WWIV - Basin of Secrets (22 page)

“But if he felt we were even a small threat…” Cara stopped, realizing how desperate she sounded. “What are we going to do?”

“What happened to Talbot Bond?” he asked.

Seeing her green eyes flick back and forth, he noticed Cara’s fear.
 

“Wyoming? No wait, Colorado?”

“Yes, he took off for Colorado,” Steven reiterated.

“What about the truth?” she asked under her breath.

Steven hardened his face. “The truth will get us all killed. Tarlisch wants revenge. As long as he’s on Talbot Bond’s trail, he’ll save his revenge for him. If he doesn’t get his justice with Bond,” he paused, setting his jaw, “well, may God have mercy on the next people he meets.”

After walking more than long enough, Betsi stopped and turned to Jeremy. “A mile? Is that what he said? We’ve been walking for too long. We should have been there by now.”

Jeremy passed his aluminum water bottle ahead and surveyed the scene. “I don’t think we made it to the bottom of the lake yet, babe.”
 

“Longest damn lake in all of Utah, in that case,” Betsi spouted. “And it feels like we’ve been walking uphill the whole time. Maybe that danged scout could have mentioned that.”

Seeing her husband reach for her hand, she turned away. She wanted to make it look like she hadn’t noticed his sincere gesture. She wanted to be mad for a few minutes; she deserved as much. And he wasn’t about to talk her back into a good mood, not this time.

“Give it another half hour, Bets. We’ll get there,” he encouraged. She watched as he trudged forward alone. Shaking her head, she joined him.

Kneeling in the brush, the pair checked out the flurry of activity to their east. A group of men, seven in total, worked on a woodpile. What exactly they were doing was up for debate. Betsi thought they were making smaller piles from the large pile. Jeremy, as usual, had no idea what might be going on.
 

“If they eventually pick those piles up and head south, we need to tail them,” she whispered. “I just don’t understand why they’re making the small piles.”

With his mouth gaping, Jeremy rose slightly and studied the process. After carefully eyeing the operation, he knelt beside his wife. “I think they’re loading up, well, it almost looks like little sleds.” Puzzled, he gawked at the workers again. “I wonder how far they are from camp? And why would they cut wood so far away they had to rig up something to haul it with? And...?”

A stern look cut him off. “Whatever, Daniel Boone. We just need to follow them to camp, hopefully Camp Nine. Right?”

“Sure,” he responded, still watching the wood being stacked some 50 yards in front of them.

When the seven woodsmen assembled around their small piles, Betsi nudged Jeremy. He seemed amazed as three groups of two began pulling small sleds heaped with cut wood.
 

Shaking her head at him, she slowly rose. “Come on,” she called in a low tone. “Quit being such a little boy and admiring their work; we need to keep them in sight until we get near the camp.” Watching him stand, she continued. “We’ll let them get inside and then give it a few minutes before we make our approach.”

“What will our reception be there you suppose?”
 

Betsi turned and grinned. If only he knew…anything. If only he paid attention…ever. “They mentioned the name of the leader back at Camp Eight. Cara Wake, I’m pretty sure they said.” She grinned again to give the impression she had a clever plan. In reality, she had a superb scheme ready to play.

“So when we get to the gate, let me go ahead. I’ll ask for her by name,” Betsi said, noticing his agreement. “If they ask, I’ll just tell them I know her from a while back. Who knows, maybe it’ll be someone I even recognize. You never know, right?”

Jeremy lightly tapped her back, showing his ascent with the plan. “That’s good, Betsi. That’s really good. And if she doesn’t recognize you, maybe you could just say you were mistaken.”

Betsi’s grin grew. “Yeah, that helps. Thanks, honey.” But, of course, she had already planned on that angle.

Walking was slow, far too slow for Betsi. The men would pull for a while, then pause for a long break. When they started pulling their full sleds again, they moved at a slower pace. Several times, she wanted to rush from the brush and scream at them to hurry up. Even she and Jeremy could have moved faster with the loads.

Staying in the heavy undergrowth made the pair undetectable. Even when Jeremy tripped on a windfall that Betsi had easily stepped over, the crew of seven went about their task, oblivious to the pair. Cresting the third of three small hills, Betsi spied the camp to the east. Finally, after three days of walking through the woods, her desired goal was in plain sight. Though she would have preferred to run ahead and beat the woodsmen back to the camp, she decided to stick with her plan and wait until they had cleared the gates.

