Gabe

It was a complex operation-- damn near theatrical, with all the secrecy and moving pieces.

In the dark, silent hours of the morning, just after the brothel closed for the night, a patterned knock sounded at Gabe's door. He opened it to reveal Melissa Tucker, dressed in her usual plain, practical dark garb. At her back, Paul Haversham, the foreman of the Tucker family ranch. Gabe knew Josh trusted Paul with his life, and had been warned of the man's involvement in the plan. Even so, the sight of the relative stranger raised his hackles.

There was no time for pleasantries. Katherine and Isobel were already prepared for travel-- both dressed in borrowed clothing the Tuckers had brought the day before. Only the day before... Gabe had known they would be leaving, but he hadn't imagined it would be so soon. He wasn't ready, but Katherine clearly was, and Melissa had declared her fit to travel. So here they were.

He wanted to scoop Katherine into his arms and carry her to the waiting wagon, but she insisted she could walk and it was Melissa whose arm she leaned on. In the end, it was Isobel he carried. She asked him to, reaching up with wide eyes and a quiet, "mister?" and what kind of monster could refuse her? He hefted the little girl into his arms and she wrapped her own around his neck, and he was a rat bastard for the selfish hope that flooded his chest at the gesture. For whatever reason, Isobel liked him, and if Isobel liked him maybe she would ask her mother if he could visit. Maybe this wouldn't be the last he'd see of them.

In the darkness of the stables, Isobel and her mother were stowed amongst the crates and burlap sacks in the back of the Tuckers' wagon. Isobel wasn't afraid. He and Katherine had made up a grand story about the adventure they were going on. Her excitement was palpable, a strange clash with Katherine's stifled fear.

Miles away, another one of Josh's trusted employees was huddled in the woods by the church. Reverend Jacob Peters had turned down his lanter and gone to bed hours before. If he hadn't, Paul and Melissa never would have come. If the spy had detected movement of any kind on the still church grounds, he would rush to warn them.

But no runner had yet appeared, and Paul and Melissa had arrived on the dot. Everything was proceeding as planned.

Katherine and Isobel were leaving.

While Melissa helped settle her patient, Gabe saddled Reaper. With a nod to Paul, he rode out into the darkness to play his part in the puzzle-- riding ahead to scout for other travelers. It wouldn't be the first time he'd ridden out in the dead of night, and if he encountered some other rider nobody would question him. The Devil's Spawn was a frightening enigma no one ever dared attempt to solve. It was his God-given right to ride a pale horse in the night time, just as it was their God-given right to form small, impromptu mobs and attack him in the streets.

It was a cloudy night-- no moon, no stars to show the way. The road was a pale ribbon stretching out before him, the trees a looming darkness all around. He felt no fear, but for the nagging discomfort of Katherine and Isobel's distant presence, somewhere on the road behind him. The knowledge of their vulnerability was a troublesome weakness in his own fortification. He felt as if he'd ridden out without his shoes-- wrong and exposed.

The wagon, he knew, would have a lantern to light the way. Katherine and Isobel, he knew, would be resting on folded blankets to protect against the rough ride over bumps and rivets. They would be covered with a quilt to ward off the early morning chill, and a tarp to shield them from prying eyes.

Gabe was not scouting to ward off fellow travelers. It would be suspicious, after all, if he wheeled around upon the encounter and galloped off in the opposite direction. Should he pass someone, he would wait until they disappeared into the inky darkness and then follow them. If they greeted Paul and Melissa he would lurk in the shadows and listen.

"Returning home from visiting a patient," they would say if they were questioned.

"Mr. and Mrs. Lauren," they would say, if they were pressed. The Laurens were friends of the Tuckers. Enemies of the reverend. They had already been brought into the fold. Too many loose ends, in Gabe's opinion, but he had no choice but to trust.

"Payment," Melissa would laugh if they eyed the lumpy contents of the wagon. "The Laurens had a batch of potatoes and they gave me a few sacks for fixing her belly ache."

And if the traveler wanted to see, if they questioned the story, Gabe would leave Reaper in the woods off the road and he would play his true role. Nobody would endanger the operation. Contrary to popular opinion, he wasn't really bloodthirsty. He enjoyed the rush of a brawl, but he didn't seek it out. He didn't revel in the slick of blood on his hands.

For Katherine and Isobel, though, he wouldn't hesitate.

Riding through the coal-black stillness, he kept his ears peeled for the distant clatter of the wagon wheels behind him and struggled to keep his mind on the present. The past called to him-- a hodgepodge of joy and despair. The future mocked him-- an emptiness as vast as the darkness stretching before him. Neither was savory, and dwelling on either would distract him from performing his piece of the operation.

It was a slow ride. He'd visited the Tucker ranch often enough. When he gave Reaper his head, the ride was less than an hour. At an easy walk, it was nearly two. That night, with the slow-moving wagon and the crippling darkness, it took nearly three. Misty gray dawn was drifting over the hills when they finally reached the little homestead where Josh and Amelia had first made their home.

