A Man With a Pure Heart Page 13

  He thought about his decision to hover around Sopchoppy. He’d learned long ago to trust his first instinct. It was when you started doubting your own judgment that you made mistakes. The Lord had given him good instincts; he’d just had to learn to trust them.

  ****

  The morning air was still chilly as Nash moved through the ground fog. Daybreak was held off a little longer by the cloudy sky. Nash was angry about having to leave the woman, but she was right. Someone would have noted her condition, and he couldn’t very well kill everyone in town. No, it was best this way. He would pick up some pants for her in the general store. Then they would not have this problem again.

  As he neared the edge of town, his wandering mind came to attention. He hated towns. He hated people, for that matter. They couldn’t seem to mind their own business, always prying and asking questions.

  As he rounded the bend coming into town, the fog lifted enough for Nash to see only one horse tied to the rail in front of the store. That was good. The fewer people to deal with, the better. He tied his horse to the rail and looked around. All was quiet in the still, chilly air. He lifted his rifle from the saddle, then stepped up the stairs and into the store.

  ****

  Samuel had been so still that even if Nash had looked his way he wouldn’t have been able to separate him from the brown rooftop. Samuel eased himself off the roof on the backside of the station and slowly made his way around the west end.

  ****

  Nash found an old lady behind the counter.

  “I need five pounds of cornmeal, five pounds of beans, and a pair of pants.”

  The old woman set her sewing on the counter and looked up at the man. He was probably the biggest man she had ever seen.

  “All right. The pants are on that table by the wall. You find what you want, and I’ll get the staples.”

  Nash walked over to the table and held up a pair of denim pants. They were probably four inches too short for him, and nearly twice the width of the woman, but they would do, with a rope belt. He turned back toward the counter and detected movement through the large plate window. He believed he saw a man behind the station office, crouched over and moving quickly. He had not lived this long by ignoring his inner spirit, and it was screaming at him now. He made for the hallway leading to the back of the building. The old woman stepped out of the storeroom doorway on the left, blocking his path.

  She gave a startled gasp. “You can’t come back here.”

  Nash slapped her out of his way, and she crumpled to the floor, unconscious in a puddle of spilled cornmeal. Nash stepped out the back door and froze. He instantly recognized the old man, who was adjusting his belt as he exited the outhouse, about thirty yards away.

  When the old man looked up, there was Nash, filling the doorway. The look on the Indian’s face was enough to fill him with fear for himself and his wife.

  The old man yelled, “What are you doing back here?” But he wasn’t looking at Nash as he yelled.

  In an instant, Nash knew the yelling was for someone else. So much for getting out quietly. Nash raised his rifle and shot at the old man as he ran around the east corner of the building.

  Samuel was almost at the horse rail when the shouting reached his ears. He bounded up the stairs into the store. A quick glance around told him the desk was empty, and he made for the back hallway. He was running so fast he had to hurdle over the old woman to keep from stepping on her. He heard the crack of a rifle as he ran. He slowed at the back door just long enough to curl himself into a ball, roll through the doorway and away from the building. As he rolled to his feet, he saw the old man on the ground. He’d raised himself up on one elbow, and when he saw Samuel, he pointed around the building to the main street.

  Samuel paused at the front corner of the building, crouched, and peered around the corner. A shot flew over his head, and he jerked back. He lay flat on the ground and peered again. He saw Nash jump on his horse, grab for Zeus’ reins, and head west. Samuel jumped up, gave a shrill, long whistle, and was rewarded with the sight of Zeus throwing his head down, locking his front legs, and turning toward Samuel while jumping straight into the air.

  Nash was nearly unseated and had to let go of the reins. When he turned to get a look at the man chasing him, he saw a man who was almost his same size. A man whose face held no fear. A man wearing the star of justice on his chest. Nash turned back, kicked his horse, and headed west.

  Samuel had a clear shot at his back, but could not take it. Where was Kathleen? Was she dead? He had to catch Nash.

