Chapter 24

Suddenly, the Appaloosa stepped in a hole and staggered sideways. Sam yelped and nearly lost her balance. Rebecca felt the girl sliding, tightened her right arm around Jamie, twisted, and seized the five-year-old by her smock. Frantically, the child scrambled up and clung to Rebecca with a death grip.

More shots sounded behind them. Mane and tail flying, streaming sweat, Chinook charged up a rocky incline. His hooves dislodged rocks and gravel and sent them spraying as he gained the crest of the ridge and half slid, half cantered down the far side.

Rebecca held Jamie so tightly that she was afraid she'd crush him as they splashed through a narrow stream and up the far bank. She could feel Sam's small fingers biting into her sides, but the girl didn't make a sound.

Abruptly Chinook came to a sliding halt, raised his head, and whinnied. An answering nicker came from the left. The stallion turned, picking his feet high as he maneuvered through a rock-fall. Once the ground became relatively level, the animal began to trot.

Rebecca had lost all sense of direction. She and Shaw hadn't come this way, so she prayed that Shaw was right, that Chinook would know instinctively which way to go. And now that she heard a horse ahead, she hoped it belonged to Shaw and not to one of Yoder's people.

Chinook stopped again, snorted, and pushed through a thick stretch of bushes to come nose to nose with one of the pack mules. The long-eared animal brayed loudly, laid his ears back, and glared menacingly at the Appaloosa.

"Utt-oh!" Sam gasped, let go of Rebecca, and slid off the far side. "Mean mule."

Rebecca followed, taking Jamie with her. Keeping the stallion between her and the bad-tempered mule that was now baring his teeth and turning his hindquarters toward them, Rebecca stood Jamie on a rock out of harm's way.

"Are you all right?" she asked Sam.

Sam's face puckered up. "Don't like mules." Her eyes were wide and glassy, her face so pale that her freckles stood out like paint spots. "Mule bit me one time when I was little."

"I won't let this mule bite you," Rebecca reassured her. "But those bad men are right behind us. We have to keep going." She didn't voice her fear for Shaw's life or the worry that he might have been captured. Instead, she untied the gentlest of the horses and led it close to the rock where Jamie was standing. "My horse can't carry three of us," she explained to the children. "I'm going to put the two of you on Brandy."

"Jamie will fall off," Sam said. "He don't know how to ride."

"No, he won't fall off," Rebecca said. Her heart was slamming against her ribs, and she was so frightened that her knees felt weak and she could hardly get enough air in her lungs. "When I was little, my Uncle Quinn taught me to ride this way," she said. "Don't be afraid. We have to ride very fast, but Brandy will follow the other horses."

She put Jamie on the saddle, then lifted Sam up behind him on the mare. Brandy looked back as if to ask what on earth Rebecca was doing, but stood quietly. Next, Rebecca ran a length of rawhide pigging string around the children's waists, tying them together. Then she took a second cord, looped it over Sam's right ankle, ran the rawhide under the horse's belly, and fastened it to the girl's left foot.

"There, you're safe as can be," Rebecca said. Please God, she prayed silently. Don't let the horse fall. "Can you two be very brave?"

"I s'pose," Sam said. Jamie's bottom lip quivered.

Roping the other animals together, Rebecca remounted Chinook and set off to the north as Shaw had instructed. For a minute or two, Rebecca was too frightened to look back, but when she did, she saw that Brandy had fallen into line a few paces behind the last mule. Both kids were sitting straight, and Jamie was holding on to Brandy's mane and grinning. Rebecca couldn't see Sam's expression because Jamie's hat was in the way, but the girl was in the saddle, and that was all that really mattered.

They rode at a hard trot for one hour and then another. Still, Shaw didn't come. Rebecca knew she had to keep the children safe. She had weapons, the tent, and supplies. Shaw had told her exactly what to do. But he hadn't told her how hard it would be to turn her back on him, to keep riding, not knowing if he was hurt—if he was even alive.

He hadn't told her how to ride in one direction when her life, her soul, her world lay in another.

* * *

The sun was high overhead when Rebecca came upon a muddy stream and decided that she had to stop and let Jamie and Sam rest. She gave them clean water from a canteen and found dried venison and some of Shaw's camp bread in a saddlebag.

