Now and Forever (23 page)

The snow finally stopped. The wind kept blowing it around, though, hiding as much as it revealed. He enjoyed his talent in the woods and remembered how he’d learned it.

Mother had taught him how to hide from his father’s
temper. It became a game of wits to slip into the woods and hide while the drink was on Father. A life-and-death game.

Mother had lost in the end. But he had become a master. He knew that a man sometimes had a feeling of being watched. Normally he didn’t believe in such a thing, in feelings of that sort, as if a person could have powers of the senses beyond explanation.

But he did believe a man could make tiny sounds another could notice without knowing they’d heard anything. Shadows would shift, dark against dark. Someone could hear or see that and not know why, but sense he wasn’t alone.

So he didn’t let himself cast a shadow. He stayed to the dark side of the trees, even on an overcast night. He took each step with careful thought. It was slow, yet he took such satisfaction in his skill that it made the time spent worth it. He had the night and he’d use every minute of it.

He searched the area for a guard and wasn’t surprised to find no one about.

If they were out, they were on the west side, across the river, not expecting him to cross the expanse of meadow on the east to reach the barn—which was why he would do it, to prove to them they were fools. Add to that, it was hard to conceal movement in new snow. They’d assume he wouldn’t come tonight. They’d probably already gone back to bed.

He could probably march across that meadow with no thought to stealth.

Instead he remained cautious. He’d start the fire, then ease back and wait. When an opportunity presented itself,
he’d take the woman. His hands shook a little as he thought of it. Yes, tonight he’d do it. For the first time. He’d even brought a gun, unusual for him because he liked to operate in silence. But if he had to, he’d kill Tucker quickly and noisily, and he’d leave only one alive.

The woman would be the most defenseless. He caught himself laughing at the thought. Out loud. Covering his mouth with one hand, he fought to keep the pleasure locked inside until later. For now he needed to hang on to patience, discipline.

A few moments later, the laughter rose again, and he bit hard into his gloved hand to keep it from escaping into the night.

S
tay here.” Tucker hissed the words in Shannon’s ear.

She grabbed his sleeve. “You’re not leaving me behind.”

“Just for a minute, I promise.” He shook off her hand and was gone.

He just drifted away, as silent as the snowfall. She huddled against the tree. Would he come back? She trusted Tucker with her life, but she wasn’t absolutely sure the man wouldn’t lie to her if it kept her safe.

He seemed like the kind of man who could convince himself of such nonsense.

She stayed put, despite her desire to run after him. An owl whooshed so close that she ducked. Then silence stretched on. The owl cried again, but at a distance now. Or maybe it was a second owl. Tucker would probably know, only he was still gone, probably handling everything by himself while she hid in the woods, safely tucked away.

Then he was back, and she wanted to hug him.

“Come on.” Tucker caught her hand and pulled her forward. “Ma’s right ahead. She hasn’t seen the man we’re hunting.”

How had Tucker found Sunrise and talked with her without Shannon hearing a word? They walked a surprising distance, which confused Shannon all the more. Tucker couldn’t have gone this far and returned in the short time he’d been gone.

“You were the owl?” She was a woman very familiar with nature and all its animals.

“Yep.” Tucker wasn’t being all that quiet now either, walking upright and at a good pace.

“That was the best bird call I’ve ever heard. But how can one hoot tell you Sunrise hasn’t seen anyone?”

“She’d’ve hooted twice. One hoot means things are fine.”

“You need to teach me these things.”

Tucker turned back and grinned. “As soon as all this settles down.”

Sunrise emerged from behind a tree, with Gage Coulter right behind her. Shannon noticed the snow had stopped.

“We followed him most of the way here.” Tucker nodded at Gage, not sparing a word for greetings. “He was ahead of us.”

When Tucker said that, all four of them turned to face outward in opposite directions.

Shannon picked the east just in time to see a flicker of light reflect off the snow on the far side of the barn. It could only be one thing.

“Fire!” She sprinted for the barn.

Footsteps thundered behind her. Two steps after she crossed the ford, Coulter passed her.

Tucker caught her arm. “You stay with me.”

Shannon nodded. They went back to racing toward the fire.

“Buckets,” Sunrise called from behind them. They’d done this before, yet how was Shannon supposed to fill and carry buckets if she couldn’t leave Tucker’s side?

“We’ll fill together,” Tucker said. “Sunrise and Coulter can battle the flames.”

Gage had already rounded the barn, Sunrise on his heels.

Tucker threw open the barn door and dashed in. “Stay with me.”

