The Work and the Glory (30 page)

Without waiting for an answer, he slipped through the stile and started across the narrow width of an alfalfa field. A woodlot, thick and pitch-black against the marginally lighter night sky, stood about fifty yards away. He moved swiftly but stepped carefully. If this was where the plates were hidden, Joseph would be especially cautious now.

Once into the trees, he stopped, momentarily blind. It was even darker than he had expected, but as he stopped, he found he could make his way, sensing more than seeing the shape of trees and the movement of bushes waving in the wind. The rain was still just coming in an occasional drop or two, but the wind had picked up and Joshua knew the front was almost on them. Another ten minutes or so and the rain would start in earnest. That would only darken the night further, a point in Joseph’s favor, and it would be easy to lose him.

For several moments Joshua stood motionless, searching the sounds of the night, trying to separate them from the noise of the wind. He felt an eerie prickle at the back of his neck, and wished he’d been smart enough to bring his rifle too. But almost immediately he shrugged it off. Whatever Joseph was, he wasn’t violent. If this were a case of going into the woods after Will Murdock, that would be another matter. But Joseph…He shook off the mood.

Remembering all the techniques his father had taught him about stalking wild game, Joshua began to slip quietly from tree to tree. He would barely touch the ground with the balls of his feet to make sure there would be no telltale sound before putting his full weight upon them, stopping frequently to search the night for movement, holding his breath to listen better.

The crack of a branch to his right pulled him around sharply. He froze, straining to read the direction from which it had come. There it was again, this time louder. He felt his heart leap. This was not just someone or something walking through the woods. Whoever it was was pulling at the undergrowth, moving branches and brush. After the previous silence, broken only by the moaning of the wind, it sounded like someone driving a hay wagon through the trees.

In a half crouch, he started moving slowly toward the place where the noise was coming from. It stopped, and he froze, peering anxiously in the darkness. Suddenly a dark shape loomed up directly in front of him, less than ten yards away. With a sharp gasp, he dropped to one knee, pressing himself against a tree. For an instant he thought it was coming directly toward him, but just before it reached Joshua, it turned to the left and passed by him.

Heart thudding against his chest in great hammering blows, Joshua felt himself sag a little. Then it registered in his mind. The figure was tall and slender. Joseph! And he had something slung over his back, a burden of some kind. And there had been heavy breathing. It had to be Joseph, carrying something in a sack. Something heavy! And he was heading out of the trees again, for the stile. Right into Will’s arms!

Joshua straightened, ready to plunge after him, then he stopped. Curious, he moved in the direction from which Joseph had come, head swinging slowly back and forth. Then he had it. It was a small clearing in the trees. Tree limbs and dead branches were strewn around on the forest floor. He moved to a fallen log that lay at the foot of a stand of birch trees. He knelt quickly, running his hands along the log. He felt a surge of elation. The wood was rotten and crumbling, but the birch bark was still firm. Someone had cut a large flap in the bark and hollowed out a sizeable area within the rotten wood. He felt quickly, then uttered a soft exclamation of amazement. It was large, almost two feet wide and the full depth of the log. He leaped to his feet. A hole that big could hold thirty or forty pounds of gold!

Throwing all caution aside now, he leaped to his feet and, holding his hands out in front of him to ward off any low-lying branches, broke into a lumbering run after Joseph. Carrying that much weight, he could only move so fast. Will would slow him down and Joshua would catch him from behind.
We’ve got him!

But as Joshua reached the fence and located the wall stile there was no sign of either Will or Joseph. He stepped forward, then began to curse silently. The cross stick had been replaced in its slot.

A noise behind him jerked him around. A dark figure was coming at him across the alfalfa field. Will’s voice suddenly barked out at him. “Stop! Stop right there or I’ll shoot.”

Joshua felt a rush of disappointment hit him like a punch in the stomach.

Will came pounding up, rifle high. “All right, put your hands—” He stopped, peering at Joshua stupidly.

Snatching his hat off, Joshua threw it at Will with all his fury. “You stupid dolt! I told you to stay here!”

Will fell back a step, stunned by Joshua’s rage.

“You idiot!” He let his shoulders drop, tasting the bitterness like it was something he had bit into. “We coulda had him.” He spun around and slammed the fence railing with his fist.

