Threads of Change (10 page)

It had grown quite dusky-dark now, difficult to see through the shadows. But there lay Chet, his head by the edge of a sharp rock with dried blood coating both his hairline and the rock near Chet’s head.

“Chet,” Thomas said softly. “What happened? You all right?”

Chet moaned again and half opened his eyes for a second.

“I knew,” Chet struggled to say each word, “you would come. The women made you.”

Thomas cleaned the cut and washed the blood away with cool water. He gave Chet a drink of water from his canteen. The head injury didn’t appear to be very serious, but Thomas wrapped his friend’s head with a long rag and pulled it tight before he tethered the horses to a tree line and unsaddled them for the night.

“Your head isn’t bleeding very badly, but it’s too dark to ride back tonight. We will have to camp here until morning.”

The forest surrounded them on all sides, making it difficult to set up a camp. Thomas cleared the leaf-strewn ground for their bedrolls and quickly built a small fire.

Thomas wondered what might have happened to Chet and his pony. It seemed unusual to him how Chet, an excellent rider who worked so well with his horse, had been overcome in such a way. Like all Texas cowboys, Chet took great pride in that horse of his. He’d spent a great amount of time training his mount exactly as he had wanted. Thomas ran his hand down the leg of the filly again and lifted her foot.

What had made him fall?
Thomas asked himself again.

When he couldn’t find the answer, he concentrated on how to make Chet more comfortable for the night. Each time he tried to move him, Chet moaned in pain. He went over each bone for breaks, but all seemed well. Just one nasty cut on the head.

He wished he were back at the wagons with a needle and thread nearby. Emma always had her quilt bag of supplies close to her. With his head resting on his own saddle, Thomas’s eyes began to drop as he drifted to sleep. He almost tuned out the slight but heavy footsteps that padded close to the small clearing.

Startled, he opened one eye and both ears. He couldn’t see anything, but the horses appeared to sense the danger as they tossed their manes. Thomas slowly moved his hand to the side of his leg where he’d strapped his gun. He slipped it gently from its holster, waiting. The horses settled slightly, but Thomas felt as though something or someone watched him. He did not know how or why Chet was thrown from his saddle, but the whole situation seemed amiss, and his sense of duty to Lucas’s granddaughters throttled him around the throat.

A few moments passed before Thomas sat up and stirred the fire. He placed more wood on the burning coals. He intended to keep the fire high tonight. He glanced over at Chet who slept soundly.

One slight crack of wood sent Thomas’s hand lunging for his gun again, and he rested it on the grip as he surveyed their surroundings.

Bear sat silently next to Luke at the campfire while John and Blue talked about the turn of events from the day and considered their options for the morning, and Liz sat with Emma, chatting softly. With his head resting on his crossed front paws, Bear’s eyes followed each of the men as they talked.

Suddenly, the dog’s nostrils flared as he picked up an unusual scent. His nose twitched, trying to get more of the smell. Immediately, the dog rose and hastily bounded into the darkness.

“What is it, boy?” Luke asked, looking through the undercarriage of the wagons and wheels. He tried to adjust his eyes to the blackness of the night after staring at the campfire for so long. Bear, up on all fours, had alerted to something. He let out a low growl. Liz had been around the dog enough to know that he meant business. His throat puffed and his black lips curled, exposing black gums and long pointed teeth. The deep growl continued and grew more intense. He now had the attention of Blue and John, guns in hand.

Liz’s thoughts flew to Abby and Megan, already retired for the night.

“Luke, get your mother and her cousin into the wagons,” Blue said sharply.

“Yes,” Luke answered, and he flew to his feet. As his eyes searched the darkness, he grabbed Liz by the elbow and softly commanded, “Let’s go. Into the wagon.”

Liz went into full Mother Hen, nudging Emma along like a baby chick toward the nearest wagon.

“Liz,” Emma squealed.

“Shhh. Let’s do as they’ve asked and get inside.”

“What is it?” she heard Luke ask the men.

“I don’t know,” Blue said, “but the back of my neck is crawling.”

“I don’t like it at all,” John said quietly, his finger tapping the trigger of his revolver.

Bear’s gaze never left the small gap in the trees. He prowled toward it and let out a fierce growl that Liz didn’t know her son’s dog could make.

Suddenly, a white form emerged: Megan, in her nightgown, panting and looking around frantically, her face white as a ghost.

“Megan! What are you doing out here?” Blue swore, irritated and relieved as he lowered his gun. “Are you alone?”

John let out a breath and bent over to his knees. Bear ran to the opening Megan had flown through, his throat still rumbling.

“Come here, boy,” Luke pressed, but Bear didn’t move.

“What was that? Did you see it?” Megan panted, trying to catch her breath.

“We didn’t see anything. We only heard it,” Blue said. “Or heard you. I’m not sure.”

“Well, what did you see?” John asked impatiently.

“Megan, you know not to go out alone,” Blue told her, and Liz let out a heavy sigh.

“What’s going on?” Emma whispered. “What is it?”

Shushing her, Liz urged, “Let’s wait for them to call us out.”

