Legends of Havenwood Falls Volume One Page 14

  “I think we all echo that sentiment. Sounds like it’s time to pack up,” Hank said with a discouraged tone that caused them all to glance his way. He nodded decidedly despite his tone, but added a small smile. Marie knew anytime Dante was brought up, her father felt like he had failed somehow. She went over and leaned against her father’s healed shoulder and allowed him to wrap his arm around her own.

  “He made his choices, Father.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t make it any easier for a parent,” he said softly.

  “Then it’s settled,” said Butch, one of the drivers of the lead wagon, to all present. He was a no-nonsense man in his late sixties with skin leathered by time and the great outdoors. Butch had traveled with the wagons on several different occasions and knew the route better than anyone with them, so he called the shots when it came to traveling. His plan was to get them west to their destination, then head back east to start another wagon train all over again. His life was the trails. Butch wasn’t bothered by the witches and other supernaturals who traveled with them. He himself was a bit of a mystery, but was indeed not wholly human. Then, in a much louder voice perfect for herding cattle, he yelled, “Round ’em up! We leave at daybreak!”

  Rolling hills of green dotted with hints of gold, separated by rivers and lakes, was a landscape worthy of traveling through. After being on the trail for a couple days with only brief stops, trying to gain as much ground as the caravan could, they had reached the Ozark Mountains, where they needed to turn north to reach Independence, Missouri.

  “Judson, how far out are we from Independence?” Marie asked as their wagon bumped along a rugged section of the trail. She and Judson had opted to drive one of the wagons for the day, which allowed them some time to themselves, at least until someone came up and joined them from the back.

  “A couple days still, I believe. My navigation skills with the landmarks and stars is not near what Butch’s ability is. I think he has some kind of magic for it, if you ask me.”

  “How long will we stay in Independence?”

  “It will depend on whether the others from the coven are there or we have to wait on them. It was their plan to reach that far. It will also depend on our route and where we want to spend the winter. It could be quite dangerous to travel near the Rocky Mountains during the peak of winter. Plus, there are supplies in Independence, so we will take some time and make sure we have enough gunpowder, food, and supplies, and most likely trade some of the mules and horses in for oxen.”

  Marie’s forehead scrunched as she thought through his words. “Why would we want oxen instead of horses? Aren’t they slower?”

  “Yes, but there have been rumors of the Comanches and Apaches attacking those traveling through parts of those areas. The trail has been protected by the government, but we don’t want to risk it either. I don’t know if the addition of our Ahusaka brothers would be an asset or an obstacle if we came across any intent on attacking us.”

  “But why the oxen?”

  “Oh, right.” Judson trailed off as he adjusted the reins in his hand, steering the horses back to the center of the trail. “It’s said they are attacking for the horses and mules. And those with oxen seem to get left alone.” He shrugged, uncertain of the truth of it.

  Marie scooted closer to him and placed her hand on his thigh, laying her head on his shoulder. She sighed contently just to be with her man on such an epic adventure. Judson turned his head and placed a simple but tender kiss on the top of her head. Marie bumped and jostled with every rock they hit and every hole they rolled into. She giggled, unable to keep her head still, so she lifted it.

  “I hope when we arrive wherever it is we’re going, we can build a home where we can grow old together and raise a family in the safety and peace of our new life together,” Marie said dreamily, gazing up at the beautiful blue sky that was so vast, it reached from one side of the horizon to the other, not a cloud to be seen.

  “Mmm, as do I. It is what keeps me going day to day out here in the wild lands—well, that and seeing you and touching you every day, not having to hide my love for you any longer.” They sat in companionable silence for a while after that, simply enjoying the time together and seeing parts of their country they had never dreamed of seeing before.

  “Oh no! Look! What is that?” Marie leaned forward, pointing off in the distance. Smoke rose into the sky, too far off to see where it came from and too much smoke to have come from a simple fire.

