The Braxtons of Miracle Springs (22 page)

The going all night was slow.

I became so sleepy on and off that I could hardly prevent my eyes from closing. Yet somehow you manage to do what needs to be done, and somehow I managed to stay in the saddle.

Every time we'd stop for water or a rest, I would lay down and sleep for five or ten minutes. That made starting up again all the more difficult, but it helped me get through the night.

We stopped around three or four in the Bear River valley. Everyone was exhausted by then, and Pa said we needed to get some sleep. I had hardly rolled out my blanket and plopped down before I was out like a lump of rock. The men took the heavy sides of bear meat off the pack horses and hung it high up in some trees away from camp, but I didn't hear or see them do it. I didn't hear or think a thing until suddenly I woke up several hours later.

It was light. A cloud cover had drifted in. I found myself squinting about in a cold, gray, damp, dreary dawn. The others were stirring. Pa was standing over a small fire, holding a cup. I smelled coffee. Beside me, Christopher was still asleep, breathing deeply.

Pa saw I was awake.

“Time to be at it, Corrie Belle,” he said. “Like some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you, Pa,” I said, sitting up.

He brought me a cup of the steaming black brew he had made. I sipped at it. It was strong and bitter, but I knew I needed
something
to wake me up and get me through this day, so I gradually drank down the whole cup. By then everyone else was either up or close to it and also getting down what quantities of Pa's coffee they could.

I don't know if Pa had slept at all that night, because by the time the rest of us were up, the horses were saddled and the bear was already loaded back onto the pack animals.

No one mentioned breakfast. Obviously we were all hungry by this time, but there were more important things on our minds, and we were anxious to be off.

As we rode, every once in a while Pa and Uncle Nick would draw close together and talk for a bit, sometimes with Zack and Tad, or sometimes the two boys would ride side by side talking intently. I knew they were all talking about what to do once we got back to Miracle Springs.

They obviously had some kind of plan, but I didn't know what it was.

After crossing the Bear, Pa increased the pace, and we rode hard the rest of the early morning. We arrived at the top of the foothill ridge above our place sometime around nine-thirty or ten.

Pa reined in. We all did likewise and stood in a group, waiting for what he would tell us to do.

Pa dismounted.

“I think we oughta walk from here,” he said. “We can't risk the horses getting jittery or making too much noise.”

“Let's leave the horses here, Pa,” suggested Zack. “Tad and I'll come back for them later.”

“It's a mite far yet,” said Uncle Nick. “A mountain lion comes along and gets a whiff of that bear, he could kill every one of the horses.”

The others nodded.

“All right,” said Pa, “we'll walk them on down as close as we dare, then tie them up. The closer we get, the less likely there'll be any varmints prowling about. But it's a chance we have to take. The families are more important than the horses.”

We each took the reins of our mounts and began slowly down the final incline through the forest. No one uttered a peep. The only sounds were the hooves over the ground and occasional snorts.

Finally, Pa became nervous about the tramping noises through the dry underbrush on the ground.

“This'll have to be as far as they go,” he said. “We'll have to go the rest of the way ourselves and hope they're all right.”

We tied our horses to trees and branches. Then the men got their rifles, cocked them, and made sure they were loaded.

All except Christopher.

He and I looked at each other in silence. He had never been in a situation like this before. I think for the first time the difference struck him between the tame East and the wild West. I knew he was praying that none of the weapons would have to be used.

We reached Uncle Nick and Aunt Katie's place safely, set as it was so far from our house and the road.

“Oh, Nick!” exclaimed Aunt Katie when we walked in, then she ran, throwing her arms around him, and then gave Erich a hug.

“Almeda and the others all right?” asked Pa.

“I think so,” she answered. “He hasn't bothered us. He's just kept us from going anywhere. He's just sitting there waiting for you.”

“Where is he, Katie?” Uncle Nick asked.

“On the top of that little hill across the creek from your place, Drum—you know, that clearing where the children used to play?”

Pa nodded.

“From there he can see the road in both directions, your house, and up the hill this way.

“Why didn't you send one of the kids through the woods to Little Wolf's for help?” Uncle Nick asked.

“That awful man said he was watching both houses, and if we tried anything he'd shoot first and ask questions later. I was afraid, Nick. What if he'd have seen them?”