This camp was different than the others they had seen. The first thing she noticed was the logs sticking out of the ground. All others had their posts lying one on top of another. She wondered if this took less lumber, but shook the thought away. This method most likely allowed for easier replacement of bad posts. She knew this because she watched four men working in two spots, both setting new posts into the ground. Either method was probably fine, she thought. Though this method didn’t look as nice as placing logs horizontal, it was more efficient in other ways.

From her position in the brush, Betsi could see two openings for the camp. The first, and closest, was what she believed to be the main gate. Perhaps eight feet wide, it could accommodate a wagon passing through easily. Stacked next to the gate was more roughly cut lumber. She couldn’t tell its purpose, but she could see how the ends of the logs, pines she thought, were as white as afternoon clouds. This told her they had just been cut. She could swear there was still sap running down the face of the cut. But she was too far away to be sure.

The second opening puzzled her. No more than three feet wide, the opening seemed to overlap so as not to let anyone walk straight into the camp. While it must serve some purpose, Betsi couldn’t think of one offhand.

Watching as the woodsmen arrived at the gate, they stopped again, this time to converse with several people standing in the main opening. Perhaps they had been awaiting the group’s arrival, maybe not though. One of the seven waved his arms in an exaggerated way while speaking to a smaller woman. Still too far away to make out any facials features, she wondered if a brother and younger sister, or perhaps a young pair of lovers, were hashing things out.
 

After a few moments, the group continued inside and the small woman began circling around the outside of the fence. With determined steps, she made her way to one of the men on the north wall, standing outside the fence. With hands on hips, Betsi could hear some type of discussion. Whoever this young lady was, she was spirited in the very least.

Betsi poked Jeremy. “Okay. Another minute or two and we make our way to the gate,” she whispered. “I see there’s still a guard there, so let me do the talking.”

Jeremy eyed the guard carefully. “Well, that usually works best for us, so fine with me. He doesn’t appear to be armed at all. Seems safe enough, I guess.”

Betsi cringed hearing his voice. “None of the camps have any ammo left. At least that’s the popular consensus.” She looked back to see if he picked up on her bitter tone, which he hadn’t. “He still might have a knife. And if he calls for back-up, they could have some type of weapons. So let’s go in real easy and let him know we mean no harm.”

Jeremy turned to her, puzzled. “But we don’t mean any harm, do we?”

A tremor ran through Betsi as she tensed. Turning to face him, she smiled. “Of course not, sweetie. I was just saying that we just need to be cautious.” Reaching out, she took his hand. “Okay, nice and easy.”

As they approached the gate, a woman appeared next to the single sentry in the opening. Noticing Betsi and Jeremy, the conversation halted, and the guard approached, watching their every move. “Can I help you two?” he called out from about 30 feet away. Slowing, Betsi felt her heart race. She watched as his right hand rose, palm open at them. “Stop right there please. State your business.”

Betsi moved forward after telling Jeremy to stay in place. Slowly, she inched toward the unarmed man. “We’re travelers. From Salt Lake, seeking refuge. And looking for someone.”

The guard made his final steps and stopped within arm’s reach of Betsi. “And who might you be looking for, young lady?”

Timidly, Betsi continued. “I prefer to discuss that with your camp leader and perhaps the assembly.”

The man’s face remained stone-like and unchanged. His head swiveled slightly from side to side. “You’d best tell me what you need. I’ll pass it along to them. Word is trouble’s coming. So we’re being a little cautious you understand.”

Betsi gave a small smile and smaller nod. “I need to see Cara Wake, now please. Her and I were friends back in Salt Lake.” As Betsi spoke, the woman behind the guard hustled away from them, around the outside of the fence.

“And what friend may I say is calling on Mrs. Wake?” he asked.

Unsure how to respond, Betsi fell silent. She thought of using Carla’s name again; Cara knew Carla, too. After a long pause, she lifted her face to speak. “Sarabeth, Sarabeth Bond,” she announced with pride. “Tell her Betsi is here.”

