A Man With a Pure Heart Page 11

  As the truck headed east, Samuel silently berated himself. He should have come back the same night he’d given Iris over to Edward’s capable hands. He should have at least returned the very next day. As his anger with himself grew, he remembered Hansu.

  After the death of his mother, Samuel had been angry with the whole world. At least once a day he would experience a need to break something, a need to feel he had control over something, even if it was only the choice of what to break.

  Hansu had seen the boy’s tightly held pain. The wise old Chinese man had already begun training the boy in the martial arts, so he had stepped up the pace. When Samuel would lose his temper, the old man would push the boy until the anger drained. He would make the boy run, sometimes for miles, taunting him the whole time. Samuel could hear him: “What matter, boy, you no can keep up with old man? You not as fast as you think you be?”

  Some days there would be piles of broken boards littering the clearing behind the cabin. Eventually, Samuel learned to channel his anger into pure energy. Those would be the days that he outworked most of the men at his father’s sawmill. As he grew, physically and emotionally, there was less and less anger, and Samuel settled into the quiet, seemingly passive young man he presented to the world.

  Samuel laughed inwardly as he drove. If the old man were here now, he would say, “Sammy, you need cool head; you need slow down and think.”

  Samuel turned to Sergeant Wilkes. “Howard, who has the best bloodhound in the county?”

  “I was just thinking about that,” Wilkes replied. “I’d have to say my cousin Lester. His ol’ Albert has been known to track for three days. Lester lives on the east side of the county, near Mallard Farm. I could drop you at your place, take the truck and run over to pick up Albert, and be back to you in an hour.”

  “Good. That’ll give me time to saddle up Zeus, grab us some food, and meet you back out at the main road.”

  ****

  Nash was westbound again. As he took a long draw on the whiskey bottle, he thought of the several boxes of ammo tucked in his saddlebags. It would make no difference now if they were found to be stolen. He would be long gone by daylight. He was deep in his plans when a scream rent the night air. His horse reared, and he was nearly thrown. While the scream still echoed in his head, there was an explosion of light followed by flames.

  Even as his mind told him it was not his shilombish, he saw the fence around the lone cottage ahead of him was on fire. He moved forward cautiously, leading the horses to the north side of the lane. As he neared the fence, what stood out behind the flames caused his heart to jump in his chest. He swiped a large hand over his face, and blinked in disbelief. A woman stood framed between the fire and the light from the cottage. Nash could see that she was tall. And that her red hair seemed to dance in the light of the fire.

  Kathleen stood frozen as the oil from her shattered lantern took flight in flame and spread along the old, dry fence. She needed to do something. She had to make sure the fire did not reach the cottage. Water! Her brain finally broke through her shock from the spider. Water!

  Kathleen turned to run into the cottage for a bucket of water, but froze in mid-turn. Her eyes had found Nash in the darkness. She had seen the flyer. Standing in the dancing light of the burning fence, he was even larger than she would have imagined. And more frightening. She took two steps backward. Her mind was locked. She could not make it past him to get inside. Inside, where her pistol lay atop the dresser.

  She took another two steps backward. Neither of them spoke, and the only sound was the crackling of the blaze as it devoured the fence. So she was even more startled when he shouted, “No! Don’t move!”

  He started running toward her, and at the same moment, she felt the heat. She had backed into the flames and set her skirt on fire.

  When he grabbed her, she fought like a wild animal, one who sensed death was near.

  Nash struggled with the woman, trying to get his hands on her smoldering skirt. He finally did what needed to be done. A right clip to her jaw and she crumpled to the ground. He rolled her over a couple of times, then ripped away the smoking outer skirt from her body and threw it aside.

  Nash now stood over the unconscious woman. Lying there, with her white blouse and white petticoat, she looked like a white dove…the dove that the Great One had turned into a wife for the lone survivor of the great flood. In Nash’s whiskey-fogged mind, she was a gift. This was the woman who would give him strong sons. Nash finally noticed the fire was spreading down the fence and into the yard. He lifted the woman from the ground as if she were a child. He cradled her close to his chest as he carried her to the horses.

