Chapter Twelve

Tillie’s footsteps echoed on the cold floor of the dimly lit kitchen. Annamae and Sawyer had gone to bed, but sleep eluded her. Rex hadn’t returned, and her mind raced with worry as she gnawed on her fingernails, pacing back and forth between the table and the stove.

Where was he?

Baxter’s face was pale and serious as he arrived at the house, his hat askew from riding hard. “The marshal thinks the Richards gang took Esther Billings,” he said to everyone in the sitting room. Tillie’s heart dropped, but she refused to believe it. Annamae collapsed onto her bed, sobbing uncontrollably. Sawyer turned away, unable to even look at Tillie. The weight of the news hung heavy in the air, suffocating them all.

She knew this was George’s fault, and by proxy hers.

An icy shiver ran down her spine. The walls of the Hartman homestead suddenly seemed to close in around her, trapping her. Guilt gnawed at her insides. George’s shadow loomed menacing over everything, even when he was miles away.

“You can’t sleep either?” Annamae’s soft voice came through the doorway.

Tillie stopped her pacing. “No. I’m afraid I won’t be able to sleep until I know Rex is safe.”

“Baxter said Orrin Briggs is with him.”

“That’s the marshal?” Tillie took the coffeepot from the back of the stove and filled it with fresh water and coffee grounds.

Annamae slid into a seat at the table. “Yes. He has been here since Flat River was founded. I think he’s at least a hundred years old.”

“He didn’t look all that old.”

“Not really. He can’t be much older than Ma or Mr. and Mrs. Chapman.”

Tillie placed two cups on the table.

“Get another one.” Sawyer entered the room and kissed Annamae on the head before circling around to take a seat on the other side of the table. “I couldn’t sleep without you.”

Tillie handed a cup to her brother. “Are you hungry? I can make something to eat.”

Sawyer shook his head. “Annie may want something.”

“I can’t eat right now.” She reached across the table and took Sawyer’s hand. “Do you think it is true? What they say about Whit?”

“Honey, I don’t know. I can’t imagine him doing anything like that. If someone saw him with the gang, then there must be a good reason for it.” His eyes never left Annamae’s face, as if he was drawing strength from her. “I trust him. He has never given anyone a reason not to trust him.”

Tillie watched as Annamae sniffled and nodded, a small smile breaking through her tear-streaked face. She envied their unspoken bond, the love that blossomed in the hushed whispers, shared glances, and firm handholds. It was the love she desired.

“Well, I think I’ll make some biscuits,” Tillie announced. “Rex might be hungry when he gets home.”

“Why don’t we say a prayer for him,” Annamae suggested. “Then I’ll help you with the biscuits.”

Tillie nodded and slid into the chair between Sawyer and Annamae. Her heart pounded in her chest as she closed her eyes and listened to Sawyer’s strong voice fill the room.

“Lord,” he started, his voice trembling slightly, “We thank you for your protection and guidance. We ask that you watch over our brother, Rex, and the other men as they go about their work tonight. Keep them safe and bring Rex home to us. Amen.”

“Amen,” Annamae and Tillie echoed in unison, their voices barely above a whisper.

“Thank you, Sawyer.”

“You’re welcome. I know Whit would never harm Esther. If anything, he’s protecting her.”

“How do you know that?” Tillie asked, gathering the supplies to make biscuits.

“He loves her. A man will do anything to protect the woman he loves. That’s how I know Rex will be back. He needs to be here to protect you.”

Tillie nearly dropped the bowl. “You do? He does?”

Sawyer nodded, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint smile. “I may have been away from you for a while, but I ain’t blind. I’ve seen how he looks at you. It’s the same way I look at Annamae.”

Annamae blushed, her hand coming to rest on her husband’s arm. “And he’s never wrong about these things,” she whispered, sending a glance full of affection Sawyer’s way. “You love him, don’t you?”

Tillie felt a flutter in her chest at Annamae’s words, but quickly pushed it down. Yes, she had said it to Rex, but he said nothing in return. She turned back to the counter, hands shaking slightly as she started mixing the dough for the biscuits. She kept her gaze on the bowl, too flustered to look at Annamae or Sawyer.

“I reckon it is too soon,” she finally said. “We’ve only known each other a few days.”

Annamae gave a little giggle. “I knew the moment I saw Sawyer at the Chapmans that I was going to marry him. Unfortunately, he had to get scarlet fever before I could do it.”

Tillie stopped mixing. “Oh, my goodness. You were sick?”

“I would have died if it wasn’t for Annamae.”

“I’m glad you didn’t die, Sawyer. I know you weren’t happy to see George and I arrive, but I really missed you.”

“I’m glad too, Tillie. Now that George is gone, we can start over.”

Tillie looked back at the sticky dough in the bowl. “I hope so,” she mumbled.

The forest was silent, with only the smell of sulfur remaining from spent cartridges. The gang was surprised when Devin Moore found them so quickly and the sound of gunfire rang through the air.

“How badly are you bleeding?” Briggs asked.

With a grimace, Rex winced as he peeled back the torn piece of shirt he’d wrapped around his arm, revealing a warm, sticky mess.

“It ain’t nothing,” he grumbled, putting the cloth back into place.

Briggs eyed him skeptically, his brows furrowing beneath his hat brim. “Reckon you’re gonna need some stitching up when we get back.”

