Tales of Chills and Thrills: The Mystery Thriller Horror Box Set (7 Mystery Thriller Horror Novels) (96 page)
Authors: Cathy Perkins,Taylor Lee,J Thorn,Nolan Radke,Richter Watkins,Thomas Morrissey,David F. Weisman
“The raiders killed our flocks, but I have a goose you could
have. It was a baby when the rest were killed and I hid it in the brush when
the thieves came by.”
“I couldn’t take your only—”
“Simon is going to go get us some chickens and more geese once
the crop is planted. You take that there goose back with you. She will walk
right along if you put a cord round her neck.”
“Then, thank you.”
Things were looking up. Jessica brought out a long cord and we
put a loop around that goose’s neck and tied it with a bowline knot, so as not
to choke her.
My time was short, so Jessica walked to the top of the ridge
with me and we said our goodbyes there. We used to see each other once a week
at meeting time. I didn’t even know if the church was still standing, and
neither did she. Jessica and I hugged again, and I walked the goose home.
She squawked and waddled, grabbing a bite to eat now and then as
we traveled. Maybe the mountain wouldn’t be so lonely with her nearby, honking
at me. A good goose was better ‘n a watchdog, for it can make an awful clamor
when it’s aroused.
I kept feeling the rocks under my shoes, and when I stopped to
rest, I looked at the hole that was forming there. I wondered if the whites of
a goose egg would act like glue, the way the whites of a chicken egg did. I was
going to try it, for egg white sure did hold well. Jacob had used it all the
time.
One more thing needing fixing. I could feel the weight bearing
down on me.
It was well past dark when I arrived home, as the goose slowed
me down. I’d spent the last half-hour kickin’ the side of the trail to find it,
as it was worn down in the dirt, forming a small ditch. I couldn’t see it, but
I could feel it, and I’d made it home many a times like this.
I expected Aggie to be bawling at me for neglecting her so long.
But she was quiet, not waiting at the fence.
I stopped. Something warn’t right.
A light went on in the cabin and I backed away into the brush,
pulling the goose with me. I tied her to a small sapling, then moved over to a
stand of trees where I could see into the cabin. I couldn’t leave her tied up
for long, or the critters would git her, but she was too noisy to take with me.
Someone was inside and the bulk of the body made it look to be a
man. I warn’t expectin’ no man.
I went back past the goose, skirted the cabin on the far side
and entered the barn. My lantern hanging there had been lit, and I poked my
head in, cautious like.
A horse stood in a stall, unsaddled. I’d never seen it before,
munching away on the grain I’d been so carefully saving. Angry, I went further
into the barn, looking around. Next to the saddle hung a blanket, Union blue.
As far as I knew, my boys had all joined the Confederates.
What in tarnation was I goin’ to do? Hide until he left?
Yet...what if it were one of my boys?
If it were a stranger, he’d know someone lived here. A cow left
unmilked will get milk fever or go dry. He’d be able to tell, from the size of
her udder, that she’d been milked this morning. And that there’d been a fire in
the fireplace last night.
Maybe I should go over to Mally’s house and spend the night
there. It was pitch dark now, and I’d probably break my neck on the rough
trail, but I didn’t want to face a man alone, with no gun.
Suddenly a dog barked, startling me, and as I backed up, it
charged around the corner and into the barn. I turned to run, but it caught my
dress in its teeth and tore it. It was the size of a wolf, and I backed away to
where the pitchfork leaned against the side of the barn and grabbed it with
both hands.
“I wouldn’t do that,” a man said. He walked though the door with
a pistol in his hand.
“Abigail?” he said.
I looked at this stranger with his long beard and Jacob’s voice.
After
five years? Could it be?
“Jacob?”
He put the pistol away. “Yes. Down, Barney. Sit.”
The dog sat immediately. My legs felt so weak I almost joined
him.
“Sorry about him. He’s still young. Aggie was waiting when I got
here. I milked her and hoped you hadn’t got yourself hurt, since you wouldn’t
have left her uncared for. I figured you’d gone to the Buchanan’s and were just
late getting back.”
“I went to the settlements. Got me a goose.”
He nodded. “Where are the boys?”
“Grown and gone.”
“Even Razzel?”
“Yes. They didn’t stay any better ‘n you.” I didn’t intend to
accuse him of neglect, but it came out that way, and thinking of it, he had.
“Did you get yourself another man? I wouldn’t blame you.”
“No.” Jacob had always been man enough for me. It was just that
he had to see what was on the other side of the hill.
“You done with your seeing?” I asked him. He had grown older,
there was a touch of gray in his beard, but he still had the size to fight a
bear if he came across one. My boys were all like him, big men who could handle
life. I could only hope they’d handled the war.