  ****

  Samuel was entering the circular drive in front of the manor when the vision danced before his eyes. He slammed on the brakes, throwing the deputies in the back to the floor of the truck bed. He had jumped from the truck and was reaching for the rifle behind the seat, by the time Sergeant Wilkes could draw breath.

  Wilkes had just opened his mouth when Samuel shouted, “I can’t wait on the dog. I’m grabbing my horse. You go get the dog and start at the schoolteacher’s cottage. I’ll try to leave you a trail.”

  Samuel could hear the truck speeding off as he raced toward the barn. As he passed the kitchen, a light came on. He did not have time to explain, so he kept running.

  As he tightened the cinch, Garth spoke from the barn door.

  “Son, are you leaving again?”

  Garth held the lantern high, and when Samuel turned, his face reflected the fear he was trying to hold at bay.

  “What is it, son? What’s happened? Are you hurt?”

  “Pa, he has Kathleen. Can you saddle the roan while I grab a canteen of water?”

  “Who, son, who… Oh, dear Lord, not your killer?” Even as he asked, Garth was grabbing the saddle and heading for the corral.

  Samuel was already halfway to the house, and by the time he got back, Garth had the roan saddled, with a lead rope secured to the pommel.

  Samuel grabbed the rope from Garth’s hands and then paused to face him. “Pa, I need you to pray. Pray that Kathleen is alive. Then pray for me, Pa, ’cause I intend to kill the man, in either case.”

  Garth’s heart filled with pain as he said, “Son, you bring that girl home, and you do what you need to do to make this right.”

  Samuel nodded, hung the canteen from his saddle, shoved into his saddlebag a towel full of biscuits he’d grabbed from the pantry, mounted Zeus, and rode off into the darkness.

  ****

  Kathleen was dreaming. She dreamed she was lying face down in a boat that swayed gently, from side to side. In her dream she knew she needed to wake up, but she couldn’t quite open her eyes. Her mind kept saying something about water. She needed to get water. But the boat was in water, so why did she need more? She became agitated with herself. She needed to get water. Suddenly there was a soothing voice in her ear. Samuel is coming. Stay calm, and all will be well.

  Kathleen opened her eyes to darkness. Darkness and pain. The left side of her head throbbed, and her arms were extended and tied around a horse’s neck. She half lay atop a horse. One moment she was confused and uncertain, and in the next she was about to scream in terror, as realization of her circumstances wiped the fog from her brain. Before she could scream, the voice whispered again.

  Sshh, no screaming. Stay calm.

  Kathleen froze. That voice was familiar, maybe from a dream? But this was no dream; this was a nightmare. Where was Samuel? How did this man find her, and where was he taking her?

  She tried to sit up in the saddle, and her movement caught his attention. The horses stopped, and the man turned in his saddle to look at her. When she saw the look on his face, she realized the night around her was not as dark as she first imagined. In fact, the pre-dawn gray told her they must have been riding for at least three or four hours. The longer he looked at her, the faster her heart raced. She opened her mouth to yell at him, but the Ssh in he
r ear stopped her. She sat as straight as she could, considering the way her arms were tied around the horse’s neck. After a few moments of them exchanging stares, the man directed his horse to her side.

  It was all Kathleen could do to hold in a scream, as he reached out and untied the rope holding her arms around the horse. After another long look, he grunted, nodding as if he approved of her silence.

  He wound the rope around both wrists, then around the pommel. He stared at Kathleen for several moments and then started forward again, still holding the tether between the two horses.

  Kathleen’s head throbbed. She was grateful he had untied her arms, as her right arm seemed stiff in the elbow joint. She would have loved to rub some circulation back into her arms, but that was not to be.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Samuel made it to the cottage just before daylight. The burned fence made a neat line of ash alongside the road. It appeared that a south wind had edged the flames back on themselves and kept them away from the cottage. His heart tightened in his chest at the sight of Kathleen’s partially burned skirt lying on the ground.