  “That’s a large fire. I didn’t think there were any towns on this route for a day or two yet. I’d better alert the others.” Judson let out a high-pitched whistle between his thumb and finger. Then he flicked the reins and shouted a command to order the horse to pick up speed. He directed the horses out of the line of the other wagons to pass along the outside, and made his way to the lead wagon driven by Butch and a younger boy named Dillon, whom they had picked up at one of their stops.

  “Butch! See that fire yonder? Think we should check it out?” Judson called from his wagon.

  Butch and Dillon both peered over at the pillar of smoke growing steadily larger as they drew closer.

  “What was there is probably gone now,” Butch said. “But let’s make sure no one needs our help.”

  Judson pulled the reins, slowing the horses down so they could move back into the caravan line where the trail was smoother. As they approached, they could see more of what burned.

  “Oh, Judson, it’s another traveling caravan like ours,” Marie said sadly, looking at the wreckage of what was once probably fifteen or so wagons in a circle with tents scattered around inside it. Marie sucked in a gasp as she gripped her forearms. “Witches, Judson. There were witches here . . . bad ones, if my stomach is any indication.”

  Marie held her arms across her stomach at the dull residue of whatever black magic had been practiced there. Judson frowned, and his eyes went on sudden alert.

  “Do you feel anyone else about?” he asked, his voice low for just her ears.

  Marie knew he was referring to Dante and the other witch hunters.

  “Do you think this is the camp that man was from?” she whispered to herself, not expecting an answer. But then her question was answered. A tingling erupted behind her neck at the base of her skull, the recognition of another of her kind.

  “There’s a hunter here,” she whispered to Judson. “Turn around. Get the wagons to turn around, now!” she almost shouted, but it was too late.

  They were almost upon the still burning circle. Smells of gunpowder, burning flesh, and fear permeated the air enough to make even one with the strongest constitution revolt. Marie kicked herself that she didn’t notice the signs sooner. She could have prevented them from being seen. It was possible another hunter could be in the area, but somehow she just knew it was Dante and his group. But why did they wait around?

  Judson had given the secret warning signal by way of whistle, and the wagons all took off, away from the campsite and back on their trail, moving faster than advisable, but it was worth the risk to get away fast. Marie’s foot bounced nervously, and her hands gripped the edges of the bench seat she shared with Judson until her knuckles turned white. She kept looking back, ensuring herself no one was following them. Marie hadn’t seen anyone, but she felt them watching. She knew they were there, but why did they hide? Were they simply sending a message—an abhorrent and heinous message—or were they in the wrong place at the wrong time? Knowing her brother, she was sure it was a message sent directly to her.

  Right as Marie was spiraling into guilt that she hadn’t stopped Dante already, Alo peeked his head through the wagon tarps separating their seats from the back. “Darkness is in this place. A trap was set to follow you. We must be on alert. Cetan flies above.”

  Then he slipped back into the back without another word.

  “Well, that was ominous,” Judson said with a slight nervous chuckle.

  Cetanwakuwa would serve as their eyes behind them as they traveled, a
t least until he needed to come down for a break.

  “He’s right. I can feel it. This is my fault,” Marie said as tears now streamed down her face.

  “No, this is Dante’s fault. He chose. He could have chosen to live differently just as you did, but he didn’t. This is his fault alone, Marie Marcella Blackstone,” Judson said with such passion, Marie couldn’t help but feel the love in her heart for him swell. She reached for his neck and tugged him to her lips, kissing him with such intimacy, she would have blushed if the others could see her brazenness in public. But right then, she didn’t care.

  When she pulled away, his eyes were filled with a starry gaze, but he quickly recovered, regaining his focus on driving the wagon. He checked his surroundings and the leads on the horses. He chuckled, then looked over at his wife. “I am proud to be your husband and proud to take on your name, Marie. Don’t ever forget it.”

  She leaned over and pecked his cheek, then allowed him to continue steering.

