Chapter 9: Found
Bill and Jack had been walking in silence for the last hour.
They had taken one group to one end of the town and they had now spread out through the woods. By now, everyone had found out about Abigail's mysterious disappearance and people had flocked to help look for the woman who had helped so many.
Friends who had feared Gowen's wrath and hesitated to support her publicly gathered in numbers, partly due to guilty consciences but mostly because they truly were very worried. Some of the older children, like Wyatt Weaver, were assisting in the search – even though they had to be at the mine bright and early the next day.
Bill looked at the town gathering and inwardly marveled. At first he had been very skeptical about getting any help because he had seen the lack of support for Abigail in the wake of the allegations against her husband by Henry Gowen. The defeat and sadness in her eyes had hurt his heart, and as much as he had tried not to care, he couldn't help himself.
Jack was right. This town was special, these people were special. Granted, Coal Valley had its fair share of irritating busy bodies and gossips but that was true of all small towns. For the most part, though, the people were good, and they were kind. And they had an incredible core of strength that continued to amaze him.
It would be so easy for them to give up and just let Gowen walk all over them. But they had more than just a little bit of fighting spirit and Bill realized that Gowen didn't own as much of them as he thought he did. He didn't own their courage, their spirit, their desire for a better life for themselves and their children.
And he would insure that the ones who lost their husbands due to gross negligence would get the justice they deserved. If there was ONE thing he wished he could give all the victims he had seen in his travels, it would be justice.
Oh, he had helped many. He knew that. But there were so many he hadn't helped – and in one particular case, the town he had helped... that investigation had ended up taking a large part of his world away from him. He would not let that happen again. Too long company men had been getting away with this – too long lives had been lost due to selfishness and greed and a desire to win at all cost.
And while company men had taken a part of his life from him, they hadn't taken all of it. And he would never let another incident like the one years ago happen again. Not as long as he had breath within his body.
When Jack told him about the dark spots of blood on the floor, Bill had been enraged. For the first time in a very long time, he had felt his blood boiling. He even shattered a whiskey glass – he was only mildly ashamed of his lack of control. He was angry at the situation.
And he was angry at himself.
He should have known that this would happen. He should have known that Gowen would – like another man so long ago – go after someone he cared about. He had been IN Gowen's office and the man had made some sneering reference to not wanting to see Mrs. Stanton hurt. He had lost control for a moment, then, too.
It was his fault.
Had he not come here and opened this investigation, Abigail would not have had to endure the lack of support from former friends, she would not have had her hopes raised only to be possibly dashed by the ruthless machinations of Gowen and his goons. And she certainly would never have been taken.
He SHOULD have foreseen that this would happen. AGAIN.
Ruthlessly, he buried those thoughts deep down. Self-pity and self-blame would not help Abigail now. He needed to keep alert and not let fruitless finger-pointing distract him from saving Abigail.
He wasn't going to lose her. Not now. Not ever again.
"Jack," he asked his fellow searcher. "Are there any cabins near by? Any that are in a somewhat remote location? If I were this man, whoever he was, if I were going to let her live, I'd want her in a secluded location – far enough away from the town but not too far that I couldn't easily go in for supplies."
"Wait a minute," Jack responded. "There IS a place. Not terribly far from here – a mile or two, maybe three. It was used by one of Gowen's former men, Charles Spurlock."
Bill kept walking, "What happened to him?"
"I found him threatening Elizabeth with a pistol. Gave him a good punch to the face."
Bill looked a bit surprised at the vehemence in Jack's tone.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time." Jack smiled. "I wasn't ever in real danger but Elizabeth was – and, honestly, my blood started boiling and I just saw red."
He looked over to see a small smile on Avery's face.
"What? Tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing!"
"Oh, I definitely would have done the same thing," Avery grinned, "I just remember a certain young Mountie telling me once upon a time, '**If the Mounties had wanted you to have a wife, they would have issued you one.**'"
"Things have changed since then," Jack admitted, turning a bit red. "Never thought I'd meet a woman like Elizabeth."
"You're happy then," Bill observed.
"Yes." Jack beamed, "She's **the one. She's the only one.**"
"Good for you. Make sure you hold tight to that, don't let her get away from you." Bill responded, a hint of sadness in his voice. "And make sure you never take her for granted."
"Oh, I don't think that'll ever happen," Jack responded, with the typical self-assurance that only the young have.
"Never say never," Bill said, sadly. "You never know what the future will bring."
The two of them walked on in silence, peering through the trees.
Another hour went by. The night was hushed and still, with barely any movement from the trees. Even the birds were quiet, as if they sensed that something was very wrong. The light from a full moon shone through the trees, illuminating the way and transforming the shadows into a variety of weird and macabre shapes.
Jack whispered, "The cabin's right ahead. But it looks dark."
"Think, Thornton," Avery retorted, "if it's Gowen's men, they won't leave us a welcome mat."
