Where Heaven Begins (15 page)

C
lint tethered the horses, glancing over to watch Elizabeth build a fire with what little wood she could find. They were nearly out of the wood they had bundled to bring with them, which was good in a way; it was just too much weight. Now they were headed over a snowy mountain that would yield no wood at all, and he’d heard that beyond White Pass lay a near wasteland on the trek to Lake Bennett in British Columbia. There they hoped to buy a raft that would float them to Dawson. Meantime, they would probably not be able to build a fire for warmth.

He glanced at the snowy pass. Part of him hated the
thought of dragging his poor horses and a spit of a woman through all that. The sight of so many dead horses did nothing to boost his hopes that Queen, Red Lady and Devil would survive the trip, and the thought of wading through drifts that could be deeper than Elizabeth was tall just made him even more unsure.

What a mess he’d gotten himself into! He turned back to finish tethering the horses, then unloaded more supplies. A fool, that’s what he was! This had all started with running down the man who’d grabbed Elizabeth’s handbag back in San Francisco. If he’d known what all that would lead to, he would have let the fool of a woman chase the man down by herself. To think that she could actually be right about God bringing them together irritated him no end.

What business did God have in his life anyway? He’d abandoned all faith a long time ago. God shouldn’t care
what
happened to him! The Man Upstairs should just let him go to hell in a handbasket and tend to people more deserving. And if He
really
cared about Elizabeth Breckenridge, He would have sent someone else to help her out.

Still, naive or not, she sure as heck had courage. And she was one of the strongest, most uncomplaining women he’d ever met. Through this whole trip, she’d not groaned once about being too tired or too hungry or complained that she had to do too much of the work. She cooked every day, helped put up and take down camp, helped tend to the horses, did everything he told her to do.

He set down some supplies and leaned against an outcropping of rocks, lighting a cigarette. For all that poor woman knew, he’d been sent by the Devil to test her faith,
rather than by God. That made more sense. He was just glad they’d had that argument. They were getting a little too friendly as far as he was concerned. The argument had helped end that little problem. And at least she’d had sense enough to shut up about it since then.

He took a long drag on the cigarette, wanting to scream. One minute he was ready to throw Miss Breckenridge over a cliff, the next he was worried she might get hurt or get sick, wondering how he would feel if something really did happen to her. One minute he wondered if she might be right about God bringing them together, the next he thought she was an idiot for thinking that. Most of the time the last thing he wanted was to think about God and faith and all that nonsense, the next minute he really wanted to talk more about it. One minute he wanted to gag her so she’d never again ask about Jen; the next he wanted to tell her everything. One minute he couldn’t wait to get to Dawson to be rid of her; the next he was pondering what it might be like to allow himself to fall in love again.

Love!
How had that word managed to creep into his thoughts? His head literally ached from thinking too much. Besides, what made him think a woman like Elizabeth would settle with somebody like him anyway? He was ten years older, a bounty hunter, a godless man of no faith at all.

He noticed she’d got the fire going. As usual, night had come early. He threw down his cigarette butt and stepped it out, then pulled his rifles from their boots and picked up the remaining gear he’d unpacked, walking back to the tent. He set the gear aside and sat down on a flat rock near the fire.

“The only good place to tether the horses is too far away to watch them overnight from here,” he told Elizabeth. “I’ll have to bed down closer to them later. We can’t move our tent over there because the ground is too wet and marshy, but at least there is a tree there I could tether them to.”

“Fine.”

He set his rifle aside, watching her put coffee grounds into a little burlap bag and drop it into the coffeepot. She filled the pot with a canteen of water. Clint thought how at least water would not be a problem on this trip. It was plentiful everywhere. He’d traveled in places where a man would kill for a drink of water.

He noticed circles under Elizabeth’s eyes. Surely this trip had been a physical challenge for someone so small and inexperienced, let alone the emotional problems he caused her. “You all right?”

She shrugged. “As well as can be expected, I guess. Just sore feet, but they’re better than they were the first few days. How about the horses? Did you check their hooves?”

“I dug out some little stones. The kind of ground we’ve covered has helped keep them filed down, but they will still need trimming when we get to Dawson, if the poor things make it that far. I brought along burlap to tie on their feet for the trip over White Pass to protect them from the snow and ice.”

Elizabeth nodded but said nothing. She quietly proceeded to dig out the trusty black fry pan and filled it with onions and more moose meat. “We’re almost out of potatoes,” she finally spoke up, “and this is the last of the onions. I have some carrots, and enough flour to keep
making biscuits for quite a few days yet. I’ll save what’s left of the potatoes as long as I can. We’ll soon be down to pork and moose, but that, too, will be gone before we reach Dawson. That’s about it, although I do still have a few sweet potatoes and some beans. You may have to do more hunting before we make Dawson.”

