Rose (34 page)

George felt like getting up and walking away. He didn’t believe a word of it. But what upset him the most was he
wanted
to believe it. He
needed
to believe it. No matter what Salty told him, he would continue to sit there, waiting, hoping for something that would allow him to respect his father just the tiniest bit.

“Your father knew he wasn’t a good man, but he knew that you were.”

“Don’t make stuff up, Salty,” George said. He could feel the need to believe growing greater all the time. If he could only trust Salty to tell him the truth.

“He said that while you were still a child, he could see you
were going to become the man he should have been. He also saw that you adored him, that you would do your best to be like him. That’s when he decided to drive you away so he wouldn’t ruin you.”

“Surely you don’t expect me to believe that Pa became the most disliked man in Virginia just to keep me from trying to be like him.”

“No. I doubt he did anything he didn’t enjoy, but he did want to protect you. That’s why he ignored you.”

“So I could grow up without any guidance at all.”

“He said he knew you were strong enough. And you proved him right.”

George had almost succumbed, he had almost believed, but that was too much. Not once in his whole life could he remember his father saying anything about his strength of character. In fact, his father had berated him for being weak and too willing to talk when action was called for. He had mocked his skills, his friends, his dress, his interest in going to West Point. He may have felt some remorse over killing Tom—George would like to think he had at least that tiny bit of humanity in his soul—but he’d never believe he admired his son in any way.

“He gave me something for you. He made me promise to make sure you got it.”

“How did you know where to find me?”

“He told me how to reach this place. He knew you’d be here. He said you’d come because your brothers would need you.”

George teetered on the edge again. There were times he wished he could forget he’d ever had a father. He never wished that more than now.

Salty went over to his bedroll, opened it up, and withdrew a sword. He held it out to George. “He wanted you to have this.”

George couldn’t touch it. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t. It would mean he believed. It would mean he was vulnerable. If he gave in just once, there would be no way
back, no barrier from all the pain he’d walled off for so many years. He couldn’t take that chance.

“Why would he give me his sword?”

“He also sent you a letter.” Salty went back to his roll and extracted a crumpled envelope from its depths. The wax seal was badly cracked, but it was still unbroken.

“He wrote that the night before he died.”

George felt as if he had been turned to stone. He couldn’t move. He stared at the envelope in Salty’s hands. He desperately wanted to take it, but he was afraid. He was so near the edge now, he might never get back.

Then he remembered what Rose had told him, that he was so afraid of having things go wrong that he wouldn’t let himself live, that he would deny himself the chance to have the things he wanted. If he didn’t have the courage to read his father’s last words to him, how could he have the courage to face the rest of his own life?

How could he deserve a wife like Rose?

Quickly, before he could change his mind, he took the envelope, ripped open the seal, and took out the single sheet. There was only one sentence written on that page.

“Remember me the way I died, not the way I lived.”

George could feel the walls crumble and fall. He could feel the tempered steel within him bend and melt. He could feel the freeing of something inside, something small and undefinable, but something quite essential. For a moment he felt unwell; then it passed away. He felt worse and he felt better. He felt tremendous disappointment, regret as well, but he also felt relief.

Maybe he could believe after all.

“They gotta be here somewheres,” one voice said.

“They probably headed for Austin. They had the whole night to get away.”

“While we was digging up half their yard.”

“I never did think there was no gold, but Pa won’t listen. He means to make that man tell where he hid it. He said he’d peel the hide off that woman inch by inch if he had to.”

George had been mad before, but what he experienced now was something completely new. He could feel rage boil through him like the surf on a rocky shore, a mighty current driving it higher and harder. This must have been how his father had felt when he lost control of his temper.

The thought frightened George so much, the rage began to recede.

“We’ve got to lure them away or they’ll soon find us,” George whispered to Rose. “Salty and I will draw them off. You and Zac stay put. Don’t move no matter how much gunfire you hear.”

“Why should I hear gunfire?” Rose asked.

“We can’t draw them off unless we attract their attention, can we?”

Rose didn’t look reassured.

“Don’t expect us back before nightfall,” George said.

“Be careful.”

They could do little more in the cave than crawl on their hands and knees, but George managed to get his arms around Rose. “I’ve never had anything to come back to, but I do now. You can be sure it’s going to take more than a few dozen McClendons to keep me away.” He kissed Rose quite vigorously.
“You and Zac might as well take a nap. It’ll make the day go faster.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to convince old man McClendon it’s not a good idea to come around here again.”

“How?”

“I’ll find a way.”

Then he was gone. He just crawled out of the cave and disappeared.

Rose was uncomfortable. George wasn’t like himself. There was a ruthlessness in him she had never seen. Determination she knew and expected. But this was different. This frightened her. She wasn’t sure she liked it.

“Can’t we at least see what’s going on?” Zac begged.

They had spent a long, tense, boring day hiding deep in the cave waiting for George to return. She had stayed awake, but she had encouraged Zac to sleep. Now he was bursting with energy while she could hardly keep her eyes open.