The two men crept slowly towards the silent cabin – the only noise coming from the crunch of leaves underneath their feet and the occasional chirp of the birds in the tree.
In the cabin, Abigail Stanton was finding it harder and harder to keep conscious. She was so drowsy, so very, very drowsy. Her mouth was completely dry, the little sweat she had before had dried up, and she was feeling weaker and weaker.
She might have panicked at that point but she was just too tired. Maybe this was her time after all... maybe this was God's plan...for her to join her Noah and Peter. And she was tempted, so tempted... to just give into the blackness of the night and join them. Then all the pain would be over, she would see her loved ones again, and they would be happy...
No, Abigail, a little voice inside told her, you have to be strong. Be strong for Elizabeth, for Jack. For the children. For Bill. She wasn't quite sure why her little voice decided to add that last part – with all the revelations of the last day or so, she wasn't sure where she stood with the enigmatic investigator.
But as much as she was tempted to give into the night, she would not. She would be strong.
Suddenly, the door creaked open – Abigail shrank back in the chair, afraid that the Man had returned again. By this time, she had gotten so tired and dizzy that she wasn't sure what she was seeing. She saw the vague impression of two men...one wearing a familiar coat of red serge...
They crept closer. And she shrank back, not knowing who they were.
"Abigail?" a very familiar voice whispered in the darkness.
Later, she would be very annoyed with herself – Abigail, your sense of timing is dreadful, really – but the pain, the stress, and the discomfort finally overtook her and she fell into unconsciousness.
Bill dashed forward.
"Jack," he whispered, "your knife, please. I could loosen these knots myself but it'd take too much time and we've got to get her back to town right away. You brought the lantern, correct?"
"Yes," Jack replied, "I threw my overcoat over it in case there were people waiting at the cabin. And you're right, we should probably hurry – they'll most likely be back soon."
He knelt down besides Bill, "Is she okay?"
Bill lifted the lantern to Abigail's unconscious face and his face tightened with anger, "She's got a pretty deep cut on her forehead and side of her head and her mouth is swollen. She probably resisted and got hit for her pains." Brave lady, he thought, gently pushing her hair back off her head so it wouldn't get matted with the blood. "It's too hard for me to see if there are any other injuries."
Jack had a thought, "We won't be able to carry her all the way back to town like this. It's a few miles, at least."
"I know, Jack," Bill said patiently, "I just walked it, remember?"
He looked at his friend. "Jack, do you think you could go back to town and get a horse?"
Jack nodded, "I can. And when I see some of the search party, I will send a couple men to wait with you. We don't know whether her kidnapper will return tonight and I'd rather not leave you two unprotected."
Bill nodded, "I have my gun – I can take care of myself. If anyone tries to hurt her again, they'll be wishing they never were born. But send some reinforcements when you can. And hurry. I still can't tell how badly she's hurt. She needs treatment."
Jack nodded and ran out the door.
Bill loosened the rest of the ropes and gently removed them from around her. He quickly caught her before her body hit the floor and he lowered her on the nearby bed.
The cabin was small – one room only – with a cot in the corner, a wood stove, and a table. By the light of the lantern, he could see that it hadn't been used in quite some time. There were cobwebs everywhere and remnants of food – the little that hadn't been consumed by the animals, were covered with dust and grime.
This obviously had not been meant for long term occupation, he thought grimly. If Gowen was behind this, the man would regret ever stepping into Abigail's cafe. He would regret stepping foot in Coal Valley. Bill would make sure he'd pay for what he did.
He looked around to see if there was any water.
Nothing.
He stepped out the door and saw a water pump at the side. Quickly, he tore a piece of his jacket off and covered it with the cold water.
He stepped back into the cabin, knelt by the cot and gently wiped away the dirt and grime from Abigail's face. He could see by the pained expression on her face, even unconscious, that it hurt her.
"I am so sorry, Abigail," he whispered, his hand touching her face, "he'll never touch you again. You have my word."
He looked down in regret, "I should have been there for you – I should have known this was going to happen. I'm sorry my investigation led to this."
Not for the first time, Bill Avery wondered whether pushing for justice was worth endangering so many lives. His blue eyes were hard and sad at the same time.
He continued to bathe her face with the makeshift cloth, having to rub a little harder to get some of the dirt out of the blood on her face. She whimpered, wincing unconsciously.
"Dammit," Bill swore. Something he very rarely did – and only out of anger and frustration. "Jack Thornton," he muttered, "if you don't get your hide back here quickly...I'll write you up."
Suddenly, he heard a noise from the trees.
Quickly, he covered the light from the lantern and crouched down by corner of the cot, trying to keep himself out of immediate sight.
He could hear voices getting closer and closer to the cabin.
He reached for his pistol and put himself in front of Abigail, shielding her from this potential new threat.
Then the door swung open.