“Yeah...” Rex murmured, eyes scanning the darkening horizon. “Did you see which way they were shooting from?”

“I think it was over there.” After reaching into his pocket, Briggs produced a handful of cartridges. He swung open the cylinder of his revolver and let the empty shells drop to the ground. Carefully, he reloaded each chamber before snapping the barrel shut and tucking the gun back into its holster.

There was a rustling sound in the nearby undergrowth, causing Rex to hold his breath. Suddenly, Devin emerged from the bushes and began crawling on his belly towards them.

“Looks like there are a dozen of them,” he hissed. “I saw a girl. They have her tied up.”

“Any sign of Whit?” Rex asked.

Devin shook his head. “It’s too dark to see their faces. The little lady, however, she sticks out like a pig in mud.”

“Do you think we can get her out of there?” Briggs asked.

“I don’t know. There are a few people watching over her. My suggestion would be to come around the other side.”

“Okay. Rex, you stay here. Devin, you go that way and I’ll go around back.”

“I don’t think we should split up, Briggs.”

“You should probably head home then, Hartman.” Briggs hastily got up onto his knees and hurriedly crawled towards Esther’s location. Devin was preparing to move when they heard the thundering sound of horse hooves coming closer.

Rex pressed his back against the rough bark of the tree, straining to see through the thick foliage. The sound of hooves pounding against the ground grew louder, and he cautiously peered around the trunk. He saw a group of armed riders enter the camp, their voices booming in the night air. As they gathered around the fire, Rex’s eyes widened in shock as he recognized Whit pouring coffee on the flames, the light dancing on his skin. Suddenly, he stood up and started yelling at the men.

Rex leaned in towards his brother, straining to hear the hushed conversation.

His brother’s voice grew louder as he approached, but as Rex took a step forward, the toe of his boot caught on something solid. He stumbled and looked down to see George Youngerman’s face staring up at him, the eyes dull and unseeing. A chill ran down Rex’s spine as he realized what had happened.

A deep, crimson cut stretched from one ear to the other appeared on George’s neck. It was a gruesome sight that made his stomach turn.

“Looks like he’s been dead for a while,” Devin said, looking over Rex’s shoulder.

“Probably after they left town this morning.”

Suddenly, a shot rang out into the darkness, followed by several more. Rex and Devin ducked down. They could see Briggs engaged in gunfire with several of the outlaws. Even Whit drew his gun.

Rex couldn’t believe his eyes to see his own brother firing above the marshal’s head.

As the final gunshot rang out, Whit quickly mounted his horse and pulled Esther onto the saddle in front of him, using her as a shield against any stray bullets. His breaths came in quick gasps as they galloped away from danger.

Rex was dumbstruck.

His mind was whirling, trying to process what he had just seen. His brother, his own flesh and blood, a part of the outlaw gang? It made little sense. Whit had always been wild, but this was beyond anything Rex could have imagined.

“Get your head straight, Hartman,” Devin hissed at him, breaking through his stunned silence. “We need to move.”

Rex shook off his confusion and followed Devin as they circled the clearing. He could see Briggs from the corner of his eye, still exchanging gunfire with the remaining outlaws. His heart pounded in his chest like a drum as they slid between the trees, inching closer to the encampment. The moon hid behind a cloud, casting everything in deep shadow. They crept forward, their breaths shallow and quiet against the night’s stillness.

Briggs was running out of bullets, and Rex could see a dark stain spreading from his shoulder. They waited until the last of the riders cleared out so they could go get the marshal.

“Let’s get you back to the Chapmans,” Rex said. “Marmee will know how to take care of this.”

“It’s just a flesh wound. I’ve had worse.” Briggs waved them off.

Rex helped the marshal to his feet. “I saw Whit with them. He was shooting at you. Actually, he was shooting over your head,” he said firmly, trying to keep his own emotions in check.

“Remember what I said about letting it go?” Briggs groaned as he lifted himself onto his horse. “You aren’t letting it go.”

Rex met Briggs’ gaze, his jaw tightening in a mix of confusion and anger. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a precipice, his brother’s betrayal teetering him towards an abyss of uncertainty. “I just want to know that he’s safe. That Esther will be safe.”

“We’ll deal with Whit later,” Briggs grunted, shifting in the saddle to accommodate the pain shooting through his shoulder. “He’ll take care of Esther. He would do nothing to harm her.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because he loves her. You’d do anything for the woman you love.”

“You ever been in love, Briggs?” Devin asked.

“A long time ago. A very long time ago.”

“What happened?” Rex asked.

“I never told her.” The marshal tapped his horse and started down the trail. Rex and Devin exchanged glances before they followed, leaving George’s lifeless body behind.

Briggs’ words seemed to echo in Rex’s head.

“I never told her.”

Rex felt a pang of familiarity, an uncomfortable resonance that he had been trying to ignore. His mind wandered back to Tillie as they rode through the chilly night. The way her green eyes sparkled when she smiled, the soft sound of her laughter, the courage she showed despite her fears. The way she told him she loved him before he left.

He loved her. And he nearly missed the chance to tell her.

As his brother’s betrayal hung over him like a storm cloud, Rex finally comprehended Briggs’ remorse. He clenched his jaw and made a mental note to make things right when he returned home. Family was everything to him. That’s where his loyalties lay. And if that meant confronting the painful reality of Whit’s actions, then he would do it without hesitation. Tillie had become his family now.