Page 69 of Teton Sunrise

“What about Walker?” Laurent asked, ignoring Sabin’s threats. “He bartered for her. Did he simply let her go with her brother?”

Sabin shrugged. “He didn’t come after her. Bastard probably got tired of her and is glad to be rid of her. Always heard he was a loner.”

Silently, Laurent wondered how Henry Lewis had managed to find his sister. Not many people knew of Alex’s plans about his cabin. It didn’t matter now. He was certain that Evelyn wouldn’t leave Alex of her own free will, and Alex would certainly not allow his wife to return to St. Charles to marry another. The answers to these questions would have to wait. Once he was free of his bindings, and away from these men, he would head back into the mountains and seek out his friend. The thought that he would see his wife again sooner than he had thought brought a smile to his face.

“What’s so funny, Laurent?” Sabin demanded, his speech slurred. He raised his pistol again, and held it to Laurent’s forehead with an unsteady hand. He laughed coldly. “I could just put this bullet between your eyeballs right now. But I learned a trick or two from the Paiutes. They know how to make a man live for a long time, writhing in pain so great, you’ll beg for a merciful death.”

Laurent had no plans to find out if Sabin was well-versed in Paiute torture methods firsthand or not. He pulled against the leather thongs wrapped around his wrists. The binding sliced into his skin, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. His hand finally slipped through the loop. In one swift move, he swung his fisted hand forward, knocking the pistol from Sabin’s grip. He grabbed the surprised man by the neck with his other hand and shoved him to the ground. Picking up the pistol, he fired it at one of the men who’d turned his head at the commotion. Before the other man even had a chance to react, Laurent pulled the tomahawk and knife from Sabin’s belt, aimed, and threw the ax. The weapon lodged itself in the trapper’s chest, and he fell to the ground. Sabin staggered to his feet, and bared his teeth.

“You sonofabitch,” he snarled. His unfocused eyes darted from Laurent to his dead companions.

“You will die, too, mon amie,” Laurent said calmly, holding the knife out in front of him.

With a savage roar, Sabin charged. Laurent sidestepped, and raised the knife. The toe of Sabin’s boot caught on a protruding root. He stumbled forward, and collided against Laurent. A scream of anguish reverberated through the forest. Laurent pulled the knife back, and Sabin clutched his hand over his face, blood running in rivulets between his fingers. Laurent stepped back. He realized the weapon had stabbed Sabin in the eye.

Like a rabid dog, the river pirate screamed, breaking the stillness of the forest. Then he ran between the trees into the thicket. Laurent watched him disappear. His chest heaved as he drew in a deep breath. He could just follow Sabin and kill him, but nature would do the job for him. The evil man deserved a slow death. He rushed for his horse and pulled the reins free of the picket line. Without a backward glance, he leapt into the saddle and kicked his horse into a run. It would take several weeks to reach Alex. There was already snow in some of the passes, but he had to find out why his friend hadn’t gone after his wife. He dreaded what he might find when he reached the cabin.

****

Muffled voices reached Alex’s ears from outside the cabin. He ignored the sound, hoping it was only Yancey talking to himself. The bitter wind that had howled all day had finally ceased. A few days ago, several feet of snow had fallen, blanketing his cabin and everything around him in a dusting of white powder. Evelyn would have loved the way the morning sun sparkled off the ice hanging from the cabin’s roof or from the tree branches nearby.

They would have sat by a roaring fire, listening to the wind howl outside. He’d wrap her in his arms, and they’d kiss and touch under a blanket, and talk about nothing important. Instead, he sat alone in a dark corner of his cabin, the fire dead in the hearth, and the windows boarded up. Unable to look at the bed he’d built for her, and the memories it sparked, he hadn’t set foot inside the bedroom since the day of her death.

Yancey had arrived earlier in the day, bringing fresh meat. Not that he had much of an appetite these days. He wished the greenhorn would just go away. He had served his purpose when Alex asked him to bring him Laurent’s stash of whiskey from his cabin several days ago. At first, Yancey had refused, but a quick threat with a knife held to the coward’s throat had changed his attitude. His old man had always preferred to drown his troubles in liquor. Maybe it was time he gave it a try. Nothing else he’d done seemed to take away his pain.

---