Soul Catcher (68 page)

^{"Eberly," he called out. "It's me. Cain."}

^{He waited until he heard the old man's reply so he had some notion of where to aim. As soon as Eberly spoke, Cain flung open the casement and laid down fire at the noise, emptying his revolver. They didn't return fire. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that Rosetta had slipped away.}

^{When it was quiet again, he heard laughter. Then another voice from outside.}

^{"Hell, Cain, you can't hit shit," Preacher taunted.}

^{"Just bring her out, Cain," Eberly called. "I'm not interested in you. You bring the girl out and you can go about your business."}

^{He assumed that Rosetta had gotten away; otherwise they wouldn't still be trying to negotiate with him. They'd have burned him out. He remained silent as he concentrated on reloading, using Pettigrew's powder and shot. This time, he was forced to fill the chambers with buckshot instead of .44 caliber lead balls. Though he'd never shot one himself, it would resemble a Lemat's revolver with its single shotgun barrel. He thought how it might actually work to his advantage. The buckshot wouldn't be as accurate, but it would throw a wide and deadly pattern better suited to close-in fighting, which he figured it would come to sooner or later.}

^{When he was finished, he decided to fortify his defenses as much as he could. He crawled over and grabbed a chair and wedged it behind the door. Then he dragged the dead man's body and lay that against the door, too. It wouldn't stop them. It would only slow them down, but that's all he could hope for. Every second he could buy would give Rosetta a little more time before they realized their mistake. And as long as they believed she was in there, he didn't think they'd just fire indiscriminately into the cabin, for fear of injuring her. But when their patience ran out, they'd eventually come. Next, he made his way over to the table in the center of the room, set the jug of moonshine on the floor, and dragged the heavy piece of furniture to the corner farthest away from the door. There he tipped it on its side, with the legs set out away from the corner. The top was thick and would, he felt, stop all but a heavy-caliber rifle round. Then he went back over and grabbed the fowling piece and the jug and settled in behind the overturned table. He uncorked the jug and took a long sip of the copper-tasting liquid. It tasted foul, but it slowed his breathing and calmed his nerves some, so he took another.}

^{"Hey, Cain," Preacher yelled. "It was you told Brown where he could find us, wasn't it?"}

^{Cain didn't respond.}

^{"Hope you're glad you got both a the Strofe boys kilt. Nearly got me kilt, too, you dirty sum'bitch."}

^{He regretted the death of Little Strofe, but he figured it was a thing unavoidable.}

^{"Cain," the old man called. "Listen to me."}

^{He didn't reply for a moment. Then he figured he ought to keep him occupied. "What do you want?"}

^{"You know what I want. I thought we had an agreement between gentlemen?"}

^{"You're no damn gentleman."}

^{"Let me come in and talk to her."}

^{"Go to hell."}

^{"Then send her out, Cain. I promise nothing will happen to her."}

^{"Just like nothing happened to her before? And before that to her mother," Cain taunted.}

^{"What did she tell you?"}

^{"I heard all about it, Eberly."}

^{"She fill your head with her pack of lies? Rosetta," he called, "what did you tell him?"}

^{"She told me the truth."}

^{"You come on out now, Rosetta, and I'll forgive you. You hear me?"}

^{"She's not coming out," Cain yelled.}

^{"You can keep the baby. You have my word. What do you say, Rosetta?"}

^{Carrying the fowling piece, Cain crawled over to the front of the cabin. He poked the gun out the window and squeezed the trigger. He wasn't even sure the ancient thing would fire, but it did, kicking like a horse with a burr under its saddle.}

^{"There's your answer, Eberly."}

^{"This wasn't any of your affair, Cain," the old man called. "You'll regret this, I assure you."}

^{After that, he heard nothing outside for a long while. He headed back over and got down behind the table. He reloaded the fowling piece, putting in an extra charge of powder and buckshot and ramming it snug with the ramrod. He balanced the gun on a table leg, so it was aimed in the direction of the front door. He'd only need to pull the trigger. As he sat there, he wondered if they'd come at him now or wait till morning. Darkness had its obvious advantages. But then again, Eberly would fear Rosetta's accidentally getting hit in the shooting. He figured they'd wait till morning. Then he checked the powder flask. Counting the rounds he already had in his guns plus the derringer, he thought he had enough for a dozen shots, fifteen at the most. He would need to be frugal from here on out, making each shot count.}

^{As he sat there, he saw something white moving in the shadows along the cabin's wall, like a wisp of smoke. Pettigrew's cat. It came slinking cautiously up to Cain, pushing its nose against his leg, meowing.}

^{"This is not a place you're going to want to be," he told the animal. The cat continued to press against him. When he went to pet it, though, the thing bit him on the hand. Cain swatted it, and the cat bolted, hiding somewhere in the darkness.}

^{As he sat there, he took more swigs from the jug until it didn't taste so bad. He wondered where Rosetta was now, whether she'd made it safely across the river. If she could get to Stone's place, he felt good about her chances. Stone seemed both reliable and committed to what he was doing. He'd take her on to the next station, and from there someone would lead her on to the next and, if luck was with her, so on all the way to Canada. He'd never been there himself, but a few runaways he'd hunted had followed the North Star all the way there. While he knew that some slave catchers didn't even stop at the border, most would give up and turn back. It became too costly a proposition. The reward on the runaway wouldn't pay the expenses to bring him back. Rosetta and her child would be reasonably safe there, he felt, though who could say with somebody as single-minded as Eberly? Probably only death itself would stop him.}