  A quick look inside revealed her pistol lying on the dresser. Sometime in the future they would discuss the importance of her listening to him, but right now all he could think of was the fear she must be feeling. Oh, she was still alive. His heart would have told him if she were not.

  Samuel grabbed a blanket from the bed. He rolled it up and shoved it into the saddlebag the roan was carrying, then climbed back on his horse and paused to think. Obviously, the man was headed west. He was no fool and would be staying off the roads. He would probably be south of the rail line. Samuel looked at the sky. It was now daylight, but the sun was obscured by clouds. The same south wind that had saved the cottage would probably blow in rain this afternoon. Samuel made a decision. He estimated the man had four to five hours’ head start on him. He would head west along the rail line for the first few hours, then angle southwest, hoping to make up lost time.

  ****

  Kathleen kept silent as long as possible. The sun was about a quarter of the way up in the sky. She didn’t want to draw the man’s attention, but she had no intention of peeing in her drawers. She finally worked up her nerve.

  “Excuse me.” Her voice sounded weak, even to her ears.

  The man gave no indication he had heard.

  “Excuse me,” she tried again.

  He never turned or slowed.

  “I have to pee!” Kathleen shouted. Her horse did not like shouting. She would have been thrown if not for her death grip on the pommel. When the horse had calmed, the man spoke.

  “Do not yell. If you do, I will shove something in your mouth. Do you understand me?”

  His voice sounded from deep in that barrel chest, but his words sounded short and choppy, as if they were rarely used.

  “All right,” she replied. “I won’t shout again, but I must get off this horse for a moment.”

  He dismounted and walked to her side. He was so tall his shoulders were higher than the horse’s back. He loosened her wrists from the pommel but left them tied. He reached up and grabbed Kathleen around the waist and roughly jerked her from the horse. When her feet hit the ground, she found her legs too weak to hold her, and she began to slump. The man grabbed both her arms to steady her, and she had to bite her lip to hold back a scream.

  “My arm,” she whimpered. “Let go of my arm.” She leaned against the horse as she held up her wrists and looked at her right arm. There was a large red swelling that was obviously tender to the touch. The spider. Oh, good heavens, the spider must have bitten her. She almost laughed aloud, as her eyes filled with tears. Here she was, being hauled to God only knew where, behind a known murderer, with no help in sight. Yes, the spider bite was the least of her worries.

  The man released her arm even though he was not moved by the tears in her eyes. “What bit you?”

  “It must have been the spider. It crawled out of the firewood. That’s what made me drop the lantern.”

  He just stood there, as if waiting for more.

  “The lantern burst against the fence and started the fire,” she snapped.

  He took her wrist in one hand and turned her arm to better see the bite.

  He looked at her face. She was pale. When he raised a hand to feel her face, she whimpered and flinched. His hand stopped in midair. For some reason, he did not like her flinching. He did not want this woman to fear him. It made him angry. He had done nothing to cause her fear. Hell, he had saved her from being burned alive.

  He touched his hand to her forehand. Yes, she had a fever.

  “You are sick from the spider bite. The poison has been in you many hours, and I cannot get it out now. You will be more sick by dark.” He looked at the gathering clouds in the southwest. “Rain will come later and cool your fever. Now, pee.”

  Kathleen raised a hand to her face. Yes, she was warm, and she did not feel well. She had attributed her nausea to fear. She stepped away from the horse and walked behind a large oak. She was grateful he did not follow her. And she was grateful she had been wearing her only pair of split drawers under her now singed petticoat. She was able to stoop and relieve herself. As she started to stand, her eye caught sight of the ragged, burned edge of the petticoat. She quickly tore a small piece off and laid it at the base of the tree. Maybe, just maybe, someone would find it, and her.

