Chase the Wind (20 page)

“You are out
of your mind,” Ian ground out. He knew he
shouldn’t agitate the man, but he could not help it. Mason was crazy—he knew no boundaries and he felt no guilt. Ian saw that Faith, behind Mason, was stricken with terror. She kept looking at Ian, then looking up to the loft above his head. There was no sign of the children. She alternated between praying that they would stay hidden and hoping that Jamie would have the presence of mind to put a gun on Mason.

Mason began to laugh at Ian’s statement. Ian stole a look at the buckboard, counting the paces. He was running out of time. His eyes went back to Mason and he saw him draw his gun. Ian felt his life go into slow motion. He dove towards the wagon, and heard Faith’s screams beyond the blood pounding in his ears. He saw her as she rushed towards Mason, the impact of her body sending the bullet into the air.

Ian rolled away from the shot and gathered himself into a crouch. The buckboard was still out of his reach. He watched as
Mason landed a fist on Faith’s jaw and she fell into a heap on the
ground. Ian dove again as Mason fired once more, willing his body
to reach the safety of the buckboard where he could get his hands on his gun. Behind him in the barn he heard a crash as the bullet penetrated the wood of the barn, then bloodcurdling screams—it
had to be Jamie—rising in the night air.

Mason fired again as Ian was in midair, and the bullet caught him in the spine, flipping him over on his back. The next bullet
hit his chest before he landed on the ground. He could feel nothing
below his shoulders. His blood was pumping out of his chest and beginning to pool on the ground around him. He heard the furious
cries of Storm from the corral, and the screams of his children
above that.

Ian watched helplessly as Mason hauled Faith up beside him. She began to scream when she saw Ian on the ground, covered
with blood. Mason slapped her and dragged her, kicking and
screaming, into the house. The screams from the barn had stopped,
replaced by a sob from Jenny and a moan from Jamie. Ian wondered how his son could be alive after all those screams. From the
house he heard the cries and protests of Faith, along with the crashing of furniture. Tears gathered in Ian’s eyes and ran down his face. He couldn’t move anything, his life’s blood was pouring out of him
onto his land, his wife was being attacked by a madman, and his
children were hurt. He heard the furious cries of Storm in his corral, the stomping on the ground and the horse racing around the pen. He heard the stallion gather himself and felt the impact
on the ground beneath his head when Storm cleared the fence and
landed in the soft dirt.
Co on, go free before he gets you too,
Ian
thought.

The house was silent now. Ian felt his heart skip a beat; he felt
a light go out inside him, and he was cold. There was a noise from the door and he heard Mason’s footsteps—they were too heavy to be Faith’s. Ian knew she would never come out of the house again.

Storm sensed the man and charged him. Ian watched as Mason
dove away and drew his gun. Storm never broke stride as the shots
sailed over his back; he just kept running until he disappeared into
the darkness.

“Your wife is dead.” Mason was standing over Ian with what was
supposed to be a smile on his evil face. “She hit her head on the
hearth when I slapped her. She never was any fun at all.”

Mason looked at the barn door. “I heard you had a couple of brats. It sounded like I got both of them with one shot. I guess I should make sure they’re finished. I wouldn’t want any witnesses left to tell the tale.” He started towards the barn.

“No.”
Ian felt as if he had screamed it, but all he managed was a whisper.

Mason suddenly froze in his tracks as he heard the distinctive sound of a bullet entering a chamber. He cautiously stepped back towards Ian, his eyes never leaving the door of the barn. “Maybe it’s better revenge to leave them as orphans. I’ve always heard that parents suffers more for their children than for themselves. As for me, I’d never want the nuisance.” He backed away from Ian and mounted his horse. Ian heard the sounds of Mason riding off into the darkness. The darkness was closing in on him, too.

“Dad?” It was Jenny sobbing over him. Her left arm was held at a funny angle, and she was covered with soot and blood.

“Jenny,” Ian managed to get out. “Jamie?”

“He’s hurt—he’s burned, but he’s alive,” Jenny cried. She reached up with her right hand and pushed Ian’s hair out of his eyes.

“You’re so much like your mother. . .” Ian smiled at her. He wasn’t cold anymore, and it didn’t seem to be as dark. Jenny looked towards the dark, silent house. “Do you know that your mother is an angel?” She could barely hear him. “Look, I see her now. She’s waiting for me.” Ian looked beyond Jenny, to where Faith was standing in the light, her arms outstretched towards him, like the angel on the carved box at their bedside. She was smiling, and the light had turned her to silver. He couldn’t wait to be in her arms again, where he belonged. “Faith,” he whispered as his deep blue eyes closed for the last time.

“Dad!” Jenny screamed. She fell against his chest, her hair dragging through the blood that had poured out of his body. His face looked so handsome, almost serene. He couldn’t be dead—he was her father. Her cries filled the night.

