But Laramie decided against it. It wouldn't be safe. Besides, a girl like Ariana shouldn't have to be exposed to such horrors. The men in the camp were used to seeing men diea"it would be a totally new thing for the young girl. One that could fill her sleep with nightmaresa"like those kinds of events had done for Laramie when he was a kid.

He made James as comfortable as he could and hoped that the man would make it to see another morning. Then Laramie thought of his mother's Bible. Carefully he took it from its hiding place and thumbed through the pages. He found a spot heavily marked in his mother's handwriting and began to read, his voice low but clear.

The pa.s.sage had nothing to do with death or dyinga"or of preparing oneself for the possibility. It was the story of Jesus calling the fishermen away from their nets. "Follow me," He had said, and his mother had, sometime in the past, written carefully beside the pa.s.sage, "I have decided to follow Him, too. It has brought such peace and joy to my being."

After Laramie finished the story he read on, page after page. He didn't know if the man lying on his bed could hear the words, but he himself needed them, even if James did not.

This life, this way of living made no sense. No sense at all. He had always had questions about it. Now he was more sure than ever. He would have wanted out even if the girl hadn't come into the camp. He had always wanted out. He realized that now. He had never really fit. There was something that had always held him back.

A sudden idea occurred to him, making his spine tingle with the thought. Could it possibly be that this mothera"this unknown person in his backgrounda"had somehow influenced his life? But how? Was this unseen, unknown G.o.d of hers holding him in check? He did not know. He wished he knew. He wished he knew more about this G.o.d. He was sure that Ariana had some of the answers, but he dared not go to her. He was sure to be watched. Everyone would be watched. The whole camp was like a powder kega"about to explode. Given time they would all destroy one anothera"and the girl too.

Laramie turned back to the Book in his hand. It was the only thing that seemed to make any sense.

Along about midnight he heard footsteps on the path. He recognized Sam's step; then there was a b.u.mp at the door and Sam pushed his way in. Laramie was glad to see him. He welcomed the man's company.

"How's he doin'?" Sam asked simply.

Laramie nodded toward the man, whose breathing was becoming more shallow. He made no comment. Sam could see for himself.

Sam pulled up a stool and sat down.

Laramie let his gaze settle back on the man occupying his bed. "Was James his first namea"or his last?" he asked quietly.

Sam shrugged. "I dunno," he replieda"then gave a little snort. "Most likely weren't neither," he said. "Coulda took it jest 'cause he liked it. Maybe borrowed it offa Jesse. Mighta made him feel big."

Laramie looked back at the man. They really knew very little about hima"except that he wasn't fast enough with a gun.

Silence.

"Ya been to see the girl?" asked Sam.

Laramie looked up in surprise and shook his head.

"Figure she might be scared blue," went on Sam. "Bound to have heard the shots."

"She'll be sleepin' now," remarked Laramie.

"Iffen she is, she's in better shape then the rest of us," replied Sam, reaching for his wad of chewing tobacco.

"Would ya mind lookin' in on her?" asked Laramie.

"Why don't you go?"

Laramie was silent for a number of minutes.

"Don't want to drag her in on this," he said finally. "Skidder's been lookin' fer a chance to draw on me fer months."

Sam chewed and spit.

"Yer faster," he said at last, avoiding Laramie's gaze.

His eyes narrowed. Was that the way Sam reasoned too? That a man, even a man like Skidder, had no value? That a snuffed-out life was nothing more than another grave to dig?

The thought troubled Laramie. He got up from his place by the bed and began to restlessly pace the cabin.

At last he wheeled to face the man he had known since he was old enough to recall anything at all.

"Is thet what this is all about?" he asked frankly. "Was thet girl brought in here to force a showdown 'tween Skidder an' me?"

Sam said nothing.

"Was it, Sam?" Laramie demanded. "Tell me. Was it?"

"Yer pa was jest anxious fer ya toato act a man," replied Sam, and he spit into the corner.

Laramie's face blanched white. Then a red stain of anger began to flush his cheeks.

"Thet's 'bout the lowest thing I ever heard," he muttered angrily. "The lowest. To bring a girla"why didn't he jest call me out hisself?"