Uncle Nick nodded, then glanced back at Pa.

Pa and Uncle Nick looked at each other, obviously thinking.

“Yeah, that's right,” sighed Pa. “He'd have a clear shot at us however we came.”

“How we gonna get the drop on him there, Drum?” said Uncle Nick. “We'd have to circle back south halfway to town to sneak up on him from the other side.”

“I'm thinking more that we need to make some provision for Almeda and Becky and Ruth,” said Pa. “If we circle around like you say, that leaves him between us and them. He spots us, he could make for the house and hole up there with them inside as hostages. Somehow, I gotta get to the house while he's still where he is.”

“If you make for the house, Drum, he'll spot you.”

“And shoot you!” added Katie. “I know that's what he's thinking. You can see it in his eyes. We've all been so scared!”

“Don't blame you,” said Uncle Nick. “We both rode with him, remember. We know what kind of vermin he is.”

“How about if we circle around south, like Uncle Nick said,” offered Zack, now adding his suggestions to the plan, “while you, Pa, go up behind the mine and circle down through the woods and try to get to the old barn.”

“That's the direction I went to get away,” I said.

“Then you could make for the house,” Zack went on. “If he spotted you or tried to shoot, we'd fire in the air or distract him some way.”

Pa thought for a moment.

“What you say makes sense, son. Yeah, it does—'cause I gotta get to the house before we do anything foolish that sets him off shooting.”

“What about the sheriff?” asked Aunt Katie. “Almeda tried to ride into town, but—”

“Corrie told us,” said Pa. “Yeah, we also gotta find some way to get Rafferty out here. It looks like he's got one more prisoner to take in for his jail before he thinks any more about giving up the law for the life of a rancher.”

“I could ride into town,” said Christopher. “If it comes to a shoot-out, I won't do you any good anyway.”

“Good, thanks—that's it,” said Pa, his face lighting up as he suddenly saw the pieces of a workable plan fit together. “The three of you—Nick, Zack, and Christopher—you circle through the foothills from here, work your way below Little Wolf's and south. When you get to the road, Christopher—we can't risk a horse, he'd hear it—you make for town on foot—”

“I'll sprint the whole way.”

“Right. You get Rafferty, tell him what's going on out here. Nick, you and Zack then work your way back up behind Harris.”

“What about me, Pa?” asked Tad.

“You're coming with me around the north end,” replied Pa. “I may need you to cover me or get a message back to Zack and Nick.”

“And me, Pa?” I said.

“What are you asking me for?”

I glanced at Christopher.

“Aren't you staying here with Katie?” he said, incredulous that there was even any question about it. I don't suppose he yet knew everything about me and my propensity for jumping into the middle of things!

“I want to go, too. I want to help.”

“Then go with your father,” said Christopher. “But stay behind him. I don't want you in any danger.”

“What are we gonna do supposing you get to the house without being spotted, Drum?” asked Uncle Nick. “You want me and Zack to take him from behind?”

“No. If I get to the house and you have him covered, then our immediate danger's past. He's not going to hurt any of the women then. So we wait for Rafferty. You'll be watching for him, and when he comes up the road from town you can tell him how things stand. Let him handle it from there. He can arrest Harris, and we'll be done with it.”

Everyone looked around.

“You all know what to do?” asked Pa.

Nods followed.

“Then, let's go.”

It was probably thirty or forty minutes later when Pa, Tad, and I reached the edge of the woods across the little creek from our pasture. We could see the stables and the old barn less than a hundred yards away. Beyond it stood the house.

All was quiet.

We'd heard not so much as a peep from any direction as we slowly and carefully worked our way above the old mine, then down between it and the new mine to where we presently stood. Where Uncle Nick and Zack and Christopher were we hadn't an idea, but we hoped they were in position south of Demming—or Harris—by now, with Christopher running into town.

Pa looked over the situation.

“I think I see him there,” said Pa, squinting into the distance. “You make anything out, Tad, there off behind the roof of the barn, on that rise where Katie said?”

“Can't be sure, Pa—I might see him.”

“Hmm . . . I think—if we get down low and stay behind the old barn, we may be able to keep out of his line of sight.”

Pa worked his way twenty or thirty yards west along the creek until he was in position. We followed.

