~000~
Ethan rode slowly out of town toward the cabin. Amelia's arguments were convincing and as she talked her enthusiasm and confidence were contagious, but now, alone, he began to have doubts. Perhaps the old man had more right to raise the children than he did. How often in the last year had he resented their presence and wished they had never turned his life upside down? It might not have been the best life, but he had always known and accepted who and what he was and he had relied on himself alone. Too often, he had come to question those certainties in the last year. The children left him with feelings he simply could not understand: anger, frustration, bewilderment and love. He hated the anxious moments, and he could easily live without the fears which went along with raising children, but he did not know if he could go back to living with the aloneness which had been so much a part of his life before their arrival. And he knew he was not yet ready to give up their love. Knowing that love had been taken from him, behind his back, when he could not defend his own right to care for the children only brought the burning hatred back full force. Who was this mysterious grandfather and why had he suddenly appeared in Paradise? Taking the children in Ethan's absence went against every sense of fairness Ethan understood. Granted, he wasn't the most sterling example of a law abiding citizen, but he had always been true to his own code of right and wrong and that code had been instilled in him by Lucy.
The anger grew as he neared the darkened cabin he had come to call home. He rode his weary mount up to the corral and stripped off its saddle and bridle. The animal nickered softly, glad to be home. Ethan carefully curried and brushed the horse, working with practiced efficiency until the animal's glossy hide shimmered copper in the lantern light. The gelding had served Ethan well, and deserved a long rest and good care, but Ethan knew his patient grooming was only a diversion. He put his anger into each brush stroke, prolonging the activity as his hatred smoldered. At last Ethan led the horse to its stall. He forked fresh hay into its manger and filled the gelding's feed and water buckets.
There was nothing left to do now, except face the inevitable. Closing the stable gate he walked slowly towards the darkened cabin he had avoided looking at until now. He knew all too well what he would find and he knew his temper would get the best of him. Approaching the cabin, he stared at the boards nailed across the door. Seething with silent indignation, he stomped to the wood pile. For the briefest moment his anger was tempered with guilt. The woodpile was woefully small, hardly enough to get them through the winter months. He was supposed to have helped Joseph finish cutting wood a month ago, but other things kept getting in the way. Grabbing the ax that sat next to the chopping block, he strode back to the cabin and up the steps. He swung the ax once and the crude barricade splintered. Tearing the remnants from the door frame, shredding the auction announcement, he let himself in. This was his home, and damn it, no one was going to tell him he could not spend the night here.
As he stepped into the silent darkness, the last vestige of his anger vanished. In its place he felt a hollow emptiness. The cabin's main room, usually bright, warm and carefully tended, was dark, cold, and echoed of loneliness. The absence of the children was like an aching in his soul. He had grown accustomed to Claire's efficient housekeeping and the boys' equal determination to create clutter. Walking to their deserted bedroom, he looked in. The beds had been carefully made, but the dresser drawers stood ajar, as though they had been emptied in haste. He bent to retrieve something shoved halfway under Ben and George's bed. It was the toy pumper Ben had carried all the way from St. Louis. Ethan carried the shiny red miniature back into the main room. There, on the sideboard, he saw Claire's violin case. Ethan smiled softly. He had never really cared for that violin, but he knew how much it meant to her, how she clung to it as a reminder of the life they had lost along with their mother. Maybe leaving the violin and the toy was their way of telling him they wanted to come back. Maybe, it was their way of telling him they expected him to follow and bring them back. They had left their most valued possessions here in his safe keeping, waiting for their return, and this time, he was not going to let them down.
~000~
"Mildred," Henderson called without looking up from his desk. "As soon as you get a moment, will you please bring me the cash drawer receipts from yesterday? And I need a list of the properties to be auctioned at the Cord ranch tomorrow."
Henderson stopped. He had handled a gun only once in his life, yet he recognized the unmistakable click of a revolver hammer slowly being drawn back. Nervously, he looked up from his paperwork and gulped against the sudden dryness in his throat as sweat beaded his brow. He was staring into the silent and deadly cavern that was the muzzle of a loaded six gun. Following the arm which held the weapon so steadily, he knew his worst fears had come to life. Holding the revolver centered unwaveringly on the middle of Henderson's forehead, was Ethan Allen Cord. The man's face was as cold as the winter sun, and the banker knew, if Cord chose to pull the trigger, he would end the day as a lifeless corpse. The gunfighter had a reputation as a killer, and Henderson knew a fear few had lived to walk away from.
"There ain't gonna be no auction at the Cord ranch tomorrow." Cord's voice was calm, and the unspoken threat deadly.
Henderson started to protest, but could only sputter incoherently.
"I said, there ain't gonna be no auction at the Cord ranch tomorrow or any other day." Cord slowly reached into his vest pocket with his left hand and withdrew a fat bundle of bills.
"There's the money I owe. Back rent, through this month. Now, you make sure when I get back my place is still mine, or I'm gonna come back here and finish what I started."
Henderson nodded dully, his eyes never leaving the gun barrel so calmly leveled at his head. Then the gun was back in its holster and he was staring at Cord's back as the man walked from his office. When Mildred entered, he was still sitting silently. His jaw worked, but no sound emerged.
~000~
Amelia rode her palomino mare from the livery as Ethan emerged from the bank. For a moment, she felt a twinge of apprehension. Had he gone too far and settled his grievance with Henderson?
But as he rode up beside her he spoke grimly, "He's alive." He gave no further explanation as he rode on past her without waiting, down the dusty street towards the edge of town.
Amelia easily overtook him and rode quietly beside him until they passed beyond the last storefront at the edge of Paradise. "I thought we agreed to handle this without guns?" she admonished.
"I agreed to handle Carroll without a gun," he corrected her. "It's a long was to Chicago," Ethan said shortly. He stared straight ahead, making no further effort to converse.
And it's going to be a long ride, Amelia thought. Why does he make me feel so guilty? What was I to do? Throw myself in front of the stage to keep them from leaving? She shook the thought before she spoke. "I think it would be wise to inquire at each stop. Surely someone will remember an older man travelling with four children. They might not have gotten as far as Chicago."
"Why wouldn't they?" Ethan's voice was cold and Amelia could feel his icy stare. It had been a long time since she felt such intense animosity from him. She reminded herself he wasn't really angry at her, nor she at him. They were both lashing out at the closest available person when they really wanted to lash out at Jacob Carroll.
"Just a feeling," Amelia finally answered.
They rode at a brisk pace, but Amelia wanted to spur her mount into a gallop, to ride away from the anger she felt so palpably. She longed to feel the wind whipping through her hair, and enjoy the thrill of the ride. She wanted to tempt Ethan to pursue her, as he had done before, laughing as he overtook her. The times they had ridden together for pleasure had been few, yet she loved to watch him ride. It was one of the rare activities he truly took pleasure in. She understood that feeling. But this ride would generate no such rapture. There would be no laughter in him until the children were found.