Beyond the Quiet Hills (22 page)

“I guess we'd better,” Abigail said. She lay down on the bed next to Sarah, who was sharing the bed with her, while Amanda slept on a thick bearskin on the floor. Abigail had the mittens in her hand, and she ran her hand over them, stroking the fur continually. A thought came to her, and she leaned over and picked up the trinket box and traced the flower carvings in the top of it. Long thoughts came to her then, and finally she put the box and the mittens down, lay back, and went to sleep almost at once.

Chapter Fifteen

Sheriff Spencer

A haze had gathered over the meadows as Hawk made his way out of the deep woods. He had been gone only two days, yet it seemed longer than that to him. As he passed into the broken ground dotted with scrub oak and hackberry, he suddenly was aware of an anxiety to be home again.

Home!

The word had taken on a new meaning since he had married Elizabeth. He had not known a settled place of abiding in all the years of wandering through the mountains. His first marriage he remembered from time to time, but the years had caused many of those memories of his first wife to fade. Before that, his boyhood stretched back to the time when he could not remember at all.

This was different, however, and he realized it was not the cabin or the barns or the pastures of the homestead, but the woman who waited for him that made the place draw him like a magnet. Even as he thought of Elizabeth, he quickened his pace, and a smile turned his mouth upward. At times he could not understand her, and yet during their brief marriage, he had become part of her in a way he had never imagined a man could know a woman so deeply. He knew her ways now, as she knew his. He knew how her face would change when he said something to her that pleased her—a slight brightening of the eyes, an upward turning of the corners of her lips, bringing the small dimple in her left cheek. He knew also how a cloud could come across those green eyes of hers, so expressive, when trouble came. Not that she complained, but he knew she was unhappy, and somehow this made him determined to do those things that pleased her.

Now he crested the rise of the hills that held the homestead down in the valley. Stopping, he took a deep breath and looked up for a moment at the hot July sun that beat down upon his head and his back and shoulders. But the house drew his attention again, and something rose in his chest as he studied the lay of it.
I'd never find a place like this one
, he thought as his eyes went over the cabin with a small tendril of smoke curling lazily upward in the still air. The horses grazed placidly in the green grass beyond the cabin, and he saw Elizabeth outside washing clothes in a wooden washtub. The sight of her stirred him and he kicked his horse in the side anxiously. “Come on, Red,” he said urgently, “show a little spirit here!”

The big stallion moved forward wearily, quickening his gait to a gallop, and when Hawk was in shouting distance, he lifted his voice, calling her name, “Elizabeth—Elizabeth!”

Elizabeth looked up at once, and even at a distance he could see her shoulders straighten as she threw the garment she was washing into the soapy water. Leaving the washtub, she came forward to greet him, and something in her eyes caught him and held him. She lifted her head, took his kiss as he put his arms around her, then she embraced him, hugging him tightly, her hands locked behind his back.

“Well, I'd say offhand you're glad to see your old husband.”

Elizabeth could find no words for the overwhelming love that had come to her. She wanted to tell him how much she had missed him, how the farm was not the same when he was not working nearby in the fields. Somehow she wanted to say how lonely she felt at night, though the children were there as she sat out on the porch after the day's work was done, but the words would not come. All she knew was an emptiness and a loneliness when he was gone that nothing else could fill.

Looking into his face then, she reached up and ran her hand along the edge of his lower jaw, noting the scar that ran up into his hairline from an old battle. “I missed you,” she said finally.

“I hurried back as soon as I could.” The touch of her strong, round body beneath his hands stirred him, and he held her tightly, whispering, “A man needs a woman. That's something I found out since we've been married.”

“Have you?”

“You know it. You can draw a man against his wishes, Elizabeth. Did you know that?” He thought hard for a moment, then said, “Yesterday I nearly gave it up and came on in, I was so anxious to see you.”