Even the sight of such an ordinary thing as the crumbly chunks of journey cake was enough to destroy Rebecca's composure and make her blink back tears. If she closed her eyes, she could see Shaw sitting across the campfire from her as he scraped the scorched flatbread off a rock. He'd accidentally dropped the first piece into the ashes, and she'd teased him about it. The tussle that had resulted had ended with her wrapped in his arms. They'd sat up late that night, watching the stars. They'd talked very little—hadn't needed to. Just being with Shaw had made her feel safe and filled with a buoyant jubilation that everything would turn out all right.

But it hadn't. Now, Shaw was gone, and she was terrified that she would never see him again.

Jamie's fussing that the bread was burned drew Rebecca back from her memories. Both children were so weary that they could barely manage a few bites, but she insisted. "I know it's yucky," she said. "But if you don't eat, you'll get too weak to ride." Telling them to rest, she left them in the shade of a boulder and set about watering the animals.

By the time Rebecca finished caring for the stock, the children were sound asleep. She hadn't taken time to drink herself, and she was shaking from head to foot. Whether the trembling was from exhaustion or simply the aftermath of their near disaster, Rebecca didn't know. Taking her own advice, she forced herself to sip swallows of the warm liquid and to eat a portion of the smoked meat and a few crumbs of journey cake.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" Rebecca agonized. She was hell and gone from Missouri, responsible for two helpless children, and had only the faintest notion of how to get them all back home. If she'd lost Shaw...

Numb with worry, unable to sit still, Rebecca took a rifle and climbed a rise to look back the way she had come. Far in the distance, she saw a grazing animal that might have been a deer. Other than that, the rolling landscape was brown and as empty of life as the first day of God's creation. Above her arched a great blue bowl of sky, cloudless and almost transparent.

Apprehension crawled along her spine, making her want to scream, to shout, and to pound something. But she was done with tears. She could not allow herself the luxury of weeping. "Oh, Shaw," she raged. "Where the hell are you?"

After a while, Rebecca got the sleepy children up and put them back on the mare. They rode north again, putting miles between them and the Beachy brothers. Using a compass she'd dug from Shaw's pack, she plotted a course and held to it. Doggedly, she kept going until dusk, then made a dry camp in a small grove of trees. Here, she built a fire and sat beside it with a rifle across her lap, long after the children fell asleep.

She had just gotten to her feet, intending on circling the area one last time before trying to rest, when she heard a twig snap. She spun around, weapon raised. "Who's there?" she cried with more bravado than she felt. "I've got a gun."

"Don't shoot!" came the answer. "I surrender!" Shaw appeared at the edge of her campsite, a boyish grin on his face, slouch hat pulled low on his forehead.

"Shaw!" It took no more than a heartbeat to lean her weapon safely against a rock. She screamed with joy and flung herself at him. She locked her arms around his neck and kissed him as though she would never let go.

He embraced her heartily, returning her kisses and lifting her free from the ground to spin her in a circle. "Found you," he said huskily. "You thought you could get away from me, but I found you. I saw your fire."

Safe in his arms, she began to tremble, then to shake, and finally to weep. She cried and cried and could not stop. He tried to tease her out of it, but finally, just held her so close that she could feel the beating of his heart. "You're not dead," she sobbed. "Not... not dead. I... I... was... was afraid that..."

"Shhh, shhh," he soothed, cradling her against him, kissing her mouth and her tear-streaked face. "It's all right, Becca. It's all right. I'm here, and I'll never leave you again."

"And I won't be parted from you," she vowed. "Not for anyone or anything."

Shaw looked deep into her eyes. "I'm going to do what I should have done all along," he said. "I'm going to face your father, tell him that we're married and that we intend to make a life together. I don't want to tear you from your people, but if they can't accept us then it's their choice."

She nodded. "Whatever comes, we'll meet it together."

* * *

It was early afternoon on the fifth of October when the four of them reached the bank of the Little Smoke and rang the bell for the ferry.

Rebecca watched anxiously as Noah pulled the raft across the river. She wanted to see her brothers, her father and grandmother, Uncle Quinn, but she knew the homecoming would be anything but peaceful.