“You’re not to go near the opening,” Rose said. “You never know when one of them might be crossing the creek. And keep your voice down.”

“But they won’t catch me. You never did,” challenged Zac. “Neither did George.”

“That may be true,” Rose admitted, “but this is no game of hide-and-seek. If those men find you, you know George would give himself up, don’t you?”

The boy nodded.

“They won’t believe there’s no gold. They’ll kill us all. Now do you understand?”

Zac nodded again.

“Good. Now why don’t you tell me a story. I don’t think I could think of another one if you held a gun to my head.”

Rose woke with a start. She had fallen asleep with Zac telling her a story about the dog he was going to have George buy for
him when they sold the herd. She wondered why she felt so warm until she realized that Zac had pulled a quilt over her. He really was the dearest boy. She’d have to do something really special for him when everything got back to normal. In the meantime she’d better see about something to eat. It was dark enough in the cave to be late afternoon. She sat up expecting to find Zac right next to her.

He was gone!

She felt a desire to spank him within an inch of his life even as fear for his life caused her breath to come quick and shallow. Maybe he was just near the entrance. She scrambled through the labyrinth of roots, all the while cursing herself for falling asleep. Zac would never have left had she been awake.

The mouth of the cave was deserted. Zac was truly gone. She had to find him. She would never forgive herself if anything happened to the child.

She didn’t even want to think about how George would feel. From the way he acted this morning, he wouldn’t stop until every McClendon was dead. That would destroy George and all her dreams. She couldn’t allow that.

Rose crawled out of the cave and listened. After a few moments she heard shots somewhere far to the west. So George and Salty had drawn the McClendons off. She felt a little better. The fewer McClendons left, the more likely nothing had happened to Zac. Rose crawled back into the cave, picked out a rifle, checked to make sure it was fully loaded, and started out again.

After half an hour of searching she had found no trace of the boy. She also found no McClendons. It was as though they had never been there. She didn’t dare approach the smoldering remains of the house—McClendons were bound to be there—but she didn’t think Zac would have gone to the house. She wondered if he might not have returned to the cave by now.

But she didn’t make it back to the creek. She had hardly gone twenty yards when old man McClendon leapt out at her
from behind a thick tree trunk. He wrenched the rifle from her hands.

“I knew you’d turn back to your den.” He chuckled. “I know about those caves. I hid there once myself from some Indians. I thought you’d find them.”

It was useless to struggle. He might look old, but he was amazingly strong. Besides, she wouldn’t get two yards before he gunned her down.

“We’re going back to wait for your husband,” McClendon said. “I don’t expect he’ll stay out much longer.”

Rose knew she couldn’t allow McClendon to drag her back to the cave. If he ever got her inside, George wouldn’t be able to save her.

She struggled just enough to slow him down, trying all the while to decide where to make her stand. But no place seemed to be a good spot. Rose soon realized that if she was going to do anything, she had to do it soon. She thrust her foot between McClendon’s legs to trip him. At the same time, she hit him in the middle with all her strength.

The old man hardly flinched. He didn’t stumble. He hit her just above the temple with the butt of his rifle. Rose collapsed in a heap at his feet.

“I’ll crack your skull if you try anything like that again,” he threatened.

Rose offered no resistance when he picked her up and started dragging her toward the creek. She fought to remain conscious. She had to warn George. Summoning all her strength, Rose let out a long shriek.

“George!”

The sound lingered in the heavy afternoon air like a shimmering light, but Rose didn’t hear it. McClendon’s long, thin fingers closed around her throat, cutting off her air. All she heard was a ringing in her ears before blackness engulfed her.

An hour earlier George and Salty had abandoned their attempt to decoy the McClendons and started back to the cave. They
had almost reached the creek when the cry turned George’s blood cold. It galvanized him into action. He sprinted across the open plain separating him from the creek, vaulted over the brush into the creek, and ran down the gravel-strewn bed toward the cry which still rang in his ears. He came to a shuddering halt when he saw McClendon dragging Rose’s inert form toward the creek.

A murderous fury unlike anything he’d ever known exploded inside him. He felt a cold-blooded desire to kill, to destroy without mercy this man who threatened someone he loved. It was as though some beast had lain, safely chained, buried deep inside him for years. But the need to fight for his life, and the lives of those he loved, had stripped away the softness and unchained the monster.

It was as though his father had come back to life and taken over his body.

Even as he stood facing McClendon, trying to decide what to do to protect Rose, George fought off the blood lust, the animal rage. Whatever he did, he would do it because he must, not because he couldn’t control himself.

“Let her go, McClendon,” George called out. “I’ve told you already, there’s no gold. There never has been.”

The old man looked up, surprised. Then an evil grin spread over his face. “I sent the others away,” he said. “They believe you’ve gone to Austin. I knew you wouldn’t. You’re too stubborn. But you’re not stupid. All I want is the money. You just tell me where it is, and I’ll let your woman go. I don’t want them boys to know I got it. They’ll just waste it on whores. They won’t have a cent left by Christmas. Not me. I don’t aim to be poor again.”

