Restoring Hope Page 13

  “Stop him!”

  Gasping, she turned her attention to the marshal who was chasing Hothlepoya. She nearly cried out in despair. How could he know that she came this way?

  A group of men jumped on Hothlepoya and knocked him down.

  That was her cue. She bolted for one of the train cars full of large crates and climbed into the one with an open door. Scurrying to one of the corners where she could hide between two crates, she gave herself permission to finally relax. The baby kicked her in the ribs. She winced and moved so that the sharp jab would lessen. All she needed to do was remain quiet and no one would find her. She gathered the hat and pocket watch to her chest and closed her eyes, willing her breathing to calm.

  The day had been long—much too long. And it was just the first of many she’d have to endure without Gary. Again, she fought the urge to cry. Once the men closed the door and the train started, she could cry. Until then, she had to be quiet. Where would the train take her? Would Hothlepoya find her wherever she ended up? Would he hunt her down for the rest of her life?

  Within a minute, she heard some men load in another set of crates before one said they were done. Then the door closed and she was plunged into darkness. And that was when her tears finally fell.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was true. She wanted to deny it, to look for any reason to believe that Woape had lied, but all the evidence proved that Indians had broken in and there was no sign of Gary—except for the lone marker.

  Julia slowly made her way back to the house where the marshal and several men were cleaning up. The sight of blood was finally gone, but the odor of death still permeated the air.

  Her aunt carried a bundle of Gary’s things.

  “I can help with that,” Julia softly spoke, approaching the staircase.

  Erin’s sharp gaze met hers. “I think you’ve already done enough.”

  “I didn’t know the Indians would try to kill her or Gary.”

  “But you intended for them to take her away from him, even when you knew how happy she made him. Don’t talk to me right now. I’m much too upset.”

  Knowing there was nothing she could do to ease her aunt’s sorrow...or anger, Julia stepped aside and let Erin pass her. Shame warmed her cheeks, and she wished, once again, that she hadn’t been so quick to rat Woape out like she had. She knew it was wrong, but at the time, she hadn’t cared. But I never once thought they would kill Gary.

  But did she think they would kill Woape? She winced. The truth was, she didn’t care what happened to Woape. She wiped the tear that slid down her cheek. Oh God, what have I done?

  “I’m sorry, Miss Milton,” the marshal said as he walked by her. “Your brother was a good man. It’s a terrible loss.”

  She gave a slight nod before she turned away and left the house. Once she was out of sight of the men, she allowed herself the freedom to cry. The magnitude of her sin weighed heavily upon her, threatening to suffocate her. How could she stoop so low? True, she’d resented Gary’s ability to go off and do whatever he wanted, but her aunt was right: she never should have let her jealousy cloud her judgment.

  She found Gary’s marker and knelt beside it. “I’m sorry, Gary. I’m so sorry.”

  Then she broke down. She had plenty of chances to make her peace with him and Woape, but she let bitterness and pride prevent her from doing the right thing. And now there was no going back in time—to undo the wrong she’d wrought. Her tears ran down her face and splattered off her fingers which dug into the dirt. She tried to say more, to confess her sins, but her body wracked with sobs and she could hardly speak, let alone breathe.

  She hated herself. She wished it had been her the Indians came after and killed. If she could take her brother’s place, she would gladly do so. If she could go back in time and tell the Indians that she hadn’t seen Woape... If she had turned back to town as soon as she saw them... If she’d stayed in church... If only... Her head swam with all the if only’s racing through her head.

  In her mind, she played out the various scenarios of how she could’ve redeemed herself, and each one tore at her heart, making her sick with guilt. All it did was increase her self-loathing. She couldn’t go back in time and undo her wrong. She couldn’t rectify her treatment of Gary or Woape. She couldn’t do anything.

  She was doomed.

