“Brother Benjamin Steed,” she said.
He turned. “Yes?”
“Considering your health and the condition of the water, perhaps it is better to have Matthew baptize me as well.”
Benjamin frowned and shot Mary Ann a look.
“No, ’tis my idea, not your wife’s. I have listened to your cough these past three days and have started to regret my haste in asking that you do this for me.”
“Ben,” Mary Ann said, “she’s right. It’s not wise.”
He nodded thoughtfully, then looked back at Sister McIntire. “Do you remember the scripture you quoted to me the other night? About leaving lands and houses?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And you would deny me the privilege of baptizing you because of a cough?” He sounded incredulous.
For a long moment she stood there. Then a slow smile spread across her face. “Of course not, Brother Steed. It was foolish of me to entertain such a thought.” Half turning, and adding noticeably to the lilt in her Irish brogue, she spoke to Matthew. “Aye, laddie, out of the water now with ye. Let’s see if a couple of old folk are as tough as you wee ones.”
* * *
Nathan, Joshua, and Joshua’s family had made near record time from Savannah, Georgia, to St. Louis, Missouri. In New Orleans, Joshua had found the captain of one of the smaller steamboats that hauled mainly freight up and down the river. The captain was waiting for a load of cotton to come in, but when Joshua offered him five hundred dollars cash if he would leave immediately, the load was forgotten.
After some discussion, they had decided to forgo any searching along the way. Though she had first wanted to watch for him, stopping at each town, even Caroline now felt a growing urgency to get to St. Louis as quickly as possible and start their search there. It took them eleven days—five to New Orleans, and with the captain making only occasional stops to resupply his wood and water needs, they made it to St. Louis in six more.
It was shortly after nine o’clock on the night of January tenth when they came down the gangplank and Joshua paid the captain the balance of his money. One of the cabin boys darted off to fetch a carriage, and as it rattled up a few minutes later, Joshua turned to Caroline. “Shall we find a boardinghouse first and get the children settled?”
“No!” She was exhausted and her face was drawn and gaunt, but there was no question in her mind. “Let’s go to see Mr. Samuelson. We’ve got to know if Will is here.”
* * *
“This is a most pleasant surprise,” Walter Samuelson said, shaking his head as he opened the door to his large home and motioned them inside. “I didn’t expect you back half so soon, Joshua.”
“Have you seen Will?” Caroline blurted.
He looked surprised. “Will?”
“Yes, our son,” Joshua said.
“But he went south with you,” he said, looking at Caroline. “I saw you to the boat, remember?”
“He came back,” Joshua said, crestfallen. “He’s looking for the men he thinks killed me.” The bitterness was so strong that he had to swallow it back or it would have choked him. “So you haven’t seen him at all?”
Samuelson looked bewildered. “No, not since then.”
Mrs. Samuelson stepped forward. Olivia was holding her mother’s hand and leaning against her, looking as if she were about to fall over. Savannah had crawled into Nathan’s lap as the carriage had started off and fallen instantly asleep. Now she was asleep over his shoulder. “Let me take the baby,” she said. “We can put her in the guest room.” She reached out and touched Olivia’s shoulder. “Would you like something to eat, my dear?”
Livvy looked up gratefully. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You’ll stay with us tonight,” Mrs. Samuelson said to Caroline. “And I won’t hear any argument about it.”
Caroline looked at Joshua and shook her head in discouragement. “You go ahead,” she said wearily. “I’ll see to the children.”
As the men moved into the sitting room, Samuelson went to a humidor on his desk and opened it. It was full of Cuban cigars. He extended it toward the two Steeds. “No, thank you,” Nathan said. Joshua smiled briefly. “I’ve sworn off too, Walter. Caroline detests the things.”
Samuelson laughed briefly. “Do you mind if I do?”
“Of course not,” they both said at once. As he cut off the end of the cigar, then moved to the fireplace and reached down for a burning stick to light it, Joshua explained quickly to Samuelson all that had happened since he and Nathan had last been here.
“That is most puzzling,” Samuelson said as he sat down in a chair, puffing the cigar into life until it glowed a bright red. “Surely here is the first place he would have come.”