Elizabeth was pleased. She knew many men who would never think of saying such a thing to their wives, and she was glad now that he had come to that point where he could admit freely how much he missed her. It had come as a surprise to her, for he had been a man of few words, but during their hours alone, especially lying in bed talking of the affairs of the day or early in the morning when they first woke, he had said endearing things that most men could not express. They were not eloquent but simple, and even now he said, “I guess I'll have to tell you again how much I love you, wife.”

“Both of us?” she said, pointing to her expanded middle and smiling.

“Both of you. Are you all right?”

“Yes. Everything's fine. The children will be glad to see you. Come on in and I'll fix you something to eat.”

“Good. I'm starved to death.”

Half an hour later Hawk was leaning back from the table talking to the four who listened to him. He had been on official business as sheriff of the Watauga Association, and he laughed aloud when Andrew asked, “Did you have to shoot anybody, Pa?”

“No. Old Mrs. Montgomery said that she sold Lawrence Satterfield some ducks and Lawrence wasn't satisfied with them, so he tried to make her take them back. She said they were his ducks now.”

“What did he want you to do? Force the old woman to take them back?” Elizabeth said indignantly.

“Something like that. You know Lawrence. He's not happy unless he's arguing with someone.”

Jacob had been listening to this story, then suddenly lifted his head. “Someone's coming,” he said.

Surprised, Hawk looked across the table. “I don't hear anything.”

“I do. It's a horse coming across the path, I think.”

For a moment Hawk sat very still, then he said, “You've got sharp hearing, like a fox, Jacob. That'll help you out in the woods.”

“Who can that be coming this time of the morning?”

The answer to Elizabeth's question came when Sarah moved to the window and looked out. “It's Reverend Anderson,” she said.

Hawk's face brightened, for he was always glad to see Paul. “Better cook up some more of those eggs and pork chops. I never saw a preacher who'd pass up a free meal.”

Anderson dismounted as Hawk stepped out on the front porch and greeted him.

“Hello, Paul. You're up and about pretty early.” Anderson tied the bay to a hitching post, then came over to shake Hawk's hand. “Are you all right?”

“Been gone a couple of days.” The tone of his voice was uneasy and Hawk did not miss that. He noted the horse lathered with sweat and knew that it was not the minister's custom to run a horse that hard. Something in Paul's face also caught his attention. “What's wrong? Is there trouble? Indians breaking out?”

“Nothing like that, but there is trouble.”

Elizabeth had come outside to hear the last of this. “Is it something I can hear?”

“Hello, Elizabeth. I suppose so. A man can't have any secrets from his wife.” He smiled and his plain face lit up with a mischievous look. “A man can't have any secrets at
all
from a wife. I'm finding that out.”

“You come on in and I'll feed you while you tell us what the trouble is.”

Anderson entered and took his seat, speaking to the children individually. As Elizabeth brought the meal, he said, “I hate to be the bearer of ill tidings.”

“What is it, Paul?” Hawk asked.

“John Sevier came to see me last night. He asked me to come and tell you about Honey Shoate.”

Instantly Hawk straightened slightly and frowned, so that his dark blue eyes were hooded. “Shoate? What's he done now?”

“Who is he, Hawk?” Elizabeth asked. “I don't know him.”

“A bully boy,” Hawk said. “He always wants to use his fists on someone.”

“I heard he killed a man before he came to Watauga,” Paul said. “George Stevens said he got him down and kicked him to death in a tavern back in Carolina.”

“I can see Honey would do a thing like that.”

“Well, do you know a man named Noah Leary?”

“Don't know him.”

“He just moved in about a month ago. Hasn't been around the settlement much. Got a wife and two small children.” Anderson picked up the mug in front of him and drank the coffee, shuddering slightly. “That stuff's strong enough to float a horseshoe nail, Elizabeth!” he protested. Then he smiled and said, “But I guess a man needs strong coffee.” He turned the cup in his hands and saw that the whole family was watching him. He spoke slowly, searching for the right words, for he was a man careful of his word. “Honey Shoate's got a horse he's proud of, a quarter horse, and him and Leary worked up a horse race. According to Sevier, Shoate's horse won the race and that's when the trouble started.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Shoate claimed that they had put their horses up for a stake—that the winner would take the loser's horse, but Leary says it wasn't so.”

