buck's surprised features,
then
settled on the large bruise at his temple and its squared corners. The implications added up in a flash for Cole,
then
Nathan understood them as well.

"God almighty, son."
Nathan jumped to his feet and bellowed, "Bucky's been done in by one of those damn half-breeds you brought home. One of them
musta
snuck into my office and stole that war club, but why in hell would they go and kill Buck?"

Cole had been wondering that same thing himself, but he said, "Don't go jumping to conclusions, Dad. Anyone could have taken the club from your office. Stay here with Buck. I'll find Sean and see if he knows anything about this."

Leaping to his feet, Cole hurried to the ladder and scrambled up the rungs. "Sean," he called as he stepped into the loft. "Answer me! We got trouble."
Please answer me, please be here,
he thought.

But the loft was empty.

Frantic and angry all at once, Cole tore the room apart. He tossed bales of alfalfa across the loft as if they were cotton, kicked piles of bedding straw into the air, and sputtered his frustration.

"Dammit all, Sean, where the hell are you?
What am I supposed to tell Sunny?
Or
Nellie?"

But his own rapid breathing was the only sound to reach his ears. All Sean's belongings were gone, vanished as if he'd never been sheltered here. What had happened up here in the loft, and down in the stall?

"Why, Sean?
Why?"

Cole covered his face with his hands and blew a hot breath against his palms. His father would be livid by now, out of his mind and out for blood. Shaking his head and muttering his frustration, Cole hurried back down to the barn floor.

He was too late. Nathan was gone. Cole glanced through the doors and saw his father standing in the yard waving his arms. He was gathering the ranch hands.
Building a posse.
Assembling a lynching party.

When Cole stepped into his view, Nathan called him over. "What'd you find up in the loft, son?
Nuthin
', right?"

A rider surrounded by his own cloud of dust born down on them as they spoke. Keeping one eye on the approaching man, Cole nodded and shrugged. "I can't understand it, but Sean is gone. So are his things."

The horse slid to a halt in front of Nathan. The elder Fremont turned his attention to the rider. "Well? What'd you find out?"

"The girl's pony is still in the pasture, but the mule is gone."

Nathan turned to Cole and leveled a caustic eye. "Ask me if I'm surprised, son."

Not only could Cole see that he was not, he thought he noticed an enthusiastic gleam in his tired blue eyes. Nathan's expression suggested he was enjoying Buck's murder and the hunt for his killer immensely. Not that any of the
Fremonts
, save Nellie, had a soft spot in their hearts for Wheeler. As a son-in-law, he had been more tolerated than loved. Still, Cole would have expected a little more emotion from his father, some sense of loss over Buck's death.

Watching as Nathan divided the ranch hands into two groups, Cole guessed there could be only one reason for his father's glee. He was hunting more than his favorite quarry— Indians. He was pursuing Sunny through her brother.

Cole glanced up at the bedroom windows and picked out the room in which she slept. The curtains were still drawn. No curious dark eyes peeked through the slit between them. She had a right to know what was going on out here. He turned and had taken only one step toward the house, when his father's voice halted his progress.

"You want to join us, son?"

Looking back, Cole saw the ranch hands scatter, split up in all directions as they ran to assemble their horses for the hunt. "Sure."

"Then you'd best get moving. You've got five minutes to be armed and saddled."

With that, Nathan was off to the barn.

Torn between his duty to Sunny and insuring Sean's safety, it occurred to Cole they might just be one in the same. If he took the time to wake her and tell her what had happened, the posse would ride off without him.

What would the ranch hands do when they caught up with Sean? Bind him over for trial, or visit their own brand of justice on him on the spot? With his father leading the pack, it was a question he didn't need to ask himself.

Just then, Nathan burst through the barn doors, shouting, "That son of a bitch is a horse thief, too. That murdering savage has stolen Dust Bucket."

"Now hold on a minute, Dad. Jacob said he took his mule? Why would he need a horse as well?"

"Ah, son," Nathan clucked, his bright blue eyes twinkling. "This wily savage is on the run. You have to assume he plans to run that ole mule to the ground and use Dust Bucket as his backup. Smart maybe, but not smart enough to get away from me."

This statement erased any lingering doubts Cole had. He blew out a sigh and regarded his father. "What about Nellie? Who's going to tell her?"

"Your mother.
I'll run and let her know what's happened, and then we'll ride."

Cole's sad green eyes followed his father's progress to the house. Then he picked out Sunny's gabled window. "Sleep well, little
flower
," he whispered, blowing a kiss into the air. "Enjoy your slumber while your mind is still at peace."

His heart heavy, Cole headed to the barn, knowing he'd done the right thing. Sunny would learn soon enough of her brother's grave mistake. No need to disturb her now.

As he reached the double doors, Stormy dashed through the opening on a thick-
chested
buckskin gelding. Looped over the horn of his saddle was a coil of rope. It was tied in a noose.

Cole raced into the barn.

 
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

A series of small
thunderings
vibrated against Sean's head. Particles of red earth screamed a warning into his ear. He finally woke enough to hear what they had to say. A stampede or a large group of riders thundered across the desert. They were headed his way.

With a start, he bolted upright and tried to get his bearings. What had happened? How long had he slept?

Sean peered through the trees. His breath whooshed out at what he saw, and he sagged with the realization. The sun divided the horizon and the heavens. It was several hours past dawn.

"Oh, no."
Frantic, he turned to Eileen and shook her fragile shoulders. "Wake up."

Not hearing the urgency in his voice, she inched
her eyes
open and slowly rubbed them. Then she stifled a yawn and stretched her arms high overhead.

"Eileen," he barked. "Wake up."

Fully conscious now, she pushed her elbows against the earth and sat up. "What's the matter with you? Why are you yelling at me like that?"

Maneuvering to his feet, Sean holstered his pistol and reached for the rifle. "We slept too long. We should have left here hours ago."

"What's the harm? We'll just get a little later start, that's all." Eileen
squinted
newborn eyes into the sun and continued to rub the sleep from them.

"There could be much harm in our laziness. We are risking our lives as long as we stay in the area." His well-trained ears picked up the sounds he'd heard against the earth. Careful not to frighten her too much, he casually added, "I believe a group of riders are heading this way. I'll ride back a ways and have a look while you prepare for our journey. And hurry." He wheeled around and started for Whiskey.

"Sean, wait." Eileen stumbled to her feet and lurched as she moved to his side.
"What about Sunny?
Is she here? Don't we have to wait for her?"

Sunny.
He glanced around hopefully, but knew if she had joined them during the night, she'd have made her presence known by now. Masking his concern, he shrugged. "My sister was aware of our limited time, and understood she was to meet us before the first light of dawn. Perhaps she chose to remain. Don't worry about her. Sunflower can take care of herself." For now, he could only hope he was right.

Eileen sighed. "I wish I was more like her, stronger, somehow."

Sean smiled down at Eileen, at her fresh-scrubbed skin, the glow of sleep still coloring her freckled cheeks. Unable to resist the urge, he cupped her heart-shaped chin in his palm and softly said, "Maybe you are and you just haven't had the chance to find out before now. I think by the time our journey has ended, you will have discovered you have strength enough for ten women."