Stained Snow (5 page)

“No thanks, sir. I just want to be back.”

“Well, it’s late anyway. You wouldn’t get far before it’s dark.”

“I really want to be getting home, sir.”

“It’s late. It would be better to wait until morning. Like I said, we’ll feed you and get you a bed. You can start back when you’re fresh again.”

He wanted to say no. Wanted to get home, but the man was right. He wouldn’t make it more than a couple miles before it would be too dark to travel. “All right. Where can I put up my horse?”

“I’ll have a private see to it.” The commander turned away. “I’m sure you’d like to get cleaned up before you eat.”

William nodded and reluctantly left his horse. He didn’t want to be here at all. He hadn’t wanted to leave Anna and David in the first place. The commander was right. He wouldn’t make much more time by starting back now, only to have to stop and make camp in another hour or so. That storm he saw coming could break at anytime. It would be better to be inside for it.

Damn, he couldn’t wait to be home with his family.

#

Wyoming Territory

May 9, 1887

Patrick rode beside Isaac, William’s foreman. “Some more stragglers over that way.” Issac pointed toward the two cows making their way slowly through the brush. One had a tiny calf following along behind it. Patrick called out to one of the men to move them in with the rest of the herd.

They’d been at this the last couple days. It kept him away from the ranch longer than he’d like, but they needed to be rounded up. Neither of their ranches were large, so every head counted. He hoped to have them all sorted by the time William returned.

The thought of his son had him glancing in the direction of the younger man’s ranch. He wished he could keep a better eye on Anna and David. He’d promised William he’d make sure they were okay every day. He understood why his son worried, and he didn’t blame him. He shared the worry. Even when his wife swore Thomas would never do anything to hurt them.

Love for her older son blinded her. Patrick couldn’t blame her for that, but he wished she’d see the truth. There’d always been something dark in Thomas, even when Patrick had first met him as a young boy. Sarah hadn’t seen it even then.

She hadn’t even seen it when their baby girl, Julia, had died in her cradle. He’d known it had been more than an accidental smothering. He’d known it as soon as he’d seen Thomas’s face. He’d only been twelve years then. Patrick let Sarah convince him he couldn’t have done anything. A part of him, likely the same part that never healed from that loss, had known the truth all along.

Patrick turned his horse and rode back toward the growing herd of cattle. At least twenty head now. There should probably be at least ten more hiding out somewhere. Maybe a few more. Unless some died during the winter. Always a possibility, or someone rustled a few since they hadn’t found any carcasses.

He thought Sarah would have believed him about Thomas after he’d attacked William on the way back from Fort McKinney. He’d been gone for a couple years before that and hadn’t been back with them for more than a couple weeks. Patrick didn’t know where he’d been, but he seemed even darker when he came back. It worried him, but he hoped putting him to work would help. It had only made him angrier.

He had one of his men cut the young cows from the herd, leaving the really young calves with their mothers. He’d have to check them over too, but for now they could be left alone. The yearling ones needed to be culled out, branded, and the males separated into which ones would become steers and those he’d leave intact.

He never should have taken Patrick along on that drive to the fort. He’d needed to get the horses there, but he could have taken a couple of his men and William. He should have left Thomas behind. He wouldn’t have seen Anna and wouldn’t have thought of taking her from William once he realized his brother’s interest.

Too late to change any of that now. It had nothing to do with the work here, but he couldn’t turn his mind from it.

He’d been asking Anna to come to the ranch ever since William left, but she seemed to have a notion it would be disloyal of her to leave before her husband returned. He needed to make sure she and David were doing all right, ask if they wanted to ride over to his ranch for dinner. Maybe he could finally convince her to stay until William returned.

He doubted Anna had a disloyal bone in her whole body. So, he’d ask her again.

The ranch was over the next rise, and he glanced that way again. They’d been moving closer to it as they hunted down the stragglers. Now, he sensed something wasn’t right. The air didn’t smell right, something heavy on it. His stomach rolled as he realized what that smell was.

“Issac,” he snapped at his son’s foreman. The other man came riding over.

“What is it, Mr. Bailey?” the older man asked.

“There’s smoke coming from Will’s ranch. I’m going to go check it out.”

“Could be from the chimney. Maybe Anna started dinner early.”

He didn’t think so. “Just have the men get the cows started back toward my place and the holding pen there.”

He turned the horse and kicked it into a trot. As he rode over the last rise and looked down on his son’s ranch, his stomach rolled, and he felt a burning at the back of his throat.

The house he’d helped William build was nothing more than a smoking pile of burnt wood and belongings. The barn looked to be about the same. A few horses milled around the yard. Either they’d been let out or had been able to escape during the fire. A whispered curse sounded behind him. At least one man followed him. His mouth was dust dry.

He urged his horse into a hard lope, barely slowing as he reached the yard and jumped from the saddle beside what was left of the house. The impact of the landing sent pain through his knees, but he ignored it as he stumbled forward.

Words passed his lips, but he wasn’t sure if they were curses or prayers. He fell to his knees beside her, brushed hair away from her face. She didn’t stir.

The first thing he noticed was the belt in her mouth. Those were definitely curses dropping from his lips now. She had marks on what had been unmarred skin. Bruises colored her throat, and her dress had ripped. Rope still kept her hands tied together in front of her, even though he hadn’t felt a stirring of breath from her yet. “Anna. Sweet Anna, what did he do to you?”

She’d fought. She must have fought him. Her dress was torn in more places. There were more bruises on her arms and legs. He couldn’t bear to look for more damage. She’d fought back, and he killed her. How would he ever tell William? And where was David?