^{Rosetta had said they could have gone there together, the two of them, but Cain knew that would have been impossible, even in Canada. Nowhere in the world could they have lived in peace. Of course, it was perfectly fine to do what Eberly had done, to take a slave as a mistress, but a white man and a black woman living openly, freely as man and wife--no, people weren't ready for that. Still, he found himself trying to picture what a life with her would have been like--a simple life, himself in a field, behind the traces of a mule, plowing--
he,
a farmer! Working all day, as Brown had said a man ought, and then coming in toward evening, weary, sitting down to supper, Rosetta across from him. Also sitting there would be a boy. For some reason, he imagined a male child. He'd be striking-looking, like Rosetta, with her sharp features and matchless blue eyes. At night they'd sit in front of the fire, and he'd teach the boy to read. He'd show him how to ride a horse and to track and hunt--animals, that is. And to shoot a gun. Yes, that, too. Because the world was a dangerous place and he'd have to know how to protect himself and those he loved. Cain imagined sleeping beside Rosetta, making love, waking up in the morning with her next to him. He let himself imagine all of this now, perhaps because he knew it would never come to be. He would not leave this place, he knew. He regretted more than feared that fact. Yet, of all the many things he regretted in his life, the one he regretted most was that he had not told her he loved her.}

^{Time passed. Bars of silvery moonlight now slanted at an angle through the back window, pooling wetly on the floor near the fireplace. The night grew cooler, and the insect noises ceased. Everything became very still. He craned his ears, listening, waiting. He felt as he had at Buena Vista, when he was wounded and he lay waiting for the Mexicans to come and finish him off. He felt tired and worn out, felt he could sleep for ages. He lay his head back against the rough log wall and decided to shut his eyes for a moment. When they came, he would need to be alert, ready.}

^{He must have dozed off, for he jerked suddenly awake when a raspy noise sounded nearby. It was the cat, hissing at something. He sat up with a start, scanning the now dim light around him. The front door was still shut, but he could
feel
the presence of another in the room with him. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that the trapdoor lay open. Somehow they had found the back way in and slipped inside while he'd been sleeping. He made out movement near the fireplace, then slowly, the darkness took on a human form. A man, hunched over, carrying a big revolver, while behind him, another with a double-barreled shotgun. Cain quietly raised the fowling piece, took aim at the first figure, and fired for the middle of his body. The man didn't have a chance to utter a sound as the blast threw him into the wall behind him. With his revolver, Cain then turned his aim on the second figure and fired again. As this one fell, though, he managed to get off a blast of his shotgun. Most of the pellets were absorbed by the table but some managed to strike the part of Cain's left shoulder that had been exposed. The lead bit scalding pain into his flesh. The man on the floor still had some life in him, and he emptied his second barrel at Cain, who luckily had taken cover this time. Cain then leaned over the table, took his time, and fired another shot into the man, finally silencing him.}

^{"Damn," Cain cursed, touching his wounded shoulder.}

^{He didn't have time to linger on this, though. He knew others would follow these two. He put his handgun down, took up the fowling piece, and reloaded it, expecting more of Eberly's men to come at him at any moment.}

^{Seconds ticked off slowly. He could see now that it was close to dawn. The darkness had leached out of the night, leaving behind a chalky blue like the light in a dream. Several figures rushed by the open window and he fired his handgun once. He might have hit one, but he couldn't be sure.
Don't waste your ammo,
he told himself. Outside, he heard whispered voices, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. It was silent for a moment. He heard the cat, hidden off in a corner, meow once.}

^{Then they came again.}

^{There was a dull thudding noise against the front door, followed by a splintering sound, as if someone was swinging an ax against it. This continued for a while before the wood began to give way, and the door was finally shattered and separated from its hinges, its pieces falling inward. Two more men rushed into the cabin, one after another. The blast from the fowling piece caught the first squarely in the chest and spun him around and he fell across the body of one of those already dead. Then Cain took up his handgun and fired at the second man. He was huge, six five and broad shouldered, thick bellied, carrying a Jennings repeating rifle in his hands. The buckshot from the revolver hit him straight on, but its impact was considerably less than that of the fowling piece. It seemed to anger him more than slow him down. He kept plodding forward, cursing Cain, his mother, cocking the lever of his Jennings rifle and firing as he came on. Cain hit him with three more shots before he gave up and fell to the floor. And when he was down, though he didn't move, Cain shot him again for what he'd said about his mother. He had one shot left, and he fully expected them to charge again, finish him off before he had a chance to reload. Inexplicably, they waited for a while, which gave him time, at least, to reload his Colt.}

^{By now it was almost fully light out. He made out five bodies lying in various poses on the floor of the small cabin. The place smelled like a slaughterhouse, of blood and urine and shit. This time, before they charged, one man took up a position at the front window and with a pair of revolvers laid down some fearsome covering fire at}

^{Cain. Having to keep his head low, the best he could do was to fire blindly over the table. He killed the first man just as he reached him, but the second was able to grab hold of one of the table's legs and pull it away, exposing Cain. The man had brought with him only a small- caliber pepperbox, and he squeezed off several shots at point-blank range, but he shot wildly, jerking the trigger, and only one hit the mark. It tore into Cain's right thigh. For his part, Cain calmly turned his Colt on the man and with a single shot blew off most of his face. A third man had changed his mind and turned tail for the door. Cain shot him in the back, and he staggered and fell forward. He started crawling for the door when Cain shot him again in the ass.}