Shannon realized she’d stopped, thinking he’d get the buckets and she’d just be in his way. But if there was a killer, and he wanted to cut one of them off from the others, that was exactly how he’d do it. She went after Tucker as her sheep charged for the open door. She had her hands full keeping them inside and wished for Tucker’s grulla to corner them like it’d done before, but his horse was tied to a tree deep in the woods. Now they’d have to fight the sheep with their complete lack of self-preservation sense every time they opened the door.

Wolves howled in the woods. She’d only let the sheep out if the barn couldn’t be saved.

Tucker came running with three buckets. He’d added one since the last fire. Shannon held back the sheep while Tucker went out, then she slipped out and pulled the door shut.

Running at Tucker’s side, they filled the pails with water
and raced toward the blaze. Tucker carrying two. Coulter was beating at it with his coat. Sunrise had a blanket. She soaked it and worked on dousing the fire.

Flames crawled halfway up the side of the barn.

Tucker handed a bucket to Gage, and they both threw water on the fire. Shannon let Sunrise soak her blanket, then tossed her bucket.

The fire crackled and hissed as the icy water sloshed over it. Shannon was being dragged, her hand in Tucker’s, back for more water.

She sped up, determined to stay with him and at the same time not make things harder for him. They were in a race against the hungry flames. The only thing Shannon made sure of was that Tucker was always close by. She didn’t think about the progress of the fire. Instead she ran, dipped water, ran, threw water, ran again, with Tucker always at her side.

As she rushed around the barn, Coulter grabbed the bucket out of her hand. “We got it. Give me that, Shannon. Tucker, take your bucket, go inside and make sure there’s nothing still burning.”

Tucker took her hand and dragged her after him into the barn, where they had to battle their way past her milling sheep again.

“Over there. That’s smoldering.” Tucker pointed and then carefully poured his water over the base of the wall where the fire had been.

Tucker found a shovel leaning in a corner and pitched dirt against the wall.

Shannon heard Gage and Sunrise outside, probably
doing similar work. Soon not a spark was left. Shannon checked her animals, safe through another threat.

Gage came inside then, his face blackened with soot. Shannon was startled when, a step behind him, Nev Bassett stumbled in.

“Sorry, Nev.” Gage went up to him. “You all right?”

“Not really.” Nev sank to the floor and leaned back against the wall, looking like he was about to pass out.

“What happened to you?” Shannon rushed to his side.

“I thought he was our Barnburner,” Gage said, “and I hit him. But Sunrise knew he was watching. She’d spotted him two days before I did. What a woman.”

“Where is Ma?” Tucker dropped the shovel and strode toward the door.

Gage glanced around. “Didn’t she come inside?”

“No.” Shannon spun around, looking in every corner of the barn.

Tucker dashed out the door. Shannon raced after him. Gage caught up and passed her. She got outside in time to see Tucker sprinting across the open meadow to the east of her barn. Shannon saw the tracks. She couldn’t read much from here, but tracks, more than one set, were clearly visible in the new-fallen snow.

Tucker shouted behind him, “Don’t let Shannon out of your sight!” before vanishing into the woods.

Gage skidded to a halt and whirled to stare at her. “I’m not standing here while Sunrise might be in the hands of a killer. Let’s go.”

Nev yelled, “I’m coming.” He staggered to his feet, then fell back to his knees.

“We aren’t waiting,” Gage shouted.

“Sorry, Nev. There’s no time.” Shannon slammed the door on the sheep and Nev, and then she and Gage ran after Tucker.

They couldn’t outfight or out-track him. But she’d been in battle before; she knew what a rear guard was. She knew about flanking movements. She knew about sending in reinforcements. Tucker didn’t need to face this man alone.

They reached the cover of the woods.

“He’s headed that way.” Gage picked up speed, keeping a close eye on her, but she didn’t slow him down. Much as she knew he was a tough man and good protection, all she wanted was to be with Tucker.

Gage had his gun drawn, and almost as an afterthought Shannon saw she’d pulled her pistol, too. She’d had it in hand mostly since the moment Tucker woke her up on that mountainside so long ago.

The woods were thin at first with a lot of underbrush, but soon the trees were big enough and close enough together that there was no way any of them could make good time.

But Tucker’s tracks were easy to follow. They could catch up with him if they hurried.

Desperate as he was to get to Ma, Tucker’s thoughts were on leaving Shannon as far behind as possible. He didn’t want her anywhere near the man who could grab a woman as tough as Sunrise.

He picked up speed. As he got farther in the trees, the
snow was swept clean in places. He tore along, slapped by low pine branches, shoving past underbrush and rounding bigger trees.

And then he saw what he feared the most: Ma, crumpled to the ground.