“I…I thought I saw Joe coming out of the trees over that way.” Will was stammering. “I thought he’d gotten past you.”

“No!” Joshua shot back. “You were afraid I was going to get the gold.” He let out his breath, shaking his head. “Jackass! We had him and you let him go.”

Will’s spluttering turned to anger. “Watch your mouth, Joshua.” The rifle came up slightly. “I told you. I saw him. He was getting away.”

“Yeah,” Joshua muttered. “Just like I saw that angel of Joe’s.” He removed the stick and squeezed through the fat man’s agony. “Come on, we can still catch him.”

Will grabbed his arm. “Has he got the gold?”

Joshua stared at him for a long moment, still fuming, then in spite of himself he grinned. “Yeah, he does!”

“Yahoo!” Will whooped, but cut it off instantly as Joshua cuffed him sharply and said, “We ain’t caught him yet.”

They picked up Joseph again ahead of them in less than five minutes. He was moving steadily, though more slowly now, back up Canandaigua Road. Whispering urgently, Joshua persuaded Will to hang back. Joseph was headed directly into the arms of Mark and David, and they would once more have him trapped. But their plan was foiled almost immediately. Now that they were moving north again, the wind was at their backs. Perhaps it carried their noise to him, or perhaps Joseph sensed their presence. Whatever it was, he suddenly plunged off the road again and disappeared.

Joshua ran forward, peering toward the line of trees. He had driven more than one wagonload of freight from the docks down this way, and now he tried to remember the lay of the land. This line of trees, varying in width from as little as fifty or sixty yards to as much as a quarter of a mile, ran nearly unbroken for about two miles. It angled somewhat off due north so it ran from the southeast to the northwest. His head came around and he stared into the darkness toward the north. If his memory served him right, the northern tip of the woods ended a short distance from Joseph’s house, providing a virtual path of cover for him all the way home. And suddenly he understood.

He took Will’s arm and dragged him into a run. “Come on.”

“What?”

“I know where he’s going. We can cut him off.”

“Here,” Joshua said in an urgent whisper. “Stay behind the tree.” He raised a fist in threat. “And this time, Will, don’t you move until I say.”

They had come into the woods about half a mile further on from the spot they had last seen Joseph. Once within the woods, Joshua had moved them quickly in the same direction Joseph was moving until he found a place where the trees narrowed to no more than fifty yards across. Only then did he turn them around.

“I’ll be right across from you over there. If you see him, wait until he’s almost between us, then holler. I’ll do the same.” He started to turn, then swung back. “Will!” he hissed.

“What?”

“There’ll be no shooting. You could hit me too.”

There was a soft laugh of derision. “Right.” He muttered something else, probably still angry at Joshua, but Joshua didn’t stop to find out what it was he said. Joseph was making good time, even considering the load he was carrying. This time they couldn’t miss him.

Three or four minutes passed with no sign of anyone approaching. The wind had almost died now, and the occasional spatter of rain had now settled into a light but steady drizzle, making the moldy floor beneath his feet slippery and even blacker than before. But the cessation of the wind left the forest hushed and still, and no living thing would be able to pass them, even if the darkness was almost total. Joshua began to wonder if he had misjudged Joseph. What if he had cut straight west and picked up Stafford Road, then turned north? A momentary wave of panic hit him as he considered the possibility, but he remembered there were others there to catch him if that was the case. Then he shook his head. No, Joseph would stay in the trees. It would slow him down, but it was the safest route back home.

He settled back, hunkering down deeper into his coat against the dampness and the chill. Two minutes more dragged by, then Joshua stiffened, his ears straining forward. It was off to his left and still maybe seventy or eighty yards south of his position, but there was no mistaking it. Someone was coming through the trees. He listened intently, trying to judge distance as the sounds drew definitely closer. Whoever it was—and there was no doubt now in his mind that it was Joseph—would pass almost directly to his left.

Moving like a cat in its final stalk of a bird, Joshua started back toward Will to cut the distance down a little. As he came up on a large windfall of logs and branches, the sound now seemed thunderous and came directly in front of him. With a leap of exultation, he realized there was only one way around the windfall and that way would bring Joseph into Joshua’s path. Tensing, he crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet, ready to spring.

