Hannah Alexander - Keeping Faith

“You can’t save it now, Buster,” Joseph called. “It’s too late. Get out of there or you’ll be killed.”

Buster broke free of Gray’s hold and lunged for the wagon hitch. “It’s all we’ve got.”

“You still have your life,” Reich said. The big man reached for Buster’s arm and dragged him from the hitch. “Now, boy. You’ve got to come now! Gray, get back up that hill. Go on!”

Gray hesitated. “Buster, they’re risking their lives for you. Don’t let more men die for you!” His expression held fury and horror as he obeyed Reich and ran.

Joseph heard another series of deafening cracks and looked up to see the water pour past the dam of debris. The fountain of water became a flood, and then the natural dam gave way with the sound of thunder. Joseph joined Reich to jerk Buster from the oncoming tempest of an evergreen with limbs the size of horses, which reached past the farthest edges of the flooded creek bank.

“My gun!” Buster shouted. “Gotta get my gun.” He turned back toward the wagon.

Joseph nodded to Reich, and together they lifted the brazen young man between them and ran.

The wall of trees, uprooted shrubs, mud and rocks tumbled forward in a crash of violence. A foot-thick limb grabbed Joseph and knocked him into Buster. Water deluged them. They scrambled to keep their footing, but another limb knocked them into the mud, dragged them sideways and back toward the creek.

The water retreated, but the tree held firmly and pulled them with increasing speed toward the racing stream. Joseph dug his heels into the mud and held on to Buster. “Don’t let go!” he shouted at the others. “Don’t stand up.” If they did, another branch would have more leverage against them. That tree was a monster they couldn’t control.

“Captain! Reich, grab on!” came a voice from behind them. McDonald. Joseph looked up past the barrier of the limb and saw his scout throwing out a loop of thick rope. It was the one Joseph had taken from Buster.

“Grab it,” he told the other two. “Look up and grab it, now!”

The loop came down over the limb and Joseph reached for it. Before he could grasp it, another limb tumbled over the first with another wave of water, thrusting them closer to the creek.

“Captain, hurry, try again!” McDonald tossed the rope atop them this time and Joseph caught it. He saw Reich’s strong hand grip it and they jerked to a stop.

The limb scraped along Joseph’s side, digging into his ribs with agonizing sharpness until the tree withdrew as suddenly as it had hit them.

They lay panting in the grip of terror for a long moment, then looked up to find a crowd of rescuers holding the other end of the rope.

Despite a bloody nose and scratches on his face, Buster scrambled to his feet and ran hollering after his wagon. With a practiced stretch of the leg, Reich tripped the demented man, then rolled forward and grabbed him by the arm.

Joseph grasped the other arm and turned to watch as the pine tree hauled off the wagon in the clutch of its green arms and strong limbs. Chunks of wood and wagon flew through the air. A loud creak and groan echoed from the cliffs behind the camp as Buster’s angry cry rose to the sky.

“I could have gotten it!” Buster’s face flushed with fury as he rounded on Joseph.

“No, you would have died and left your brother alone.” Joseph released the scoundrel and nodded to Reich. “Let him go. If he’s crazy enough to go running after it after all this, he deserves whatever he gets.”

Buster fell to his knees and gave a wordless groan of frustration as the axles and wheels sank permanently into the muddy maelstrom.

“Oh, I don’t believe this.” Mrs. Reich came marching toward them through the mud. “You men oughta be ashamed of yourselves.” She leaned over Buster. “Don’t you worry, son. You’re not alone here.” She shot a glare over her shoulder at her husband and Joseph. “Can’t you see the boy’s just lost everything he owns? How would you feel if it’d happened to you?”

“Aw, woman, it wouldn’t’ve happened to Joseph or me because we’d’ve never tempted the creek like that.” Reich put his fists on his hips. “This boy needs to listen. At least he’s still got the horses.”

Audy Reich shook her head. “Don’t you think you oughta have a little mercy? Why, I’d be ashamed. Come along with me, Buster, my boy,” she cooed as she took Buster by the arm. “The doctor will want to get those cuts cleaned and bandaged. Can you walk okay?”

A low grumble reached Joseph, and he turned to see Mr. Reich glaring after his wife and the wayward Buster. “That woman would take any cur in off the street and treat him like a child instead of the man he needs to be.”

Joseph grinned and reached a mud-caked hand out. “And her husband would risk his life to save that cur in the first place.” He patted Reich on his muscular shoulder. “He’d be dead today if not for you, my friend.”

“And you. See what we get ourselves into when we go meddling into the affairs of others?” He chuckled.

“Okay, you two.” Victoria came down the hill toward them with her treatment bag slung over her arm. The sun had burned away the remaining clouds and touched her hair with a red-gold glow. “Heidi can see to Buster, but I reserve the right to treat our heroes first.” She pulled a bottle of medicinal whiskey from her bag and held up a clean cloth. “Did either of you swallow the water?”

Joseph glanced up the hill toward the spot where they had just been treating poor Claude and his rescuers. “No ma’am, not me. I knew better than to open my mouth.”

“Same here, Dr. Fenway,” Reich said immediately. “Kept my jaws locked, not a drop of water passed these lips. You don’t need to go rolling me around on one of those logs and forcing salt water down my gullet.”

Victoria narrowed her eyes at them. “You do realize how dangerous it could be if you did.”

“Sure do, ma’am.” Reich rubbed some of the mud from his hands onto his muddier clothing. “And look at this, not a scratch on me. You oughta see to the captain, though. That tree walloped him good.”

Before she could reply, the big man scrambled through the mud and up the hill after his wife. Joseph watched the traitor escape, then met Victoria’s gaze, wincing inwardly as he anticipated the sting of her medicinal whiskey on his grazed skin.

Victoria nodded toward a fallen log farther up the hill. “We can sit up there. I need to get you cleaned up.”

“Give me the medicine and I’ll do it myself.”

She drew the bottle close to her side. “You’ll do no such thing. I’m the doctor. I’ll also take a look at your ribs.” With a nod toward the place where the limbs had ripped his shirt, she raised her eyebrows. “I need to see if anything’s broken.”

“It’s not.”

“Are you having any trouble breathing?”

He took a deep breath and let it out to show her he was fine, and was relieved to find that at least breathing didn’t hurt. “Just a scratch.” But he followed her when she turned and walked up the hill.

“Have you considered sending the Johnstons back home now?” she asked.

“I’ve considered it every day.”

“We’d be ever so much safer without them. You can see that, can’t you? At least the horses weren’t hitched to the wagon,” she said with a glance over her shoulder toward the creek. “Those boys are a hindrance out here, and now you’re injured because of them. They can ride a lot faster by horseback than wagon.”

“I’m not even sure they’d make it back home alive, and I can’t spare a man to lead them.”

She seemed ready to argue, but instead fell silent. Ten years ago she’d have gnawed on the subject like a dog with a bone. Instead, she led him deeper into the woods to the fallen log, where trees screened them from sight of the others.