“That’s what we thought,” said Joshua.
Suddenly Samuelson snapped his fingers. “Wait a minute. That could explain the report I got yesterday.”
Both Joshua and Nathan leaned forward in their chairs. “What report?” Joshua asked.
Samuelson inhaled deeply, then blew out the smoke over his head. “After you left, I decided I would try and find the two men who were looking for Caroline. I knew you’d want to find them as soon as you came back here.” He blew out his breath in disgust. “We can’t have them chasing after your family, and all that. So I talked to a local marshall I know and hired him to see if they were still around, and if so, to keep track of them.”
“And are they?” Joshua asked eagerly. He had a score or two of his own that needed settling.
“Yes. Evidently they’re out of money and trying to find some way back to the western part of the state.”
“Where are they now?” Nathan asked.
“I don’t know.” Samuelson immediately held up his hand as he saw their disappointment. “The marshall found them, but I told him not to do anything that might scare them away. He’ll know where they are.”
Joshua stood up. “Let’s go.”
Samuelson waved him back down. “Not tonight. He’s across the river in East St. Louis on some problem or another. He’ll be back first thing in the morning. But in his last report to me he said there is word out along the riverfront that someone else has been asking questions about these same two men.” He paused for a moment, then smiled triumphantly. “A young man.”
“Will?” Joshua cried.
Samuelson nodded. “It just might be. I never thought anything of it, because I assumed . . .” He shrugged. “Well, we just might be in luck.” Now it was he who stood. “Look, you’re exhausted. Caroline has reached the end of her rope. Let’s get you some supper, then a good night’s sleep. We’ll be at the marshall’s house waiting for him the minute he gets back.”
There was a deep sigh, a mixture of relief and frustration. Joshua turned to look at Nathan, who nodded. “He’s right, Joshua. We’ll start first thing in the morning.”
* * *
As they crept along the pitch-black street, Will’s hand kept straying down to touch the butt of the pistol stuffed in the waistband of his trousers. Will Steed was wet and cold and terribly frightened. Rain came down in a cold drizzle, running off his hat and down the back of his neck and into his eyes. By morning the rain would probably start to freeze on contact with the prairie grass and become one of the ice storms that Missouri was famous for. But the weather was only a small source of his misery. Will didn’t trust Charlie Patterson. The greed in Charlie’s eyes was open and wanton, and Will knew he wasn’t going to be easily satisfied with just the fifteen dollars Will had promised to pay him.
You’re over your head, Will, and headed for the cataracts.
The voice in his head was a roar now as the realization that his bullheaded, blind craving for revenge was about to come to fruition. With every step, the stupidity of his plan hammered at him. True, he had a pistol, but he was going up against two men, men who without compunction had set fire to a house where people were inside, men who had killed.
Charlie had abruptly stopped, and in the darkness Will nearly bumped into him before he saw him. “All right. That’s the place where they’re staying. Gimme the fifteen bucks.”
Will peered through the rain. He and Charlie were across the street from a small warehouse with a faded sign over the door. It was too dark to read the sign clearly, but one window was yellow with lamplight. Will gripped the pistol, swallowing hard, trying to get some saliva going inside his mouth. “How do I know they’re really in there?”
Charlie started cursing under his breath. “You wanna get us killed?” he muttered. “All right, come on.” He looked both ways to make sure they were still unobserved, then darted across the street. Will went after him, conscious now of the heavy thudding inside his chest.
“Look!” Charlie said. He was crouched beneath the window. He straightened for a moment, peering through the window, then ducked down again. “See fer yerself.”
Moving cautiously now, Will reached the window. He took a quick breath, then peeked inside. Instantly he swung back, pressing himself against the clapboard wall of the warehouse. Inside, two men were sitting at a crate converted to a table. They were playing cards and had a bottle of whiskey between them. He had only a brief glance, but he saw that both were bearded and shabbily dressed. That fit what he had been told about them.
“Give me the money!” Charlie hissed. “That’s them. And I’m gone.”
“All right.” Will stepped back, pulling the pistol out and holding it loosely on Charlie.
Charlie fell back a step. “Hold on!” he cried. “Is that thing loaded?”
