from the bakery.”
“Oh, you shouldn't have.” Karlee accepted the gift. “You are too good to us.”
“No, no child, you are a blessing to all of us. I have a job because of you, and both my older boys are working at a full man's wage thanks to you. And that hairy giant who comes here brings me more vegetables and meat than I can cook. He says he finds them, but I see him in the market. His heart is big, that one… as is yours.”
“I'm glad we could help.” Karlee was a little embarrassed at the praise. All her life she'd wanted to aid others but usually she had nothing to give.
“Mr. Wolf came by the bakery and told me a witch is living in your house.” The widow leaned closer. “You want me to get rid of her? My boys could bury her where not even the wind will find her.”
“No, Ida. She'll be gone in a few days. But the offer is tempting.” Karlee wasn't entirely sure the old German was teasing.
“Wolf said this lady is blessed with the knowledge of knowing everything of no importance and the curse of constantly telling others. He says she tries endlessly to give everyone this knowledge, but no one will listen.”
Karlee couldn't argue.
Ida raised one slightly bushy eyebrow. “They say the bone dust of such a woman will make a willow sapling grow into an oak.”
“You don't really believe that, do you, Ida?”
The old woman's rounded shoulders rolled. “I don't know. We had such a woman in our village once. Not long after she died I started noticing a great many more oaks in the woods.”
The twins ran into the kitchen, breaking the stillness that hung in the air like a ghost.
“Look, Karlee. Look what Aunt Gerry gave us. Dolls with china faces and lace and hands that look real.”
Ida waved good-bye and winked with both eyes, making her eyebrows seesaw. She was doing it again, Karlee thought, she was brightening the day in her odd little way. Ida had been a blessing since she moved into the barn.
Kneeling, Karlee gave her attention to the girls and the fine dolls they carried. “They're beautiful,” she said. “The most beautiful dolls I've ever seen.”
“They're from Paris,” Gerilyn announced from the doorway. “Now my nieces won't have to play with rag dolls. And, twin,” She pointed toward Starlett. “don't ever call me Aunt Gerry. If you can't say my name correctly, don't say it at all.”
“I'm Starlett,” the girl answered.
“Whatever.” Gerilyn occupied herself in checking to see how the ironing was coming along. “Just go play with your dolls somewhere other than under my feet. And Karlee, the lace won't droop if you put a towel in the sleeve when ironing.”
All evening Karlee ironed and cleaned while Gerilyn gave advice and complained. After dinner, Karlee was thankful Gerilyn hadn't offered to help put the girls to bed.
Karlee finally had time alone with her little charges. Cinnamon hugged her goodnight while Starlett asked how long the aunt planned to stay. The newness of having an aunt had worn off fast.
Karlee stayed in the twins' room as long as she dared hoping to avoid more lectures. When she finally tiptoed onto the landing, Gerilyn had already gone to her room. Karlee blew out all the candles and slid the hidden panel open in the foyer. By touch she began taking the weapons out one at a time and moving them to the kitchen table.
There, by moonlight, she wrapped each gun carefully and packed them away in the largest of Gerilyn's new trunks. Karlee had planned to use her own huge trunk, but it was now packed and in a corner of the girls' room. Gerilyn had insisted on removing all the empty luggage from the small bedroom so there would be walking room. Now, the shiny new trunk just seemed to be waiting for Karlee. With the Germans living in the barn, she could think of no where else to hide the guns.
When the last weapon was packed, Karlee scooted the load onto the porch and shoved it back in the corner. With a tablecloth as a cover, no one would even notice it was there.
Midnight had long passed when she crawled into Daniel's bed in the parlor and tried to sleep. She'd have to be careful in the house with Gerilyn here. The woman must think everything was normal. She should suspect nothing. But Karlee wasn't sure how long she'd believe Daniel was only visiting the stockade.
As Karlee fell asleep she whispered, “Daniel, I love you.”
A mile away, he thought he heard her words as he stood in the shadows with Sergeant Whiteley.
“We can't pretend Altus is dead.” Daniel's words were low, meant only for the Sergeant. “If Logan gets wind of it, he's likely to pump the body full of lead. We're not doing the man any favor by getting him killed the day before he's due to hang.”
“Well, I did some checking. Altus Blair ain't done nothing wrong in his life. He stayed here during the fighting, worked as best he could building houses even when he was sick and took care of his mother while his brother went to war. There isn't a person in this town who has a bad word to say about the man. They even say his best friend was that preacher who got killed just before you came.”
Daniel agreed. “I have to help him. Logan must be wrong in his charges. Altus doesn't sound like the kind of man who would hook up with Baker and raid.”
Whiteley shook his head. “Baker's men are mostly soldiers, trained to kill, not carpenters.” After a moment, he brightened. “I got some good news. I heard word an hour ago that you'll be released come dawn. Seems several of the men are on sick call. Logan was ordered to cut the number of prisoners and delay any hangings until we have the men. He can't come up with a reason to hold you so you'll be walking come daylight.”
“Thanks.” Daniel smiled. “I figured I'd have to break out. Maybe I can do Altus more good on the other side of this fence. I don't seem to be helping him much in here.”
“I'll keep an eye on him,” Whiteley promised. “Don't worry. I'll make my rounds and then be back tomorrow.”
Daniel nodded his good-bye and watched the stout little man head toward the gate. His shift was almost over. There was nothing left for Daniel to do but find a dark corner where he could try to get a few hours sleep. He'd talk to the sergeant again tomorrow, hopefully as a free man.
Just before dawn, the barrel of a rifle jabbed into Daniel's side. He was ordered in a harsh whisper to march to the gate. Several other prisoners waited with their few belongings tucked beneath their arms. One by one, they were checked through the guard station and told to be out of sight before the camp woke.
First light brushed the horizon when Daniel reached the check-out point. Just outside the entrance lay a line of stretchers holding those who left only after death claimed them. They now waited for someone from town to come for their bodies.
Daniel stepped through the gate and walked slowly past the bodies. No one had even bothered to close their eyes or cover them as they rested in eternal sleep.
Next to the last lay one small, withered man, his thick glasses still perched on his nose.
Daniel knelt. “Altus,” he whispered as he removed the glasses and closed the man's eyes.
He ignored the pain in his leg as he walked home. Blair's brother was dead. Daniel had done nothing to help a man who had taken no side in the war. Now, if Daniel was going to stop more bloodshed, he'd have to act fast.
TWENTY-THREE
DANIEL FORCED HIMSELF TO CLIMB THE STEPS TO his house. “My house.” He laughed. Without a church, this wouldn't be his much longer. Not that it ever had been. The preacher who built this place had been killed one night by what the sheriff claimed to be a stray bullet. The sheriff called in the Rangers to help with the crime and to insure the townsfolk would think he did all that could be done. After all, it didn't look good to have a preacher killed on the streets for no reason.
When Wolf investigated, he found the gun wall built into the preacher's new house. He suspected murder rather than bad luck. Wolf kept his find secret and wired for Daniel's help. They'd uncovered a great many problems in the