“Yeah, look,” he said, “he can't see us here. Come on!”

Tad and I followed, crouching down, sloshing across the little creek, hurrying across the pasture, climbing over the fences of the stables, and in another minute we were standing safely behind the far wall of the old barn, puffing from the run.

Pa crept to the corner of the barn and glanced around.

Now the house was only about seventy-five yards away. But there was no more cover. All the ground between here and there was wide open.

I was scared.

What if the gunman not only saw Pa making a dash for it—what if he shot him in the process?

“Why don't we wait here, Pa?” I said. “We're close enough that if something happens you could make a move then. Why don't we just wait till the sheriff comes?”

“I've gotta know if they're all right inside there,” replied Pa in a tone which I knew meant he'd already made his mind up.

“You two stay here,” he said, then suddenly broke away from where we stood hiding and ran out across the open area toward the house. He didn't exactly dash across the ground very fast, wearing heavy, water-soaked boots and carrying his rifle.

He hadn't covered half the distance when suddenly a shot sounded.

I screamed in terror and looked out from behind Tad's side.

Pa was still running. I saw an explosion from the hill opposite the road, followed half a second later by another sharp rifle report.

Pa stopped. He put his gun to his shoulder and returned the fire with two quick shots. He took off running again. Two more shots came, accompanied by shouts of Pa's name.

But the next instant, Pa reached the back of the house and was safe. Tad and I breathed gigantic sighs of relief. All was quiet again.

Tad and I stood waiting from our point of safety behind the old barn, poking our eyes out from behind the edge of the building to see whatever might be going on.

Everything was quiet for a long time. I wondered where Zack and Uncle Nick were.

What happened next will be vivid in my brain as long as I live. Though it all took place in less than two or three minutes, everything slowed down, as if the incredible drama were taking days before my eyes instead of only a few hundred seconds.

From our vantage point we saw the same man who had appeared at the door of the house three days earlier start down the hill toward the house. He had his rifle in his right hand and wore a second gun at his side.

I don't know if he realized the rest of us were around. If he did, he showed no fear. He came down to our road just on the other side of the Miracle Springs Creek, crossed the wooden bridge, then came straight on toward the house.

“Hollister!” he called out. “Yeah—that's right. I found out yer real name. And I know yer in there. I'm callin' you out!”

He waited a few seconds, but there was no reply.

“You hear me, Hollister?” he cried. “I aim to git what's comin' to me. Now, either you give me my share of the loot from back in New York here and now, or else come out and we'll settle it like men. You hear me, Hollister—I'm callin' you out once and fer all. Ain't no more place you kin hide like the yeller coward you are!”

Again he waited, then tossed his rifle to the ground.

“Look, Hollister, I throwed my rifle down. I got nothing in my hands. I'm comin' just like you see me. Now, you gonna come out and face me like a man, or do I have to come in after you?”

This time there was a long wait. The man swore and yelled a couple more times, but the threat of coming in where Almeda, Becky, and Ruth were was enough.

Finally the door of the house opened.

Tad and I heard the steps of boots on the porch, but we couldn't see the front of the house. We ran around the old barn to the other side. Just as we got there and poked our heads out, we saw Pa walking slowly away from the house. He had no weapon at all—no rifle or pistol!

He walked off the porch and slowly continued toward the man he had not seen since they rode together as outlaws some twenty-five years earlier.

“There's no money, Harris,” said Pa quietly.

“Don't lie to me, Hollister—or Drum, or whatever your real name is!”

“Nick and I ran without a penny.”

“You're lying! I don't believe you!”

“That's why Nick and I came here, to get away from the law and hoping to make a strike.” Pa's voice was calm and controlled. I could tell, even from this distance, that something had come over him in the time since he had left us and ran for the house.

“I don't believe you for a second! Where's the loot?” cried Harris, swearing.

“Judd had it all along.”

“Judd! Why that double-crossing—what makes you think he had it?”

“Confessed on his deathbed. Told his son everything, including where he'd stashed the money. Young Judd didn't want any part of it. He went straight to the sheriff, told him about it. They recovered the money, and that was that.”

The man seemed to be thinking about what Pa said. Every word I knew was true because I'd told it all to Pa myself, and I had heard it straight from the sheriff's mouth in our old town of Bridgeville.

