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Chapter 12 – Hope

Jarrod was still in that recumbent position, staring with hollow eyes at the empty hearth, when Audra came downstairs. Her cheeks were red, her eyes swollen. She sat down on the chaise, and curled up on it, into a tight, protective ball as she drew her knees close to her, and rested her chin on them. They both sat there in silence. They had no words to say. Brains were dull, hearts ached, and life was horrid.

Suddenly, a creaking at the top of the stair brought Jarrod and Audra out of their oblivion. Looking up, they saw Victoria steadying herself by holding onto the top banister. Her eyes were tired and worn, but there was a dull excitement that shone in them now.

Jarrod found himself rising out of his chair, wondering at that look in her eyes.

"They're not dead!"

Victoria's words sounded like a lie or a promise, perhaps both at once. They made Jarrod's and Audra's hearts leap and sink at the same time.

"What do you mean?" Jarrod asked, in a voice that betrayed a sense of loss.

"They're not dead, Jarrod!" Victoria said, tears running down her cheeks in desperate relief as she began to descend the stairs on unsteady limbs.

"How do you know?" Jarrod's voice shook. Could it be that, after all, they were alive? But Bridgeman had said … had Bridgeman even told the truth?

"Mr. Bridgeman said… Heath… he asked Mr. Bridgeman to tell us a…a verse."

"A verse?" Audra asked, letting her legs move down as she straightened into a proper sitting position.

"It was Luke…Luke 15 and verse 24." She lifted a Bible that she had been holding onto, and read in a trembling voice, "It says, 'for this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found'." Victoria looked up, a glimmer of hope in her eyes, "'and they began to be merry'."

Jarrod remained speechless. He didn't know what to think or say. Had Heath used that to tell them somehow that he was still alive? Why hadn't Mr. Bridgeman said that? Did Mr. Bridgeman want them to think that Heath and Rachel were dead? If so, then why did he pass on what Heath had asked them to say?

"Now Mother, don't raise a false hope for yourself," Jarrod said, stepping towards her.

Victoria descended the last few steps. "They are alive Jarrod! They are! And we're going to find them. We're going to bring them home!" She paused a moment and looked around her. "Where's Nick."

Jarrod frowned, "I don't know." Then, remembering the words that he had heard but not registered, he said, "Wait – he went out to look for them. He didn't want to believe Bridgeman…"

"Do you think Bridgeman is really the counterfeiter and tried to kill Heath or something like that, you know, because of what Heath said?" Audra finally spoke up.

Jarrod wasn't sure what to think. Ideas of hope and calamity were rushing upon him, but whilst there was still hope, he determined to hold onto it tight, for all he was worth! "I don't know, Honey," he said. "But we're going to find out. Come on – we're going to see if Bridgeman told the truth or not."

Victoria closed her eyes in a moment's relief, glad that Jarrod didn't seem to think that she was clutching at straws. "Silas!" she called. "Silas!"

The old man dutifully appeared, his face worn by the recent sorrow. "Yes, Mrs. Barkley?"

"Silas – we think Heath and Rachel might still be alive, but they might be in trouble. We're going to look for them."

Silas's face lit up, "You really think so, Mrs. Barkley?"

"Yes, Silas. Nick's already gone on ahead, but we're going to follow him up now. Just pray as hard as you ever did that they're still alive and that we'll get to them in time."

"Mother, you're not in a fit condition to ride. It would be much better if you and Audra stayed here. I'll catch up with Nick, and…"

"Jarrod, there is no way that I am staying here. They are my daughter, and my son, and I will not stay here and wonder whether they are alive or dead whilst you and Nick search for them. Nothing could keep me here – I think I would go crazy if I tried."

"I'm going too," Audra declared, jumping up from the chaise.

"Alright," Jarrod relented. "Let's go."

And so, hurrying out of the house and getting their horses, the rest of the family rode off in search of Heath and Rachel!


After Bridgeman had left, Stevenson and Stott had fallen up all the liquor in the shack like riotous besiegers of a town. Drinking themselves almost senseless – their love of 'oh-be-joyful' took precedence in their mind over the job in hand.

"Besides," Stott had surmised to his fellow worker, "the girl ain't dead yet! There's no harm in a man having a bit of drink. Once we're through this stuff, she'll be dead, and we can do ev'rythin' the boss said to do."

Stevenson had readily agreed, his eyes wide with thirst.

Heath had hoped against hopes, and prayed hard, that they would drink themselves into a stupor, but much to his disappointment, no matter how much they drank, and how drowsy they became, they failed to knock themselves out.

Once they were thoroughly drunk from draining all the bottles of whiskey in the one-roomed line shack, they murmured to themselves in slurring voices about the men they had killed over the years, women they had met in saloons along the way, and boasting about the many times they had got drunk.

Finally they stumbled out of their chairs and ambled drowsily towards their captives.

"Sh…she dead yet?" Stott said sneeringly, struggling to get his words out as his eyelids drooped sleepily.

"No!" Heath shot out menacingly, standing in front of Rachel as if to protect her from these men – this new and present danger. "No she's not! And she can still live if you give her a chance. Let us live – let me take her home!"

The men grinned at each other. "I'll take him – you shoot the girl," Stott declared.

Stevenson shrugged, "Fine by me."

Stott drew his gun and walked up to Heath, so that only a few feet stood between them.

"You need to get that close?" Heath asked, trying to waste time by talking as he searched around the room for something to throw at them. "Can't you shoot straight?"

Suddenly, his eyes fell upon something next to the bed – the canteen that Rachel had had a drink from! Of course! He looked back at Stott and saw the anger in his drunken eyes. He didn't have much time. Quickly picking up the canteen, Heath threw it at Stott's head, grabbing the gun from him at the same time.

Stevenson drew his gun, but Heath shot him in the leg before he had a chance to use it! Stott lay on the floor, senseless from a mixture of drink and the knock on the head. Heath quickly looked around the room. Some rope hung from a nail, so he used that to tie both of the men up in knots that would be nigh on impossible for them to untie. Then, quickly retrieving his own gun from Stevenson's belt, he hurried back to Rachel's side.

Quickly scooping her up, Heath carried Rachel out of the house. He found his horse where they had left it, and mounted up, with Rachel held firmly in his arms to keep her from falling.

"Don't worry little sister," Heath said as he squeezed his horse on. "Hang on! Hang on tight! I'm taking you home!"


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