Margaret Brownley (36 page)

*****

It was crazy to turn back. But once Logan made the decision, it was as if he was caught in

some strong magnetic force that took control of his every thought and deed.

He traveled all day, stopping only long enough to let his horse drink from the cool rushing springs he found along the way. He feared that if he lingered one moment longer than necessary he would not make it back in time. And she would have left with Thornton, never to be seen again.

And there was so much he had to tell her. So much that must be said. Maybe, they could be together. There had to be a way. Despite his leg. Despite the fact that he was a trapper and possibly even an ex-trapper, there had to be a way.

During the warmest part of the day, when the hot rays of the sun penetrated his leg and the willow bark had taken effect, he managed to convince himself that his leg was on the mend. On some deeper level, he knew that he was deluding himself. But it was a pleasant delusion and one that made the long hours in the saddle more bearable.

It was nightfall by the time he reached the mountain trail that led to Calico Corners. It was dangerous to try to navigate the sharp twists and turns in the dark. But he had no choice, not if he wanted to reach her in time.

He reached the summit without mishap. He reined in his horse and stopped to absorb the sounds and odors around him. It was a habit acquired in his youth after he and his papa were attacked by a small band of Indians. It was only by sheer skill that they’d escaped, but the lessons learned never left him.

His body tensed. He reached for his Hawken. But it was not the memory of that long-ago brush with death that had alerted him. His inner alarm had been triggered by some primal instinct. He cocked his rifle and waited.

Sensing his uneasiness, his horse nickered softly. A short distance away, an owl let out a low hooting sound. The nocturnal cry would normally have set his mind at rest. But not tonight.

The slight breeze carried the distinctive odor of a wolf’s den, but there was no smell of humans or bear. Nothing that would be cause for alarm. Still, he remained fully alert. He sniffed the air and listened, his sharp keen eyes measuring every shadow, every movement.

His gun held in readiness, he urged his horse forward. It puzzled him that Jim Bridger revealed none of the usual signs that signaled danger. How could his horse’s instincts be so out of accord with his own?

Without the slightest hesitation, the horse followed a sharp turn, but even this failed to put Logan’s mind at ease.

The sound of water rushing along the wooden flume obliterated the normal sounds of nature. There were no worrisome scents in the air, nothing at all that should cause alarm. Still, he scanned the darkness around him, convinced that something was amiss. Never before had he occasion to doubt his own instincts. He wasn’t about to doubt them now.

He reached the trail leading downward, but decided to take a short detour to a spot that overlooked the valley below and Calico Corners. After dark, the most that could be seen normally from such a vantage point was a pinpoint of light.

Tonight, however, a reddish glow ten times brighter than any gas lantern or campfire greeted his startled eyes and struck terror in his heart. Calico Corners was on fire!

With a thrust of his hand, he replaced his gun and urged his horse back toward the trail. With no thought for his own safety, he rode helter-skelter down the mountainside with only the faint light of the silver half-moon leading the way.

The pounding sound of his horse’s hooves beat out the silent cry of his heart. His leg hammered unmercifully against the rigid moist flank of his racing horse, but none of this mattered to him. The only thing that did matter was that Libby and Noel were in danger.

And he was so far away.

Home. At last she was home in Boston. But rather than feeling joyous Libby was overwhelmed with feelings of confusion and fear. She ran along the same crowded streets she had roamed as a child.

She tensed and listened to the city sounds as Logan had taught her to listen. They were all there—the familiar sounds of home. The clink of milk bottles being delivered in the early morning hours. The clip-clop of iron horse shoes upon cobbled streets. The loud clangs of the anvil in the blacksmith shop a block away from her house.

It stuck her as strange that the familiar sounds of the city would suddenly seem so harsh and forbidding.

The smell of freshly baked bread from the bakery, combined with the salty smell of crab and lobster from nearby fish markets seemed far less forbidding, though nowhere near as welcoming as she had supposed.

It surprised her that she felt like a stranger. If only she could find the house she grew up in. Maybe, then, she’d feel at home.

She could see it now, in the hazy distance. She jumped off the pier and began to swim through the icy cold water toward the house. Her mother waved to her from the veranda. Her father called to her from a second-story window, telling her to go back.

Her limbs grew heavy, leaden, dragging her beneath the surface of the water. She could no longer breathe.

Gasping, she sat up in bed and clutched her throat. Her brain in tumult, she fought through a maze of confused senses. But it was a muffled choking sound coming from Noel’s cradle that jolted her to full wakefulness.

Before she could name the source of the danger, she jumped out of bed and made a mad dash across the room. Gathering Noel in her arms, she glanced in alarm at the bright orange glow outside the bedroom window. She fought against the terror that froze even her lungs. It was no time to panic.

Holding Noel close she dashed to the other room. The room was filled with smoke and her throat tightened in protest.

The metal handle of the front door felt hot. Using a portion of Noel’s blanket, she yanked the door open. Smoke and flames clawed at the doorway. With a startled cry, she slammed the door shut and spun around to face the side window. That’s when it hit her full force. The house was surrounded by fire.

And there was no way to escape.

*****

By the time Logan thundered into town the flames had spread from one end of Main Street to the other. Urging Jim Bridger onward, Logan flew past the church just as the steeple collapsed, sending sparks flying across his path. His horse reared in panic.

He reined until he had the animal under control and quickly dismounted. He landed on his bad leg. He let out a muttered oath. Momentarily dazed by the pain, he fought his way through blinding smoke and scorching heat.

He hobbled on one foot and dragged his other leg behind him. Chunks of blazing wood fell around him.

The entire frame of Libby’s house was in flames, including her wooden porch where a group of men worked frantically. Buckets filled with water were hauled with speedy precision from one man to the next all the way from the creek.