  Zeus was prancing when Samuel got to him. He slammed the rifle into the scabbard and vaulted into the saddle. Samuel could still see Nash in the distance. Nash’s Tennessee Walker was strong, but Zeus was a Florida-bred Cracker horse, and his stamina would outlast the Walker.

  ****

  Kathleen was thirsty, but she was afraid to drink. What if this was all the water she would ever have? The sun was climbing higher in the sky, but the clouds were keeping the air cool. While she was grateful for this, she was fast losing hope.

  She’d wiggled and twisted for a couple of hours, trying to loosen the ropes. All she had succeeded in doing was wearing herself out. If she could just go to sleep, then perhaps she would ease on out of this world while dreaming of Samuel.

  “No, dear, that would not do at all. He would be heartbroken to find he had lost you. I know his heart, and he would never love again.”

  Kathleen raised her head slowly. She wasn’t sure she wanted to converse with…whoever was keeping her awake. She slowly peered around the forest. There. There she was. Leaning against a tree. She appeared so serene. As if talking to a woman tied to a tree was an everyday occurrence.

  “How do you know what’s in Samuel’s heart?”

  “Because I was there when his heart first beat. And I saw the light in his golden eyes when he first recognized the mission the Lord had placed in that heart. And I felt the joy he felt when he realized you were his gift from the Lord.”

  Kathleen smiled weakly as she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the tree.

  “Now, you must drink and you must rest, and all will be well.”

  Kathleen opened her eyes. She was alone. She raised a hand to her forehead. Yes, she was hot again. Fever and the tightness in her chest would explain her state of mind. And of all things, she imagined she heard a hound baying.

  ****

  Howard filled the canteen as he talked to Albert.

  “Don’t you ever let anyone tell you that you’re not the finest tracker in the South. We’re going on forty-eight hours, and you just want to keep on runnin’. But Albert, I gotta tell you, boy, I’m tired. I’m gonna need a couple hours’ rest. Then you can drag me a few more miles. We haven’t found any new sign since that piece of petticoat, but that girl must be smellin’ high, ’cause you just won’t give up.”

  Howard drew in on the twenty-foot leash until Albert was at his side. “That’s right, boy, just lie down here with me for a couple of hours, and then we’ll start again.”

  Albert looked at Howard with those big, sad eyes, lifted his nose in the air, and howled his displeasure at being interrupted on the hunt.

  Howard rubbed the hound’s back as he drifted off to sleep.

  ****

  Samuel figured they’d been running for a couple of hours now. As long as he could keep Nash in sight, he was happy. The Indian had left the road a mile or so back, but that big ol’ Tennessee Walker left some mighty-easy-to-follow tracks. They must be coming up on the Ochlockonee River basin, because the ground was getting wetter and softer.

  They were running across a large field, toward what looked like the swamp, when the Walker screamed and went down. He caught up to the Walker just in time to see Nash wade into the swamp about fifty yards ahead. The poor horse had gone down hard and broken a leg. Samuel saw what looked like a couple of bones sticking out.

  Samuel jumped off Zeus, drew his pistol, and shot the Walker
. He tied Zeus to a cypress tree, then took off on foot. Nash probably knew his way around this swamp, but Samuel had never been in this area. He had to keep Nash in sight now.

  Samuel had only gone a couple hundred feet before he was wet from his shoulders down. The mud sucked at his boots as he rushed forward, his pistol still in his hand. He took his eyes off Nash for a second to dodge around a tree and was suddenly slammed back into its bark by a white-hot burning in his right shoulder. His heart had been pounding so hard from the chase that it took a moment for his ears to recognize the sound of the gun.

  “Damn,” he muttered, as he ducked behind another cypress. He looked down at his shoulder. He could see the bloom of red spreading across his shirt. He flexed his arm, and the pain was bearable. Okay, he surmised, a flesh wound, no broken bone. As he edged away from the tree, he heard a scream.

