The Parson's Christmas Gift (22 page)

Z
ane roused as pain seared through his head. He opened his eyes, his vision murky at best. Gentle hands smoothed his face.

He sat up carefully, leaning against the rough board behind him. Where were they again? He moved his good arm around to push himself up and away from the wall.

“Journey? You there?”

The soft sound of crying echoed between the walls of the almost empty cabin. He brushed her shoulder and pulled her into the crook of his arm. She curled against him without any argument. He leaned his head back with a deep sigh.

He breathed deeply, choking with the staleness of the air in the shack.

“Journey?” He nudged her. “Journey, where’d Roy go?”

She continued crying and he shook her. “Journey! Where is he?”

“He said if I sent the law after him he’d come back and kill us. Then he took the lantern and left. How badly are you hurt?”

“Never mind me. We have to go now if we want a chance to catch up to Roy. Come on!”

He pulled himself upright, using the sturdy beam at his back for leverage, and dragged Journey up behind. “Let’s get out of here.”

Her head nodded against his chest, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She followed a few paces, then stopped short. Her wide eyes gleamed in sudden panic.

“What if we don’t find him?”

He ran his fingers down her arm to clasp her hand. “We will. We have to, or you’ll be looking over your shoulder for him every day for the rest of your life.” He tried to calm her with slow, even tones. “We have to move now. Maybe he headed back to town for Hank, or maybe he’s camping somewhere close, but we can’t know until we get out, all right?”

“What about Hank?”

Her warm arms trembled and tightened around his waist. She didn’t falter, but he sensed she wanted the truth.

“One thing at a time, right? Let’s get out of here and get help. Reed’s in town. Then we’ll talk. There are a lot of things I need to tell you.” He felt strength grow in her and wondered at it.

“Oh, Zane. You haven’t any idea.”

Journey felt Zane’s arm wrap around her shoulders and relaxed into his embrace. His muscles tensed under his coat sleeve, but she couldn’t tell if this was from pain or something else.

She watched Zane carefully, saw his struggle to stand upright and not crash to the floor. She tried to support him, but a night of sleeping bound in the cold had caught up with her. Her legs cramped fiercely.

“Zane—”

She cringed, rubbing her legs with frustration. He tugged her onward and she skidded to her knees, gasping as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Journey! We have to—”

“I’m trying. Give me…a moment.”

They wouldn’t get anywhere at this rate. He’d move faster alone. “Go,” she said, exhaustion sweeping over her. “Go on without me.”

He drew closer and she heard his voice in her ear, soft yet firm, as he stooped on one knee, wavering at her side. “No! We have to stay together.”

He helped her to her feet and again they stumbled on. The distance seemed to grow as he staggered and turned without pattern. Only his determination kept him upright as he tugged her along.

Zane pulled Journey closer as they stepped onto the porch, where the roof lowered above them, sunken near the entrance. He motioned for her to follow behind, and she nodded her understanding, unable to read his eyes anymore. They appeared as two black caverns in his face.

Two turns around the corners and the glow from a lantern shone in the still-darkened woods ahead. Roy must be waiting for them.

“Zane?” Where would they go now?

He muffled a cough and clutched his side. How much farther could he manage? “This way!” he whispered.

She followed. Where was he going? The path narrowed and she glanced back. In the early morning mist she could make out the outline of the cabin where Hank had been staying. Roy, too, most likely.

A crack sounded up ahead. Gunshot? She started, feeling Zane drag her behind a tree.

Then another crack, this one a sound breaking in her ears from much closer. Zane’s arms shook around her and loosened as he slipped to the ground.

Zane whipped around at the sound, dropping to the ground. “Journey!” He grabbed her hand and dragged her down beside him.

He heard her scream, a shrill echo in his pounding head, and swayed to his knees behind the tree. Holding her down with a hand at her head, he peered into the dim array of trees, searching for Roy’s location. The growing light sliced through his head. He turned back, a finger to his lips to tell Journey to be quiet.

“I know you’re out there, and I know you’re listening.” His mouth dried up, making it hard to swallow. “This has to end here, Roy. Hank’s dead.” The roaring in his head distorted all other sounds. “Turn yourself in and help Journey clear her name. Hank would’ve wanted that, and things’ll go easier with you if you talk to the judge.”

Journey struggled to her knees in spite of his warnings. He managed to grasp her waist and hold her tightly, edging around the tree that hid them. He squeezed Journey closer, black dots swarming his vision between them. She squirmed from his grasp, and the sound seemed to explode around them.

He peered out again, hoping for a glimpse of the man, but instead the sound of a gun being cocked met his ears. He froze, keeping his arms up and away from his sides as he turned to face the end of Roy’s gun.

Close. They were so close. But Roy drew back, smashing the pistol at his head again, and Zane’s vision grew black, the sparse light slowly overtaken by gray dots that obliterated all else.

I’m so sorry, Journey,
he thought.
I couldn’t save you, either.

S
everal moments passed before it registered in Journey’s brain that Zane hadn’t followed her. The sun had replaced the blackness overhead, but no movement of shadow behind her could be seen. She dropped back to her knees, scanning the trees for any sign of motion.

