The red ribbon, p.23
The Red Ribbon, page 23
A tension waved up Jeremiah’s back, vertebra by vertebra. Why would Casper want to burn down his house? What did an upstanding deputy have to do with Joe Creed? Did Sheriff Webb’s warning have anything to do with a dirty deputy?
“I don’t think I could keep him here, even if I tried, Casp.” Jeremiah hoped his response kept to a lighter tone. The last thing he needed was for Casper to feel threatened. “He’s pretty stubborn on goin’ today.”
“Well, then, let’s get movin’.” Casper tipped his chin and turned his horse toward the trail. “Where’s our first stop?”
“I ought to go by my house to pick up a few things, and then I reckon one of us can check with Granny Burcham while the rest of us head south.”
Pink’s frown deepened. Casper’s expression took on a humored twist. Elmer nodded with all the solemnity of the situation. What a party!
“I agree. The search has to start somewhere.” Ellis started for the barn.
Ellis and Jeremiah readied their horses and led the way down the trail. Lord, help me find Ava. Please, keep her safe.
Angry voices bit into Ava’s thoughts, rousing her from what little sleep she’d found. She rolled onto her side and squinted toward the window, barely making out the dark silhouettes of Martin and Keen on the porch.
She slid from the bed, tightening the makeshift belt around her waist to secure the trousers in place as she crept through the shadows toward the conversation.
“We need to split up, Keen.” Martin’s words rose in volume. “The Daniels are after you, not me. And you’ll have an easier time hidin’ without the likes of me and Mooney along.”
“Mooney feel the same way?” Keen’s voice growled through the darkness.
“I don’t know, but I reckon he’d like to get home to his family, just the same as me.”
“And what if the law finds you, Martin? Folks saw us all at the trial.”
“Ain’t nobody gonna care ‘bout what happened to us with all this Allen news. The only ones who want anything to do with us are the Daniels.”
“But what if the law questions you, Martin? ‘Bout the whiskey? The killin’s? The money?” Ava pressed her eyes closed at his list. What all had they done? For how long? “What’ll you do then?”
“I’ll lie, of course. Besides, how would we get traced back to the killin’s? We covered our tracks with all the whiskey fights. Nobody’s gonna do nothin’ about them mountain fights. And Dunn? Well, how would anybody find out?”
Dunn? Solomon Dunn? They’d killed him too? Ava pressed her fist against her mouth, stifling a whimper. All because of whiskey and money?
“Well, then, if I have your word you won’t mention my name for the rest of your days, then I reckon you ought to get on down the road then.”
“I can … just leave?”
Ava didn’t catch the reply, but within a few minutes, a set of boots clicked against the front porch and down the steps. Keen didn’t move from his place by the window, his cigarette blinking orange in the hazy morning light.
The first slits of dawn brightened the shadowy view into a gray scene, the men slightly more distinct, but not much. Ava eased farther down beside the chest of drawers, peering through a slit between the back of the chest and the wall.
A strange quiet slipped through the room, prompting a chill over Ava’s skin. Shuffling from the next room announced Mooney’s movements and the launch of her plan. She began to move against the wall back to her bed, when a quick flash from the silhouette at the window froze her in place.
Three cracks fired into the shadows.
A scream lodged in Ava’s throat. With an easy glide of his arm, Keen returned his gun to its holster at his hip and took another draw from his cigarette. No remorse. No hesitation. Only the calculated response of a broken, black-hearted villain.
She had no choice but to attempt an escape.
Her eyes pressed closed around the fresh warmth of tears. She hadn’t liked Martin, but no one should have this end … shot down on the road with the taste of freedom on his lips. She could very well die the same way, but at least she’d choose to die trying to escape and her granny wouldn’t be involved.
The front door slammed and boots hit the porch again. “What on earth is goin’ on out here?” Mooney’s breathless whisper sounded harsh in the morning quiet.
“Martin decided to leave us.” Keen straightened from his relaxed position against one of the porch posts. “He didn’t get far.”
Stillness followed.