“Yes,” Will said grimly, “so just stay back.” With his free hand he reached for his purse. Fumbling, watching Charlie closely, trying to get the money out one-handed, he finally managed to get the amount he needed. Holding the pistol more steadily now, he held out the money.
Charlie snatched it and stepped back again. His eyes were wide, but there was a new respect in them. “You’re crazy, kid. What are you gonna do? Go in shootin’?”
And then in one flash of inspiration, Will had his answer. “No,” he said slowly, feeling like a man who, standing before a firing squad, had received a governor’s pardon at the last second. He started to back away from the building. “No,” he said, his voice rising with excitement. “I’m gonna go find me a constable and have these men arrested. They killed my father and they’re gonna pay for it.”
“A constable!” Charlie cried. “Now, you listen, boy. You gotta promise to keep me outta this.”
Will waved the pistol at him. “I won’t say anything about you unless you try to warn them. Now, get!”
Charlie stared at him, his lips moving as he muttered something under his breath, but then he turned and walked away swiftly, back toward the river from where they had come. In moments, he disappeared into the darkness.
Will stood there for a moment, the relief washing over him with such power it made his knees weak. A constable. Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner? But then he knew. If he had called the law sooner, Charlie Patterson wouldn’t have come within a hundred yards of him, and he wouldn’t know where the two men he had dreamed of for so long were staying.
Smiling for the first time in almost a month, Will shoved the pistol back inside his pants and turned and started away at a trot. He wasn’t sure where he could find a constable at this time of night, but he wouldn’t stop until he had. By morning the two men could be gone.
Will was still marveling at the simplicity of his solution as he rounded the corner of the street that led down to the riverfront. He never saw the dark shape that lurked just inside a recessed doorway. As Will jogged past, Charlie hurtled out at him in a flying tackle. He caught him right at the waist, slamming him down against the cobblestones.
Will went down hard on one hand. He screamed. There was a snap and a searing pain in his wrist. Before he could move, he felt Charlie’s hands fumbling at the front of his pants, and then the weight of the pistol was gone.
Charlie leaped back, straightening in triumph. “All right, Mr. Smart Kid. Now I’ve got the pistol.” He was breathing hard, and smiling wildly through the misshapen teeth. He stepped forward. Will was writhing on the ground, holding his wrist and moaning. Charlie prodded him with the toe of his boot. “All right, boy. Up! There’s a couple of men back there who are very anxious to meet you.”
* * *
“Well, it’s about time,” Hugh Watson sneered as Charlie Patterson came through the door, pushing Will into the room ahead of him. “You’re half an hour later than . . .” His voice trailed off and he was suddenly staring. “Well, I’ll be a—”
“You!” Will had gone rigid, his eyes filled with shock and disbelief.
“Would you look at that,” Hugh breathed. “It’s the Steed kid.”
Charlie jammed the pistol into Will’s back, shoving him forward again. Will winced, cradling his crippled arm more tightly against his body. “You know him?” Charlie asked.
“Yeah,” Riley said, stepping forward, peering out from watery eyes. “This is the son of that captain we killed. We met him and his ma when we went to Independence and told them it was the Mormons who’d done it.”
Will started, stunned by the admission. “Then it was you who burned down our house too!” he cried.
Hugh came forward to stand in front of him. “That’s right, sonny,” he snarled. “And the only mistake we made was taking pity and scratching on the door to give you warning. We should have just let you all burn. Would’ve saved me and Riley here a whole lot of grief.”
With a strangled cry of rage, Will leaped forward, his good hand coming up and swinging at Hugh’s face. He moved so fast, Hugh had no time to react. Will’s fist caught the Missourian square on the flat of his nose. Blood spurted and Hugh howled and fell backward. Riley was half-drunk and stared stupidly at his companion, but Charlie reacted instantly. He leaped forward, clubbing downward with the pistol. The butt of it caught Will in the square of the back, sending him crashing into some empty crates, then down hard, landing on his injured arm. He screamed, rolling back and forth in agony. Then he stopped and tried to get up, but as he came to his knees, Charlie was in front of him, the pistol pointing directly at his head. “Stay down!” he commanded. Will obeyed, sinking back to the floor.