Chapter Twelve

Jenny felt sick and dazed from the injury to her arm, and her head
swirled with images of the events that had just taken place. She had been in the loft with Jamie playing with the kittens when the stranger had ridden into their yard. They were so absorbed with
what they were doing that they had not realized anyone was there until they heard the bizarre sound of Mason’s laughter. Jamie had
taken one look out of the loft door and begun to scramble down the ladder to get the rifle. His dad needed help; he did not know who the man was but one look had told him his intentions were
not good. A bullet came whizzing into the barn through the boards and struck the lantern hanging on a hook by the ladder. Jamie was
just even with the lantern in his descent when it exploded from the impact of the bullet, spraying flaming oil over the left side of his face, down his neck and onto his shoulder and chest. His clothes burst into flame, and he fell screaming from the ladder. Jenny watched in horror from the loft above as Jamie tried to put
the flames out by rolling on the floor of the barn. Jenny scrambled
down to help, but her usually agile feet got tangled in the dress
she still wore and she fell to the floor, landing on her arm, the
impact shattering the bone of her forearm. She didn’t even look at
her arm, she just threw herself on Jamie’s screaming, squirming body, her dress finally smothering the flames. A sob came out as she raised herself and looked at his blistered, bleeding form. Jamie was blessedly unconscious, but the pain had penetrated his darkened state and he moaned as his sister examined the blackened skin under the tatters of his shirt. Jenny had heard the shots outside, heard her mother screaming, heard Storm giving voice to his fury and the pounding of his hooves. She staggered to her feet and pulled the rifle down from its place on the wall. She crept over to the door and looked through the cracks to see a man standing over her father. She tried to raise the rifle to shoot but couldn’t manage it with her injured arm. She bit her lip and willed her trembling body to stay still as she saw the man start towards the barn. Without even thinking she cocked the rifle, its barrel still pointing into the ground. The man stopped when he heard the sound and backed away from the door. She watched him mount his horse and ride away into the night. As soon as he was gone, she ran to where her father lay.

She was still there, her sobs having given way to exhaustion, when Gray Horse rode into the yard the next morning. He quickly dismounted and pulled Jenny off Ian’s body. The blood from his chest had dried in her hair, and he had to detach her unconscious form from his. A quick look told him that Ian was dead, and he turned his attention to his dear friend’s daughter, who was now stirring in his arms. Her eyes fluttered open, and she turned her face into his bare shoulder when she recognized the sharp features of the Indian. Gray Horse let her cry a bit, then sat her up on the ground before him. Her left arm hung at a funny angle at her side as she pulled up the blackened bloody tail of her dress to wipe her tear-filled eyes.

“Your mother?” he asked.

“Dead, in the house.” A sudden awareness hit Jenny. “Jamie— he’s in the barn. He’s hurt.” She stumbled unsteadily to her feet. Gray Horse sprang up beside her and grabbed her waist as she swayed dizzily. She pushed him away and headed towards the barn. Jamie was lying where she had left him. She fell to her knees beside him and bent over to listen to the sound of his labored breathing. Gray Horse knelt beside her, but one look told him the boy’s injuries were beyond his healing skills.

“Jenny, you must get him to a doctor,” he said. Jenny was looking
down at her brother’s blistered face, her hand reaching out to
smooth the charred ends of his hair off his forehead. Gray Horse grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. Jenny grimaced as pain shot down her broken arm, and she raised her tear-stained face to look at the best friend her family had. “I can’t help him. He needs white medicine, do you understand?” Jenny looked down at
her brother and then past Gray Horse to where her father’s body was lying in the dirt. Gray Horse looked over his shoulder at his friend. “I will take care of your parents. Send someone out to get their bodies.” Jenny nodded at the man’s instructions. “Do you
know who did this?”

“I don’t know. It was a man I’ve never seen before. I didn’t get
a good look at him, and it was dark.” Jenny wiped the back of her
hand across her eyes and nose, smearing the soot even more. “Will
Jamie live?”

Gray Horse looked down at Jamie’s burned skin. “I don’t know.
It’s in your God’s hands now.” Jamie moaned as they looked down
at him. Gray Horse hated to think of the pain the boy must be in.
It was good that he was unconscious. He got the buckboard ready
for Jenny and then gently laid Jamie in the back.

He wouldn’t let Jenny go in the house. He had seen Faith’s body
lying where she had landed against the hearth. The front of her
dress was ripped away and there were bruises on her face and arms.

He had found a blanket and used it to help cushion the back of
the wagon for Jamie. With the help of Gray Horse, Jenny climbed
into the seat and took the reins into her one good hand, the other hanging at a strange angle on her left side. Gray Horse tenderly squeezed her right forearm, and she looked into the dark eyes of
her father’s best friend.

“Take the horses and take care of them for us. I don’t want people
coming here and helping themselves to our stock,” she instructed
him. “Storm has run off. You’ll find him out there somewhere. Take
care of him until Jamie can come for him.” She broke into a sob at
her brother’s name. Gray Horse stood patiently while she talked. He hadn’t seen the children during the long winter, and now he was overcome by how much she had matured in that one season, how much she had grown up in the past few hours.

Gray Horse nodded as Jenny slapped the reins against the backs of the team. The Indian watched the wagon roll out of sight; then
he turned to gather up the body of his friend.

When the marshal arrived, he found the freshly washed bodies
of Ian and Faith lying side by side on the bed they had shared.
Any tracks that might have been left by the killer had disappeared
among all the others on the well-used road to town.

The next few days passed in a blur for Jenny. She had told her story to the marshal, her parents had been buried, and decisions
had been made for the twins. They were to be sent to the mission
orphanage in St. Jo. There were people there who could help the
still-unconscious Jamie through his long recovery, and perhaps the two of them would have a better chance of being adopted by some
one in a large town. The truth of the matter was that no one was
willing to invest the time that Jamie needed for his recovery. It was
springtime and everyone’s attention was on the work that needed to be done, not taking care of a young boy who might not recover
from his injuries.

The Duncans’ property was forfeited to the bank; there was no way Jamie and Jenny could make the payments on the small bal
ance that was left. Jenny was thankful that the stock was under the
care of Gray Horse, she knew her father would be happy about
that. Someday they would come back and claim what was theirs. For now, she just needed to make sure Jamie recovered. She wondered briefly about Storm as she rode in the wagon that took them
away from their home. She hoped he was still running free, or that
Gray Horse had managed to find him. She hated the thought of
anyone else having custody of the stallion.