"I... yes... but those men," Ash stammered, "are they—"
"They knocked her right over!" Liam's high-pitched sobbing broke through her words.
"And then they hit her!" Shevonne's voice was indignant, shaky with tears.
"I'll rip their ears right off, Sister Ash!" Renny was vowing. "I'll chase 'em down and—"
"You'll do nothing of the kind!" Logan snapped. "Do you think she wants to bury you over a bruised eye, boy?"
"No, Renny." Ash groped to catch hold of the boy's hand, fearing that he would, indeed, rush forth to avenge her. "It's—it's nothing. I'm fine. Please don't—"
Her vision cleared enough to see the expression in the boy's face, and her heart broke for him.
"Sister Ash... your face..." His voice cracked, and he turned away. She knew he didn't want her to see his tears.
"Go get me a cloth, Renny, dipped in cool water. I'll be good as new in no time." Ash gave a wan smile.
Renny dashed off, and Ash felt something brush against her skirts. Meggie. She didn't touch Ash, only stared up at her, eyes huge with silent terror.
"It's all right now, Meggie, love." Ash attempted to infuse lightness into her voice as she gave the child a hug. For once Meggie allowed the contact—a brief but infinitely precious moment.
Ash savored it then released the little girl before she could draw away.
"Sister Ash?"
Ashleen looked into Liam's upturned face, the little boy's eyes filled with trouble.
"Do you think the Bear Man got away? Mr. Jones, I mean."
"I don't know, Liam. I hope so." Her eyes traced to where Kennisaw had disappeared, the men in hot pursuit.
"Do you think those men are gonna hurt him?"
"I hope not, sweeting."
"I liked the Bear Man, even if he did fib about the Indian stuff. I don't want him to be dead."
"Neither do I, Liam," Ash said softly.
But the eyes of his attackers rose up in her mind. Eyes as cruel and soulless as those in a grave. She whispered a desperate prayer for the man called Kennisaw Jones.
Chapter Three
Darkness crowded about the campfire, shadows clawing at the wagon in eerie patterns. Lost souls, they seemed, trying to get in amongst the warmth of the sleeping children, away from the mournful sounds of night creatures, away from the chill whisperings of danger.
Ash sat near the rear wagon wheel, her back propped against the bumpy spokes as she mounted guard. She shivered despite the quilt flung around her shoulders, the cold that had settled over the countryside at sunset creeping beneath her meager covering. Her hands were numb where they gripped the barrel of the old Hawkin rifle, and she prayed incessantly to St. Jude, patron of hopeless causes, that she had managed to load the weapon correctly.
Why, oh why, hadn't she caught up with the string of wagons somewhere up ahead?
She should have been chatting with the other women by the cook fires, laughing softly with them as they mended little breeches and torn petticoats. There should have been the comforting camaraderie of dozens of families brimming with dreams of a new land. But instead there was only a suffocating quiet and isolation more profound than any Ashleen had ever known. "There was nothing you could have done to get on the trail any sooner," she muttered to herself for the hundredth time. "You did your best."
She had—rushing about half-crazed as morning melted into noon, hitching the horses and trying to hustle out of town the moment Mr. Logan had reattached the mended wheel.
But Cooley had been in a particularly contrary mood, objecting even more than usual to being subjected to the indignity of the harness. Then Liam had tumbled off of the wagon seat and scraped his chin. And while Ashleen had been tending him Meggie had wandered off. It had taken them almost an hour to find her. Ash had been sick with panic by the time Renny had discovered the little girl, squirreled away in the back of Mr. Logan's shop, making necklaces for her raggedy doll from the wood shavings littering the floor.
Ashleen had wanted to delude herself that mishaps were to be expected, what with the confusion of making ready to leave. And yet in her heart she knew why she was so distracted.
Everywhere she looked it seemed that cold eyes peered back at her, the two men she had seen chasing Kennisaw Jones haunting her with a sense of wickedness so chilling, she could still feel the power of it seep through her very bones.
