For Love

Chapter 42

Warning for sensitive readers: animal death & violence.

JASON

Jason let Laurie sleep as long as she was able. True to her word, sometime in the night she had retreated to her own bedroom. He had visited her before leaving, and she breathed a little sigh at his tiny kiss on her cheek before rolling over. A pleasant memory, Jason decided. One for relishing when he wasn't beating the brush with the rest of the posse. Gratefully, not a single person mentioned Laurie in bed with him the night before, not even in jest.

Joshua and Richard had let him sleep later than usual, but he couldn't blame them. He was weary to his bones, but not so much that he couldn't do what needed to be done, and he had to take a few swigs of whiskey earlier in the day than usual for the pain in his shoulder. He glanced up at the sky. The late start meant they were still on an uphill climb in the late afternoon. Darker clouds were rolling in over the gloomy grey, and a drizzle in the air made the ride uncomfortable. Sticky. Soon the weather would change, and they would enjoy the brilliant fall colors that came with October's two weeks of sunny weather, but until then, the chances of a break in the weather were few. He climbed with Joshua, Kincaid, and Aaron single file, not allowing much small-talk while they searched.

That suited Jason fine at the moment. The posse had searched this area three times before, with no results. Somehow this time had to be different. He had to make it count. Richard had reported Deputy Nelson's death that morning. He had never regained consciousness and died while the deputy named Watson was on watch. After voicing concern to Jason that Watson might have silenced Nelson for good, Richard had insisted the deputy join him, along with Clancey, Corky, and Ben. His three friends had separated from Jason, taking Watson with them, to search east of the logging camp with the understanding they would meet at the fork between the old logging road and the one that took them toward Seattle. Assuming Jeremy and Swede along with the rest of the men were keeping an eye on the camp, Jason decided there wasn't much use checking for Sherman out there. He slowly scanned the thick brush that grew at the base of the trees.

"Something the matter, Jason?" Aaron asked, bringing his horse to a halt beside him.

"No, I was just thinking. If I were Campbell seeking revenge, would the perfect hiding place be up here where I could easily get away, or would it be—"

"Closer to home," Aaron finished for him. "I don't know. I've never seen someone able to hide for weeks like this. We even sent men up to the caves. The man's a chameleon."

Kincaid pulled his horse up beside them. "I reckon he wouldn't go any further than this. That's how they operated. They'd get close, figure out a connection to all that poetry, and then act it out."

Jason studied the man closely. Campbell had a sense of darkness he could never quite understand when he posed as John McAllister, but he hadn't felt that with Kincaid. Instead, there was something warm about the way he had shyly asked Jason for an introduction to Hannah. Something more respectful.

Deciding to trust him, Jason asked, "Well, you've dealt with his kind before, so I think it's safe to say you know him best. Where should we look?"

Kincaid looked at him with surprise. He lifted his weathered, wide-brimmed brown hat to scratch his head for a moment. "The Marshal thinks he's got folks working with him," Kincaid drawled. "Personally, after Floyd Nelson, I'd say just about anyone would be a suspect. Even me."

"Are you?" Joshua asked. "Laurie's brother told us all of you lost someone to the, the..."

"The Shakespearean Brotherhood," Kincaid supplied. "A bunch of self-pitying, cowardly, sick, spoiled thumb-suckers with a thirst for violence and thinking they're some sort of actors in the world. Something that one of them poems says."