Lucas did not know at what point he had become so accustomed to the quiet slender figure that he genuinely missed him when he returned from the stage coach to an empty farm. He was almost used to the awareness of a missing Mark, but Eirik had become a fixture of their life. Lucas had had a lot of time to think over the past day…
The two boys had left the place in perfect condition, even the linen shirts were clean and hung out to dry in the living room. Since it was early evening, a few hours of light left, Lucas re-saddled his mare and took her out on a leisurely trip to check on the stock and the fence. Anything to shake the travel-weariness out of his limbs, and the feeling of unease out of his heart and mind.
Word in town had been that the group of children had left early yesterday morning to excitement and singing and expectation, the Swensons, Cade and Eirik calm islands in what seemed to be a sea of children. Miss Schuler had kept a cool head, and even the sudden breakdown of one of the smaller girls had not fazed the group much. They had left with the little wagon one pupil short, but with huge smiles all around.
Micah had grinned in memory when he'd asked him about it. Ned Turner was still in jail in North Fork, Llandy and his companion shared the next cell. Micah had sent word to San Antonio – the Marshall there would know how to handle the blond man.
….
Lucas had just decided to ride back into town for a warm supper, when he grew aware of a lone rider heading for the river ford at neck breaking speed. He watched the man push the horse unyieldingly through the low water, and head upward…. Toward his farm…
Without hesitation, Lucas spurred his horse to intercept whom he had subconsciously already recognized… Micah Torrence.
Why would the older man ride out here at such speed, such time of day?
"Micah!"
"Lucas." Torrence tried to catch his breath. "Trouble. The children… ride with me."
It did not take the men long to reach town, where most of the population was assembled on the empty space before the saloon. Frantic parents all around were wringing their hands, angry shouts could be heard. Calls for horses, for action, for anything were raised, until Micah stepped into the middle, the tall rifleman beside him. Lucas himself recognized the need for calm and reticence in the face of the riled up group, despite his heart beating in his ears like a thunderstorm. In the middle of the group of people stood smith Swenson, dried blood on the side of his face. Ephraim, his apprentice, was supporting him.
"Mr. Swenson. What happened?" Lucas kept a tight leash on his temper. The townsfolk visibly calmed at his apparent tranquillity, an even greater incentive to hear out the bearded smith.
"We met trouble, Lucas. My wife…" the stoic man shook, face contorting.
"Calm, Swenson, tell us."
"His wife was bleeding still, a gash to her head…"
"Quiet everybody, let the man speak! Swenson, when did this happen?"
"Just after first light. A group of men surrounded the camp. They seemed friendly at first, asked questions, then pulled guns. Cade got shot."
"The children? What happened to the children?" A frantic mother asked what Lucas could not bring himself to voice.
"They made the children get on the wagon, already put behind one of the horses. My wife…"
"What happened to your wife?"
"She tried to … appeal to the leader, to hold on to Freddy. He… God, he hit her over the head with his gun."
"Hit you too when to you tried to help her?" Lucas threw in with deceptive calm.
"Aye. They held me down…"
"The children?!" A woman fainted.
"Go on, Swenson."
"They left with Miss Schuler and the children on the wagon. Left us one horse, and the instruction…" the older man seemed to break.
"What instructions, Swenson?"
"Five thousand gold pieces, or we'll never see the children again."
Silence ensued. That was an impossibly large sum to come up with for any family out here.
It was the banker, Hamilton, who interrupted the quiet with toneless words.
"They knew about the coach."
"What? What's there to know?"
"Lucas, you rode in with the coach, no?"
Damn it, it was true. There had been another man with him on the coach, a quiet fellow with alert eyes. Lucas had pegged him a gun-man, but not exchanged more than a few words with him. He had carried a small suitcase – with him, not on top of the coach as was usually done.
Gall rising in his throat, the tall rifleman bit his lip. "Let me guess, you've got five thousand lying in the safe right now."
Hamilton nodded. "Not my money, though. It's for the fort."
Lucas made an effort to push the conflicting emotions to the far back of his mind. "Swenson – what about Miss Schuler, and Cade and Eirik?"
"Cade got shot – he went for his guns. Eirik had gone fishing, and returned only when everything was over. He put me and Lucy on the horse and sent us to get help. Lucy…"
Micah reached out to steady the smith. "Doc's taking good care of her."
"I need to see her." The burly man pushed through the group of people and stormed to the Doctor's door.
"Micah." Lucas pulled the old sheriff to the side. "Help me." He raised his voice. "People! I'm heading out to the campsite now, expect to reach it in a few hours. Anybody recon he's a better tracker than me?" Sam Buckhart came to mind, but heavens knew where his friend was right now.