“Lord knows there’s plenty of game in this land,” he answered. “We’ve seen bear and moose and deer, rabbits and quail, pheasant, elk. I’m not sure why men should be starving, unless the surge of gold seekers into Dawson has depleted or scared off all the game in that area.”

“Maybe most of the prospectors just don’t know how to shoot straight.”

The remark made him smile. “Maybe.”

She finally looked at him. “You could probably make a living just hunting once you get there,” she suggested. “For game, I mean.”

Their gazes held. “Instead of men?”

She looked back at the pan and turned the onions and moose meat. “You said it. I didn’t.”

Clint reached over to take a piece of cheesecloth and a cleaning rod from his supplies, then he snapped open one of his rifles and ran some of the cloth through the barrel to clean out the residue. “I should have cleaned this sooner,” he commented. “All this dampness isn’t good for for steel, especially mixed with gunpowder.”

He hated the uncomfortable feeling between them. He wanted it over with.

“Did I tell you I made extra money as a gunsmith at one time?”

“No. You’ve never told me much of anything. I wasn’t supposed to ask, remember?”

She was definitely making this hard for him. He wanted to get a conversation going without making it look obvious.

“Well, I did. That was back when I farmed in northern California. Good extra money.” He pulled out the cheesecloth and ran a cleaner piece over the outside of the barrel. “I can take a gun apart right down to the last screw and put it back together again. I can even build a gun from scratch, when I have the right tools. I left all those behind when I—” he hesitated “—left my farm,” he finally finished, adding no further details.

He set the rifle aside, then stood up and removed his revolver. “Might as well clean this one, too. I’m going to check on the horses first.”

He set the six-gun on a log near Elizabeth and started back to the horses. That was when he heard a rifle being cocked.

“Stand right there, Brady,” came a voice out of the darkness.

E
lizabeth stayed put where she sat. Her chest tightened with terror. There before the fire stood Ezra Faine, aiming a rifle at Clint! Another man stood beside Ezra with a pistol! She recognized him from Ezra’s party, but did not know his name.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Clint asked Ezra.

“We lost most of our supplies in the Skagway River when two of our men fell in,” Ezra answered. “Now, the way I see it, you have quite a bit of goods left, plus those three horses and a woman to boot. We intend to take them the rest of the way with us.”

The second man hurried around and grabbed Clint’s open rifle and tossed it into the darkness. Noticing that both men kept their eyes only on Clint, Elizabeth carefully
reached over and grasped Clint’s six-gun, pulling it under the blanket she’d wrapped around her shoulders because of the chill.

Clint, who did not seem the least bit worried that there was a rifle pointed at him, looked both men over. “Last I knew, stealing another man’s property and horses was a hanging offense among miners.”

Ezra grinned. “Could be. But we aren’t in a mining town right now, and there isn’t any law here in this valley. It’s every man for himself. Besides, you owe me for that sucker punch back in Skagway, and for moving in on the pretty lady there.”

The second man chuckled. “You don’t really think we believe she’s your wife, do you?”

“Believe what you want,” Clint answered. “And if you’re going to take what’s mine, you’d better kill me, because you don’t want me behind you, Faine.”

“Clint!” Elizabeth rose and ran over beside him, keeping the blanket around her.

“You’d best stay away, little woman,” Ezra warned her. He kept his eyes on Clint. “A couple more of my men are over there untying your horses even as we speak. And the only reason I haven’t shot you yet is because I wanted you to know first who is doing this. I don’t take kindly to being insulted and embarrassed in front of my friends.”

“I call them as I see them,” Clint answered.

All the while they talked, Elizabeth moved closer to Clint, until finally she was close enough to move her arm into his as a show of support. “Please don’t do this!” she begged Ezra. “What kind of a man are you?”

“He’s not what he pretends to be, that’s for sure,” Clint replied before Ezra could speak. “I had you figured all along, Faine. For all your pretense of being a fancy lawyer, you’re no better than an outlaw.”

Faine grinned. “Like you said, you call them as you see them.”

Her blanket hiding Clint’s six-gun, Elizabeth carefully slipped it into Clint’s hand.

“You’d better move aside, ma’am,” Ezra told her, stepping back slightly. “I wouldn’t want this man’s blood to splatter on you.”

“Do like he says, Liz,” Clint told her.

Had she done the right thing? If someone died here tonight, would it be her fault?
God help us,
she prayed inwardly, terrified for Clint.

“Get the woman out of the way,” Ezra told the man beside him.

In one split second everything changed. Elizabeth saw fire spit from Clint’s handgun…saw Ezra fly backward…saw fire coming from the second man’s gun. Clint stumbled slightly. Elizabeth screamed his name, and then came another shot from Clint’s gun…the second man went down. Clint shoved his six-gun into Elizabeth’s hands. “Stay here!” He picked up Ezra’s rifle and ran off into the darkness.

