Echoes (25 page)

Thoughts of her conversation with Brodie only added weight to the burden of worry she carried. Could she trust his explanation of the events leading to Vanessa's death as truth? And if so, what did it mean? Was it a tragic coincidence that Adam had found his wife with another only days before she would die an accidental death? How could it be anything but that? It was ridiculous to even imagine a different conclusion, one where Adam forced fate's hand against his cheating wife. Wasn't it?

The questions buzzed painfully through her head until she wanted to shout out loud. None of it made sense. Adam did not treat Arlie as anything but his son and she could not, would not believe that he was capable of wrong doing where Vanessa was concerned.

So what, then, was the truth?

Thunder rumbled in ominous response and Molly looked up with a knot of anxiety wedged somewhere near her heart. She should be more concerned about what was happening now, today than about vague allusion of what might have been.

Dewey caught her eye as she looked away from the turbid sky and he grinned with a malicious gleam in his eyes that she liked not at all. Before breakfast he'd taken delight in teasing Arlie by snatching away the carved horse his father had made and holding it just out of reach. From there he'd progressed to taunting jibes about Brodie and his skill as a craftsman. He'd revisited the subject of the now infamous rocking chair that had collapsed so long ago.

Today Brodie was not so inclined to take Dewey's ribbing with silence, and by mid-morning, the hostility between them had become a friction that sparked like static from one to the other. She feared they would come to blows before the day was through.

Feeling like there was nothing about which she was not worried, Molly trudged on beside the wagon. But when they finally reached the flooded, swollen banks of Indian Creek, every other concern was wiped clean from her mind.

"That's not a creek," she said, but the thunder drowned out her voice.

The water churned in a turbulent froth as it raced through bends and dips, spewing out of its banks in an angry roar. This was no creek. This was a wild, rampant river. Arlie lifted his head and stared at the rapids with round eyes and an opened mouth. He looked from the rushing water to Molly, as if to question these adults who contemplated its crossing.

"How we going to cross that sum'bitch?" Dewey asked, raising his voice to be heard over the roar of water.

Branches and leaves, ripped from trees during recent storms, rushed by in the white-capped wake. Molly seized on the thought of their broken wagon and precious supplies joining them to be smashed against the rocks like the other spoils.

Adam stood beside Brodie and looked at churning waters with grim resignation. "It's worse than yesterday," he shouted over the rumbling din.

"What are we going to do about it, Adam?" Brodie yelled back.

"We can try further up. There's got to be an easier place to cross."

"You didn't scout for one yesterday?" Dewey hollered.

Adam nodded once and looked away. With sinking spirits, Molly gathered that he had looked but found no better passage.

"Up was just as bad and down was even worse yesterday. But the way this water is moving, it might have cut through the banks and chopped out a new way across."

"A new way to die, maybe," Dewey yelled.

Brodie turned on the filthy man and shouted, "You just shut your mouth, Dewey. Adam knows what he's doin'."

"That's good, cuz I sure ain't following no
boy
anywhere."

The steely tone of Adam's voice rose above the thundering water. "You can go on alone if you want, Dewey."

Molly and Rosie exchanged silent glances. Beside them the flooded creek roared like a caged beast bent on revenge. Adam took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh.

"It looks bad, but we can do it," Brodie said with unwarranted optimism. "Shoot, it's Indian Creek, not the
Mississippi we're fixing to cross."

Adam nodded and gave Brodie a reassuring pat on his back. But he paced away, wearing the grim and troubled expression of a man faced with too much responsibility and too few options. He looked up at the festering storm clouds and back at the racing water. "We should wait," he shouted back at last.

"What for?" Dewey demanded with a guffaw. "For the next storm to come and make it worse? You said yourself that it's even higher than it was yesterday. We're running out of time."

"Nobody's asking you," Brodie hollered.

"It may get worse," Adam said, his voice hoarse from yelling. "It may get better. But getting ourselves killed isn't going to get us there any faster." He put his hat back on and gave a nod of conviction. "I'm going to ride up a ways, see if there's a better place to cross."

"You're wasting our time," Dewey sneered.

It was the last straw. Brodie spun around so quickly that Dewey took a stumbling step back. "You're not in charge, are you Dewey?"

"You ain't neither," Dewey shouted back. "You ain't got enough brains to be in charge of your own pecker."

Molly gasped at his language. Dewey's loathsome face split into a rotten smile and he laughed at Brodie.

"You don't even know what yer pecker's for yet, do ya,
boy
," he exclaimed.

Brodie launched himself at Dewey and knocked the fat man off his feet to the mud of the riverbanks. They rolled one over another, punching and grunting, shouting curses, grinding silt and sludge into their clothes and hair until Molly couldn't tell who was striking whom. Brodie was stronger and more agile, but Dewey was heavier and more cunning. He wiggled and squirmed and tried to poke at Brodie's eyes.

Adam waded in their midst and tried to break them up but only managed to catch a glancing blow that bloodied his lip and fanned his temper. Cursing as well, he at last captured Brodie by his shirt collar and hauled him up and away. Blood streamed down Brodie's face, making red rivers in the caked mud. Dewey lumbered to his feet and glared at Brodie. He spat a mouthful of silty blood onto the bank.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Adam demanded. "Isn't there enough to worry about without you two killing each other?"

The three men stood like points of a triangle, all at opposite sides and of opposite minds. Molly tried to keep Arlie from watching, but the boy wriggled this way and that, craning his neck and twisting his body until she gave up her effort to shield him.

"He started it," Dewey hollered, pointing a finger at Brodie.