"Becca!" Noah shouted across the water when he was close enough to recognize her. "Hey, Becca!" His handsome face split in a grin as he waved frantically.

"At least someone's glad to see me," Rebecca said.

Shaw chuckled and put his arm around her. "Reckon this is the lull before the storm?"

"All hell will break loose when I tell them," she replied.

"When we tell them."

She nodded. "But don't be surprised if you end up in front of a preacher. I warned you, Poppa doesn't believe in civil marriages."

"Whatever it takes, darlin'."

Noah was so excited that he could barely keep from bursting out of his skin as they loaded children, horses, and mules onto the ferry. "Eve. Eve, here," Noah managed. "Eve! Eve and Becca!"

"Eve's here?" Rebecca demanded.

Her brother nodded. "Eve here." His glee became puzzlement as he struggled to find the words. And then his blue eyes lit with resolve. "Eve bringed a dog. Noah's dog."

"Eve brought you a dog?"

He nodded again. "Noah's dog."

"What about Grandma? Is Grandma here? And Poppa?"

"Here!" He laughed.

When Rebecca saw several women step out the kitchen door, she shouted to them and waved. And as soon as the raft touched the dock, Rebecca grabbed both kids by the hands. "I don't see Poppa," she said. "Just give me a moment."

"All right," Shaw agreed. "I'll be with you as soon as I unload the horses."

Rebecca hurried toward the house with the children. "Grandma! Eve! We've got him! We've got Jamie!"

Eve shrieked and ran toward them calling her son's name. Behind her, Pilar and Grandma stood close together, waving and calling Rebecca's name. Dagmar Hedger came out on the porch steps with small Annika in her arms. Just behind her came three dogs, with Jess in the lead.

Jamie tried to hide behind Rebecca.

"It's all right," Rebecca urged gently. "That's your mama. Go to her." Rebecca put a reassuring arm around Sam as Jamie took several hesitant steps toward his mother.

Eve was crying and laughing at the same time as she snatched the boy up and hugged him tightly.

"That's Eve," Sam said. "I guess you wasn't lying to me."

"No, sweetie," Rebecca answered, "I wasn't lying. And I'm not lying about your mother either."

"Is Betty here?" Sam asked. Intense blue eyes went wide with hope.

"No, she's not here," Rebecca reminded. "We think she's in Saint Louis. But we'll take you to her soon."

"And Jamie," Sam said firmly. "Jamie and me. I take care of him, because he's little."

Rebecca started to explain that Jamie would be staying here with his mother, but she thought the better of it. That unwelcome news could come later.

"Becca!" her grandmother called. "Are you going to stand there, or are you going to come and give an old lady a proper greeting?"

"Come on, Sam," Rebecca said. "That's my grandmother. You'll like her. The other two women are friends, Pilar and Mrs. Hedger. No one will hurt you here. I promise."

"Can I pet the dogs?" Sam asked. "I like dogs better'n people."

"Go ahead," Rebecca. "They won't bite you."

"Come'ere, dog," the child called. "Come'ere." Eagerly, she ran to meet the hounds. Within seconds, she was sitting on the ground laughing as Jess licked her face.

* * *

Rebecca had hugged Eve for the second time and was trying to break the news to Grandma of her marriage to Shaw when her father came out of the house carrying a long rifle. "Poppa," Rebecca cried. "Poppa, I'm home, and I've got Eve's Jamie!"

He stared past her as if she didn't even exist. "What are you doing here, Shaw MacCade?" He raised the gun to his shoulder and pointed it at Shaw.

Confused, Rebecca glanced over her shoulder to see Shaw striding toward her. "Poppa, it's not what you think. Shaw and I are—"

"Quiet, Becca," her father answered harshly. "This is between him and me."

Rebecca tried to go to Shaw's side, but Eve and her grandmother hung on tightly to her arms. "No," she said, struggling to pull free. "Let me—"

"No, don't," Shaw said. "It's all right, Bee. Your father's right. We need to settle this between us." He looked directly at Campbell. "Becca and I are married," he said.

"Step away from my girls," her father ordered. "Drummond! Corbett!"

