Matthew Corbett 03 - Mister Slaughter

When Matthew looked into Walker's face, he saw the Indian's eyes burning holes through him. Walker abruptly turned away, and strode in the direction of the orchard.

In less than three minutes Lark re-emerged, ashen-faced and silent, with a dark brown cloak, a second cloak the gray of morning mist, and around her shoulder a canvas bag stitched with red and yellow flowers. She had not changed her shoes, as they appeared sturdy enough, but she'd brought for her mother a leather pair to trade for the fabric slippers Faith wore. As Lark put the shoes on her mother's feet, Faith did not seem to note all the blood on the slippers that were removed. Then Lark put the dark brown cloak around Faith's shoulders, fastened it at the throat, and they stood up.

'Where are we going?' Faith asked, as Lark took her hand.

'To Mrs. Janepenny's house,' was the response. 'I think I'd like to get that lace.'

'Isn't Daddy coming?'

'No. We'll meet Daddy later on.'

The answer seemed to make Faith happy. But as Matthew, Lark and Faith met Walker behind the house and began to make their way through the orchard toward the rocky hillside ahead, the woman abruptly stopped and looked back, and Matthew stopped also. Lark pulled at her mother's hand and said firmly, 'Come on, we have to keep going.'

'This isn't the way. To Mrs. Janepenny's. I don't know where ' Again, the voice was wavering between age and youth, anguish and innocence. 'I don't know where I am,' she said, and Matthew saw the bright tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

'You're with me, dear,' Lark answered. Matthew thought it took a brave soul to keep a steady voice, to betray not a quaver nor a tremble, for surely she knew that this was not the worst part; surely she knew that the worst would come when-if-her mother's mind fully awakened from this protective dream. 'You're with me. That's all that matters.'

'I am I am Faith Burgess,' the woman said, as if speaking to the house. 'Faith Burgess,' she repeated, and now lifted her chin as any child might, in defiance of some imagined horror that might lie beyond the walls.

'We're going to Mrs. Janepenny's by a different way,' Lark told her. 'Look at me.' The woman tore her gaze away from the house, the cords standing up in her neck, and obeyed. 'We're going up the hill and through the woods. I want you to be careful where you step. If you need help, ask me. But try to keep up, because we're in well, Mr. Shayne and his friend are in a hurry, and they've offered to take us with them. All right?'

'The hill?' Faith's manner of speech had fully become the child's again. 'What hill, Momma?'

'The one I'm going to help you climb,' said Lark.

Faith nodded, but her eyes were blank. 'Yes'm.'

Matthew saw that Walker had gone ahead. He was waiting on one knee at the base of the hill about forty yards away. The hill was stubbled with large boulders and spindly pines, and at the top the woods boiled up in a thick chaos of green, yellow, purple and red. As Walker had said, many places to set a trap.

Faith turned her back to the house. She began walking, her hand held firm in Lark's, and together they left the dead behind.

Twenty-Two

Something of formidable size crashed away through the thicket as the travelers came upon a swiftly-moving stream. Whatever it had been, Walker gave only an incurious glance in its direction, and Matthew knew it had not been Slaughter taking to his heels.

'Drink,' said Walker, as if they needed encouragement. The last two miles had been a rugged, hard go, through tangles of brush, hanging vines, and thorns; but Matthew was pleased to note, as Walker indicated all the broken vegetation and the bootmarks in the dirt and fallen leaves, that Slaughter had already blazed this trail.

Walker knelt down, cupped his hands for a drink, and left them to their own devices. Matthew stretched out, put his face in the cold water and drank directly from it; Lark took the waterflask from her bag, filled it, and let Faith ease her thirst before she drank. Matthew sat up, rubbed his mouth with his buckskin sleeve and watched as the Indian set foot in the stream, which was about a foot deep, and waded to the other side. The current swirled around Walker's legs. He examined the bank, bent down for a closer look, and then regarded the foliage ahead.

'Interesting,' Walker said. He stood up. 'It seems Slaughter doesn't trust you, Matthew. He didn't think you'd go home, after all.'

'What do you mean?'

'He didn't come out here. He followed the stream for a distance. That means he suspects you wouldn't give up-gold coins or not-and he's making an effort to elude us.'

'Momma,' Faith said quietly. 'My feet hurt.'

'Mine too,' Lark answered, and patted her mother's shoulder. 'We'll just have to bear it.'

Matthew got to his own feet, which were certainly no strangers to pain. 'You're not saying he's gotten away, have you?' he asked urgently.

'I'm saying he's making an effort. We'll have to follow him. In the water.'

'But which way?'

Walker pointed to the left, upstream. 'Humans and animals alike usually have a desire to reach higher ground. Unless Slaughter knows I'd think that, in which case ' He shrugged. 'I say we go upstream first. If I can't find where he came out-and it won't be beyond a hundred yards, most likely-we'll go downstream. Everyone ready?' He waited for Lark to nod assent, and then he turned and began wading against the current.

Lark and Faith followed, with Matthew at the rear. That had been the order of progression since they'd started off, nearly three hours ago. Matthew was in fact situated there by Walker's command, to make sure the girl and her mother did not falter and to lend a hand if one of them fell. So far, they were both doing an admirable job of coping with this torturous course, though Walker had been right about their being slowed to a crawl. But if the Indian was frustrated about their lack of speed, he didn't show it; he simply plodded on ahead, waited for them to catch up, and did the same over and over again.

They weren't in the stream a matter of minutes before Faith slipped. She went down on her knees, crying out with pain, and at once Matthew was at her side helping Lark stand her up. Walker stopped a distance ahead to mark their struggle, for the current was indeed strong, and then he continued forward, his eyes searching the right bank.

'I hurt my knee,' Faith said. 'Momma, I hurt my knee.' Her lower lip quivered, but she was a big girl and did not weep.

'You'll be all right. Can you lean on me?'

'Yes'm, thank you.'

Matthew saw Lark lower her head and quickly squeeze her eyes shut. He said, 'Faith, let me help you,' and took her weight against his shoulder so Lark could keep her own balance.

'Thank you, sir,' said the child, whose parents should be ever so proud of her manners. 'It just hurts a little bit now.' She gave him a sideways glance. 'Water's cold.'

'Yes, it is.'

'Mr. Shayne?'

Matthew replied, 'Yes?'

'How come you to visit us today? I thought you went to London.'

'Well, you thought correctly. But I'm here now.'

'Did you like London?'

'It's a very large city,' Matthew said.

'I'd like to go someday. Momma and Daddy say we will. Just yesterday. We were sitting at the table and-'

Matthew felt the shock go through her. Felt her seize up and tremble, as if her heart was about to burst. She stopped moving and stood very still, while the current pulled at her dress and decorated it with dead leaves. Matthew did not wish to look at her face; he was tensed and ready for the scream.

'Faith?' Lark's voice was miraculously steady and as calm as the underwater stones. 'Dear?' She put her