With a shout, Brodie slammed into Dewey again and hurled the bigger man back into the side of the wagon. The wood creaked loudly, popping like gunfire and the oxen shuffled in alarm. The two bounced back and hit the ground once more, rolling into the agitated team's shifting hooves and out again.

"Goddamn it!" Adam yelled.

He kicked at their writhing bodies, herding them away from the wagon and oxen until the two at last separated. Brodie staggered to his feet and wiped his face with a muddy sleeve, succeeding only in smearing the muck across his cheek. Dewey swayed as he struggled to stand.

Above, lightning exploded from the sky and touched down so close they heard it hiss. Thunder boomed behind it and half a second later came the rain. Fat, cold drops plunged down on them, splashing the mud up on their clothes and drenching them in the reality of their situation. Any fool could see that the falling drops were just the beginning. Dewey was right. It would only get worse.

Another bolt of lightning snaked out of the sky and split it into dark and light pieces. Thunder so fierce it rocked the ground followed the instant after.

Adam paced to the water's edge and finally stepped in.

Molly asked, "Adam, what are you doing?"

"It's going to rain like the end of the world and we're going to be stuck on this side until June," he said. His voice was hard and cold, but in it was the thread of desperation. He took another step and then another. The water rushed over his boots.

"It's not going to be easy, but we've got to get across." He turned and faced the women. "We don't have a choice."

Molly shook her head, though not in disagreement, only in denial. She was frightened and there was no hiding it. Adam waded back to shore and took her icy hands in his.

"This is only going to get worse. The rain's going to bring the water up and our chance will be gone. We'll have to turn back."

"I know, but—"

"This trip's going to be filled with rivers. I wish it weren't, but there you have it. If we're going to run scared at the first one, we may as well go back to Oak Tree."

Molly stared at him helplessly while fear and cold chattered her teeth. More lightning cracked from the bottom of the black clouds and sparked across the sky. The clap of thunder that followed spooked the horses and made the oxen pull at their yokes. As if to prove it wouldn't be out done, the rain became a downpour.

"Molly, I'm scared too. But this isn't even a real river and I don't think it's as deep as it seems." He looked back and forth between Molly and his mother. "Will you try?"

She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out, "no," but she managed to nod. His answering smile rewarded her courage and sparked a warmth deep inside her. Maybe they
could
cross it. They could do anything Adam told them they could do.

"Ma, how about you?"

"Well I didn't come all this way to just turn around."

"Brodie?"

"Shoot, yes, Adam. I ain't scared. I could swim across it if I had to. You know that."

"Why don't you go ahead and do that, dummy?" Dewey snarled.

"Why don't you just go on home, you yellow bellied coward," Brodie shouted back. "I didn't want you along in the first place. We don't need the likes of you on this trip."

Adam calmly crossed to Dewey's side and said something to him that the rest of them could not hear. Molly could guess what it was though, by the stiff nod Dewey gave in response. They were in for all or for none. There was no room for discourse in this game of life and death.

When Adam swung into his saddle, he looked questioningly at the women. Rosie gave Molly's hand a squeeze and then climbed up on the wagon. Molly's hands were shaking so badly she nearly dropped Arlie as she passed him up.

"Can you swim?" she asked when she'd taken her seat on the bench.

Rosie nodded. "But if we hit that river, swimming ain't gonna save us."

Rosie clutched Arlie so tightly that he whimpered and Molly prayed for guidance…or shallow water whichever was most readily available. She held tight to the reins, cringing as the oxen stepped forward and vocalized their opinions on what the foolish humans impelled them to do. The wagon bumped and rocked to the edge and then she felt the current hit the wheels and shake the wagon like a twig.

Please be shallow, please be shallow.

The oxen tossed their massive heads, nostrils flaring and ears swiveling with fright. Terrified, she held on, gripping the seat's edge with one white-knuckled hand and the reins with the other. Sounds of fear battered her senses as the animals called to one another and tried to shake off the insistent tug of the yoke.

Lord help us and protect us in this time of need. And please make the water shallow.

Adam cracked his whip over their heads, driving the team forward into the fast, icy flow. The powerful current splashed against the wagon and washed over Molly's feet. Arlie's terrified cries joined the melee.

"Hold onto him, Rosie. Hold on."

From the corner of her eye she saw a flash of color. Dewey, fighting with his mount as the frightened horse reared up and whinnied with alarm. Terror spread like fire from one beast to the next. The team rebelled and tried to turn against the surging flow, trying to go back.

"Adam!" Molly cried as the powerful animals pushed against his horse. "Adam, stop them!"

Adam fought the oxen as they tried to drag him backward. Brodie scrambled to help but the current was too powerfully set against him. The wagon rocked, slamming her and Rosie to the wood floor. Frantically she caught hold of Rosie and Arlie while gripping the railing. She managed to keep them all inside while the rushing water tried to suck them out.

The river roiled but Adam somehow righted the team and aimed them to the west. Brodie's mare swung round and Dewey's horse reared again. Before Molly and Rosie could regain their seats, great torrents of water rushed over them, blinding Molly to anything else. And then she was screaming as the wagon jolted to the side and slammed back to its wheels. In an instant, the raging rapids scooped her out of the wagon.

Water choked her screams as she frantically fought for something to hold onto. Fear for Rosie and Arlie magnified her terror, but she could see nothing. The freezing water hurled her crazily until she couldn't tell what direction was up or down. What it lacked in depth it made up for with power, pulling her under to slam her against hidden rocks and deadwood. She surfaced, gasping hysterically. Dewey floundered beside her, crying out as the current thrashed him about. He reached a hand out to her and she struggled to grasp it, missed and then tried again.

"Come on," he shouted. "Come on!"