  As she approached the horse again, she made a decision. She had no idea where she was, and if she tried to run from him she might die in the swamps; however, if she found an opportunity to kill him, she would take it.

  Nash tossed her up into the saddle, then handed her a canteen.

  “Drink to cool your fever. We will eat tonight.”

  Kathleen took in long swallows of water, then returned the canteen.

  He re-tied her wrists to the pommel, climbed back on his horse, and headed southwest. He made plans as he rode.

  This was the woman he was meant to have. She would be the one to give him strong sons. He would not touch the woman until he could present her before the tribal council. This was right. He was sure in his heart that this was the problem with the others. He had taken them without the approval of his brothers, and they had proven their unworthiness by angering him. They had forced him to kill them.

  He remembered seeing, as a child, the council convene over the pairing of a couple. Yes, this time he would do right. If this woman wanted to live, she would be wise. She would not anger him. He was pleased. He reached for the jug secured to his saddle and drank long from the white spirits he himself had made.

  ****

  Samuel looked at the sky. There was definitely a storm building. It was past noon, but there would be no stopping to eat. He had refreshed his canteen at a creek a mile or so back. He briefly considered Sergeant Wilkes and the bloodhound. It didn’t matter how far behind him they were. The outcome of this rested on his shoulders alone. Well, his and the Lord’s.

  For the last half hour he’d been remembering some of his mama’s favorite Bible passages. Passages like Mark 11:25, which said, “And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive them, so that your Father in heaven may forgive your sins.”

  Samuel would have to rely heavily on the Lord’s grace and forgiveness, because it was clear to him this man would never face the judgment of his peers. No, he would have to kill him, either to get Kathleen back or because he was too late to save her. There was no forgiveness in his heart for Nash. For whatever perverted reason, the man had become a stone-cold killer of women. Stone-cold. Ah, Samuel remembered another verse, Romans 13:4, saying, “For he is God’s servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain. For he is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God’s wrath on the wrongdoer.”

  Samuel had never considered himself an avenger, but he did believe the laws of man had to be obeyed. Some men were born to uphold what is right and good in this world. Samue
l reckoned that was the duty God had placed in his heart when he was born. A duty to uphold justice. That was what he’d sworn to do when he took this job, and that was what he would do when he found Nash.

  Samuel had never tried to “call” his mama before. He didn’t know if that was even possible. But just in case, he spoke aloud. “Mama, I know you watch over me, but you need to leave me on my own now. I need you to watch over Kathleen and keep her safe. She’s my heart’s destiny, Mama, and I know she’ll be okay with you protecting her.”

  ****

  Kathleen was having trouble staying awake. She was unable to piece two coherent thoughts together. The big roiling clouds she had seen earlier had blocked out the sun, and she could hear thunder in the distance. She should probably close the windows, in case the wind started blowing. And she had clothes on the line out back, and if she didn’t hurry they would all get wet. When her head fell forward, she instinctively jerked upward and opened her eyes.

  Her mind cleared for a moment. Dear Lord, she could see the man on the horse in front of her. She wasn’t home. She didn’t even know if she still had a home. Maybe the little cottage had burned, along with the fence. She wanted to feel her face to see how hot she was, but her hands were still tied. Her clothes were like lead weights against her body, and her eyes seemed to be bulging from pressure within. She was consumed by a sudden weakness, just before she lost consciousness.

  There was a whimper, and Nash turned in time to see the woman falling forward. He jumped from his horse and ran to catch her as she slid off her saddle. He could feel the heat from her body before his hands ever touched her. Damn. She was burning up.

  He quickly untied her from the pommel and lowered her to the ground, looking up at the sky as a streak of lightning sizzled its way to the ground. The following boom of thunder scared the riderless horses into panic, and he was barely able to grab the tether rope in time to prevent their escape. He had to leave the woman on the ground while he secured the horses to a medium-sized scrub oak.