“I’m gonna get rid of the body.” Keen adjusted his hat and gestured with his head toward the window. “Load up our things and ready the girl. We’ll leave as soon as I come back.”
Ava’s breath shuddered from her lips and she fastened her gaze on the room, the furnishings, the bed and quilt. Sunday, March 17. She should be getting ready to marry her best friend, but instead, she was trying to find a way to survive to see him again.
With quick work, Ava slid to the bed, the light growing enough for her to make out the tree line and path down the south way of the house. Away from Granny’s. Toward Cana and the state line. She secured her satchel across her body and turned toward the door just as Mooney swung it open.
He scanned the room and finally looked at her, his expression grim. Without a word, he walked the space of the room, peeking behind the furniture, lifting the pillows. “I see you’re ready. That’s good.” His gaze lifted to hers. “’Cause he’s a loose cannon right now, and you don’t want him to fire again this mornin’.”
Ava shook her head. “No, I don’t.”
“Well, let’s get ready for him. He’ll be back shortly.”
He grabbed her by the arm and drew out the hideous rope she’d become accustomed to wearing around her wrists. “Mooney, before you go tyin’ me up, could I use the privy? I’ve been cooped up in that room the whole night, and a girl can only last so long.”
With a roll of his eyes and an annoyed growl, Mooney tossed the rope on the table and jerked her out the back door, nearly sending her headfirst off the back steps. “Sorry, Ava. This business with Martin … well, it’s serious. You realize, it’s serious.”
She kept her face forward, the outhouse within sight. “How’d you get messed up in all this? You had such good marks in school. You could’ve gone to college or somethin’ else.”
His jaw tightened with his hold. “A body’ll do about anything when they love someone.” He flipped his gaze to hers. “I couldn’t let Mama die, and the doctor’s bills kept pilin’ higher and higher. There wasn’t a choice.”
She refused to break eye contact with him. “There’s always a choice.”
He didn’t answer, only released a rush of air from his nose and pulled open the privy door, shoving her inside. “Be quick.”
The new building carried the scent of fresh-cut wood like the furniture in the house. Faint light trickled in from slits Jeremiah had cut in the roof, covered with a clear plastic-like substance, giving her enough illumination to make out the tiny space.
She adjusted her satchel and counted to ten, replaying her plan in calculated detail in her mind. With a deep breath, she grabbed the handle of the outhouse door and held tight. “Mooney?”
“Yeah.”
“The door’s stuck. I can’t get it to budge.”
A groan sounded from the other side. “Shoot fire, woman, you’re a heap of trouble, ain’t ya?”
She held the door as he pulled, keeping the lock in place until the tug of his strength came with the slightest sound of splintering wood.
“I’m sorry, Mooney,” she whispered, sending up a quick prayer.
With a flip of her wrist, she released the door and gave it an extra shove to hit him square in the head. He stumbled back into a heap, moaning and cursing on the ground, and without one bit of hesitation, she set out at a dead run toward the forest.
A crack of gunfire echoed toward her. Distant, but close enough for her to know Keen Gentry wasn’t too far behind.
Chapter Twenty-One
You might have to pull strength up from your boot strings, but you got it in you.
Granddaddy Sutphin
What is this place?” Elmer Williams asked as the horses rounded the bend and Jeremiah’s house came into view. “Woowee, it’s a sight, ain’t it?”
Jeremiah almost grinned. He took a lot of pride in his hard work, in the careful way he’d planned out his and Ava’s house. The welcome entrance of the front porch from the road, the dark brick, a rock foundation and fireplace. He brought his horse to a stop, examining the house. Wolf’s ears perked and his gray fur rose to attention.
Something was wrong.
Why did Jeremiah smell smoke? His attention rose to the chimney. A faint trail of gray wafted into the morning air. He raised a hand to pause the other riders’ approach.
“Someone’s been here.”
He slid from his horse and reached for his Colt, uncomfortably jammed into his waistband. Wolf released a low growl, likely sensing Jeremiah’s tension.
“Whoa, boy,” he gentled. “Stay close.”