Gabe had been there only once-- back when his friend still lived there, before the fire had claimed the main house and finally driven Owen Tucker from the reverend's hold. Then, it had been a modest little dwelling with a barn and a garden. He remembered there had been laundry fluttering on the line-- tiny dresses and stark white bed sheets.

The building that emerged from the mists bore little resemblance to the dwelling he had visited. It was larger, now, the porch extended to wrap around the north side of the building. Two additional rooms, their newness apparent by the shade of the wood, protruded like growths from the back and the south walls. The vegetable garden was now a flower garden, the bright colors startling against the dull gray fog of the morning. A little paddock by the barn held a small herd of goats. Josh had warned him about that. "They're noisy as hell," he had said. "But pa loves them for some reason. They're his retirement project, he says."

Josh and Owen were waiting on the porch when he arrived, and he nodded in silent greeting as he swung down from the saddle and hitched Reaper to the rail by the porch. Owen rose from his seat in a creaking wooden rocking chair, and Josh pushed off from where he had hitched a shoulder against a support beam.

"Gabriel," Owen said, extending a hand. Years had passed since the man's defection from Peters's flock, but Gabe still had trouble accepting the gesture. It was only out of gratitude for the assistance that he closed his grip around the older man's and gave it a firm shake.

"No trouble?" Josh asked, and Gabe shook his head, turning to watch the wagon clatter up the worn path.

"No trouble," he echoed. Relief was a living creature inside him, but so was dread. The end had come so quickly...

Isobel ran for him as soon as she was placed on the ground. His heart thundered as she ran, reckless and careless toward him, and he bent on instinct and caught her up and lifted her before she could get too close to Reaper's deadly hooves.

"I fell asleep!" she declared, her bottom lip protruding in a dramatic pout. "Ma made me go to sleep. I told her it was an adventure and I had to stay awake, but then I was bored and she said she couldn't tell me a story and I had to go to sleep and dream my own story!"

He thought of the terrified, silent child who had clung to his back the night Katherine had escaped. What had happened to her? What twist of fate had turned her from that wraith of a child into this miniature replica of the wild girl who had once been his best friend?

Then her gaze turned to the other men and the frightened little girl returned. She turned her face into his neck, and he barely heard her whisper. "Who are they?"

Gabe met Josh's amused smirk and Owen's grandfatherly smile. "They're friends," he said awkwardly, one eye on the wagon, where Amelia and Melissa were helping Katherine to her feet. His hands curled into fists, breath coming faster as he watched. They weren't taking enough of her weight, dammit. She was still so weak, she needed more help than that. But he knew if he went to assist, her muscles would lock and her jaw would clench. His touch did more harm than her injuries, lately. The last few days, since she'd emerged from the fever, she'd grown more and more wary of him. Her walls, shattered by her injuries and illness, had shot back up and it was painfully clear that was not welcome within them.

How could he blame her?

"Your friend Rebecca is here," he said, patting Isobel's back. "Josh, here, is her pa. Owen is her grandpa."

He realized his mistakes before the words were out, before he felt the girl's body grow stiff in his arms. Her little hands clenched in his shirt and he felt the warmth of a single tear against his neck.

"Her pa?" A terrified squeak.

"Yeah." He flattened his palm against her back, responding to an absurd urge to protect her from a threat that didn't exist outside her head. "He's real nice, though. Not like..." Not like your bastard of a father. "He's real nice, I promise you. Do you want to ask Rebecca?"

She shook her head against his neck, and he brushed by Josh and Owen, following the women inside. Anguish rolled off the other men as he passed them, but he had no time to stop and speak to them. His focus was on the girl in his arms as he strode through the open door into the cool interior of the house. The floorboards strained beneath his feet-- a familiar, homey sound-- and the air smelled of fresh bread and fresh laundry.

While Amelia and Melissa got Katherine settled, Gabe meandered around the living room and kitchen, Isobel still clinging to his neck. Josh and Owen had made themselves scarce, and through great effort he finally managed to pry Isobel from hiding. Together, they investigated the portraits on the mantle and the books on the shelves beside the fireplace. In the kitchen, he found a bottle of milk and poured her a cup, and she released him long enough to drink it, provided he didn't put her down. His arms were beginning to ache with her weight when Melissa finally reappeared.

"Your mama is all settled now," she told Katherine with a bright smile. "And I bet you're tired too, aren't you? Do you want to come lie down, honey?"

Isobel shook her head warily. "I slept in the wagon. Where's ma?"

The entryway narrowed into a hall lined with doors. Gabe followed Melissa down the passageway but hesitated as they drew closer to the open doorway. Katherine was safe, now, and his presence caused her discomfort. He was probably the last thing she wanted to see.

"You alright?" Melissa asked, turning to face him when he stopped walking.

"I think it's best if I don't go in," he said, and she frowned.

"Don't be silly, Gabe. She'll want to say goodbye."