  ***

  Daylight struck Woape’s eyes and the sudden burst of activity woke her up. She tried to hide for cover as the men invaded the quiet interior of the freight car, but one saw her as she crawled behind a crate. She knew he saw her. And, just as she feared, he called out to the other three men that an Indian woman was in the corner.

  She didn’t try to evade them as their footsteps moved closer. What was the point? She was boxed in, and there were four of them and only one of her. Gripping Gary’s hat and watch close to her, she prayed that they wouldn’t hurt her or the child tumbling about in her womb.

  Two men pushed the crate, and from the way their muscles strained under their shirts, she realized the contents were heavy. Once the crate was aside, she watched them.

  “The poor thing looks scared,” one of them finally spoke.

  The one with a mustache and soot on his face extended his hand to her. “It’s alright. We won’t hurt you. We want to help.”

  “She probably can’t understand what you’re saying.”

  “Well, I don’t know any other language.”

  “We should get a woman,” another one spoke up. “I’m sure we aren’t easing her fears.”

  “That’s a good idea. I’ll get my wife.” He turned and left the car.

  The others stood still, looking right back at her for half a minute before one of them said, “We might as well get to work.”

  The two nodded their agreement and turned to their task.

  She finally exhaled. So they weren’t going to hurt her. She almost spoke to them, to let them know she could understand them, but then, she decided it might be to her advantage to hold her tongue. If these people thought she couldn’t understand them, then they would speak freely in front of her, and she’d know if they meant to harm her or not. Yes, she was better off remaining silent.

  The men had unloaded half the car when a kindly looking round woman roughly ten years older than Woape stepped onto the train. She approached Woape and smiled. “Hello.” Patting her chest, she said, “My name is Rachel. R-a-chel.”

  Woape nodded.

  “You?” She pointed in her direction. “Your name?”

  Woape frowned, uncertain of whether or not to act like she understood the woman.

  “Never mind,” the woman replied. “Jerry, do you have the blanket with you?”

  “Yes, honey.” Jerry gave her the folded up quilt.

  Kneeling beside her, Rachel wrapped the soft blanket around Woape’s shoulders. “I’m going to take you to the church. The preacher and his wife will take care of you. They’re good friends.”

  Woape relaxed her grip on Gary’s hat and watch. She was safe with this woman, and she was certain the same would be true with her friends. She stood up and Rachel gasped. Wondering what startled her, Woape examined her dress. She had some dirt on her clothes, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Oh my dear, what you must have gone through.”

  It took Woape a moment to understand that Rachel meant her pregnancy. Woape touched her belly, aware of the sympathetic gazes around her.

  “You think a white man did that?” one of the men asked.

  “It must have been. She’s dressed in a white woman’s clothes and holding a white man’s hat and watch.” Rachel reached for the items, but Woape shook her head and clutched them to her chest. Rachel sighed. “I’ve heard of this kind of thing happening, but I hoped that I’d never see it.”

  “What happened?” Jerry asked as he came up beside her.

  Rachel lowered her voice so that the other men wouldn’t overhear. “A white man took advantage of her.”

 
; “You don’t know that. Maybe she was married to him or something.”

  “She doesn’t have a ring.”

  “Oh.” He glanced Woape’s way before looking back at his wife. “I suspect her opinion of white people isn’t so great then.”

  “Probably not.” Rachel wrapped her arm around Woape’s shoulders. “You’re safe now, and so is your little one.”

  Relieved to have a reprieve from her running, Woape simply nodded and joined Rachel.

  ***

  Julia exhaled. She couldn’t eat. Taking the bowl of oatmeal to the sink, she pondered how she could live with herself, knowing she was the one responsible for her brother’s death and Woape’s and her aunt’s heartbreak. The burden weighed heavily on her soul, and she lost any desire to eat. How could she enjoy food when her brother would never eat again?