  He could now see Nash flailing in the waters ahead. He was fighting something. And as it took him down, Samuel saw the gator tail slice the air.

  “No!” Samuel screamed as he pushed forward.

  When he got within twenty feet, he could see the water churning red. Nash was keeping his head above water but was weakening fast.

  Samuel drew his pistol and tried to get a bead on the gator’s head. Finally, he was able to get off three rounds. The thrashing slowly subsided, as if it took a while for the gator to realize he was dead. Samuel kept his pistol trained on Nash as he approached. When he was close enough to see the damage, he realized the gator had taken off a large chunk of Nash’s left leg, high on the thigh, and the blood was leaving his body with every heartbeat.

  Samuel holstered his gun and grabbed Nash under both arms as he looked around for some high ground. He had to drag the man about thirty yards before he could get him out of the water. There was no telling how many more gators were out there.

  Once on solid ground, Samuel could see it wouldn’t be long. The gator must have torn something serious.

  “Where is she? Can you hear me? Is she alive?”

  Nash could feel the blood rushing from his body, leaving him weak and cold. He could hear and see the man standing over him, but his mind was not processing. He’d seen men die from less, and he knew he was fading fast.

  Samuel knelt beside him and grabbed him by the shirt.

  “Answer me, damn you, is she alive?”

  Ahh, Nash understood the man was looking for the red-haired woman. My woman. My woman tied to a tree.

  Samuel could see it in Nash’s eyes when the dying man understood his question.

  With his last whooshing breath, he whispered, “Tree.”

  “Where?” Samuel shouted.

  But there would be no answer.

  Nash closed his eyes, as he could no longer see, but his ears picked up the single call of an owl.

  Samuel leaned against a tree. His eyes filled with tears. He had failed. Kathleen was gone.

  ****

  Howard was dreaming of a woman’s soft whisper. No, she wasn’t talking to him. She was talking to Albert.

  “Yes, you’ve done a fine job of tracking, boy. You are almost there. Now wake your friend and get moving.”

  Howard was wakened by Albert baying like crazy and tugging on the leash Howard had tied to his belt loop.

  “All right, all right, I’m awake.”

  Howard looked around him. Yes, he’d been dreaming. There was no one talking to anyone. He looked at the hound. Albert was wild eyed, running in circles, and baying nonstop.

  “Okay, okay, let’s go, boy.”

  Albert took off like a shot, as if he knew exactly where they were going.

  ****

  Kathleen’s body was racked by another coughing fit. Her chest was so tight that she could only draw short breaths. Pneumonia. It had to be pneumonia. She believed it must still be daylight; it had to be the sun that was causing her eyes to hurt. Her hands fluttered around the blanket she was sitting on, searching for the canteen. Finally finding it, she drank deeply. What did it matter if she drank it all? She was going to die anyway. They might never find her body. Lord, she was tired. Yes, she would just sleep her way to death. As her chin drooped and her conscious mind began to slip away, she could have sworn a wolf howled.

  ****

  Howard cursed himself as he ran. He should have tied the darn rope to himself. He’d never seen Albert so crazy. It had caught him completely off guard. They’d been moving along at a good clip when all at once Albert just lunged forward, taking Howard to his knees. He’d scrambled to grab the rope, but Albert was gone.

  Howard just kept following the sound of Albert’s howl. Suddenly he noted the difference in the tone of the baying. Albert was giving that shorter, higher-pitched yelp. The one he used when he was getting near his game. Lord, had he found her? And was she alive? Howard jerked his pistol from the holster and ran faster.

  He was close now. Albert was louder, but the baying intermittent. Howard fought his way through a half acre of thick underbrush, and when he plowed through to the other side, there they were.

  Albert was running in circles around the tree, stopping every two or three passes to lick the woman’s face. Even from this distance, Howard could see she was unconscious.

  “All right, boy, calm down. We’ve got her now. You did a darn good job.” Howard patted the hound on the head and rubbed his ears, all the while grabbing the rope and securing the animal to a nearby tree.