Five yards away, so close Joshua could now hear the labored breathing, Joseph suddenly stopped. He had come to the windfall and was stopped at a place where a tree had fallen across the path, lodging up against another tree so the trunk was nearly waist high. Joshua watched as Joseph lowered the sack he was carrying to the ground, then put a hand on the tree trunk, preparing to vault over it. But again he stopped. Joshua could see the dark shape of his head swinging back and forth, probing the darkness. Joshua froze. Had Joseph somehow sensed Joshua’s presence ahead of him in the darkness? The moment seemed to stretch on forever, but finally Joseph was satisfied. He vaulted easily over the log and bent down to retrieve the bag.

Joshua hurled himself forward, covering the ground in three great leaps. Quick as a cat, Joseph whirled to meet him. Their bodies struck hard, Joshua’s weight slamming Joseph back against the log. There was a grunt of pain and a whoosh of breath.

“Will! I’ve got him! I’ve got him!”

A thunderous blow caught Joshua alongside the head. Lights flashed behind his eyes, and the next instant he was skidding in the dark wetness of the forest compost. For a moment he lay there, dazed. Somewhere it registered in his mind that Joseph had retrieved the sack from behind the log and was darting past him. He shot one hand out, grabbed at a leg. He caught the pant leg and held on. Joseph went down hard and Joshua was up on hands and knees, going for him. Joseph kicked out. The toe of his boot caught Joshua square in the breastbone. It was like he had been shot. The pain dropped him to the ground again and he retched, gagging for breath. Joseph scrambled out of his grasp and was up on his feet again.

“Will,” Joshua croaked, “Will. Get him! He’s getting away.”

At that instant, there was a blood-chilling cry, and another dark shape hurtled from behind a tree. It was Will Murdock, rifle high, the butt swinging down hard toward the small of Joseph’s back. There was a blur of dark shapes as Joseph spun, quicker than a startled rabbit. He took the blow high on his shoulder. There was a solid thud, a heavy grunt of pain. Will’s rifle had connected. But even as he spun around to escape Will’s blow, Joseph had swung the sack around to block the blow. The heavy weight crashed into the stock of the rifle. Will howled in pain and the gun went flying. Joseph crashed into the trees and disappeared, the sounds of his flight quickly fading.

Joshua stumbled to his feet, still gasping from the pain in his chest. He moved to Will’s side. “Are you all right?” He started to pull him up.

There was a sharp cry and Will grabbed at his right arm. “He broke my arm. He broke my arm.”

Joshua dropped to one knee and took the arm carefully, feeling up and down, ignoring the cries of pain. Finally he sat back. “It’s not broken.”

“He likely near killed me,” Will bawled. “Where’s my rifle? I’ll put a bullet in his ugly head.”

Joshua sat back and dropped his head, massaging his chest. “He’s gone, Will. The others are gonna have to get him now.”

Ten minutes later Joshua and Will nearly stumbled over Mark and David. It was raining hard now, and they could see no more than five or six feet in front of them. The two were sitting on the side of Armington Road, just east of where it connected to Stafford Road. Mark was holding his head and moaning softly. David held his wrist, whimpering like a scared puppy.

Joshua slowed to a walk, then stopped, his chest heaving. “You too?” he said in disgust.

Mark leaped up. “Will, Joshua, we saw Joe. He had two men with him. They jumped David before I could get in to help. Then one of them hit me from behind with a club.”

Joshua gave a short, mirthless laugh, knowing at that moment they had lost. Too wet and cold and in pain to care anymore, he sat down heavily beside David.

“I think one of them had a gun,” David started. “They—”

But Joshua’s look cut him off. “Joseph Smith is as strong as an ox,” he snapped angrily, “but he’s alone.”

“They poleaxed me,” Mark cried. “I didn’t have a chance.”

Will snorted in disgust. “Joshua’s right. There weren’t anyone but Joe Smith. I thought at least the two of you could handle him.”

“Yeah,” Joshua said wearily. “Just like we did.” He turned and looked down the road. They were less than half a mile from the Smith farm now. “Well, he’ll be home by now.” Suddenly he thought of Lydia. As she had ridden away, Will called her a silly fool. He could still clearly picture the anger, the hurt, and the bitterness in her eyes. He let out his breath slowly, feeling a sudden desolation.
Who’s the real fool here?