Corbett came around the corner of the house from the garden. He had his new five-shot Colt revolver aimed at the center of Shaw's chest. Rebecca gasped as she saw Drum, armed with the big scattergun, come running from another direction.

"Didn't you hear what Shaw said, Poppa?" Rebecca cried. "He's my husband. Shaw and I are legally married!" She broke loose and tried to run to Shaw, but Uncle Quinn was suddenly there, blocking her way.

His scarred hand clamped like a vise around her wrist. "Quiet, girl," he said. "You heard your pop."

"Listen to me!" Rebecca shouted as Pilar and Dagmar hustled the two children into the house. "Please!" Rebecca looked at her grandmother. "Tell Poppa that we're married! Don't let him—"

"First Eve, now Becca," Campbell said harshly. "I should put a bullet through your head, you MacCade son of a bitch."

"Poppa, I told you that Jamie's Laird's boy," Eve said. "Grandma, make him listen."

"No need to try and defend Shaw, Eve," their father said. "I forgive you for what you've done. I was wrong to hold it against you so long. The Bible says we must forgive if we expect the Lord to forgive us."

"The Good Book also says an 'eye for an eye,'" Uncle Quinn said.

"I must have failed as a father, that both of my girls would stray," her father continued. "But it ends here. I'll not have that fine manchild in there labeled a bastard. You got Eve with child, and you'll marry her. Give the boy a name."

Eve began to weep. "This is madness," she wailed.

"Like hell, I will," Shaw answered. He stood motionless, black eyes snapping with fury, his face a rigid mask of anger. "I didn't father Eve's child. My brother Laird did. And I'm already married to Becca."

"That true, Becca?" Uncle Quinn asked her.

"Yes, yes, it's true. We were married in Miles City."

"In what church?"

"We were wed by a judge," Shaw grated. "Judge—"

"At the hotel," Rebecca said. "The judge came—"

"Where's your marriage lines?" Uncle Quinn demanded.

Tears of frustration spilled down Rebecca's cheeks. "Please, listen," she begged. "We are married."

"I asked you for your marriage certificate," her uncle reminded her.

"We don't have it, but we'll get it," Rebecca replied. She began to tremble, suddenly afraid of him... afraid of what he and her father would do to Shaw. "Have I ever lied to you? Poppa? Am I a liar?" She tried to yank away, but Quinn's grip was an iron band. "You've got to believe me!"

"A marriage by a judge is no marriage at all," her father said. "So it don't matter if you're telling the truth or not. Shaw MacCade's first duty is to your sister and the son he got on her."

"Jamie isn't his!" Eve screamed. "He's Laird's."

Drummond walked closer to Shaw and rammed the barrel of his scattergun into Shaw's ribs. "Say the word, Poppa. I'll pull this trigger, and he'll pay for ruinin' my sisters." He lowered the gun a few inches and shoved it hard against Shaw's belly. "Not so tough now, are you MacCade?"

Shaw stared him straight in the eye. "Easy, son. Don't be pushed into something you'll regret for the rest of your life."

Welsh came running from the barn and tackled Shaw from the back. Shaw went sprawling facedown, twisted, and started to spring up. But Drum slammed the barrel of his gun against Shaw's head. Shaw collapsed and fell back, eyes closed, arms outstretched.

Rebecca drew in a shuddering breath.

"Looks like we're having a wedding," Uncle Quinn said. "And after that, we just might have ourselves a hanging. Get the horses, boys. Corbett, you fetch the preacher to the church."

He released Rebecca, and she went to Shaw and cradled his head in her lap. "He's bleeding," she said. "Noah! Eve! Fetch me some water and clean rags."

"Leave him be," her father said, coming to stand over them. "He'll be Eve's worry now. And it will take more than a knock on the head to slow a devil MacCade."

She looked up at him. "Why won't you listen? Jamie's Laird's child, not Shaw's. What you're trying to force him to do is bigamy!"

"A marriage before God is what counts," her father replied. "And a Missouri court will see it that way."

"It's easy to blame a dead man for sinning," Uncle Quinn said. "I'm just sorry you and your sister see fit to try and protect Shaw."

Hot tears burned Rebecca's eyes. "I'll never forgive either of you for this. Never."

