A Time for Everything (47 page)

A sudden scream shook her from her
doubts. Someone ran along the wagon path. Portia kept her gun
pointed and finger hovering over the trigger. She would shoot only
if she must, but then she recognized the voice and the anguished
cry.

“
Isaac!”

Bessie flew past, nightclothes fisted
in both hands. The wind caught her nightcap and stole it from her
head. She paid no heed to it or to Portia. Her legs pumped as hard
and fast as they could. But it was the pure horror in Bessie’s
voice that threw an icy lasso around Portia’s heart.

“
Isaac!”

He must have been the man bouncing
along the ground behind the horse. They aimed to lynch him. Harry
had gone mad from jealousy and drugs and had taken his revenge.
Bessie and Isaac’s house was no longer an option. Changing course,
Portia led Jonny to the side of the house. She spotted the root
cellar. No matter what, she had to keep Jonny safe. She led him to
the cellar, flung open the door, and pushed him inside.

She gripped his shoulder and bent to
look him in the eye. “Listen to me. I want you to hide. Get behind
those crates and don’t make a sound. Don’t come out no matter what
you hear, understand?”

Tears drenched his cheeks. “I can
help.”

“
You can help by doing
what I say.” Pulling him to her in a tight hug, she fought back
tears of her own. “I love you, Jonny. Stay here.”

Soon as she shut the cellar door,
Portia sprang into action. She ran after Bessie, trying to wave her
down without yelling and giving away her position. But Bessie had
already crossed in front of her, heading into the fray. Portia
opened her mouth to scream when a shot exploded into the night.
Bessie spun a half turn and fell limply to the ground.

No…
Portia skidded to a stop.

She hadn’t made it around the house
just yet and thought she must be out of sight from the intruders.
So she dropped to her hands and knees to close the distance between
her and Bessie. She peeked toward the front yard as she cleared the
house. The men had a rope around Isaac’s neck, and they’d slung the
other end around a thick limb in the oak. Another man sheltered
behind the wide trunk, firing his rifle toward the burning horse
barn. More shots answered, perhaps from Beau and Ezra?

Portia itched to put a bullet in one
of the attackers, but she had to get to Bessie first.

They weren’t looking her way, so she
crawled the remaining few feet to where Bessie lay crumpled on her
side. She wasn’t moving…

She rolled Bessie to her back. The
older woman groaned. Teeth bared, her mouth gaped open in a silent
scream. She’d been shot in the shoulder. Warm, sticky blood soaked
the top half of her nightgown and coated Portia’s palm.

“
I’ll get you out of
here.” She wiped the blood from her hand the best she could on her
own nightgown and tried to take Bessie’s uninjured arm so she could
drag her to safety.

“
No. Help my Isaac,” she
begged, swatting at Portia.

Another gunshot. The man
with the rifle crumpled to the ground.
Thank God
. Beau or Ezra, hopefully
both of them, was still alive.

Isaac already hung off the
ground, hands tied behind his back, spinning in mid-air and kicking
his legs. He managed to nail one of the men right in the teeth.
With a flurry of cursing and blood-spitting, they finally hoisted
him over their heads. The intruders’ torchlight and the light from
the burning house danced across Isaac’s face. Clearly in agony, but
still alive. The one Isaac kicked held the loose end of the rope,
while his companion skirted around the tree to take the fallen
man’s place. She finally recognized him as that disgusting man who
had leered at her when she was in town with Harry.
What was his name? Randal?

Another gunshot shook the night, with
a returning one from the barn.

Portia’s jaw clenched tight. She
wasn’t about to let them take her family without a fight. Squatting
as low to the ground as she could, she tried to lock one hand
around Bessie’s wrist to drag her toward the house.

“
No… Isaac,” she groaned,
pulling back against Portia’s attempt.

“
We’ll help him,” Portia
said, straining against Bessie’s weight and her resistance. “Stop
fighting me.”