“It was big with glowing eyes,” Megan exclaimed, and Liz’s eyes widened. “It moved so quickly. Did you hear it? I haven’t a clue what it was, but it could have gotten me! It’s still out there,” she cried. “Where’s Liz?”

“There,” Luke said, pointing them out, and Liz drew back the tarp just in time for Megan to fly through it.

A
m I alive or dead?” Chet asked, his eyes still shut but his hand pressing against his head.

“Morning, cowboy, you still with me?” Thomas asked.

“If I’m dead, surely my head wouldn’t hurt so badly. I must be alive then. What happened?” Chet asked.

“I was hoping you would give me the details,” Thomas said, concerned at Chet’s confusion.

“Where’s my pony? Is my girl fine?” he asked.

Thomas had found some coffee in Chet’s saddlebags and built a small fire to heat some water. He poured a cup of coffee and walked over to his friend.

“She is fine. I checked her over last night and this morning, looking for a few answers. I tried to get her to tell me what happened,” he said with a grin, “but she wouldn’t talk.”

Chet took the coffee Thomas offered and rested on one elbow. After taking a sip, he cringed.

“Plenty hot, but not too good. I’d forgotten how bad your coffee is.”

Thomas watched Chet. He didn’t look badly wounded. “Do you think you can ride today?”

“I think so. How deep is the cut?”

The open gash on his head still oozed, and the blood had matted at his hairline.

“We need to get you to Miss Emma’s sewing bag. She can put in a real neat stitch for you,” Thomas teased him. “After breakfast, I figure I’ll ride back to the camp and alert the others to where you are. We can bring the wagons through this way and settle you back on one until you’re keen to ride.”

Chet managed a small nod and carefully sipped his coffee.

“So, what made a cowboy like you get thrown from his best filly?”

“Well,” Chet cleared his throat and sat up to speak, “we were riding along the creek when she got spooked for no reason that I could tell. We were in this clearing and were trapped with only one way out. I heard a growl that appeared to be close.” Chet grew more excited as he spoke. “Immediately!” He clapped his hands together. “I looked up and could see a huge black panther about to lunge at us. Just then, Tessie bolted!” Chet stopped and thought for a moment. “And that was the last thing I remember. I thought we were supper!”

“A panther?” Thomas questioned.

“Yes, sir, I know it was.”

“You didn’t have any idea that this cat was after you? I’ve seen a few before, but they usually aren’t so aggressive.”

“Yah,” Chet answered. “Tessie didn’t even have much warning. Usually, she can smell danger and warn me when something’s near.”

They both sipped their coffee. “Where did you find her?” Chet asked.

“Not too far from you right now. I could tell she’d been run hard, but she was calm when I rode close up on her.”

Chet lay back to rest his head on the saddle and closed his eyes. “Ride on back to camp. I will be fine here.”

Thomas loosed his mare from the lanky oak tree that he’d fought all night for sleeping space. He checked his saddle and prepared to ride back to camp.

“Rest a bit more. I’ll be back with the wagons well by noon.”

At the breakfast campfire, Megan recounted her story for Abby, who had slept through the whole ordeal.

“What it was exactly,” Megan said, “I’m not sure. But it was big, dark, and quick as lightning. That was the part that was so strange and frightening to me. It would have easily torn me to pieces!” She shook when she’d gone over it again.

“Megan, I am upset with your judgment. You should never go out alone like that, and you did not tell any of us!” Liz scolded her sister.

“You know I always have to go at least one more time in the night, and I didn’t want to disturb anyone. I thought all of you were already asleep.”

“It’s only the second day, and we’ve already lost Thomas and Chet, and you go out at night all by yourself? How could you do something like that? I just don’t understand. What if you didn’t come back? And then, what would we do this morning with three people missing? We already don’t know what to do now!”

Megan didn’t say anything.

“Well?” Liz demanded an explanation.

“I’m sorry, Liz. You’re right.” Megan lowered her head. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Blue approached the ladies from his wagon, pulling up his droopy pants along the way. He managed a groggy greeting for the women. “G’mornin’.”

“Good morning,” they replied flatly.

He rinsed a tin cup and prepared to make coffee.

“Where is Luke?” Liz directed to Blue.

“Still sleeping.”

Liz stood seriously and put her hands on her hips. “What should we do this morning? Do we stay here and continue to wait, or do we go search for them?”

Blue looked up at her and grimaced.

“I don’t think we should search for them,” Abby said.

“I don’t either,” Emma agreed.

Liz noticed the corner of Blue’s mouth as it quirked. “I don’t think that would be wise either. We stay and wait. That’s all we can do. If they come back and we’re not here—”

Just then, over the hill that blocked their campsite from the river, they all seemed to notice at the same time as someone approached on horseback.

“Who is it? Is it Chet?” Emma asked.

“No,” Liz exclaimed. “It’s Thomas!”

Thomas pulled back on the reins and the horse came to an abrupt stop as the group of them swiftly approached.

“Everything’s fine,” he said, slightly out of breath. “Chet is all right. He fell from his horse and injured his head, but he’s going to be just fine.”