Hawks Mountain - Mobi (23 page)

Finally, the anguish in his voice made her forget her fatigue. She understood his urgency. After all, she wanted to find Davy as soon as possible, too. She’d lost Maria. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing this darling little boy and then enduring the anguish in
Lydia
’s face. The very idea turned her insides to icy fear.

What she didn’t understand was what drove Nick that had him so uncharacteristically on the edge, but this was hardly the time or place to get into it.

Unable to see him like this a moment longer, she stood and took his hand to stop his movement. “Okay, let’s go.” Gently, she touched his face. “We
will
find him, Nick.” He started to pull away, but she stopped him. “When this is over, we’re
gonna
talk, Nick Hart. You’re
gonna
let the demons out, and we’re
gonna
conquer them together.”

He stared at her and then very softly said, “Leave it alone, Becky.”

She
complied .
 . . for now, but Nick had never come up against her mountain stubborn in full force before. She would not let Nick endure this alone. When this was over, she’d find out what made him pace like a caged animal and charge through the woods like an enraged bear. She loved Nick, and seeing him like this hurt more than finding Sonny in bed with another woman.

Memories of that moment no longer sliced through her like a well-honed knife. She’d already come to understand that, compared to her feelings for Nick, what she’d felt for Sonny had been a fondness born of propinquity and habit.
But Nick’s reluctance to share himself with her hurt even more than Sonny’s betrayal.

With a sigh of resignation, she pointed into the dense trees. “There’s a small stream up ahead where we can refill the water bottles.”

He nodded and stalked off in the direction she’d indicated. She hurried to catch up to him.

Nick pushed aside a bush and barged past it. As he walked he scanned every shadow, bush and tree for signs of the missing child. His mind, however, was a million miles away on another small boy. He wanted to tell Becky about Ahmed, but something kept him from confiding in her. Each time she asked, he came close to revealing the entire story, but he’d always stopped himself. But the gnawing need to confide in someone, to ease the pain became stronger with each passing day and made it harder and harder not to tell her.

The burden of Ahmed’s death had become like a stone wall between him and happiness, between him and any future he might have with
Becky,
and more and more he wanted to see it smashed, setting him free to live his life without shadows. Maybe that need had produced the urgency to find Davy. Maybe he just needed to find the kid before Davy ended up like Ahmed. Just the thought made him sick inside.

He pushed through a stand of laurel bushes and tangled vines to the small stream Becky had said they’d find. Kneeling, he filled his bottle with the icy cold spring water, and then drank from it in long, gulping swallows, assuaging his thirst as he could not quench his guilty burden. Becky kneeled beside him, but he kept his gaze averted while he refilled the bottle again. All he’d have to do is look into her kind, compassionate face, and he felt like the whole story would come spilling forth. And eventually it would. But not until they found Davy and Nick knew he was all right.

He readily admitted now that he loved Becky Hawks more than he’d loved anyone in his life, and he’d told himself over and over that he couldn’t burden her with his guilt. But recalling the gentleness of her touch a few moments ago, he began to wonder if telling her would help heal the open sore on his conscience.

Waiting impatiently while she drank her fill then filled her water
bottle,
he scanned the mountain above them, and then paused, his gaze fixed on the cliffs she’d pointed out earlier. “What’s up there?” he asked, pointing toward the cliffs.

She came to stand beside him and shaded her eyes against the sun with her hand. “Not much. A lot of wild growth: trees, vines and a snarl of bushes. The only living thing up there besides the wild animals is old Margaret Mullins. Since her husband died about ten years ago, she’s been a recluse and only comes into town about every three months for basic supplies. For the most part, she lives off the land with no electricity, no running water and heats the house with an old wood stove.”

Vaguely hearing her, Nick moved a few steps forward. Squinting against the sun hanging above the cliffs, he studied them. Could Davy be up there somewhere? Then the name Becky had said brought his last meeting with Davy to mind.
“Oh, my God!”

Becky appeared at his side, shaking him from his thoughts. “What’s the matter?”

Turning to look straight at her, Nick frowned. “How old is Mrs. Mullins?”

Becky had to think. “Um, gosh, she was ancient when I was a kid. I’d say in her late eighties. Why?”

Excitement surged through him. “That day I rescued you from
Laureene
Talbot, I’d met Davy just before I left the market. He was reading the community bulletin board, looking for a job to help
Lydia
out. He showed me a card with a want ad on it for someone to chop wood for Mrs. Mullins. He wanted to take the job, but George said no. He said no son of his was
gonna
be chopping wood for some crazy old lady.”

Confusion showing clearly in her expression, Becky shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“If Davy did misinterpret the judge’s words, he may have though that earning extra money to help
Lydia
out would make the judge change his mind. He may have gone there to ask the Mrs. Mullins for a job.” He swung around and grabbed her upper arms. “Do you know how to get to her place?”

Becky shaded her eyes with her hand and looked up toward the top of Hominy Ridge.

“Becky! Do you know how to get there?” Nick’s sharp tone rang with the uncompromising impatience that had been driving him ever since Lois announced Davy’s disappearance. When Becky turned abruptly toward him with a hurt expression, he instantly regretted yelling at her. “I’m sorry,
but .
 . . ” He pointed toward the western horizon. “The sun is going to set soon, and we need to find him before there’s no light left.”