"No, Lucas, you're the best."
"Those men that know the area and how to handle a gun: raise what money you can quickly and come after me. Hamilton, we'll need that suitcase. Micah handles my money, he has my trust."
"Lucas, we can't raise that kind of money!"
"We don't have to. A distraction is all that's necessary. I'll get on their trail and leave word whatever way I manage."
"Lucas boy…"
"Micah, they have Mark." Lucas trusted his old friend to understand that he'd rob the bank himself to free his boy.
…
Lucas rode into the sunset like he had ridden only few other times, the fear for his son the single only thing on his mind. He was not scared to lose the way, he knew the path to the sulphur springs, and knew where Miss Schuler had planned to set up the tents for the children. Time flew, or crept, he could not tell which. Barely able to keep from forcing the horse to a speed that would ruin her, he tried to calm his mind to a sensible pace.
The last light left the countryside, and he reached the entrance to the valley that would lead him to the clearing. Lucas jumped off Razor, heart pounding in his ears. He'd managed the worst, now it was time for a clear head. He hobbled the horse under a group of trees and crept on alone. It seemed a long, long path through the dark trees, several times he thought he might have missed the way, but in the end he found the clearing… the tents scattered, the left-overs from the fires set at sensible intervals… but only one of them glowing. And one single figure hunched over under a tree.
"Eirik?" Fear gripped him – if the young man sat there, everything was lost. But no, the silhouette was wrong…
"McCain?"
"Cade!" Lucas knelt down beside the young man. "Swenson said you got shot! Where's Donnelly?"
"Shot to the shoulder, lucky. Hurt my ankle trying to fight. Mr. McCain…"
"Let me see. How bad?"
"Nah, Eirik took care of it, should be fine. But…"
"But what? Spit it out already!" What had happened here?
"He… I saw him! When they pulled their guns on us, he hid behind the trees, and when they had left, a while later, he appeared. Said he could not follow them any more. Put the Swensons on the only horse we had! Then he took care of my wound and left!"
"Left where?"
"I have no idea. Said that somebody would come. That the smith would get help. He said he had a trail to follow… only-"
"What are you saying?"
"He didn't look like he had a plan. He looked scared. He'd been hiding. McCain, what if he…"
What if he is a coward?
Lucas refused to let the avalanche that threatened to overcome him gain momentum.
"Cade, point me into the direction they took the wagon. Trail should be manageable even in this…"
"McCain, it's pitch black. There's no moon." It was true, a thin film of clouds covered even the milky-way's dim light.
"No, I refuse to stay here and wait."
"There is something else."
"What?"
"We followed the path yesterday, after we arrived, just to get a feeling for the valley. Give the kids a chance to stretch their legs. Steep sided ravine. And this morning, after they'd all left, even Eirik… There was a noise, like thunder… a huge cloud of dust rose over the trees, even so I could see it. The earth shook."
The young man swallowed over the despair in his voice. Lucas fell back in horror.
"A rockslide?"
"I fear so. He could not have followed a trail…"
Without another word the rifleman stood and headed for where he remembered the path into the valley leading. He walked desperately, unseeingly, for an hour or more, until he reached an unstable field of loose rocks. He could even smell the upturned earth and stones, the dust barely settled, the way it cloaked his tongue with the taste of iron. A vulture cried somewhere.
A scream of anguish, of terror and pure wrath tore loose from his throat, but with it, he gained some of his countenance.
He could not see enough, nor feel his way through this rocky field. And if the slopes were as steep as they seemed in the near darkness, then another slide could follow any moment. Much as he hated his voice of reason in this moment, there was nothing he could do but turn back.
Wait for morning.
Cade Dorcas's pale face registered relief when the tall man reappeared on the clearing. Lucas stacked the fire, and sat beside the young man without words.
Finally he ground out: "We've got to wait until the others come. Maybe even ride to the Fort, ask for help. But wait till the morning. Sleep. You're hurt."
The young man took a breath to say something, but Lucas held up a hand, unwilling to prolong the conversation further. While Cade settled down to try catching a few hours of sleep, Lucas walked down and fetched his tired mare.
At some stage even he had given in to what his body was telling him – that he would need every ounce of strength the following days. Lucas slept a few short hours before he startled awake at the first light of dawn. But the increasing light only proved to him what his instincts had told him in the darkness. There was no path, no safe way to ingress into the valley. The trail from the wagon stopped short under a wall of loose rocks. Nothing was visible under the wide, sparse flood of raw stone and earth. Vultures would turn up with the rising sun. The tall rifleman stood at the border of the avalanche and searched the dusty horizon, searched for anything, a different path, a glimmer of hope, anything.