Elizabeth stood there shaking. She was almost sure Clint had been hit. Her breath came in quick gasps and tears filled her eyes as she stared at Ezra and the second man. Both lay near the fire, blood on their chests. They looked dead.

“Dear God,” she groaned. “Please forgive me! I couldn’t let them shoot Clint without giving him a chance!”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she looked down at the gun in her shaking hands. She could smell the smoke that still wafted from its barrel. She looked out into the darkness. “Clint,” she whispered. He’d surely gone after those who were trying to steal his horses. She jumped when she heard another, louder shot. It had to be Clint shooting Ezra’s rifle. She could only hope that’s what it was, rather than someone shooting at Clint.

What was wrong with these men? She thought about the fist fight she’d seen on the way to camp. Why did men have to be like this? Why had her own innocent father been murdered for the few lousy dollars he’d had in his vest pocket. He’d never harmed a soul in his life. Greed. Lust. Such sinful things led to fights and murder. And how could she blame Clint for defending himself? Surely part of it had been for her sake. These men would have taken her with them if he hadn’t stopped them.

Tears stung her eyes as she waited in fear of what might have happened to Clint. Should she run after him, or should she wait here? What if he was dead? Should she use the gun in her hand if men came for her? No! She could never do that! When soldiers came for Jesus in Gethsemane, He did not resist. Still, that was because He knew His calling. He was born to sacrifice Himself for man, and to fulfill the prophecies for the Savior. Surely He understood that sometimes a person must defend himself against evil.

“Clint!” she shouted. “Clint, where are you?”

Finally she heard some kind of commotion in the distance to her left. She and Clint had not even been aware that Ezra and his bunch were camped in the same valley.
They must have been too far away to notice, but if that was the case, how had they known she and Clint were there? Ezra must have had men scouting around for things they could steal when they’d noticed her and Clint.

A tear slipped down her cheek. Where was he? It suddenly struck her that she would feel a loss much deeper than she had thought she would if something had happened to him…much deeper because she was in love with Clint Brady, and there was no denying it any longer. It might be too late to matter.

“Clint!” she screamed again, clinging to the six-gun. How much time had passed? Five minutes? Ten? Two men still lay dead nearby. What was she supposed to do about them? She’d never seen violent death up close like this. But Clint had, and they lay dead from Clint’s gun. How could she possibly love a man like that? But she did.

Finally, she heard him yell somewhere off to her left. “It’s all right, Liz. I’m coming.”

His words were like God Himself reassuring her. He’d become her friend, her protector. Surely if God meant this to be something more, He would help her find a way to bring Clint to peace with himself. This recent incident certainly wouldn’t help. He’d just killed two men and probably didn’t think a thing of it. But what else could he have done? Such a killing, in self defense, wouldn’t be so bad, if not for the fact that Clint Brady sometimes deliberately hunted men down to kill them. That was different. That was what he had to deal with emotionally. That was the Clint she could not love.

Suddenly there he was, walking toward her. She
dropped the gun and her blanket and ran to him. He scooped her up in his arms, and she embraced him around the neck. He held her close.

“Clint, are you all right?”

“I’m fine. That second fella just nicked the outside of my left arm, but it’s nothing. It’s already stopped bleeding.” He breathed a deep sigh as though greatly relieved himself. “I could hardly believe it when you put that gun in my hand. You’re something, Liz Breckenridge.”

She could not let go of him. “I thought Ezra was going to shoot you right in front of me! And then when I heard those gunshots out in the darkness—”

“I caught two more of his men trying to take the horses. They shot at me. I shot back.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes. “Did you—”

“What else was I supposed to do? It was them or us, Liz. Sometimes that’s just the way it is. What about you? Are you all right?”

She broke into tears. “Just a nervous wreck,” she sniffed. She still clung to him. “I love you, Clint Brady. I’m sorry if that makes you mad, but I love you.”

His tight grip loosened just a little. He kissed her hair. “Why would that make me mad?”

“Because
everything
makes you mad,” she sobbed.

He lowered her, putting a hand to the side of her face and wiping at her tears with his thumb. “That’s my fault…no one else’s.”

Their gazes held, and in the next moment his lips covered hers. In spite of his beard scratching her chin a little, the kiss was the warmest, softest, sweetest moment
she’d ever experienced in her young life. The kiss grew deeper, almost like a branding of her soul, as he pressed her close again.

He left her lips, kissing her hair, keeping her close. “I love you, too.” He held her a moment longer while she let the words sink in.

Clint grasped her arms and pushed her away then. “Men are coming over here to help bury these bodies,” he said, as though suddenly needing to change the subject. “When I told others camped over there what happened, several men threatened to hang those left if they didn’t start heading back to Skagway. I’m sure that’s what they’ll do come morning. We don’t have to worry about this bunch anymore.”

Elizabeth hardly heard a word. Clint Brady loved her. Her mind and heart were such a whirl of confusion she could barely breathe.