Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

" Y our father."

It was as though Jude had been bowled over by an ocean wave back in the Virginia harbor and was fighting for the surface. "My…"

"Father. Yes, it appears you come by your skills at deception honestly, Jude. Now, walk and talk." Rollinson gestured him forward with his knife but did not release his hold on Muireall's arm. Somehow, Jude convinced his feet to move against the quicksand that seemed to hold them in place. Each movement seemed as though he was slogging through mud.

"Where is Sugar?" Muireall's voice broke through the haze.

Jude stopped and turned, glancing between Hodges and Rollinson. There was no way they would allow him to go get the horse, but he could not leave the faithful mare alone either. "She is just over that rise." He lifted his chin toward where the land rose several yards away. On the other side, the earth dipped downward, and it had provided the perfect cover for him to ambush these men. If only it had worked as well as he planned.

Finally, Rollinson released Muireall, and in an instant, she was by Jude's side. Rollinson sheathed his knife and took the rifle from Hodges. "Go fetch the nag."

Muireall shot a glare at their oppressor at his insult to their mare. "We are not goin' anywhere until ye let me tend this wound." Her touch was light against his arm, and he ventured a glance at the injury he had ignored before now. Blood stained over a third of his sleeve. No wonder he was in such a fog. Still, he placed his hand over Muireall's.

"Eh, he will be fine." Rollinson echoed his thoughts.

Muireall turned blue eyes filled with fire upon the man. "He will be of no help to ye if he bleeds to death. Now, ye will either let me tend to him, or we will not be a goin' anywhere."

Rollinson eyed her warily. "Suit yourself." He gestured with the gun for them to sit on the ground.

Jude allowed himself to sink to the earth with Muireall at his side. He could not bear to look into her concerned gaze, so he laid against the cool grass and closed his eyes.

What hand did his father play in all of this? And was Jude really so much like a man he had never met? It sure seemed that, despite all his good intentions, he was destined to ruin Muireall's life as his father had ruined his mother's.

M uireall brushed her fingers over the pale skin of Jude's cheek. Was it the loss of blood that created his pallor, or the revelation that his father had some part in all of this? In a way, despite his father having left his mother unwed and with child, it seemed that Jude had held him on a pedestal. Mayhap he had latched onto an unfounded belief that the man had some reason for his actions that would redeem his character. And if the father's character were redeemed, then so would the son's be?

Though it seemed illogical, she could not fault her husband for gasping onto what hope he could. His father had been the missing piece to the puzzle of his life, but now that puzzle piece might turn out to be warped and blackened. Muireall took a deep breath as Hodges approached with Sugar. Lord, please protect me husband from the wounds he has sustained an' will sustain yet today. Both those seen an' unseen.

"I need the medical kit from that pack there." She pointed at the blurred shapes behind the saddle. "The top one there on the left." While Hodges fetched the leather pouch for her, she tore her husband's ripped shirt open wider. The bullet had left a sizeable gash right below the elbow, and blood still seeped from the opening. "This is gonna hurt," she warned Jude as she pulled the brown bottle of iodine from the pouch. Her husband's foresight in carrying a medical kit with them could very well save his own life.

"Hurry up. Just pour some of that on there and get moving." Rollinson waved his arm at the bottle, then out at the woods.

Muireall shot him another glare. The pistol was burning a hole in the pocket of her petticoats, but she would wait until the right moment to pull it from hiding. And this was not the moment. "The wound needs to be closed, or he will die before he can take ye where ye want to go. I need me sewin' kit from the same pack." Though the situation was not quite as dire as she made it seem, it was imperative that she sew the flesh closed to prevent further blood loss.

Rollinson let out a huff before he motioned for Hodges to retrieve her supplies.

Muireall laid a hand on Jude's chest, and finally, he peered up at her. "This will hurt," she warned.

He watched her without a word, until Hodges dropped her sewing kit on the ground beside her. Then Jude nodded and gave her hand a squeeze.

Thanks to her deft skills with needle and a thread, her task was completed in a few short minutes, and they were on their way.

Jude gripped her hand as they led the way ahead of Rollinson and Hodges. Besides their footfalls, the only sound was the gurgle of Sinking Creek to their left. But the tension in the air was palpable, and time ticked slowly by as they made the trek back to Pitman Station.

Outside the abandoned station master's home, Jude released her hand and closed his eyes, likely picturing the map in his mind. Then he turned and surveyed their surroundings. To her, the trees on the horizon just created a jagged green contrast to the light-blue sky.

"There." Jude pointed before he charged ahead, into the tall grass of the meadow between them and the tree line. "So are you going to tell me what we are searching for if it is not a church?" He threw the question back to Rollinson.

"What do you think it is?"

"Money. That and whiskey were the only things that ever seemed to motivate you."

Muireall glanced at the relentless green landscape as she fought through wave upon wave of grass that reached to her knees. Where were they ever supposed to find money in the middle of nowhere?

"More than any one man could ever need."

Muireall shook her head. Greed did strange things to a man.

"Hush, Hodges." Rollinson hit the shorter man over the back of the head with the stock of the rifle.

