WWIV - Basin of Secrets (18 page)

“Should we get in the brush?” he asked, looking back at his wife. Before she could answer, the riders spurred their horses at them, causing her to freeze. “Bets?” Jeremy called out louder.

The horses and their riders made up the span of about 50 yards between the groups in no time. Just as before, Jeremy stood between his wife and their attackers, calling up the last of his bravery to serve as her protector. As the sounds of hoofs pounding the dirt grew louder, Betsi studied the five men, all dressed in similar garb. Each wore a long brown duster, as her father had always called them. The coat hung almost to their knees, keeping most of the dust, now attacking her nose, off their clothing. It appeared that they all wore cowboy boots and hats; though some wore traditional cowboy hats and two wore some type of ball caps.
 

The cloud of trail dust swept to and past the couple. Covering their faces, allowing the dust to settle, the two slowly lowered their arms to stare at the group. Their eyes rose to the faces of the five, high above still in their saddles.

Jeremy spoke to Betsi without looking over. “Bandits?” he asked.

Betsi’s face tensed as she surveyed the group. Finally seeing them clearly, she shook her head.
 

Before she could answer, one of the riders leaned forward to study her face. Narrowing his eyes, he nodded slightly. “Hello Sarabeth.”

“No,” Betsi answered her husband. “Worse. Upland Guard.”

Jeremy stood speechless next to his wife. Around them five horses pranced nervously back and forth. The riders eyed the pair suspiciously, almost as if they were wanted people. A horsetail shot up behind Jeremy and a pile of horse apples littered the trail. Jeremy scowled at the foul smell, raising his arm to cover his nose.

Betsi’s stare remained locked with the apparent leader of the group. “You know this man, Bets?” Jeremy asked.

Without breaking her icy grip on the leader’s eyes, she answered. “Jeremy, this is Major Donaldson of the Upland Guard. These others…” She jerked her head away from Donaldson, “…must be his henchmen.”

Donaldson let his pale blue eyes wander from Betsi to Jeremy and then back again. “This is the schlub you chose over me? I’m shocked!” he cried in a state of false wonder. “This man, if we can even call him that, is nothing more than a boy. Now, if you would have stayed with me, Sarabeth…” His easy expression became a leer, one that Betsi had witnessed many times before.

“A grabby, old pervert. Doesn’t that pretty well describe you, Dennis?” Betsi responded. “I mean my father was so nice to turn a blind eye to your antics as you tried to molest a 17-year-old girl.”

Donaldson faked a pain looked. “Old? I’m only 47 now; how old are you again?” He grinned, examining her mature form.

“Still not interested, Dennis. Run along, we’re looking for my Dad.” Betsi turned to grab Jeremy’s arm, but a horse stepped between the pair.

Donaldson leered at her again. “The gang could take old lover boy here out in the woods and have an accident. Would that help my cause?”
 

With hands on hips, Betsi glowered at the older man. “If you were the last man on earth, you’d have to kill me to get to sleep with me you, you lech.” And yet again, the major showed no offense to her harsh words. “Have you seen Talbot up here at all?”
 

Looking away thoughtfully, Donaldson motioned to one of his men. “When did we see Captain Bond, Groves? Two months ago?”
 

Groves dug a small journal from a deep pocket in his overcoat. Paging through it quickly, he looked back at the major. “About six weeks ago, sir. Almost in this exact spot.”

Donaldson’s eyes returned to Betsi. “So there you go. Six weeks ago, right here.” Leaning forward in his saddle, he whispered in her direction. “So what do you say? Want me to get rid of your old man for you?”
 

Betsi pushed at his horse and then his face, missing one and unable to budge the other. “Would you please leave me and my husband alone, Major?” she demanded. “We need to find my father. Urgently.”

Straightening up in his saddle, Donaldson and his men shared a good laugh. “Going to warn him about Willem Tarlisch and his raiders?” The men laughed louder.

Betsi frowned. Something wasn’t right in his tone. “Of course, you fools. He needs to know.”
 

More laughs followed as the major and his men pulled their horses away from the pair. “Of course he does. Though I’m not sure it makes any difference, does it? I mean, if he hasn’t heard by now, what’s the point? Tarlisch has probably already sent some of his killers up here to get him.” He gave her one last leer, followed by a wink. “Good luck with that, Sarabeth.”