She dug in her heels and pulled for
all she was worth. Bessie cried out in pain, but Portia managed to
drag her around to the side of the house and out of
view.

Four bullets left. Portia had to make
them count. She inched to the corner of the house and behind a pink
rosebush, its blooms muted to a dull grey there in the shadows.
Thorns scratched her arms as she angled her torso just enough to
see around the house and aimed the pistol over the top of the
foliage.

She fired. The rope slid from the
limb, Isaac’s body hit the ground, and the man who had almost
hanged him fell to the dirt. Dead, she hoped.

Three bullets left.

The man with the rifle aimed his gun
right at her. She ducked behind the house as the bullet hit the
siding. Wood splinters flew; Portia squinted as they struck her
face.

Another shot tore through the
rosebush. Leaves and petals went flying. Back flattened against the
siding, Portia gulped air into her lungs. She tasted rose blossoms
mixed with smoke and gunmetal.

Is Beau dead? Is
Ezra?
Dear God
,
don’t let them find
Jonny.

Portia dared a peek around the corner.
The rifleman was gone. Isaac was still tied and struggling to free
himself on the ground beneath the oak tree. She had to untie him
and find Beau and Ezra. She launched herself off the wall and broke
into a run.

But an arm clothes-lined her from
behind, trapping her in a choking headlock. She dropped her gun.
“Well, now lookie here. Harry’s been wantin’ a piece of you for a
long time. He must not have got his wish. Maybe I will, huh?” He
squeezed her breast. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

The smell of Randal’s greasy hair and
his violating touch made her cough and gag. She clawed at his arm.
“Let me go!”

“
Not until I get a little
smooch.”

His wet lips and tongue slobbered on
her cheek. He held a pistol in the hand he had captured her with.
She tried to grab it, but he tightened his other arm around her
waist and wrenched his gun arm away. He jabbed the barrel beneath
her chin.

“
Oh I got me a feisty
one,” he said.

Someone ran up the hill from the horse
barn.

“
Beau!” Portia
screamed.

He glanced at Bessie where she lay
nearby and stopped running. “Let her go, Randal!”

“
Why? She feels so good.
No wonder you want to ride this little filly.”

Slowly, Beau inched toward them, his
rifle held solid and level against his shoulder. His finger hovered
over the trigger. His eyes projected more rage than she’d ever seen
before. But Portia felt his fear. He must have wanted so badly to
kill Randal, but he was probably afraid he’d shoot her
instead.

“
You best not shoot,
nigger lover,” Randal growled. “Might hurt your little sweetie
here. Thought you had it all, didn’t ya? Always thought you was
better than the rest of us, better than Harry, too. He got tired of
your shit like we all did. I reckon we’re even now. You gonna put
that gun down and let me ride off like nothin’ happened or your
bitch here’s gonna die.”

From the corner of Portia’s eye, she
caught a quick movement from Bessie. Portia turned her head away
just in time. A shower of dirt hit Randal’s eyes. Though she
trembled and groaned with the pain, the satisfied light in Bessie’s
eyes was priceless.

“
Argh… shit!” He released
Portia and tried to slap away the blinding dirt.

Beau leapt forward, catching Portia’s
arm as she reached for him. He pulled her behind him and aimed his
rifle. But Randal, blinking through muddy tears, shot first. Beau
cried out and wobbled backward.

“
No!” Portia steadied him.
The bullet had struck his arm. Blood poured down his
sleeve.

Randal regained his focus and pointed
his gun straight at Beau’s head. “I’m gonna enjoy this.”

Suddenly, he arched his back and let
out a horrendous howl. Beau and Portia ducked as the gun fired. He
missed.

But Harry didn’t.

Randal toppled face first on the
ground. The handle of a knife bobbed around where Harry had plunged
the blade into Randal’s back. Then it went still. Randal was
dead.