Thornton’s usual soft-cultured voice was harsh and relentless as he issued orders to his men.

The entire porch and front entrance were completely engulfed in flames. Logan quickly hobbled to the side of the house where Thornton had just broken through the wall with a hatchet.

Logan called to the others. “Bring the water over here!”

No sooner had he spoken than gallons of water hit the side of the house. The water sizzled and evaporated as it doused the hot flames and sputtered steam.

Logan tried lifting his leg through the hole. His leg felt numb and heavy and refused to budge. He had no control over it. He slumped to the ground. Thornton gaped at him in surprise and valuable seconds were wasted.

“Go to her!” Logan shouted.

Thornton, moving quicker than Logan had ever seen him move, squeezed himself through the jagged opening and disappeared. Snapping orders to the men, Logan watched the gaping hole like a hawk. What was taking so long? What was Thornton doing in there?

Much to his horror, the front wall collapsed and flames shot upward. Shouting Libby’s name, Logan scrambled toward the burning cabin on hands and knees.

A heavy weight landed on his shoulder and he felt himself being dragged away from the house. His senses spun in protest. He fought the dark hands that held him, but the viselike grip remained.

“You can’t do anything,” Big Sam cried. “It’s too late!”

“No! I won’t have it. Let go!” He pulled free from Big Sam, only to find himself being held by the others. A wild, desperate struggle followed.

Big Sam’s voice roared above the rest. “Let the fool man go.”

Logan scrambled on his one foot and hopped forward, his eyes blinded by flames and smoke. “Libby!” His cry was filled with anguish. If only he hadn’t left her, she would still be alive. “Oh, Libby, Libby will you ever forgive me?”
A shadow appeared in front of him and he recognized the ash-covered face as Thornton’s. “Libby….”

“She’s fine!” Thornton shouted back. “Take the baby!” No sooner had he spoken than Noel was thrust into Logan’s arms.

Logan handed Noel to Big Sam just as Thornton and Libby stepped away from the burning house.

“Libby!” He couldn’t believe his eyes. Not even after he took her in his arms and carried her to safety. He set her on the grass and cupped her face. “I thought I’d lost you,” he said, his voice hoarse from the smoke.

She coughed and gasped for air. “Hold me,” she cried. “Oh, Logan, please hold me.”

*****

The hill overlooking Calico Corners looked as grim as the aftermath of a battleground that morning as the sun illuminated the full extent of the horror. Exhausted miners were sprawled everywhere. A few fire-weary men had suffered burns and were soaking hands and arms in buckets of water. Several more stood in the fast-moving stream, letting the icy cold water swirl around their ankles as they splashed cold water onto blistered skin.

Some men sat staring into space, their soot-covered faces as still as wooden masks. Others gathered in groups of two or three to share their harried experiences in hushed voices.

Libby sat huddled beneath a blanket. Noel slept in her arms peacefully. She stared lovingly at her son and said a prayer of thanksgiving for his safety. 

Logan and Thornton had worked on the fire line for most of the night. So far as anyone knew no one had been seriously hurt, but a few of the miners had been trapped and it had taken heroic measures to free them.

Logan crept back to her side at the first light of dawn, his face black with soot.

“How is Noel?’ His voice thick and hoarse from exposure to smoke and heat worked its way through her dazed senses.

“He’s coughing a bit, but otherwise he appears to be as healthy as ever.” She watched Logan chew on a piece of willow and her heart went out to him. “Are you all right?”

Logan wrapped an arm around her. “Now I am. I was so sure I lost you.” His voice was but a hoarse whisper, but it was emotion not smoke that thickened his voice, this time. “Lost Noel.”

In the dying embers of the fire, Logan’s eyes glowed brightly, but it was a brightness that could only come from an inner source.

She lifted her hand to his face. “Oh, Logan,” she whispered back. “Do you know how I felt when I discovered you gone? I thought I’d never see you again.”

He pressed his cheek into her palm. “I thought it would be best, Libby, if I just left.”

“How could you think such a thing?”

“I don’t know. I can’t seem to think at all lately. I had some crazy notion….”

“What crazy notion, Logan? Tell me…”

“Forget it, Libby, it was nothing.” He pulled his hand away. “The reason I came back was to give you this.” He reached into his pouch and pulled out the locket.

She couldn’t believe it. She thought she’d lost everything in the fire. “Where did you find it?”

“In my necessary bag. I have no idea how it got there, unless you dropped it in the night I performed surgery on Macao.”

Her fingers flew to her mouth. “I remember now. It must have fallen out when I knocked over the dream keeper. Oh, Logan, I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“I know, Libby. I know.”

Sharkey hurried toward him, waving his hands. “I just saw Flint.”

Logan stiffened. “Are you sure?”

Shakey nodded.“Over there. He was a-watchin’ the flames with the meanest smile you ever did see. And some of the boys and me found an oilcan by the creek.”

Logan didn’t wait for Sharkey to finish before rising to his feet.

“Don’t go,” Libby pleaded. She reached for his hand. “Please.”

He gave her a tortured look. “What he did…. It almost cost you your life.”

“I know.  But you’re a Christian and I don’t want you doing anything that would displease God.”

He stared at her incredulous.  What was he supposed to do? Forgive and forget? 

He turned and nearly bumped into Thornton. The man’s bedraggled appearance gave him a masculine dignity that Logan had previously thought lacking.

Next to Thornton Logan felt inadequate. It was painful to admit, but Thornton had proven to be the better man, his stamina relentless through the long and difficult night. It was Thornton who had saved Libby, saved Noel, saved the two people in all the world that meant the most to Logan.