She didn’t say anything right away, but he could tell by her expression that the sting of his crisp words still clung to her. The injured tone of her voice confirmed it. “Then we better get going. You can’t get to Mrs. Mullins’ house by going straight up, unless you want to climb that.” She motioned toward the sheer rock face that towered several hundred feet above them. “We’re going to have to go around.” Without waiting for him, she started off through the trees to the east.

Nick caught up to her quickly and passed her, his entire being centered on finding the child. Not until he’d gone several yards did he realize he had no idea what direction to take. He waited while she caught up to him. She still avoided his eyes.

He touched her arm. “I’m sorry about back there.”

For a few yards, she remained silent, and then she stopped short and turned to him. “Nick, we need to talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you. I know that now isn’t the best time, so we’ll put it on hold until we find Davy and get him back home. But make no
mistake,
I’m not going to let you hide from me anymore. I won’t drop it this time.” Her expression softened, and a solitary tear rolled down her cheek. “Because it’s killing me to see you hurting like this.”

Her admission stunned him. It had been a long time since anyone had worried about him or hurt for him. That Becky did, and with such intensity, left him floundering for a reply. Unexpected emotions, emotions he couldn’t even define, choked off his vocal chords.

Why would she want to get herself mixed up in his twisted life? Why would she care? He felt himself withdrawing, putting up his shield as he always did. But this time, he fought it off.

He grabbed her arm and stopped her. “Why?”

She frowned.

“Why do you want to know about me?” Though he tried not to let it, his tone reflected the chilling fear of having to share the worst part of him with her and see her disappointment and perhaps worse.

“Because I—” She glanced at him. A tear hung suspended in her lower lashes, then dropped and rolled down her cheek. She shrugged.
“Never mind.”

Seconds ticked by at what seemed like a snail’s pace, while he searched for something to say, but no words came. Birds twittered in the trees above them. Dry leaves rustled as small animals, scared by the raised human voices, scurried for their hiding places. The smell of pine sap lay heavy on the humid air. The sun dappled the forest floor with puddles of golden light.

But Nick was only vaguely aware of any of it. Perspiration rolled down his back and cheeks. Carelessly, he swiped at his face with the back of his hand, his gaze never leaving the trail of moisture left by that lone tear. Still he couldn’t speak.

Becky shook her head and broke the spell. “We don’t have time for this now. We have a child to find.” She walked away.

His heart sank. She was right. Even though it had been a painful to think about something, anything, except that boy who was somewhere out there, alone, afraid and desperate, finding out about Becky’s feelings for him been a welcome discovery.

Thoughts of Davy brought him back to the immediate urgency. He shook himself free of the emotions clamoring to be recognized. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about the boy, even for those few moments. He had to concentrate on Davy. Quickly he followed in her footsteps.

Becky trudged through the trees by rote, scrambling over rock outcroppings and pawing through almost impenetrable barriers of briars and vines, following directions coming to her out of habit born of memories of a childhood long past. She’d played in these woods many times and, although the trees had grown and vines had claimed their territory, she could still find her way. But neither her childhood nor the path she followed were what occupied her mind.

She’d almost told Nick she loved him. The words wouldn’t come because she’d been suddenly terrified of pushing him away from her. He’d gotten so cold when she’d told him they were going to talk later. And suddenly, it was not her gentle Nick standing before her, but Sonny, with that none-of-your-business expression. What if he got so angry at her prying that he never wanted to see her again? What if his secret was so dark
that .
 . .

No. That was impossible. Nothing about Nick warranted her thinking like that. He was kind, gentle and compassionate. If he were none of those things then why would he care that a child was out here alone, possibly hurt? Why was he scouring the mountain to find Davy?

Becky’s thoughts continued to swirl around in her head until her temples began to throb in protest. She had to stop this speculation and concentrate on finding Davy.

Just then she looked up to see Mrs. Mullins’ shack perched in the middle of a large clearing on a rise known as the Crow’s Nest just ahead of them. “There it is.”

Nick sprinted past her so fast she had to run to catch up to him. As they climbed the rickety porch steps they creaked almost as loud as her pounding heart. Mentally, she crossed her fingers. Davy had to be here, safe inside the house. He had to be.

Nick knocked hard on the door.

“Who’s there?” The voice coming from inside sounded weak and frail, but authoritative, nevertheless.

“It’s Becky Hawks, Mrs. Mullins.
Jo Hawks’ granddaughter.”

A few moments passed in silence, and then the door creaked slowly open. A wizened, ancient little old lady stepped from behind it, a double-barrel shotgun aimed at Nick’s chest clutched in her wrinkled hands. Her snow white hair hung in long, dirty tangles around her shoulders, and her faded dress held dried food stains of long standing.

Shoulders bent either from age or the weight of the shotgun, she peered up at Nick. “I don’t know you.”

“No, ma’am.
I’m Nick Hart.”

“
Don’t know no
Nick Hart.” She turned to Becky and her eyes lit up with recognition. “You’re Jo Hawks’ grandbaby. I’d recognize that red hair anywhere.
Just as pretty as your grandma.
I remember when you were—”