As he pushed back to his feet, Issac called to him.

“The boy’s still breathing,” the foreman said when Patrick turned to him.

He hurried over to where the other man stood, tears stinging his eyes. He blinked them back, not wanting any of the men to see that kind of weakness. He dropped down beside his grandson, placing one hand on his back. His vision blurred from those tears he couldn’t keep back, but he felt the stickiness, knew what it was before he’d even pulled his hand away again. He’d also felt the slight rise and fall of his body. He wasn’t sure whether to thank or curse God for that one. He had to be in pain. Patrick didn’t want to move him, not yet. “We’ll get you fixed up, David. I promise.”

He looked up at the men gathered behind Isaac, had any of them followed his direction to move the cattle? Pain filled the eyes of those who worked for William. “Is there a wagon? We need to get him to the Doc.”

One of the men ran toward where the barn had stood. “What about Anna?” one of the other hands asked.

He looked back toward his daughter-in-law. “We take her in, too. The doc won’t be able to help her, but I won’t leave her out here.”

“What about Will?” Issac asked. “He needs to know what’s happened here.”

Patrick looked at him. “I’ll have the sheriff send a telegraph to the Fort. He’s probably already left.” His stomach tightened at the anguish this would bring to William. He’d be expecting to come back to his family and home, and most of that was now gone. “One of you round up those horses. Take them to my ranch. I’ll hold onto them for him until…”

They could rebuild the house and barn. If his son would even care to. The rest of it…he could never get that back. “I’m going to ride in with the wagon.” He looked to his own foreman. “James, let Sarah know what’s going on and where I am. I don’t know when I’ll be back out to the ranch.”

He wasn’t going to leave David’s side until his son returned. The boy may not make it, but he wasn’t going to let him pass all alone.

One of the men led the wagon team over to them. Another man handed him a blanket from behind his saddle, and Patrick laid it in the bed of the wagon before lifting the boy from the ground. David let out a cry at the movement, but he didn’t wake. Patrick wanted to scream. None of this was fair. David wouldn’t have offered any risk toward Thomas.

There’d been no reason to shoot him. Nothing but cruelty.

He laid him in the wagon and covered him with the blanket. It warmed up as spring ran toward summer, but the nights were still cold. He’d at least protect him from that.

One of the other men laid Anna on another blanket in the wagon and covered her as well. She wouldn’t feel the cold, but it was the right thing to do anyway. The man who brought the wagon over climbed into the seat, and Patrick climbed in the back.

He’d meant it about not leaving the boy’s side.

#

Fort McKinney, Wyoming Territory

May 10, 1887

The sun barely lit the horizon when William threw the saddle over his horse’s back. He should have left the night before. He could have made camp a few miles from here and been much closer to home. He wanted to be with his family. When the sound of steps came behind him, he barely kept from reaching toward his pistol as he turned.

It was just the commander.

“Leaving already, Mr. Jensen?”

“I want to get home. I have a wife and son waiting for me. I’ve already been here longer than I planned.”

“Don’t you at least want breakfast first?”

“No, I want to be going.”

“I’ll have the cook throw something together for you to take. You have more than a day’s ride ahead of you. I’m sure you’ll be hungry for something by then.”

William didn’t bother to tell the man no again. What would it hurt to wait for a little food? He nodded and continued saddling his horse while he waited. He was ready to go so didn’t bother waiting around. He led his horse out of the stable and noticed the commander heading up the street toward him. He mounted and rode toward the man. He didn’t want to waste another second before leaving.

He tied the bag the commander handed him to his saddle horn. “That should see you through till you get home as long as you don’t run into any trouble.”

William nodded, said thanks, and nudged his horse to go around the man. “Tell your pa I hope everything’s going well, and I hope to see him with some horses soon.”

“I will,” William promised then urged his horse into a faster walk until he reached the gates to the fort. The two privates at the gate saluted as he rode through. He was glad to be heading home again.

#

“Sir.”

Commander Harkins looked up from his meal to see the officer running across the mess tent toward him, a slip of paper in his hands. “What is it, Sergeant?”

“This telegraph came in from Lander.” His gaze skipped around the room before coming back to the commander. “Is Mr. Jensen still here?”

The commander shook his head and pulled out his pocket watch. “No, he left about thirty minutes ago. What is it?”

“Bad news for him.” He handed over the paper.

The commander scanned over it, his face paling. “Damn.” This wasn’t something a man should go riding blind into. He’d been so eager to leave and now there wasn’t much for him to return to.

“Send a couple men out. See if they can catch up with him. The way he’s probably riding, it’s unlikely. Have them turn back if they don’t find him by midday. He should know, but it’s not up to us to track him all that way.”

“Yes, sir.” The man snapped a salute then turned away.

Commander Harkins picked up his fork again, but he suddenly had no appetite left for his eggs. He stood up and left the mess hall behind. “Poor bastard,” he muttered, looking off in the direction William had ridden.

He should have let him go the night before.

Chapter 7

Barnes Ranch, Colorado

May 12, 1887

Maggie wiped her hands on her apron when hooves pounded in the yard. Her father would never ride like that, unless it was an emergency. He and the rest of the hands were still rounding up all their cattle. They’d gotten a later start this year, and winter had tried to come roaring back, but it finally left with a whimper. The men had needed to hold off the round-up until it thawed again.

She stood in the doorway and watched the rider gallop into the yard. She didn’t recognize horse or man at first. He slowed, and she ran out into the yard. “Thomas,” she cried.