  A hawk circled above and cried out with an eerie call. Cetan. Marie felt a cold chill sweep down her spine and turned one last time to look at the smoke, now lessening the farther they got away. She could still see the outlines of the wagons—or what remained. It was a scene that would forever be etched upon her memory. But the sight of her brothers Dante and Isaiah, stepping out from behind one of the wagons and staring directly at her with hatred, was something else entirely; the sight was something of a nightmare. She gasped and held her heart. The thumping staccato beats were out of control. Fear gripped her as she watched Dante, not for herself but for all those she had grown to love who traveled with her. The promise in Dante’s eyes told her this was just the beginning. Not only was he following them, but he was now hunting them.

  Chapter 11

  Missouri ~ Autumn 1851

  Arriving at Independence, Missouri, without further incident was a huge relief for Marie. Though she often felt eyes on her, she never saw or felt anyone from Dante’s group. Coming into a town after traveling the open trails for so long was refreshing. Marie soaked up seeing people milling about or on their way with purpose. Women strolled by in proper dresses, some with bustles and some with high collars buttoned up to their chins—a far cry from the traveling clothes she had become accustomed to seeing. The men wore top hats and suit jackets covering clean shirts with suspenders attached to proper trousers. Their group had been traveling for so long, they looked a little worse for the wear. Marie couldn’t wait to get settled like the folks in this town were and wear clean and proper clothes.

  Building after building lined each side of the main dirt road they traveled in on. Businesses such as the mercantile, the bank, a dress shop, a feed store, and many others boasted new goods, welcoming patrons to come and shop. Signs pointed toward the end of the road, toward the forge where they could find gunpowder, ammunition, and the blacksmith. Another sign pointed wagon trains to a large field area, where other wagons were parked. Judson followed the wagon in front of him in that direction.

  Days went by, and Marie and her group rested themselves and their livestock. To their happy surprise, the other band of Stronghold witches were already there when they arrived. It was a joyful reunion for families and friends to reconnect and trade stories of their adventures on the trail. Rachael was happiest to have her coven back together.

  The men had gone into the town and purchased new goods such as flour, rice, lentils, and beans. They also traded some of the goods they had brought with them from Virginia. The tobacco, homemade wines, and seeds from their garden were favorites. After the horses and mules had time to rest and feed, Judson, Hank, and Butch found ranchers who were looking to trade their oxen. They were almost ready to go.

  “It’s been so nice to be here, Judson,” Marie commented one day, bringing down the clothes from the line. They had been there not much more than a couple months. “But I feel a restlessness in my spirit, a pull to keep going, to find where we belong.”

  Judson came up behind her, wrapped her in his arms, and held her tight. She giggled and dropped the linens she was folding and leaned back into him. Judson nuzzled her neck. “You smell good, woman.”

  “I hope so. I got some new lemon soap from a shop in town.”

  “I like it.” He kissed the sensitive crook between her shoulder and neck. His mouth moved slowly and deliciously over her skin. She tipped her head back, baring her neck for him to continue. “I can’t wait to find our home, but I know I belong with you no matter where we are.”

  She turned in his embrace and placed her hands around his neck. Gazing into his beautiful warm brown eyes, she smiled, then stood up on her toes and tenderly brushed her lips across his, teasing him. He groaned.

  “We don’t get enough time to be alone,” Judson lamented.

  “And it looks like we don’t get that time now either,” Marie complained, nodding out toward the road where another train of wagons was entering the town of Independence. She stole one more moment and kissed him fully on the lips, a promise for another time in the future.

  “It’s a good thing Independence has a vast field for wagons. We seem to be quickly filling it up.”

  “I sense witches! I had no idea we would find more of them on our journey, not to mention the one group we had already came across. I’ll go gather the others,” Marie said excitedly and took off to find them.