Betsi’s stomach flipped hearing his words. Stepping at the group, she motioned for Donaldson to stop. “Wouldn’t you have heard about something like that and tried to help? Isn’t that why you’re up here? To help out in times of trouble?”

Donaldson turned his horse and slowly made his way back to her, grinning as he did. “Well, let’s see. There’s only 50 or 60 of us left. And the last time I heard, Tarlisch has a gang of about 2,000.” Slowly, he shook his head at her like a disgusted parent. “No, you silly little girl. I’m not taking on Tarlisch for you, much less your old man.” Spitting beside her on the ground, he turned his steed and rode off with his group.

Betsi watched as the five horses disappeared around the corner in the trail. She’d never liked Dennis Donaldson at all, and now she had a reason to hate him. The crunching leaves beneath Jeremy’s feet warned of his approach. “Who the hell was that?” Jeremy demanded.
 

Betsi focused on the woods not wanting to face him. “An old military buddy of Dad’s, from way back. He came around a lot after my mom died.” She knew she should say more, perhaps even tell Jeremy what a pervert the man had been, how her dad had more than one old buddy that had tried where Dennis had failed. Turning to face him, she realized she didn’t care enough about any of it now. Instead, she just glared at her bewildered husband.

“Nothing else to add?” he asked with a hurt look in his eyes.

Pushing him from her way, she continued down the trail. “None of your damned business,” she replied, more to herself than her husband.

As shadows grew longer the pair continued the never-ending march for Camp Eight. Though they knew they were close, Betsi began to think they may have missed a turn or two, in which case they may be walking away from the camp instead of towards it.

Stopping on the trail, Jeremy walked up beside her and offered his canteen. She took a quick swig of lukewarm water and handed it back to him. Studying their position, she threw her arms in the air.

“Where the heck is Camp Eight? We’ve followed the path those old coots told us to, but no camp,” she seethed.

Jeremy patted her back, attempting to encourage his wife. “We’ll find it; soon I bet.”

Her face tightening, she shot him a dirty look. “Oh yeah,” she replied, “Let’s not give up hope.” She shook her head at him and stepped away. “Do you ever get sick of being the eternal optimist, Jeremy? As things fall to shit all around you, do you ever once set aside your rose-colored glasses?”

Jeremy’s normally happy expression fell. “You’re
realistic
enough for both us,” he replied, nastier than normal. “Probably enough for the whole basin.” He walked away, back down the trail they had just traveled.

Straightening up, she went after him. “They killed people, right in front of our eyes,” she screamed. “How do you expect me to react? All happy and giddy and stupid, like you?”

Jeremy turned on her quickly. Approaching fast, he caused her to take a step in retreat. “You’re the bitch here, Betsi. You’re the one who gets all negative and snippy. You see the worst in the world, no matter how much good might be all around you at the time.” Shoving his right hand her direction, he pointed sharply at her. “If someone gave you a million dollars, you’d bitch because they didn’t pay the tax on it. You
would
look a gift horse in the mouth. And probably kill it afterwards.”
 

His stare dug uncomfortably like he could see straight into her soul. “It’s just hard,” she began, stepping timidly toward the irritated man. “Sweetheart, listen to me. I don’t like being mean.” He shot her an open mouthed stare. “Really, I don’t. I’m happy most of the time, right? Even after the awful childhood I had, marrying you made me happy.”

Unmoved, he crossed his arms. “So what changed? Why are you acting like this now?”

Seeking the right words, she reached to pull his arms apart; he stepped further away. “Well, first the lights went out. Then food rationing. Water rationing. My father was gone for months at a time
protecting
Salt Lake from God knows what.” Circling him, she continued the old story. “Then I couldn’t get pregnant, like we both wanted. Then three of our neighbors died, mysteriously. So we had to stay locked inside our house for almost a year.” She peeked at him apologetically. “Isn’t that enough?”

“All those things don’t dampen my spirits,” he coldly replied. “Why you?”

She searched for the right words. If she replied callously, she’d lose him now. She needed his protection, his presence to find her father.
 