Zane. She spotted him now, lying at the tree where she had left him, unmoving. His wide eyes stayed closed, their long, dark lashes brushing his dirt-streaked face. His shirt and free hand showed torn patches, and a scrape along his chin bled readily. She worked her way back to him, darting tree to tree until she collapsed at his side. Another gash caught her attention on the other side of his head, one she hadn’t noticed before.

Exhaustion weighed on her and her eyelids drooped. They needed help. Once she rested, maybe she could—

Her eyelids snapped open. She had to stay alert.
Oh, Zane. Wake up!
She wanted to scream at him, wanted to see those gray eyes. Instead, she rubbed a smudge from his cheek and tried to jostle him awake.

If Zane had come looking for her, maybe he wasn’t alone. He wouldn’t come himself in his condition, would he?

“Help.” The word came out soft and weak and raspy from her dry throat. She drew in fresh air for long moments and tried again. “Help!”

Trees rustled and footsteps rushed from the surrounding brush. She twisted around to find the source of the noise as it drew closer.

One last scrape of limbs and she shrieked as Roy stepped out into the flat where she and Zane lay sprawled.

Her heart pounded in her ears as he stopped short. His lips drew into a sneer. “I knew you wouldn’t let well enough alone. Stirring things up in this charming little town, too, eh, Maura?”

“Stop it, Roy. You know I haven’t done anything. You know I didn’t kill anyone. It wasn’t me that set that fire. Please, we need to get him help.”

He stepped closer and she trembled. If only Zane would wake up. His chest lifted and breath puffed shallowly, but his face remained lax. She tried shifting her legs to rouse him.
Please, Zane.

Roy stood over her. His hand ripped through her ragged hair and jerked her head, tilting her face to his. He pulled his stump of cheroot from yellow teeth and breathed more smoke into her face. “I know you didn’t set any fire. That’s part of the fun for me, you see. You didn’t kill Hank, but he’s dead now. You didn’t start that fire, but a man was burned to death in it. You’ll never be able to prove—”

“Clemson! Put your hands up and step away.”

Reed? Reed!
Thank You, Lord!

Roy’s hand gripped her even tighter and yanked her up, which sent Zane rolling to the ground with a muffled moan.

Reed stepped into the path. A gun flashed in his hands. She struggled, feeling Roy’s grip loosen with surprise.

He shoved her and she sprawled against Zane. Landing on her side, she saw Roy’s own pistol draw upward in his hand, cocked and ready. She heard the thundering echo at her ear as she tried to reach him in time to thrust him away, saw the puff of smoke drift from the end.

“No!”

Roy smiled and lowered his gun to her face and she felt an instant cold streak settle in her stomach. No time to pray, no words to fill the instant of time that seemed to hang frozen. Roy’s hand continued to drop and he slipped a step, falling over a tree root to land on his back. His eyes closed, but that evil smile held for a moment before easing away with the slump of death that took him. Only then did Journey notice the dark stain of blood growing in the center of his chest.

And then Reed was there, squeezing heat into her arms and lifting her to her feet once again. She hovered as he knelt by Zane, who still hadn’t opened his eyes, and watched him lay an ear to his chest. Her breath caught, unable to draw in or release. Zane had to be all right. Dear Lord, nothing else mattered, so long as Zane lived.

Warmth. A cool hand. Each sensation made itself known slowly in his foggy head.

Sarah waved to him from where she sat by the fireplace. Zane waved back and she smiled. She stood then and drew her rocker closer to the flame, pulling another chair beside her own. She pulled a tiny pistol from Journey’s saddle pack and threw it into the fire. Then she lifted the pack to the chair.

Journey appeared and sat with her. He moved forward to join them….

“Doc, he’s awake.”

A cool hand held him down as he struggled to turn.

“Let him up. He’s likely queasy after that knock to the head.” Doc Ferris’s voice punched through the throbbing walls of his head.

He lost the contents of his stomach and felt the hands guiding him back into bed. His eyelids felt like wagon wheels as he shifted them open.

Journey’s smile greeted him. He thought he managed a smile back and patted the hand that rested over his chest. “We’re all right,” he said.

She must not have understood, because she leaned closer and said, “You rest. We can talk about this all later, when you’re feeling better. You’re going to be fine, Zane. We’re both going to be just fine.”

When Zane roused again, his stomach still felt wobbly, but he did open his eyes without getting sick. Journey sat in a chair at the foot of his bed, asleep with her head tilted against the wall, one arm resting over his foot. She looked like he felt.

“You awake, Zane?” Reed stepped into his line of sight.

He managed a small nod. “Reckon I am.” He paused to think, which seemed a lot more difficult than usual. “’Cause surely something prettier than you will be there to meet me at Heaven’s gates.”

Reed managed a chuckle and sat down. “What do you remember?”

He searched his foggy memory. “We were looking for Journey this morning.” He stopped to draw in a slow, shaky breath. “So what’d you do to me this time?”

“You do an awful lot of talking for a man in your condition,” Reed said. “Do you remember the mine?”