  For the next several days, the group became acquainted with the newest band of travelers, which included a coven of witches called the Luna Coven. Marie was excited to get to know all the new faces and to find others with such similar goals. She and Rachael had gone around and introduced themselves to the others. They had met a witch named Anne-Marie Beaumont—and her baby Saundra—who seemed like someone they would both get along with, but possibly might be someone Rachael could really learn from as a witch. Several witch families made up the new caravan, including the Beaumonts, the Bishops, and the Augustines—Raffaele and Priscilla. They were accompanied by a couple of vampire families by the surnames of Petran and Roca, and a few other families Marie could only assume were humans without boldly asking them: the Mills, the Alversons, the Fairchilds, the McFeenys, and the Stuarts. Marie found it overwhelming at first to remember who belonged to whom, as her gifts didn’t identify more than witches and witch hunters, but over time she started to figure it out.

  “Rachael!” Marie called, spotting her friend heading into the town.

  “Marie, there you are! I was hoping I’d find you,” she replied. “Come with me into town. I need to procure a few ingredients for a couple spells Anne-Marie and a few of the other Luna Coven witches are going to show me.”

  “I’m so happy you have someone else to trade spells with.” Marie looped her arm inside Rachael’s and walked with her.

  “Where have you been?”

  “I was speaking with the elders of their caravan,” Marie answered, but her tone was hesitant and distracted. Of course, Rachael didn’t miss anything.

  “What’s wrong, Marie?” Rachael stopped, twirling Marie around to face her, and pushed her over to a bench under a shop canopy, where they sat.

  Marie blanched, and her gaze focused on a horse tied to a post across the road.

  “We’ve discussed joining with the other caravan, but they are hesitant about traveling with us—with me specifically.” She sighed, disappointment escaping in the form of a tear she had refused to shed until now.

  “What?” Rachael asked in outrage. “Are they serious? What reason did they give?”

  “I’m a hunter. In their travels, they’ve heard the Blackstone name, met others who had heard of Dante’s destruction,” she grumbled. “Much of their band are witches, and I’m a hunter. They have to think of the safety of all their people. I understand that.”

  “What are we? Buffalo? Shouldn’t our history speak for your character? We wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t be trusted.” Rachael crossed her arms in front of her chest in a pout.

  “Of course you’re n
ot a buffalo, Rach, but they don’t know me, and I can understand that,” Marie said sadly.

  “Well, then we will just need to prove it to them. We have a little more time. I think we may search for a more secluded place to make camp for the winter.”

  Marie twisted her face in thought. Rachael gripped Marie’s hand and squeezed.

  “We’ll figure this out together. We’re a team, you and I. If they can’t see the value you bring, then I say we go on without them. We’ve come this far, and we can find our own place to settle.”

  Marie turned and fiercely hugged her friend. “Thank you, Rach. We are a team, but I have a dream of the home I might get to have in a place just like the one they’re searching for. I’ll build my own if I have to, but I’d rather build it with everyone here I’ve come to know.”

  “We’ll figure it out. Oh! I wanted to tell you. I met the Augustines just now and Mr. Augustine—Raffaele—has the most beautiful ring he wears on his hand. I didn’t dare ask, but I can practically feel magic coming from it. It’s an elaborate silver setting holding a gorgeous moonstone in the center. Moonstone has tremendous psychic properties!” Rachael practically bounced. She loved jewelry, especially magical pieces.

  “I’ll have to see it. Come on, let’s go get your ingredients. Maybe I can be your spell assistant,” Marie said with a small smile and a wink as she tugged Rachael up from the bench.

  Back at the campsite, the women prepared several pots and kettles over three different fire pits, while Ahote and Dillon, the young orphaned witch, built the fires to light underneath them. Marie was concerned the Luna Coven group might not take to the Ahusaka brothers as her group had, but the only ones they seemed suspicious of were Marie and her family.

  One of the elders of the other group was a man named Elsmed—a fae—whose appearance was very intimidating. He seemed to watch Marie, peering into the depths of her soul, and maybe he could. Maybe he could decipher if she would fail in her pursuit for a peaceful existence as a hunter. She couldn’t live with herself if that was the case. She couldn’t fail.