“I don't know whether to believe you or not, Hollister,” the man said after a minute. “But it don't mind much now, 'cause you and me's still got us a score to settle. Go back inside and git yer gun—that is, unless you want to do it with fists.”

All of a sudden I remembered the last of what I'd heard from the sheriff in Bridgeville—
the two the sheriff figured had done most all the killing, Jesse Harris and Big Hank
McFee . . . a couple of nasty coots, those two are
.

I remembered being relieved at the time. Now the words from out of my memory sent a chill of fear down my spine.
The two who done most all the killing
—and there was Pa facing one of them right now . . . without a gun!

“There's better ways of settling things than with fists or guns, Jesse,” said Pa. Still he stood calmly and spoke in a voice that seemed to contain no fear.

“What kinda ways?” taunted Harris, adding a curse.

“The way real men do, Jesse,” said Pa, “by giving God control of their anger and their desire for revenge.”

“God?” cried Harris. “You done gone and got religion, Hollister? Ha, ha, ha!” Again he swore, ridiculing Pa.

“It's the only way to know peace in your heart, Jesse. Only God can take away that bitterness that's eating away inside you.”

“Bah! You're a fool if you believe that! Only one thing's gonna take it away and that's putting a bullet in your head and watching you die in a pool of your own blood. Now, you gonna come and fight me like a man or not?”

Tad and I now saw Uncle Nick behind them, inching forward from about the same place Harris had been watching the house. He'd come up behind and followed Harris toward the house.

Then suddenly I saw Zack to our left, under cover of the barn.

“How'd Zack get over there without being seen?” I whispered.

“On his belly, next to the creek bed,” replied Tad. “We used to do it all the time.”

“No, I'm not gonna fight you, Jesse,” said Pa calmly. “Not like you mean. I'm going to do what a
true
man would do, Jesse—what a friend would do.”

“Yeah . . . what's that?”

“I'm going to pray for you, Jesse.”

“Yer a blame fool, Hollister.” The curses that followed this time were horrible to listen to.

“I mean what I say, Jesse. I'm going to pray for you right now, right here. I'm going to pray that you would lay down the bitterness that's in your heart, and turn to God, and accept the love he has for you, and tell him you want to be his son.”

Uncle Nick had stopped. Zack now stepped out from behind the barn, into the open and began walking toward them.

My heart leapt to my throat! What was Zack thinking! He was going to get himself killed, too!

“I don't want no such fool thing!” shrieked Harris. “And if you utter so much as a word that sounds like yer prayin', I promise you, Hollister, you're a dead man, 'cause they'll be the last words you ever speak!”

If Pa hesitated, it was not for more than an instant. Calmly he bowed his head and closed his eyes.

“Father,”
he began to pray in a firm and commanding voice.
“In the name
of your son Jesus Christ, I now pray for your love to show itself to—”

Pa never saw Harris go swiftly for his gun.

A scream sounded from the house where a terrified Almeda watched at the window.

Gunfire exploded.

There was only one shot. As its echo died down, Harris slumped to the ground.

Uncle Nick came running forward, as did Tad and I. Almeda dashed from the house to Pa.

The only one who stood unmoving in the few seconds that followed was Zack. He was still holding the smoking pistol that had saved the life of his father.

For the first time I couldn't fault him for buying that gun or for practicing his draw! None of us had any idea he was so fast.

Whether it was a coincidence of timing, or whether they had been watching from somewhere, Sheriff Rafferty now galloped up the road with Christopher holding on for dear life behind him.

The sheriff jumped down from his horse as Zack walked up, holstering his gun.

“That's mighty fine shooting, son,” he said.

Zack shrugged. It was obvious he felt no pleasure in what he had done.

“Ain't what guns are for,” he said. “But sometimes I reckon it's gotta be done.”

The sheriff stooped down to where Jesse Harris lay on the ground.

“He's been wounded pretty bad in the shoulder,” he said. “Losing some blood, but he's alive. You got someplace we can put him, ma'am?” he said to Almeda as he stood.

Almeda nodded.

“Well, then, let's get him inside—then somebody oughta go for the doc.”

It was Pa and Zack who now bent down, got hold of the upper half and feet of the man who had come here to kill them both, and carried his unconscious form into the house he had held hostage for the last three days.