  She hesitated before she left the kitchen. Her aunt was in the parlor. Julia would have to pass her to get out the front door. But she had to go back to Gary’s grave. Maybe she would retrieve his horse and... And what? She had nowhere to store a horse. But she couldn’t get rid of it either. Gary loved that animal. For the time being, she would put the horse at the local stable. She could figure out what to do with the steed in due time.

  After she went to her room to collect the fees necessary for boarding the horse, she slipped the coin into her pocket and put a bonnet over her blond hair. One look in the mirror showed her how pale she’d become. Dark circles were under her eyes, evidence of how little she could sleep. She had no desire for sleep, for it was in sleep when the nightmares plagued her. Over and over, she’d find herself walking down empty corridors with whispers accusing her of murder. Then, when she found a door and opened it, she realized she was looking into a mirror, and she saw herself as she truly was: a monster.

  But now in the daylight, when she was wide awake and looked in the mirror, she saw a woman wracked with grief and guilt. Maybe she wasn’t physically a monster, but she knew the ugly side of her lurked in her heart. So much for all those years of sacrifice, where she’d look into the mirror and was convinced that her good deeds made her beautiful. That beauty was just an illusion meant to keep her unaware of the fact that in and of herself, she wasn’t the good person she thought she was.

  No. There was no beauty in her. The image of the monster in her dream momentarily returned to her mind. She shivered and hastened out of the room.

  As she reached the front door, her aunt called out to her, “Where are you going?”

  Julia turned to her aunt who sat in the chair, working on a quilt she’d started making out of the patches she’d cut from Gary’s and Woape’s clothes. Wrapping her arms around herself, Julia said, “I thought I’d get Gary’s horse before Matthew takes his house back.”

  Erin nodded and wiped a tear from her cheek. “That’s a good idea.”

  Julia waited to see if her aunt would say anything else, but since she didn’t, Julia turned and left the house. Though the sun beat down on her, she felt cold. She didn’t feel like going back for her shawl. Being chilly was insignificant compared to being dead. Gary would never be hot or cold again.

  As she passed the church, she realized there was another funeral. Curious, she crossed the street and made her way to the white building. They couldn’t be having a funeral for Gary. They’d already done that two days ago. So who else had died?

  She waited for Mr. and Mrs. Clemmens to reach the entrance before she asked, “Who died?”

  Mrs. Clemmens directed her sad eyes to her. “Matthew.”

  “The one who owned the house my brother and his wife stayed in?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “How did he die?”

  She shrugged. “No one’s sure. He lives alone, so no one noticed that he went missing until yesterday when I had to check on him. He wasn’t there, and it became apparent that he hadn’t been there for several days. The marshal’s looked for him but he can’t find him. I’m afraid there’s only one conclusion we can come to. You know, he was too old to go off anywhere, and all of his belongings were still at his room in the boarding house.” She sighed. “There’s only one conclusion anyone can come to.”

  “His body will turn up sooner or later, and when it does, we’ll bury it,” Mr. Clemmens added.

  Julia quickly thought over what the marshal had said the day she and her aunt went to collect Gary’s things. If she remembered right, he specifically said there were only two bodies that were found: one that Woape had dug into the ground—which the marshal dug up before he reburied it to make sure it was a body—and the Indian on the staircase.

  What if Woape hadn’t buried Gary? What if that was Matthew in the ground?

  Mrs. Clemmens patted her arm. “Take care, and tell your aunt that I’ll be by tomorrow afternoon to visit.”

  Julia gave a nod, though she wasn’t paying much attention to what the woman was saying. Hope had sprung in her heart, and she couldn’t let it go. It was possible, wasn’t it? Maybe the Indians didn’t get him. Even as she hated the thought that Matthew might be dead, she couldn’t deny the joy that would come if she found out for sure that it hadn’t been Gary.

  Did the marshal and his men check out the entire property? Perhaps Gary...or Matthew...was lying somewhere they hadn’t taken the time to inspect. She hurried down the road, gaining momentum with each step. If Gary survived, then where would he be? By the time she reached the property, she was out of breath. She stood still for a moment and scanned the land. She saw the marker for the grave and heard a horse neigh.