Jeremiah squeezed the grip of the Colt, searching the surrounding forest for any sign of trouble. He rarely carried the gun, because most of the time he preferred his hammer or level over the likes of a weapon, but recent circumstances had left him little choice.
“Ellis, you come with me in the front.”
“I’ll take the others round back,” offered Pink.
“I think one deputy ought to go with Jeremiah and Ellis,” Casper said from behind.
“Fine.” Pink jerked his chin toward the left side of the house and looked behind him at Elmer. “Come on with me, Elmer, and get your gun ready.”
Fresh boot prints marked the road, with one set leaving a deep groove behind it as if it dragged something away from the house and into the woods. Jeremiah’s pulse ratcheted up a few paces. Something or … someone? No! He couldn’t think that way. With Ellis directly behind him and Casper bringing up the rear, Jeremiah opened the door, gun at the ready.
The main room sat empty, with morning light filtering through the large windows he’d installed to celebrate the view and usher in the warmth of the sun. Empty bean cans lay scattered across the table. Furniture stood askew in the wrong places. An old shirt splayed in a dirty bundle by the fireplace, but otherwise the room was empty.
The kitchen proved the same way. Plundered, but vacant.
“Ain’t been too long since someone was here, ‘Miah,” came Ellis’s voice from across the room. He bent low, hand moving near the ashes. “Maybe an hour?”
Wolf whimpered from the back of the house, followed by a strange scratching sound. Jeremiah looked at Ellis and then rushed to the noise. Wolf stood with his nose down, his paw scratching at Jeremiah’s bedroom door. That wasn’t warning behavior. Wolf smelled a friend. Jeremiah’s pulse jumped into a gallop and he shoved open the door.
Quiet and empty, the room looked exactly as it had when Jeremiah left it a week ago. Dust floated in pale sunrays streaming through the window onto the bed. His breath seized.
The bed.
He’d left the quilt covering the bed, readied for his return with his bride, but someone had rolled up the quilt and tied it with a … ribbon? A red ribbon! Ava! She’d been here?
Jeremiah turned back to Ellis. “Would you check the loft and see what damage is done there? See if Casper will go with you.”
Ellis looked from Jeremiah to the quilt and nodded, turning to disappear back into the main room. Wolf sniffed the perimeter of the bedroom and found a filthy, soiled dress tucked between the dresser and window.
Jeremiah picked up the clothes, still damp. Sure ‘nough. She’d been here. And not too long ago either. He released a sigh and approached the bed. At least she’d been alive then.
His palm slipped over the bumps and bends of the quilt, an unexpected warmth rising into his vision. Oh God, where is she? As his fingers moved over the ribbon, something caught his attention. Ridges within the ribbon. A paler red thread. He glanced behind him to the bedroom door and then tugged the ribbon free.
A strange design, in a lighter shade of red, appeared sewn into the silky cloth of the ribbon. What was it?
Words.
He walked to the window to use its light for a better examination of some crude markings within the thread. South. Creek. Keen. Danger.
Keen had her? Heat soared through his body, surging every muscle with energy, purpose. He fisted the ribbon and looked down at Wolf. “It’s time to find her, boy. Now.”
He marched from the room and met Casper and Ellis. “They’ve traveled south toward the creek.”
“How do you know?” Casper took off his bowler and dusted it against his hip. “And who are ‘they’?”
“Keen has Ava. I don’t know why, but she’s headed south, and that’s the way I’m going.”
“Keen?” Ellis’s forehead crinkled.
“Keen Gentry, if I guess right,” Casper answered, cramming his hat back on his head and rubbing a palm over his chin. “Are you sure about this, Jeremiah? Why would Keen Gentry take Ava?”
“At the present, I don’t care. All I want to do is find her.” Jeremiah started for the door, Wolf on his heels. “You don’t have to come.”
Jeremiah met Elmer and Pink around the corner of the house.
“We found a trail leading southeast through the woods, by the outhouse.”