“There’s another ocean out there,” he said, his voice glowing
with remembrance, “past some plains and some mountains. When I got to it, I
turned around. Was coming home when a war got in the way.”
“You come to stay?”
I wanted him to. Oh, how I wanted him to.
“No.”
My heart fell. It was as I expected, the wanderlust would never
leave him. I felt like all the gumption had plumb gone out of me. He’d never
settle down until he died and got buried in some foreign land.
He looked me over. “You always were the prettiest gal on the
mountain.”
“I aint any longer.”
He shook his head. “Can’t prove it by me.”
“Jacob, I’m the only gal on the mountain.”
That brought a smile to his face. “I crossed many a mountain.
Wherever I went, you were always with me, always talking to me and showing me
your love in the little ways you do.”
He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, sort of
hesitant like. “You should see it out there, Abigail. The wind blowin’ off the
water. It makes you feel alive.”
“I like the mountains. And trees.”
“There’s mountains. Higher than these. And the trees are so big
it takes a day to walk around one. If you cut one down, you can build a whole
town with the lumber.”
“So?”
“You were always doing something for someone. I wanted better
for you
—
for us. I built us a place
in California. Near that ocean. Hired a man to care for it while I come to
fetch you and the boys. That is, if you’ll leave this here farm. We’ll have a
fine living on my new place. Soil is good and black. And deep. We won’t have to
plow around the boulders.”
When Jacob had left, I’d refused to go with him. Our youngest,
Razzel, was only twelve, and I had heard of the western lands and the wild
Indians and the blizzards and wildfires. I’d wanted no part of it.
Now, what was here for me? A farm that had taken the best years
of my life and almost killed me a few times? And would certainly kill me this
winter. I didn’t owe it anything. And if it had been the strongest house on the
mountain, I wouldn’t have stayed. If Jacob was leaving, I was going with him.
This time I wasn’t about to be left behind.
“I know you’re attached to this place, but—”
“Not attached. Not any longer. Oh, Jacob, I’ve missed you so
much.” And I started to bawl, louder than Aggie when she wants milking bad.
He stepped near and circled me with those long, strong arms of
his. “And I missed you, too. You were too stubborn to go with me, while I was
bound and determined to find us a better place than this.”
“I wasn’t being stubborn, Jacob. I was afraid.”
But too stubborn to
admit it.
“You? Afraid?”
“I didn’t want to take my boys out in that wild land. This place
was so secure.”
“They went anyway,” he said, leading the way to the house. He
slapped his hand on the side of his leg, and Barney shot out ahead of us, tail
wagging.
“Yes. First Gage, the week after you left. If you remember right,
he was twenty. Then Daniel, then the rest of them, whenever they reached
sixteen.”
We went inside. I looked around. It was the only home my boys
had known. “What if they come back and I’m not here?” I worried.
“We’ll tell the Buchanans.”
“They’re both dead.” I told him what had happened to them. “Only
Mally is alive, and she went to Missouri to live with kin.”
“Good for her.”
“I don’t know how we could leave a message.”
“We’ll tell people as we go along, mentioning California. If any
of those boys do look for you, they’ll come. I aint waiting here for ‘em.”
“Then I won’t either.”
He drew me into the firelight, looked me up and down and kissed
me soundly. I loved his kisses. It was how he’d wooed me away from that young
flatlander who thought he’d get a chance with me.
“I love you, Mrs. Courtney. I’ve been a long time waiting. I’d
‘ave been back a lot sooner, if I could’ve. Got swept up into that there war.
Man with a gun said I either joined them or I was the enemy. So I became a
Union soldier. Wasn’t particularly fighting for anything, except to stay alive
and get back to you.”
I believed him. “I love you, Jacob. Just don’t leave me again.”
“Never.” He pulled off his boots and I shucked out of my dress,
then stood there in my raggedy chemise, as he took off his shirt, then his
britches.
I was thinking hard. I knew I’d forgotten something.
As he grabbed my hand to pull me into bed, I stopped him,
saying, “Wait! Jacob, the goose!”
THE END
This is
Abigail’s story. If you wish to find out what happened to young Mally, read
THE HANDSOMEST
MAN IN THE COUNTRY,
a novella and #1 in The Traherns.
Nolan Radke was in Law
Enforcement for 9 years, during which he wrote the Amber Alert Policy and
several other policies and procedures for his department. He has an English
Writing Degree from the University of Washington and worked briefly as an
executive editor at a publishing house. He has spent many years helping others
with their books and has recently started to dedicate time to his own stories.
Nolan lives in Kirkland, WA, with his wife and two teenage daughters.
email
NOLAN: [email protected]
Copyright
© 2012 Nolan J. Radke
All Rights
Reserved
This book is a work of
fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events
or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
To officers who gave their lives in duty.