Her father's expression softened from anger to sorrow. "You'll thank me, girl. In time. It's Eve you should be weeping for, not him. But he's that boy's father, and I'll see him do right by Jamie."

Noah came to her side with a bucket of water.

Her father turned and walked away. "Corbett! Help your brothers with the horses. Harness a team to the wagon. And bring me some rope to tie MacCade's hands."

Trembling, Rebecca rose to her feet. "Come inside, Noah," she said. "There's no need for you to see this."

He followed her through the kitchen and into the parlor.

"Noah," Rebecca murmured quietly. "I need you to do something for me. Something brave."

He grinned and straightened his shoulders.

She put a finger to her lips. "Shhh. It's a secret. You can't tell anybody." Quickly she went to her father's oak desk and opened the drawer where he kept paper, pen, and ink. "Will you do it for me, Noah?"

He stared at her. "Uh-huh."

"I want you to wait until we leave for the church. Then I want you to saddle Echo and ride to the MacCades. Can you do that?"

Noah's blue eyes blinked twice. "Uh-huh."

"Ride fast," she said. "And don't stop until you put this into Mrs. MacCade's hand."

"Yep," Noah agreed.

Hastily, she scribbled a brief message to Shaw's mother.

Mrs. MacCade,

My father and uncle are taking Shaw to Jarrell's church to force him into a shotgun marriage with my sister. After the wedding, Uncle Quinn is threatening to hang him. Please!

You must do something.

Rebecca Raeburn

Thunder rumbled ominously as a late-season thunderstorm bore down on the churchyard. The wind picked up and the first drops of cold rain were beginning to spatter the ground when Drum caught sight of the minister's carriage. Corbett was right behind him on horseback, slicker held over his head to protect himself from the coming downpour. "Reverend's coming!" Drum shouted from his vantage point on the wagon bed.

Shaw tried to sit up. His hat was gone, his face swollen and bruised, and thin lines of blood trickled down his neck to stain his damp shirt. Shaw's wrists and ankles were tightly bound, and Welsh stood guard over him.

"Time to tie the knot," Drum said. "Too bad you won't last long enough to enjoy the wedding night."

Welsh snickered. "He's already done that."

"Shut your filthy mouths!" Rebecca said. "What's wrong with the lot of you, that you can't see what a mistake Poppa and Uncle Quinn are making?" She paid no more heed to the coming storm than the others did. "If you go through with this, it's murder. You'll all go to prison or worse."

"No sense in trying to talk to them, honey," Shaw said. "They're doing to me what they did to Laird. And for the same reason."

"There you go again," Drum said. "I didn't kill your damned brother. Maybe I should have, but I didn't. And neither did Welsh."

"Maybe not, but I'll bet you know who did," Shaw answered.

The thunder was much louder, and the rain pelted them with large, stinging drops. Rebecca reached out to touch Shaw's arm, but Welsh shook his head. "You know what Poppa said. Keep your hands off him or get inside with the other women. I'd think you'd have more pride in you to take Eve's leavings."

Drum nodded. "You better get in the church. You're going to drown out here."

"To hell with the weather!" she cried. "Do you think Reverend Jarrell will go along with this? He—"

"He won't be able to stop us." Drum scowled. "We put up with enough from the MacCades, Sis. They tried to send Poppa to jail for murder, and they tried to burn us out. Poppa and Uncle Quinn aren't going to stand by and see both you girls shamed and do nothing about it. This is mountain justice."

"This isn't justice," she shouted above the rain. "It's the Raeburn curse. And what you do here today, you'll live to regret." Rebecca jumped down off the wagon and ran across the muddy yard to John Jarrell's carriage. "Reverend," she cried. "You can't be a part of this. Shaw and I are already married. We—"

Lightning illuminated the sky.

"Rebecca... I..." The minister's expression was grim.

"Don't let them. Refuse to perform the ceremony. You can't marry my sister to Shaw. We're already wed."

"I didn't want to come," Jarrell said. "But your brother wouldn't listen to reason. He told me that if I don't marry Shaw and Eve, they'll resort to violence."

"Have it your way, then, Becca," Uncle Quinn said as he stepped out of the church door into the storm. "If MacCade is dead set against giving his son a proper name, we'll skip the wedding and go right to the hanging."