He closed his eyes and tried to think. “You mean Hank’s mine? Wait, he’s dead, isn’t he?” He pushed his brain to recall more. “Roy! Roy Clemson—”

“He’s dead, too. There was nothing I could do.”

Zane nodded his understanding.

“The pieces will fill in later, Doc says. You’ll feel fine in a week or so, be up and around before that.”

“What about Journey?”

She had slipped around to sit next to Reed before he realized she was awake. “It’s all going to work out. I have a lot of things to tell you once you’re feeling up to it.” Her voice was quiet but her smile spoke loudly.

“Reed?” he asked, not taking his gaze away from her almond-brown eyes.

“She’s a free woman. Both her accusers are dead, and I heard enough from Clemson and Hank to clear her name. I expect the fact that she ran will be forgiven by the courts, under the circumstances.”

Zane smiled, his eyelids feeling heavier by the moment until he could no longer keep them pried open. “How are the others?”

“Abby’s feeling better. Doc says she had a mild case, but it was good you brought her in when you did. Sam’s with her now. Jimmy Wilson still has a long row to hoe, but Doc thinks he’ll pull through. We haven’t had a new case in over a day, since you found Abby. Doc thinks we may be through the worst of it.” Journey’s quiet voice soothed his aching head.

“And Miss Rose?”

Silence. He opened his eyes to catch the tail end of a look Journey and Reed exchanged. He struggled to his elbows. “How is she?”

“Not good.” Reed didn’t mince words. “She’s developed pneumonia. She’s weak. Doc Ferris says it’s out of his hands. She’s been asking to see you. She said she wants to talk to you and Journey both.”

“She awake?”

Reed glanced to his aunt’s cot and nodded.

Zane struggled to sit, in spite of Journey’s and Reed’s hands trying to hold him back. “No, let me see her, let her know I’m well.”

He thought he held steady but must have wavered, because Journey’s strong arms drew around to support him. Together with Reed, they helped him move to a chair beside Miss Rose’s cot. He managed the short distance and sat with a heavy thud.

“’Bout time…you got here,” Miss Rose whispered. Her skin tinged with blue and her blankets barely moved as she panted. “You had us scared silly.”

“Sounds like you’ve been doing the same,” he said. Journey settled on one side of him, and Reed on the other, sitting on the end of Miss Rose’s cot.

“Nothing to be afraid of, Zane. You know that better than anybody, I suppose.” She puffed several times before she could speak again and her legs shifted restlessly. “Journey knows that now, too.”

He stared in confusion a moment before understanding flooded him along with surprise. He turned to Journey. “You believe?”

“I heard you with Hank, saying there’s nothing God can’t forgive, even with all he had done.”

“But Hank didn’t believe, Journey. He hardened his heart and wouldn’t accept God’s forgiveness.” Zane ran a thumb over her hand.

Journey placed her other hand over his with a light squeeze. “Reed told me. I’m glad you tried, though. I guessed if Jesus’ death could cover Hank’s sins, that maybe there was a chance for me, too. I prayed, in that mine shaft when I woke up. I prayed, Zane,” she said, her eyes growing damp as the deep joy he’d just now noticed shone from them. “I prayed and God forgave me. I know what you were talking about now. And, oh, I have so much more to learn.”

Miss Rose gasped, her face scrunching with pain as she turned to Zane. “And you’ll be around to teach her. I believed the Lord had something special in mind when He brought you here, Journey. This one’s about as special as they come. You’ve both been given an early Christmas gift.”

She grew paler and her eyes closed. Zane wondered if she’d fallen asleep, but she forced them open again. “I won’t be around…to see how…things progress. But…you can be sure…I’ll be keeping an eye…on you all. So long as the Lord…allows it.”

He leaned forward and stroked her cheek, ready to deny that this was her time. He glanced at the tears pouring down Journey’s face with disbelief, then watched Reed take his aunt’s hand in his own.

“I’ve had a life far better…than I deserved,” she continued. “But I’m ready to see my Lord…in person. And see my Wallace again, my family.”

Her eyes drifted closed and Zane leaned forward even farther, cupping her cheek in his hand. “No, Miss Rose—”

“Yes. You’ve been…like a son to me, Zane,” she said. “But don’t you…ruin this. It’s a time…to have joy.”

She shifted enough to peer up at Reed. “And you…have been…a wonderful…nephew…so strong and bright…true to God’s calling…brave.” She paused again, her eyes drooping. “I love you—both my boys.”

Journey lost control then, weeping openly and loud in the tiny sanctuary that seemed hollow in its emptiness. He gripped Miss Rose’s knotted hands in his own, stroking the fingers.

“And you…missy. Only just met you…but you’re to me…all I fancied…a daughter of…my own…would be…”

Journey choked out a “Thank you” on broken sobs.

“Don’t go…thanking me. You want to say…thanks, you take…care of my boy.” Miss Rose pushed her head back into her pillow, arching slightly as she tried to draw in enough air. “You all…take care of…each other…”

A sudden slump and an easy smile across her face announced her passing. Reed drew his aunt into a final embrace as Journey sobbed, rocking in her seat.

Zane drew Journey close and shed a few tears of his own.