Salty had come up behind George during the exchange with McClendon.

“I’m going to try for a shot,” George whispered.

“Where? Even if you shoot him in the head, he might still get a shot into Rose.”

“I know. I’m going to try for his elbow. Watch him a minute.”

George disappeared inside the cave. He emerged moments later carrying a single dueling pistol.

“Keep an eye out for Zac,” he said to Salty. “I don’t see him anywhere.”

George vaulted out of the creek bed onto the flat ground above. He stood facing McClendon.

“Tell me where the gold is or I’ll kill her,” McClendon said, his grin even wider.

“You’re bluffing, old man,” George answered. “Let Rose go or I’ll kill you where you stand. And don’t think I can’t do it. My father taught me to shoot the pips out of a playing card at twenty paces. Wouldn’t let me sleep one night until I did it twenty times in succession.”

Uneasily, McClendon eyed the pistol hanging at George’s side, but he didn’t let go of Rose.

“You won’t kill me,” George continued. He started walking toward the old man. “If I did have any gold, I wouldn’t have told anybody where I hid it. You’d never find it if I was dead. And you won’t kill Rose because you know I’ll kill you.”

“You’d better not push me too far,” the old man threatened.

George kept walking.

“You don’t mean to let us go. You’ve got your kin out there somewhere. No more than half a dozen followed Salty and me. It wouldn’t surprise me if they were all around us this very minute. As soon as I tell you where the gold is, you’ll call them in and kill all of us.”

George continued walking.

“Don’t come any further,” the old man cried. “I’ll kill her.”

“Then I’ll kill you. You still won’t have any gold.”

George had come close enough to see that Rose had regained consciousness. He also saw a thin streak of blood trickling down her temple.

The beast inside him leapt up, snarling. Every feeling of compassion, every desire to spare the old man’s life, went dead in his breast. He had never felt so calm in his life, never felt so sure he could kill.

He wasn’t himself any longer. He had been shoved aside. Someone else was in control of his body.

“I’m going to kill him, Rose,” George said, ignoring McClendon. “As soon as you feel able, fall away from him. Then make for the creek as fast as you can. They’ll be coming out of the brush.”

“You’re a fool if you think you can get away,” the old man said, backing up, dragging Rose with him. “The boys will hunt you down out there.”

“That won’t do you any good, will it?” George taunted, still walking toward the old man. “You’ll be dead and in hell.”

Even as George felt his body tense, his arm begin to rise, he made one last attempt to fight down the blood lust which filled his brain. Never in his life had he acted out of blind rage. He would kill to protect Rose, he would exterminate the entire McClendon clan if necessary, but he wouldn’t kill out of rage. He must always be able to face the consequences of his actions.

Gradually George felt the grip of insane fury begin to loosen, the light of reason begin to return. At the same moment, the old man stumbled over a root, and Rose pushed away from him. As she started to run, the old man raised his gun and fired.

George saw Rose stagger and fall. He fired almost instantly. Without waiting to see if he’d hit the old man, George raced for Rose.

“It’s just a scratch,” she said, pointing to the place on her shoulder where blood stained her dress. “I’m not hurt.”

Gunfire erupted all around them.

George pulled Rose to her feet and, in a crouching run, raced toward the creek and over the edge. Salty was firing as rapidly as the rifle would let him.

“They’re coming from everywhere,” he said. “I don’t know how long we can hold them off.”

They took up rifles just as the McClendons burst through the brush. With deadly determination, George and Rose picked them off one by one. It wasn’t long before the charge slowed.

Then it stopped.

George waited, but nothing happened. He waited longer. Still no shots. Still no charge from the brush.

“Anybody out there?” he called out.

Silence.

He didn’t dare leave cover. He didn’t know what was going on, but he was convinced the McClendons were still there.

“Anybody there?” he called again.

After a time, a voice answered, “Yeah.”

“There’s no gold,” George said. “There never was. I tried to tell the old man, but he wouldn’t listen. You’re welcome to dig up every square foot around the house.”

“We already have,” the voice answered.

“There’s no use in anybody else getting hurt.”

There was a long pause.

“You still out there?”

“Yeah.”

“You going to leave us alone?”

Another long pause. George thought he could hear them talking, but he had no idea what they were saying.

“Can we come get Pa?”

“Yes.”

Moments later a tall, thin man who looked exactly like McClendon must have looked years ago stepped out of the brush. He paused a moment, then walked over to where his father lay.

“I told him there weren’t no gold. I told him rich people didn’t work hard like you. But that Silas fella kept swearing he knew where it was. All we had to do was get you outta the house.”

“What happened to Silas?”

“Pa killed him. Got so mad when he couldn’t find no gold he just shot him.”

The man looked down at his father.

“I told him not to bother your woman. No man puts up with nobody messing with his woman, I told him. It makes ’um madder
than hell. But he wouldn’t listen. Pa wouldn’t listen to nobody. Thought he knowed everything. Now look what it’s got him. And the rest of us,” he said, looking at the wounded men who were beginning to get up off the ground.