“Did Sevier hear the bet made?”

“No, but he saw what happened. It was a brutal thing. Leary argued with Honey Shoate that there was no bet made, and when Shoate just laughed at him and started away with the horse, Leary lit into him. He's just a small fellow, and you know what Shoate is.”

“A bully boy,” Hawk murmured. “Did he beat him pretty bad?”

“He was beat up worse than any man I ever saw.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“Well, such as I could. He was in bed by the time I got there. His jaw was broken, and he lost some teeth, and both eyes were closed all the way shut. He had ribs busted where Shoate kicked him.” A look of pain crossed Anderson's eyes, and he shook his head. “His wife was all shook up, and the children were crying. I don't know how they'll make it. He won't be doing any work on his place, but we can help with that,” Anderson said quickly. “I've already talked to some of the neighbors, but Sevier said he thought Shoate was going to kill Leary. He finally had to pull a gun on him to make him stop kicking him. Shoate went off threatening to kill John, and I think he might do it, too.”

“Any other witnesses?”

“Zeke Taylor was there and William Crabtree.”

“What did they say?”

“They didn't actually hear the bet being made, but they hold with Honey Shoate. The three have been running together, drinking a lot, causing trouble wherever they go.”

A silence fell over the room and Hawk did not move. His face was bronzed from the sun and an elusiveness enveloped him as he sat in his chair. Elizabeth knew him well, however, and asked at once, “What will you have to do?”

“Shoate will have to stand trial on the charge of stealing a horse and attempted murder.”

“Stealing a horse? Haven't there been men hung for that, Pa?” Andrew spoke up. His eyes were wide as he studied Hawk's face, carefully searching for some answer.

“He may hang,” Hawk said. “That'll be up to the members of the court, but I'll have to go bring him in.”

“Take somebody with you,” Paul said quickly. “Shoate is a wild bull. He doesn't care for any man's life. John said he would have killed Noah Leary sure if he hadn't stopped him.”

“I'll take Sequatchie with me.”

“I'm going, too, and we'll pick up John Sevier.”

“Don't see as I need all that help just to get one man.”

Elizabeth said at once, “Don't be foolish! Take all the help you can get!” Suddenly, a fear gripped her heart, and as the two men left to go to Sequatchie's cabin, she felt a tremor begin in her hands. She held them tightly, but Sarah had noticed and came to stand beside her.

“Pa will be all right, won't he?”

“Yes. He'll be all right. Don't worry, Sarah,” she said, trying to sound calm, but in her own heart she knew Hawk would be in danger. She was aware of how closely her life was tied with this man who had no fear and would not turn back one moment from any danger. She began to pray for God to protect the man she loved dearly.

****

The sun was almost down by the time Hawk and his party reached the Shoate homestead. It was far out away from the settlement, and as they approached down the scarcely worn trail, John Sevier cautioned Hawk. “I ain't sure you know about what a bad man Honey Shoate is.” He thought for a moment, then added, “He'd just as soon shoot a man as look at him.”

Hawk glanced at Sevier and said, “We'll have to see what he does. He's going in for trial whether he likes it or not.”

Sequatchie had said little on the journey. Now he nodded, saying, “The cabin's up there. Do we ride up or take him by surprise?”

“We'll give him a chance.” He glanced at the four men, saying, “When we get there, spread out. Don't bunch up. I'll ride up close to the house and give him a call.”

Paul Anderson did not like this. He held a musket over the pommel of his saddle and wondered if he would be able to use it to shoot at a man. “I hope he goes in peacefully.”

“Not likely,” Sevier said curtly. “You don't know Honey like I do. You should have seen him. He was crazy when he got Leary down. He would have killed him sure. He won't be going in for any trial—not of his own free will.”

Hawk said nothing, but when they reached the opening in the trail leading to the cabin that sat almost in the shadow of a tall grove of hickory trees, he motioned for the others to move out. When they were positioned, he lifted his voice. “Hello the house!”