Muireall paused, her fingers itching for the pistol. Perhaps getting the men talking could work in their favor?

"What does that have to do with Jude's father?" She glanced toward her husband but could not detect a visible reaction. He certainly did not slow his steps.

The laugh that slipped from Rollinson sent prickles up the back of her neck despite the sun shining overhead. Lord, please protect us from these men. Help us find a way out of this mess. "The old man posed as a traveling man of the cloth. Always wore all black with that white band at his neck. Not a person thought twice about allowing him into their homes. Even when their valuables went missing, they would not suspect him for a moment."

"What does that have to do with us now?" Jude spoke up, his tone suspicious.

"A couple miles west of Pitman Station is where he was last said to be seen alive. Rumor is, he buried all his riches under a rock outside his cabin. And when the natives came through a few years ago, they took him but left the money."

Muireall whipped toward Rollinson at the same time as Jude. Her hands went to her hips while her husbands' formed fists at his sides. "Ye mean to tell me ye knew all along the station was abandoned?"

"And that you knew my father was already dead, but you sent us on this wild goose chase just so we could lead you to your money?" Jude took a step forward but stopped when the rifle was raised to point at his chest.

"Ha! I did not need you to lead me here. My map showed exactly where we needed to go. Yours was supposed to send you to the middle of nowhere. But pea brain over here managed to mix them up."

"Who are you calling pea brain?" Hodges gave the man a shove.

Rollinson stumbled a step before he turned on him. With the rifle dropped to his side, he loomed over the shorter man. "You, idiot. All you have done on this entire trip is get in the way."

Now was her moment. Muireall whisked the pistol from her pocket and leveled it, one-handed, at Rollinson's chest. "Enough!"

Silence fell over the group as Hodges and Rollinson directed their attention to her. A smile that even she could tell was sinister stretched across Rollinson's face. "Aw, you wouldn't shoot a man, now, would you?"

"Aye. I would." The venom in Muireall's voice seemed to break through Rollinson's confidence, for his grin slipped from its place, and he held his free hand up. The rifle still hung at his side, though.

Hodges turned to Rollinson. "Ah, she ain't really going to shoot you."

Muireall's teeth pressed together. She lowered the gun and pulled the trigger, then immediately cocked the hammer back.

"She's crazy," Hodges howled. "She got my foot. She got my foot." The burly man proceeded to hop on one foot as he reached for the other one.

"Ow, that's my foot, you fool," Rollinson protested when he landed on him. He shoved at Hodges's thick torso.

Jude used that moment to plow the taller man over. The rifle dropped from his grip as the impact took his lanky frame to the ground. Jude scrambled from atop him and recovered the weapon. He whipped it toward Rollinson. "This is over. Now. You two will do as we say and no one else will be hurt." His voice spoke undeniable authority over the situation.

Hodges stopped his wild dance and nodded rapidly. Rollinson grumbled his assent.

"Good. Both of you, on your knees." Jude stood and motioned for Hodges to join Rollinson on the ground. Once they had both done as he instructed, he glanced in her direction. "Muireall, can you fetch some rope from the packs?"

Muireall dipped her chin in a quick nod. She eased the hammer back down on the pistol and slipped the weapon into her pocket, then moved over to Sugar's side. Despite all the commotion, the mare grazed contentedly only a couple paces away from where Rollinson had dropped her reins to argue with his comrade.

"‘Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall,'" she whispered with a shake of her head. Rollinson was evidently a man capable of absolutely anything, but his mean spirit had been his downfall. How did a man with such potential become so twisted? She puzzled the thought over as she fished the rope from their packs. Then she maneuvered her way through the tall grass to Jude's side. Right where she belonged.

"Can you tie them up?" Jude raised his brow and tilted his head in the direction of their captives. Admiration shone in his eyes, and the corners of his mouth tipped up on a smile.

"Aye. A knot I can handle." She may not be used to tying a rope around a person or a saddle, but tying something off that was not intended to come undone? She had plenty of practice with that.

Both men grumbled about how tight she tied their wrists, but Muireall ignored their complaints. Once they were secured, Jude checked the ropes and hauled them to their feet.

While keeping his gun at the ready, he leaned forward to peer at the foot Hodges had been so worried about. "You shot through the toe of his boot!"

"Barely missed my foot," the large man complained.

Now that the danger had passed, she and Jude shared a chuckle at Hodges's antics. Jude slipped an arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her forehead, an act she prayed boded well for their future.

"Perhaps I should stop tryin' to aim. Then I might actually hit me target."

"If that is what works, I am all for it." He beamed down at her before he helped her into the saddle and ordered Rollinson and Hodges forward, back to the station.

Muireall breathed a sigh of relief as she asked Sugar to walk on. Tension that had been there since she left the station hours before eased from her shoulders. A breeze picked up stray strands of her hair and brushed them against her cheeks as she settled into the steady rhythm of her horse's plodding gait. Despite how she had attempted to convince herself that morning, it was truly better to have those she cherished alongside her on the journey rather than to attempt it on her own. And now, with Hodges and Rollinson no longer a threat, the tables had turned once again. This time, in their favor.