A gunshot interrupted Jeremiah’s reply, the sound echoing from a distant place down the trail. A splash of cold shot through his chest. Ava! How far away was the shot? He couldn’t tell. Was he too late?
“Found some blood on the bushes near the outhouse,” Elmer added. “Someone’s wounded.”
“What d’ya say we split up?” Casper stepped forward and looked toward the woods. “Elmer and I can go down the forest trail, and you, Ellis, and Pink can see to the southeasterly one. If you find someone wounded, you’ll need the extra hand.”
Had Ava meant southeast? Both trails led toward the creek. Had she been wounded?
“I have some rope and extra cloth over by the barn I’m building.” Jeremiah walked to the half-built structure, the others following. “And a canteen or two you can fill up with water from the springhouse yonder, if you want.”
“‘Preciate it, Jeremiah.” Elmer took one of the canteens, disappearing with Pink toward the springhouse.
“There’s a good rope yonder, Casp.” Jeremiah pointed to a hook above their heads. “If you catch Keen, he won’t be likely to wiggle out of that one.”
“I don’t think Keen’s gonna go with us without a fight.” Casper squinted over at him. “Better to have your gun than some twine.”
“I’d think after all the killin’ we’ve been privy to lately, your stomach would be full up of it.”
Casper shook his head and sighed, reaching for the rope. As he struggled to unwind the rope from its place, the white skin of his wrist shone between his glove and his sleeve. Jeremiah blinked. What was that? A marking in a strange reddish-brown hue curved into the shape of a hook on his wrist. A fish hook.
“Are you all right, ‘Miah?” Ellis stepped up beside him. “You look white as a ghost.”
The rope came forward, and Casper locked eyes with Jeremiah, some unspoken understanding passing between them. How much did Casper suspect Jeremiah knew? If anything?
“I’m just worried about Ava, so the sooner we get on the trail, the sooner I can get her home.”
Casper raised a brow and looped the rope over his shoulder. “Then let’s get on with the hunt.”
Jeremiah held the man’s gaze for a few seconds longer and then led the way up the path to the southeast, glancing back down the hill only long enough to watch Casper and Elmer disappear through the forest trail below. There was no way to know if he was taking the right path or not, but if that blood was Ava’s, he couldn’t risk waiting another minute to find her.
Jeremiah’s throat constricted as he cast one last glance down the hillside. Casper Norris killed Ava’s father.
What would he do to someone who knew his secret?
She’d stopped to rest too soon.
Barely had Ava tied a red ribbon to the trunk of a tree, then a rifle shot echoed through the forest and the bullet split the bark off a nearby trunk. She slid down to the mossy ground, still damp from all the rain, reprimanding herself. How could she have been so foolish to stop at the edge of a clearing? But the ribbon would be easier to see here, the vibrant color noticeable among the surrounding browns and greens, and Jeremiah needed some clue which direction she’d gone across the creek, assuming he came. She pinched her eyes closed. Surely, he’d understand her clue she left behind. He’d try to find her, if he could.
She searched the forest for Keen. If he was any kind of shot like her daddy, he could be as far as a thousand yards away. Crouching low, she took off again, down the hillside toward the river, slipping between rocky outcroppings as much as possible to avoid being seen. Years of tracking with her father lightened her step, and wearing trousers certainly helped.
Keen may be a good shot, but she had the advantage of youth and speed on him. If she needed to, she could outlast him. She had already been on the run for nigh four hours, if the sun gave any indication, and had rested only a few times within that span of time. She’d fill her canteen at the river and keep moving long enough to get her bearings, find a place to hide, or—she drew in a deep breath—die in the process.
She wasn’t sure how long she kept traveling beyond the river. Her body ached with a combination of soreness and scratches, her palms bloodied, her hair loose. She had to be closing in on a road or a house soon, surely.
Dark clouds shadowed the light, giving off the hint of early evening. When she crested the next ridge, she caught sight of a road below, a sizable one from the looks of it. Still a far way off, but if she kept at her pace, she’d likely get there by dusk. A road meant people. And help.
The snap of a twig came from behind.