"Now, Kida"yer pa jest wanted ya to use yer gun 'cause he didn't want some low-liver shootin' ya in the back."

"Why? Why? Am I any better thana"than Rawleya"or James? Is my life worth more thana"?"

"Don't go gittin' all in a knot. No harma""

"No harm? What do you think this little scheme has done to her? Holed up all these months in the camp ofa"of no-good desperadoes? What do yaa"?"

"Ya could have shortened it some," said Sam with no apologies.

Laramie just stood and stared.

"By killin' a man?" he demanded, his voice like steel. "I could have freed her up iffen I'd jesta"pulled my Colt and killed a man? And what would thet have accomplished. Kill onea"then there'd be anothera"an' another."

He lifted a hand and pushed his Stetson back in agitation.

Sam shrugged. "It gits easier," he said casually. "Jest the first one thet bothers a man much."

Laramie stared, anger making his eyes glitter.

"Yer pa was jest thinkin' of you. Didn't want ya leavin' a string of one-arm gunslingers to track ya downa""

"So I shoot 'em all?"

The words were spoken in vehemence. Sam did not respond. The silence hung heavy in the log cabin.

"I don't think so, Sam," Laramie finally went on evenly, his control back again. "I don't think so. IaI'm at the place whereaI'd be willin' to die fer her, but IaI haven't come to the place where I'd be willin' to kill in cold blood fer her. An' the more I read in thet Bible, the more sure I am of thet fact."

Sam's eyes widened. It was clear to Laramie that the words surprised and shocked him. "Thet girl been fillin' ya with Bible talk?" he asked, and Laramie could tell he was upset.

"Not a'tall," he drawled. "Been readin' it fer myselfa"an' fer James here."

"Where'd you git a Bible?"

"You gave it to me."

Sam looked about to explode. "I never did no sech thing an' you knowa""

"Sure you did," replied Laramie. "In thet trunka"of my ma's."

"Yer ma's Bible?"

Laramie only nodded.

Sam chewed on his mustache, then spit in the corner.

"So what can you tell me about her, Sam?" Laramie asked quietly.

Sam's head jerked up. "Oh no," he said with a wave of his hand. "I got nothin' to say. Nothin'. Ain't no business of mine. It's yer pa's place toa"" He stopped, looked at Laramie, then spit again.

There was further silence as Sam continued working on his chaw of tobacco. At length he looked up. "So yer holdin' yer position?" he asked frankly.

Laramie nodded again, his eyes thoughtful, his jaw set.

"Well, Kid," Sam said as he slowly lifted himself from the chunk of log. "I wouldn't give her much chance of gittin' back to life as she knew it, then. Yer pa's 'bout got his mind made upa"an' it's 'bout like a rusty steel trap. Once shuta"never git it open."

A slight moan from the corner cot caught their attention. Even as Laramie moved toward the bed he saw that the wounded man had taken his last breath.

Laramie stood over him, feeling helpless and sick at his stomach. He never had been able to accept the sight of a man who'd died because of a bullet in his stomach.

He turned away from the bed, one hand raised to slowly tip back the brim of his Stetson. His knees felt weak, his thoughts were jumbled in anger and confusion. It was so senseless. So brutal.

He heard the sound of sc.r.a.ping as Sam pushed himself up from his block seat and onto his feet. Laramie wondered if the sight of the wasted man was making Sam feel sick inside also.

When he turned to look at the older man, Sam was already moving slowly toward the door. Just before he exited the cabin he turned and spit into the corner. "Guess I'd better tell Skidder to git his shovel out agin," he said. He left the room without further comment.

Laramie longed to go to Ariana. Was she awake? Had she indeed heard the shouting and the shots? Surely she was frightened and filled with questions.

And he was the reason. He was the cause of her being dragged off from home and family to this terrible bandit outpost. He, unknowingly, had brought about this awful deed.

He buried his head in his hands and tried to address a G.o.d whom he did not know.