  He dropped on his knees and cut the ropes holding Kathleen up. He could feel the heat coming from her body.

  “Albert, it looks like we found her just in time. She’s hot as blue blazes.”

  As he lowered Kathleen to the ground, he tried to get through to her.

  “Ma’am, can you hear me? Ma’am, are you hurt anywhere?”

  Howard looked around the small clearing. His heart jumped in his chest when he saw the horse tethered about thirty yards away.

  So. She’s too sick to make it back home. We’ve got to be close to Sopchoppy. I’ll just get her on the horse and follow the railroad in.

  Howard had always considered himself a reasonably good-sized man, until he tried to lift a six-foot-tall, unconscious woman up on the back of a horse. It wasn’t pretty, but he finally got her up there, climbed up behind her to hold her on, and headed west, with a now quiet Albert trailing behind.

  ****

  Under any other circumstances, Samuel would have made the effort to bury Nash, not that he deserved any dignity in death. But the wound in his shoulder was tightening up, the sun would be going down soon, and Samuel needed to make his way back to Zeus.

  Samuel’s mind worked independently of his body as he waded back through the dark water. There was no “if only I’d done this” or “if I had just been clearer about the gun.”

  Losing his mother at an early age had been the beginning of hard lessons learned. Life was a gift. A gift that was sometimes taken away too soon. Growing up early had toughened his emotions and strengthened what most folks called backbone, but none of that lessened the pain in his heart.

  This was a pain like no other he’d ever experienced before. All the “what could have beens” were filling his mind and choking off any rational thought. He heard a loud snort and realized he was standing beside Zeus, with no memory of how he had made it there. The horse was stomping the ground, not happy at having been left alone.

  Samuel untied his old friend. As he climbed up in the saddle, his shoulder reminded him of his mortality. He was alive, and if he wanted to stay that way he had better get some help. He took the dishtowel he’d wrapped the biscuits in, two and a half days ago, folded it into a small square, and placed it inside his shirt over the wound to stanch the blood flow. He had no way of knowing the exit wound in his back was the real concern.

  He patted Zeus on the head and said, “All right, boy, take me back to town.”

  ****

  Howard had never been so glad to see civilization, even if it was just a handful of buildings and a few people. His
arms were about numb from holding Kathleen for what he figured must have been four miles. It was coming on dusk as he nudged the horse up to the rail in front of a two-story building. He sure hoped it was a hotel or boarding house.

  “Hello!” he shouted. “Anyone inside?”

  An old woman and a teenage boy peered around the door. The boy was holding a rifle out in front of him.

  “Whoa there, partner. I’m Deputy Howard Wilkes, with the Leon County Sheriff’s Office, and I have a sick woman here. I need some help getting her into a bed. How about puttin’ that gun down and helpin’ me?”

  The old woman spoke up. “You can’t be carryin’ her all the way up those stairs. Just bring her to our quarters in the back.”

  Howard and the boy managed to get her onto a cot.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve got a doctor nearby?” he asked. He looked again at the old woman. She had a large bruise on the side of her face, and one eye was puffy.

  The old woman shook her head. “No, but I sure could have used one this morning. First time I ever had to dig out a bullet.”

  Howard stood a little straighter. “You folks had some kinda trouble?”

  “Well, that other deputy brung it with him.”

  “Where is he now? Ma’am, maybe you better start at the beginning and tell me everything you know.”

  She explained about the shooting as Howard listened patiently.

  “Where is Deputy Hinton now?”

  “Last anyone saw, he was chasin’ that Indian out of town. Headed west, they was.”

  “And he hasn’t come back?”

  “No. And as mean as that Indian was, he ain’t likely to. My poor Henry is only alive now ’cause the Indian was running when he fired at him. Just winged his arm. But the poor old soul’s gonna need some rest. Too much excitement for us old folks.”

  “Well, I’m glad you folks are gonna be okay. When does the next eastbound train come through, ma’am? I’ve got to get that girl home.”