  “Gary?” she called out. When no one answered her, she yelled out his name again.

  Still, no answer.

  She debated where to go first and finally decided on the barn. First, she checked around it, taking her time to examine everything in sight while she called out his name. But she found nothing. Inside the barn, she checked the loft, which was empty.

  The horse neighed at her. The poor thing probably hadn’t been fed since she last came out to do that. She snatched the rake by the door and hauled some hay into his trough.

  “I’ll get you out of there before I leave,” she promised the animal.

  Without waiting to see if the steed would eat, she left the barn and ran into the house. Maybe there was a secret place no one bothered to check. She opened all the closets, checked under what was left of the bed, and tested everything that might hide a human body. As she opened the closet in the hallway, she found that part of the ceiling didn’t match up with the rest of it. Stepping on the shelves, she touched the section and realized it moved. Excited, she shoved it aside and leapt up into the attic.

  “Gary? Are you up here?”

  Her voice made a mild echo, which spooked her. She’d hate to be stuck in here for any length of time. Despite her nervousness, she carefully studied the room and lifted old sheets off of trunks that had long been forgotten.

  Disappointed, she sighed. She really thought this was going to be it. She reluctantly left and returned to the kitchen. Outside the window, she noticed an Indian riding onto the property in a buggy with two horses. She recognized it as Gary’s buggy. But from what her aunt told her, Woape had gone back to her tribe in that buggy.

  Grabbing a knife, she headed out of the house. “Who are you?”

  He hadn’t been among the three men who’d inquired about Woape, so she didn’t know if she could trust him or not. Her aunt did say Woape was with an Indian from her tribe. Maybe this was him. But Julia tightened her grip on the knife as he climbed out of the buggy. She couldn’t let her guard down yet.

  His movements were slow, and he kept his eyes on the knife. “I look for Woape.”

  She stopped six feet from him, not willing to get any closer in case he’d take the knife from her trembling hand. “Woape’s gone. She went home.” Even as she it, she winced. No. Woape’s home hadn’t been with her tribe. Not anymore. It had been with Gary. Oh God, why didn’t I understand that before? Clearing her throat, she continued,
“You can’t hurt her.”

  He looked confused. “I not hurt. I am friend to her brother.”

  She glanced at the buggy and Woape’s horse standing next to the other one. If that was true, then her aunt would recognize him. She studied him, trying to decide the best course of action to take.

  “I take Woape, but Sioux—Hothlepoya—came. She run. I not find her in town. She come back?”

  She only had a vague idea of what he meant since his English was choppy, but she had to find out if he was from Woape’s tribe. If he was, then she could trust him. “Come with me. I need to see if you are who you say you are.”

  “I Chogan, friend to Woape brother.”

  “I have to make sure that is true.”

  “She not here?”

  She fought the urge to groan. “No. But I can help you, if you are who you say you are.”

  “You know Woape location?”

  “No, but if my brother is alive, then there might be a way to find her.” That was a long shot. It was such a long shot...but she had to try. Doing nothing was equivalent to losing all hope, and she couldn’t lose hope, not when she’d come so close to finding out her brother might not be dead. But before she could do anything, she had to know if she could trust this Indian standing in front of her.

  “I go with you.”

  Good. Maybe now some of the pieces to this puzzle would start to fall into place. She didn’t trust him enough to get into the buggy, so she asked him to walk with her—but at a safe distance. The hope that Gary was alive hurried her steps, and by the time they reached her home, she was nearly running. The man behind her kept up with her, and although she was out of breath, he wasn’t.

  She opened the front door and waved him in. “Aunt Erin?” she called out, checking the parlor but finding it empty. “Aunt Erin?”

  “I’m up here, child.”

  Julia turned her attention to the staircase. “Can you tell me if this is the man you saw the last time Woape was here?”