And then a new thought brought some peace to his heart. Ariana knew this G.o.d. He had seen the quiet confidence in her eyes as she spread the Book out before her. Even in the midst of her fear, she had shown unbelievable courage. It wasn't her own doing, he was sure of that now. It was because she had faith in the unseen G.o.d she trusted.

Chapter Thirteen.

Escape Laramie brought the wood earlier than usual the next morning. Ariana had washed herself in the basin and dressed in her own garments. She was spending time in early morning prayer. The events of the night before had upset her, so she had not been able to sleep. She had heard the angry shouts, the gunshots, and then the sc.r.a.ping of the shovel against the frozen ground and rocky soil. Something terrible had happened. She was sure of it. It brought her added terror. She had spent most of the night in prayer.

She had hoped that Laramie or Sam would come to her cabin and a.s.sure her that everything was all righta"but at the same time she knew better. Never had she clung so tenaciously to the promises of G.o.d as she had through those long night hours.

When the little rap came on her door, she recognized it as Laramie's signal. Without understanding her intense relief that he hadn't been the one who was buried, she crossed to the door and quickly lifted the st.u.r.dy hook. As the door swung open she looked from his armload of wood to the stack against the wall. She was not in need of more firewood.

"Close the door," he whispered, and Ariana hastened to obey. Instinctively she knew something had changeda"and not for the better. Her face paled. Her hands knotted against her calico front.

Laramie walked directly to the stack of wood and dropped his pile of logs. As he did so a package tumbled out and fell to the floor. Ariana stared.

"Come here," whispered Laramie, and Ariana woodenly obeyed.

"I haven't time to talk," said the man as he began to stack the firewood, making an unusual amount of noise as he did so.

"I'm gittin' you outta here. Sh-h. We might be spied on. I can't stay long enough to give ya all the details. But I've some things fer you to do."

He glanced around the room again and proceeded to lift stacked logs and bang them against one another as he restacked them by the wall.

"Firsta"make a big batch of biscuitsa"all ya cana"an' wrap 'em upa"in two different bundlesa"maybe in those towels. Don't worry none about crushin'. Thet won't hurt 'em.

"Then, after suppera"pack the things ya want to takea"in as tight a bundle as ya can. I'll pick 'em up. Put on the clothes from this bundle and wait. Light yer lampa"as usual. Keep the big towel over the winda. I'll knock three little rapsa"then agin threea"on yer winda, not yer door. You be ready." More logs crashed against the wall.

"I'll take ya to a friend of mine. He's p.a.w.nee. He'll take ya where ya'll be safe. Trust 'im."

He stood and moved to the fire.

"Ya need more water?" he asked in a normal voice.

Ariana stood mute, staring at him. It was too much to take in all at once. She blinked. Her mouth opened but no words came. His hand gave her a little signal, and she swallowed hard and found her voice.

"Yes," she answered in as even a voice as she could manage. "YesaI'd like some extraaif you have time. It'sait's the day for my bath."

He smiled softly and nodded his head as though to compliment her on her control. Then he went to fill the kettle and the basin from the pail and left the cabin with the empty bucket in his hand. Ariana put the hook firmly in place. Her hand was trembling so uncontrollably she could hardly manage the small task.

Ariana finally had a day that demanded action. Over and over in her mind she sorted through those things she was to do. She really did take a bath, thinking that it might well be her last one for some time to come. Then she got out her food supplies and baked biscuits as she had been ordered, until she had a large stack of them on her wooden table.

By the time she had finished her baking the sun was moving lower in the sky.

Ariana began to gather the things she planned to take with her. She was glad she had dressed in her own garments that morning so the things that had belonged to Laramie's mother could be freshly washed. They now hung on the hook on the wall. She crossed the small room, lifted down each item, and folded it carefully. It was the first time she had opened the lid of the trunk since Laramie himself had removed the small chest and worn Bible.

"I wonder if he ever reads?" she mused as she placed the items of clothing back on the top of the pile.

" *Laramie's Mama,' " she whispered to the unknown woman, "I don't know anything about youawhether you are aliveaor deadabut I do thank youawhoever you are, for the use of your things. I have tried toato return them to you in the same conditiona."

Ariana let the words trail off. It did seem awfully silly to be talking to someone who was not there.