Lucas turned back, re-joined the wretched Cade at the campsite, and began to search the clearing systematically. The trails and traces left here corroborated Swenson's and Cade's story. The young man wanted to hear what the plan was, but Lucas was unable to give him hope – he didn't have any to give.
Finally he found the only unshod imprints on the dry earth, and followed them… but they lead out of the valley, the way he had come! Disbelieving, Lucas followed them for a while, until there was no way he could refuse their evidence. Eirik had left the valley… but why? Why would the man run? What from? From memories? From inner demons?
Lucas shook his head, hand running over the stubble on his cheeks. Staring out over the widening countryside, a thought slowly took form. He knew the mountains around here only a little, but with more men, things were possible…
With renewed energy, the rifleman returned to the camp site and sat down beside the distraught young man.
"Cade, tell me exactly what you saw on this first trip of yours. How deep into the valley did you get?"
It took them another two hours of seemingly aimless waiting and forming of a plan until finally the group of men from North Fork arrived, Micah among them. Lucas did not give them time to focus on the hopelessness of the situation but with almost brutal efficiency gave out orders. Search parties were formed, divided, and sent out, with clear signals decided on.
They agreed to return and regroup if nothing helpful was found, or send back an emissary for the rest of the teams if a lead turned up.
To the utter despair of the assembled fathers, nothing turned up. No sensible path could be found through the rockslide, no signs of life, no clothes, no group of vultures over a body.
"We've got to face it, they're all buried somewhere under the rocks, never to be found."
"I refuse to believe that!"
"What if they got through before the rockslide happened? Then they might be on their way back to North Fork to get their money! What are we still doing here?"
"We are not giving in this quickly." Lucas ground out. "Look here, this is a raw map of the surroundings. What we haven't tried yet is to climb higher on this side. From where I stood it looked as if there might be a way to cross over the spot where the rockslide originated, and gain entrance to the inner valley, where the springs are."
"You think they'd still hide in there? They must have heard the noise, too. They'd be trying to find a way out again."
"Who's been to the springs lately? Is there a path to one of the other valleys?"
The men shrugged helplessly.
Before he lost the group, Lucas tried again: "Give me one more day. I'll scout out the path I am proposing, and those of you who want to leave can go. But those who will not yet give up can give it another try tomorrow at first light."
Reassured by the hopeful faces, and Micah's confident nod, Lucas turned and headed back toward the site of the rockslide, toward the one side of the valley he had in mind.
When the sun sank behind the horizon for the second time since his world had been shaken so badly, the rifleman turned back. He knew what he was going to try tomorrow, and he knew how to sell it to the men in camp. There was a reasonable chance to pass over the rocky field and into the valley, and on the way they'd have a view toward the valley's end, it's sides and maybe a pass into the next one. There was a milder, less steep valley to the east, he dimly remembered. It led out toward the plains, too, meeting the sulphur valley maybe an hour down from their campsite.
Mark… what was the boy going through at the moment? There was no question that his son was alive. He would not even touch any other possibility. His thoughts returned to his farmhand. Indescribable fury rose. After everything the young man had accomplished – Lucas' accident, the crazy abduction of the school teacher, the fight with the Dorcas brothers – how could he ride off now? He'd saved a child before! How could he leave Mark's fate to… to what? To chance? Had he given up on the boy? Lucas had trusted him, had trusted his own sense of the young man, had trusted their friendship! Nothing in the world could make him forgive Eirik this betrayal. Nothing could legitimate the young man's conduct…
The inescapability of the situation hit Lucas, despair threatened to overcome him. He let it fuel his anger instead. If he could not get Mark back, he could at least…
A pale, lanky figure appeared between the trees in front of him. The clearing was just a few hundred yards down the path. The thankless winds only now cleared the sky so much that in the empty space between the dark firs the dim light showed him clearly what his first impression had already told him.
"Eirik?"
"Lucas!" Dirt covered every inch of the young man. The scarf on his head seemed the same colour as his skin. The boy's voice carried… relief, exhaustion… elation.
That elation was what made the tall man explode finally. He did not know what words came out of his mouth, only registered the way the young man staggered backwards.
"You're a coward, worse than a coward! I left my son in your care! If I see you again, you're dead!"
The harsh words left Lucas feeling empty and bereft of satisfaction. Eirik had turned and vanished into the darkness without another word.
The tall man gave in to the desperation that made his knees shake and sank to the mossy floor.
….