Clutching his chest, Harry fell to his
knees. Beau rushed to his side, and with one hand behind Harry’s
neck, helped him lie down on the ground. Portia kneeled beside
them.

“
I’m sorry, Beau,” Harry
whispered as he locked eyes with Portia. His breath came in shallow
gasps. The skin on his face and arms was red and blistered, seared
from the fire he must have crawled through to reach
them.

“
I know.” Beau took
Harry’s hand and held it tight. “You saved my life.”

“
I owed you that.” A weak
smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I couldn’t… let my brother…
die.”

“
Harry…” The pain on
Beau’s face broke Portia’s heart. She wept for these brothers who
had lived through hell together, though one of them had never
recovered.

Harry’s head fell to one side. His
bright eyes dulled as he breathed his last breath.

Jonny ran out of the darkness and
straight toward his father. “Pa!”

Beau caught him in his arms and held
him close, crying softly.

Ezra had cut the ropes from Isaac, and
the two hurried toward them. Isaac recoiled like he’d been shot
himself when he saw Bessie on the ground and broke into a stumbling
run to get to his wife.

“
You’re all right?” Bessie
reached for him. He bent down and gently picked her up in his
arms.

“
I’m fine,” he said.
“Better than fine. I still got
you
.” He kissed her
tenderly.

Isaac carried her away from the house.
The rest of them followed. They stood on the wagon path, watching
their home and horse barn go down in flames.

As if God felt their loss, the sky
opened up with a merciful downpour of rain. It wouldn’t be enough
to save the house, though there might be a few things left to
salvage. Portia held her family close, knowing things could have
been so much worse.

They still had each other, and that’s
all that mattered.

Three months
later…

Besides the wind,
the weather could not have been nicer for an
August wedding at sunset. Holding Ezra’s arm, Portia walked down
the grassy aisle between the two sides of the small congregation,
feeling so blessed by all the people who had come to their aid
after the attack. Amelie sat on the front row, no longer hiding
behind her senile guise. She had paid their debts and shared her
home for them to reside in until theirs was rebuilt. Mrs. Peabody
donated the most beautiful wedding gown Portia had ever seen — fine
white linen with a v-shaped neckline and loose, lacy sleeves. The
train and bodice were adorned with purple silk taffeta ribbons and
embroidered white lace. From the look on Beau’s face, she might
have been an angel fallen from heaven. Anxious joy warmed her
cheeks.

Instead of a church wedding, they
chose to be married on their own land, in front of the newly-built
horse barn. Beau’s wounded arm needed time to heal, so with donated
lumber and labor, nearly every able-bodied man in town pitched in
to help with the construction. They even let Scout and Crazy Girl
take shelter in their stables.

The house still wasn’t much more than
a bare foundation, but they’d managed to recover a few treasures —
Jake’s picture, Beau’s chest, and Portia’s beloved water pump. They
had buried Harry in the Stanford family cemetery. He might not have
been blood kin, but he was still Beau’s brother, mistakes and
all.

Now they stood before their family and
friends and Reverend Joseph McKee. He brushed his
overdue-for-a-haircut locks from his eyes and angled his body to
face the strong breeze. He cleared his throat and smiled across the
yard at the small congregation.

“
Dearly beloved, we are
gathered here…”

The rooster crowed obnoxiously from
atop his roost on the horse barn. A sudden gust shoved him from the
timbers in a flurry of feathers and crazed wings. Beau laughed when
the silly bird hit the dirt and ran, flapping and squawking in
humiliation.

“
If he wasn’t our only
rooster, I’d have fried him up for the reception,” Bessie
proclaimed.

Portia giggled and winked at her. Poor
Bessie had lost a lot of blood, but by God’s grace, had survived.
Since the main house wasn’t finished yet, Mrs. Peabody and a few of
the other ladies from town volunteered their services to prepare
the meal. After much protesting, Bessie finally gave in. So a big
dinner awaited everyone, laid out on a few long tables in the new
barn’s wide alleyway.