He sprinted for her. Dropping to his knees beside her, he saw black on her forehead. He felt her neck. A pulse, strong and steady. Was she cut? The black mark on her head looked more like a wound from a wicked blow than from a knife.

“Ma, talk to me.”

A soft moan almost made his heart stumble with hope. She was waking up.

“Did he stab you?”

Her dark eyes opened halfway, and she focused on him, then those eyes fell shut again. Her hand reached for her chest, and Tucker saw a gash on her buckskin dress; the beads had been cut and scattered. A knife had slashed at her, but the heavy leather had protected her.

“He tried, but said he wanted Shannon . . . not me. Get back to her. This was to draw you away.”

Tucker’s stomach dove to his boots. But Gage was tough, and Shannon too. Nev as well, for that matter, if he was fully conscious by now. “Let’s get you back to the cabin.”

“No. He is headed there, and you may have walked right past him.”

That chill of fear iced Tucker’s spine again. Leaving his ma unprotected went against everything he believed a man should do. Yet leaving Shannon was just as unthinkable.

“But now I know how he is doing it.” Sunrise held up a hand.

In the darkness, Tucker could see only what looked like a clump of . . . “Is that straw?” he asked.

Sunrise shook her head weakly. “Some kind of plant. He struck from behind like a coward. He carried me away, but I woke up and fought him, and that is why he dropped me and ran. I had my own knife and cut this from his cloak while I tried to stop him. I cut him, too.” Ma thrust the clump of smoothly woven weeds in his hand.

“Tucker, this is why we do not see him and the horse does not smell him. He has woven the cape together out of this. It hides his scent. He can drop to the ground and in an instant look like nothing but a clump of dried grass. Hurry. His interest in me is over. Now you must protect Shannon.”

Sunrise fumbled on the ground. She found and lifted her knife. Her hand trembled, but her voice was strong and steady. “Before, I stood in plain sight. Now I will hide so he will never find me. I am safe. Shannon is not. Go.”

Tucker hesitated only to take one more look at that gash on his ma’s dress. The beads, the tough leather. Shannon had none of that. Tucker was in his buckskin clothes now. He needed to get to his wife and put himself between her and a madman.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, Ma. I love you.” He wasn’t sure he’d ever said that before. It was nice. He oughta tell his wife, too.

Ma slipped away into the woods as he ran toward home and Shannon.

Tucker had run for only a few minutes when he heard a crashing noise ahead. He knew it wasn’t the man he was after.

Coulter staggered to his feet just ahead of Tucker. “He got Shannon. He struck from behind. I went down. I don’t think I was unconscious. I came right back up, figuring I was dead if I didn’t fight and he was gone. With Shannon.”

He fell back on his knees. Tucker wondered if Coulter remembered it right.

“How long ago?” Tucker realized the night was nearly over. The blackness was giving way to the gray light before dawn. He saw Coulter’s tracks.

“Only a minute, maybe two. It just happened.”

“Go to ground somewhere. It’s not safe out here.” Tucker’s eyes shifted to the forest floor. In the thick woods, the snow wasn’t deep enough to leave a clear trail, but it would be enough to track a killer. Thinking of his wife in the clutches of someone bent on harming her caused a shudder in Tucker that went all the way to his soul. He prayed as he’d never prayed in his life. Not just to save Shannon, but to hold back the murderous rage that swept through him at the thought of what he’d do once he caught up with this man.

The need to protect Shannon was honorable, but the hate for the one who’d taken her was nothing but the ugliest kind of sin. That didn’t stop him from picking up the trail and rushing after the man with a burning fury.

Tucker had been tracking for only a couple of minutes when he heard a shriek.

Shannon
.

It wasn’t a cry of pain; it was anger. Shannon, fighting mad.

It brought him to his senses. He was running wild, and that shout helped him to regain control. Shannon wasn’t unconscious, and the man who had her might well think he’d knocked Coulter out, along with Ma, and drawn Tucker away. He didn’t know he was being pursued or he’d have done something awful to Shannon to silence her. If Tucker was careful and quiet, the man might not hurt her before he could get there.

“Let me go!” Shannon, definitely. Then a cry of pain.

Tucker moved faster, no longer checking for tracks but aiming straight for that voice. He heard the sounds of a tussle about a hundred paces ahead, though it was hard to judge distance in the forest. The sound guided him. He prayed with all his might that Shannon would be careful, that she would do nothing to shove the madman over the edge and make him strike a killing blow.

A man grunted, followed by a dull thud. Tucker could picture a fist landing on Shannon’s delicate flesh. Resisting the urge to charge forward in a blind panic, Tucker did his best to be quick but quiet.