He shook his head. Katherine hated goodbyes, even when they weren't forever. And he had a feeling this one was.

"It's better if she rests. You can tell her for me. Tell her..." he hesitated. "Tell her I'll come see her when she's ready."

Melissa frowned and opened her mouth to argue, but her words were knocked aside by Isobel's. "Are you leaving?" the girl asked, frowning up at him. Her troubled expression made him want to clasp her against his chest and run away with her.

"Yeah, kid," he said. "I gotta go home."

"You should stay here. There's room," she said, looking to Melissa for confirmation. The other woman only smiled sadly, offering him no assistance.

"Yeah, but it's not my home," he said.

"We'll come with you," she said stubbornly, a deep frown wrinkling her brow. "I want to."

"No you don't, Iz," he said, tapping her nose with a finger before she could wrinkle up her face to cry. "My home is boring. You don't even have toys there, don't you remember telling me? Here you have toys, and you can play outside. You can probably pet the goats if you ask nice."

Her eyes went wide. "There's goats?"

"You didn't see 'em outside?"

She shook her head, looking at Melissa. "There's goats?"

"Lots of goats," Melissa said with a grin. "They'll eat right out of your hand."

Isobel gaped, but if he'd learned anything from the days she'd lived with him, she was not so easily distracted.

"You should stay here," she said. "This home is better than your home."

He snorted out a laugh, in spite of the heavy ache in his chest. "No argument here," he said. "But I still gotta go. And you need to stay here with your mama. You go with Melissa now, okay?"

He pried her arms from around his neck and pressed her into Melissa's hold before he could answer the call to turn tail and run with her. What the hell was wrong with him? He hated kids.

Isobel's chin began to tremble, and his heart squeezed so tight he felt dizzy. "Are the other men going to stay here?" she asked him and he glanced at Melissa. The shake of her head was minute but unmistakable. "No, kid," he said. "Just you and Melissa, here, and your mama. Amelia and Reb will come visit. Sound okay?"

"Will you come visit?"

He hesitated. For some reason, it seemed sacrilegious to lie to her, although he had no doubt she wouldn't know that he had. Within a week she'd have forgotten his existence. She'd never even note that he hadn't followed through. Nonetheless, it felt wrong to look her in the eye and speak dishonestly. Then again, it felt just as wrong to look her in the eye and make her cry.

"Maybe in a while," he said. "Once your mama is feeling better."

There. That would buy him enough time to fade from her memory. And damned if that didn't feel like a fist to the gut.

"Okay," she said, her voice tiny. "Bye, mister Gabe."

"Bye, Izzy."

His stomach churning as if he was going to be sick, he turned on his heel and fled the house.

* * *

He was sick, on the ride home. Twice, he had to haul Reaper to a halt and stumble off the road to vomit in the woods. His punishment, he assumed, for not eating the day before. He just hadn't been able to force anything down. His stomach had been a heavy weight inside him once he'd realized they were leaving.

Stupid.

In spite of his churning gut, he let Reaper set the pace, and they were home while the heavy mists still hung in wisps over the grass. The heady gallop, which usually cleared his head, only made him feel more sick.

Dizzy and weak, his stomach and chest both aching, he made quick work of brushing the horse down and returning him to his stall. Then he stumbled around the side of the slatted wood building and into his room with every intention of falling face down on the bed and sleeping until old age claimed him.

He barely made it beyond the threshold before his feet drew to a halt without his say-so.

They were still here. Not literally, of course, but he could still feel them. The pillow still held a dent from Katherine's head, and Isobel's "cake" was a cracked and slodgy mess in his only bread pan, still sitting on the stone hearth. The stack of "portraits" the girl had drawn still sat on the top of his dresser, and the shirt Katherine had worn was folded neatly at the foot of the bed.

His stomach no longer hurt, but his chest throbbed with each beat of his heart. With numb fingers, he grabbed the shirt and tossed it carelessly toward the hamper by his dresser. Then he gathered up the sheets into a bundle and tossed them in as well. He had no more clean sheets, so he draped a comforter over the mattress and wrapped the pillow in a clean shirt. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed, toed off his boots, and dropped back onto the mattress.

It was only then, staring at the ceiling and listening to the echoing silence around him, that he realized why his chest hurt so much.

Gabe Townsend was no fool. He'd always known that they would leave. From the moment he found them, he had known he was a temporary stop. A safe but unsavory halfway station where they could hide while they searched for something better. He had known that, dammit.

He just hadn't believed it.

*** 

And that's the end of part 1! 

Just a heads up-- I will be taking a very brief hiatus, due to work taking me away from technology for a little while. I'm leaving within the next few days and will be returning on/around the 19th. 

Fortunately, part 2 is already in progress, and the next chapter is forthcoming just as soon as I get back.  

As always, thank you so much for reading! I'm so sorry for the delay, but I hope you will wait it out and stick with me until I get back. 

Love! 

Liz 

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