Standing proud, she raised her chin. “I’m not as strong as you, sweetie. I can’t take things like you can. I wish I could, but I’m not built that way.” Seeing him soften, she moved in for the kill shot. “Not everyone is as brave as you, Jeremy. Very few people possess the quiet courage that you have. That’s why I need you, so badly.” Noticing his stupid grin, she moved closer.

“I’m sorry, babe,” he said, hugging her tightly. “I’m sorry I got cross with you.” Looking deep into her face, he smiled. “Forgive me, please?”

She returned his smile, even though it nearly killed her to do so. “Of course, my love. Of course.”

Midday, Tarlisch paced in his office, unhappy with waiting. Though it had only been five or six hours, he needed an update. His mood diminished with each passing moment. This morning he was happy, ecstatic actually. Now he felt like a caged cougar, ready for his dinner. Frustrated beyond his ability to cope any longer, he called out for his second-in-command.

“Please come in here and tell me you have news,” he yelled to Howard. “Any update would help.”

Howard strolled into the office, unaffected by his boss’s mood. “You know it will take a day or two, Will. You gotta be patient, okay?”

Tarlisch cringed. “Patient? You want me to be patient? Come on, Howard, you know that isn’t one of my best qualities.” Tarlisch paced more, pounding his fist into his open palm. “I need information. I live on information. When I don’t have information, Howard, I get pissy. You don’t want me pissy, do you?”

Howard rolled his eyes. “Come on boss, let’s go get some lunch. That’ll help.” Taking Willem by the arm, he guided him toward the door.
 

“I’m too anxious to eat, Howard. I’m not sure I’m very hungry.”

Pushing his boss along, Howard continued. “Well, if you sit down and have a bite, it will keep your mind off the troops. And time will go faster. And it will keep you out of my hair for 30 minutes or so.”

“Okay,” Willem finally agreed. “Maybe just a bite. Do we have any milk?”
 

Howard’s face showed Willem his disbelief with the question. “No. Ain’t no cows in the area. How about some goat milk?”

Tarlisch blanched. “I’d rather have goat piss than goat milk.”

Howard shrugged slightly. “I’m sure we can round that up. May take an hour, but if you want goat piss, boss…” He snickered as they continued into the dining room.

“Be serious Howard. What did the chef make for lunch?” Willem asked.

Howard scratched his face, trying to recall what he’d been told. “Potatoes, ground beef and green beans. Cut nice and small, just the way you like ‘em.”

Finally Tarlisch managed a smile. “Well something is finally going well today. Have my wives join me.”

“They’re already in there eating. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see you.”
 

Turning the final corner, they entered the large dining area. Inside at the table sat Willem’s three stolen brides and their nannies, as he liked to call them.
 

“Good afternoon, the loves of my life,” Willem cheerfully called out. He watched as each of them eyed him suspiciously.
Fine
, he thought.
They don’t want to talk, I have plenty to discuss.

As he watched the plate full of food set in front of his position, he leaned forward. Sniffing, he caught the aroma of the butter on the pale green beans first. Then the spices of the gravy, thick and brown, wafted through his mind. Truth be told, he probably had the best chef in Salt Lake, if not the entire basin.

“So,” he shouted, looking at his women, “tell me about your day. Mine, just so you know, has been fabulous thus far.”

Suzanne, the oldest, set her fork on the plate and glared at him. “We’re hostages. What do you expect us to say? ‘Oh, it’s been a beautiful morning walking the streets of Salt Lake with our own personal keepers attached.’ Please.”

Willem dismissed her sarcasm and focused on Rachel. “And you, my youngest moonbeam. How was your morning?”
 

Her large brown eyes tried to hide from his gaze. “Is it true that you burned all of our houses down? Please tell me it’s not true. Please?”

Tarlisch leaned back in the stiff black chair. “Why would you concern yourself with such trivial things, my darling? You have a place to live.” Extending his arms, he pointed at the others around the table. “You have a family, you have a bed, you are fed well, you are free to roam – within reason. Why would you worry about something from your past?”

Rachel looked up with tear-filled eyes. “Did you?” she asked quietly.

Tarlisch waved off the question. “Of course not. I don’t have time for things like that. I’m hunting down the man who killed my father and brother. He killed Howard’s uncle.” Taking another forkful of meat and potatoes, he grinned at the trio. “I don’t have to burn down your family homes for revenge. I have people who take care of things like that for me. Do you understand?”