Steven and George pulled on the second post to be replaced. Letting out a grunt that sounded like a bull moose in rut was near, George finally broke the post free from its dirt enclosure.

“Holy Hannah!” George shouted, falling to the ground. “That baby was wedged in there good and hard. You’d almost think we used cement.”
 

Steven moaned on the other side of the 18-inch diameter post. “I hope those other two are having just as tough a time as we are,” he replied, slumping forward to catch his breath.

George laughed. “They ain’t half our age, Steven. They’ll probably finish their three and still have time to help us reset this one.”

Nodding his agreement, Steven knelt in the brown fall foliage. Looking away from George, he noticed three of his men approaching, gloves on and ready to work.
 

“You guys going out to pull wood for us, Harley?” he asked their temporary leader.

“Yeah, but where’s the four men you promised in return,” Harley chaffed. “Three can’t carry hardly nothing in from that far out. We’ll be at it all winter.”

Steven nodded in the direction of the interior of the camp. “I thought I sent you four volunteers before. Didn’t they show up?”

Harley grinned at his boss. “You sent us boys, Steven. We need men.”

Now Steven grinned. “Unless you can find yourself four free men, or desire to haul that wood all day by yourselves, I recommend you take those boys and make ‘em work.”
 

A brief stare-down ended with a shrug from Harley. “I thought the missus said we ain’t supposed to take Joshua or any of his friends that far out.”

Continuing to stare, hoping to appear undeterred, Steven’s lips tightened. “You sneak them out, Harley. You know what to do. Just don’t let Cara see you doing it, or we’re both in a world of hurt. Got it?”

Harley pondered his words. Steven couldn’t tell if he was going to do as told or run off and tell Cara about his transgression. “Okay, but you gotta deal with Mrs. Wake if she catches me. Deal?” Harley’s right hand slowly lowered to Steven’s reach.

Considering the deal, Steven thought harder than usual. Chances were she was too busy to notice. “Deal,” he replied, shaking Harley’s gloved hand.

From his left, he heard George’s muted chuckle. “Your thoughts?” he asked his foreman.
 

“You’re a dead man, Steven,” George replied, now beginning a heartier laugh. “She’s gonna bust you and you’ll be in her doghouse ’til winter.”

As both men rose, Steven smiled at George. “At least it’s a place I’m comfortable being.” Reaching down, they dragged the log away from the fence and went to cut a new green post.

Another two hours of cutting, trimming and shaping passed before George deemed the new post ready to be set. After dragging it 40 yards from the spot it fell to the hole in the ground, the pair took a break. Steven panted, his lungs searching for enough oxygen to replenish his screaming limbs. With hands on knees and his head hanging almost to the ground, he finally caught enough breath to speak.

“If we give it…” Another few pants followed. “…just a few minutes…” Pant after pant. “…maybe we can find someone to help us set this log. Right?” He waited for George’s reply. “Right?” he asked again, feeling better about his condition. George, it seemed, had it worse. Finally, he tipped his head to the right. Noticing his foreman walking away, Steven straightened slightly. “He must be off to find us help,” he whispered to himself.
 

Peeking over his right shoulder, George picked up his pace. Steven watched as he raced around the far back end of the fence toward the three gardens in the rear. Puzzled, he wiped his brow.
I don’t think there’s any men back there…,
he thought to himself.

“Steven.” He froze. That was his wife’s voice. And it sounded close.

“Steven,” she repeated a little louder. Slowly, he turned to see Cara approaching, far too quick for his liking.

“Well hello, darling,” he replied attempting to be as nonchalant as possible. She didn’t appear upset just yet.

“I’ve been looking for Joshua everywhere. Rosie is becoming a real pill, and I could use his help entertaining her,” she said. “Any ideas where he and Calvin snuck off to?” She smiled, but that worried Steven.

Searching the immediate area, he shrugged. “Ah, he must be around somewhere. Couldn’t have wandered off too far.” He offered up a kind smile and noticed hers had disappeared. “Maybe checking the traps out back or down by the creek fishing.” Her eyes narrowed; he felt the sweat coming on.

“So,” she began patiently, “he’s not helping with the racks like Grace said he was supposed to do.” Her fists came to rest on her narrow hips. “And he’s not helping with the fence like Grace thought he might be.” Her face tightened with each word.