I jerk at his anger, sloshing hot coffee on my hand. His mouth cinches tight as button and his hands become fists, reminding me that the outlaw Badge still lives in Isaac.
She sighs. “You know he liked animals.” She swallows hard and shakes her head. “The missus’ son was throwing darts at a dog and Tommy got it in his head to rescue that bitch. So the son started throwin’ darts at Tommy instead.”
Isaac begins to rock back and forth. My head pounds at the awful image. I pinch the fleshy part of my palm.
“Careful, Isaac, you gonna start it bleeding again,” Andy says as Isaac rubs his hands over his head.
“I lost my chance with Him,” he says, drawing his gaze up. His eyes appear empty.
“We never lose our chances with God,” says Andy. “You the one told me that.”
“I’m a criminal, sister. Leader of the Broken Hand Gang,” he says with irony.
“I bet a lot of that stuff weren’t true.”
He shakes his head. “We didn’t break no one’s hand, but we did scare people, I own that. The five of us, we were all desperate to escape. Couldn’t think of any other way to get things. Folks were scared of us anyway without us even tryin’. But we never took more than we needed.”
“I believe you. And I think if you talk it over with God, He’s gonna understand.”
He winces. “He won’t. I killed a baby, Annamae. A baby. I didn’t mean to do it. The man’s gun went off and he shot himself by mistake. Then the woman kept screaming, and she dropped the baby and ran. And I was too scared to touch that baby, so I left it, thinking she’d come back.” A note of hysteria creeps into his voice. “But she musta been too scared to come back, and that baby died. Matthew says whoever harms the children, better have a millstone around his neck and be drowned in the sea.”
Andy rubs a hand over her mouth to hide her shock. When her hand falls back down, her features are smooth once again. “Well. I’m sorry about that baby, I truly am. But think about Paul. He killed all those Christians, probably some babies, too, but God made him an apostle.” She cuts off her bracelet with a pocketknife. “Look, Isaac. It’s Tommy’s stone. Remember how he found the good in people just by looking through this hole?”
She holds it up to her eye. “I see lots of good in you. God wouldn’t have let you come so far if He didn’t believe in you. We traveled a thousand miles, and yet we’re here, and now we can be free. That’s a whole lot of something.”
She hands Isaac the stone. His cheeks are wet but he doesn’t wipe them dry. “You remember the time that duck left her eggs?”
“Sure. Tommy put warm towels on the nest so they would hatch.”
Isaac smiles. “Changed the towels every few hours so they wouldn’t grow cold.” His lip starts to tremble and he bites down on it.
“You took over the night shift when he fell asleep.”
“Don’t remember that. Only remember thinking, this boy’s heart is too big for this world.”
“Well, that was true.” Andy swipes at her eyes.
I want to ask what happened with the ducks, but now is not the time.
Isaac sucks in another breath and wipes his nose on his sleeve. When he looks up again, his face is devoid of emotion, almost placid. “You two best catch your horses before they run off. If you don’t mind, I want to set here and think awhile.”
“Okay.” Andy touches his shoulder again, and this time, he doesn’t shake her off. “We’ll scrounge up something to eat. You brought your bow and arrow?” she asks me.
“They’re with Paloma.” I gulp down the weak coffee, then get to my feet.
Andy kisses her brother. Then I take her back the way I came, which I estimate to be a shorter route than up the rocky staircase.
“I’m sorry about what happened to Tommy. You think Isaac’s going to be okay?”
“Yeah. He just needs some looking after. And time.”
I’m about to scale the hill, when she calls back, “Isaac, set some water to boil!”
No answer.
“Isaac?” she yells louder. “Set some water to boil. You hear me?”
Again, no answer.
We double back around the rock and find that Isaac’s no longer on the shoreline.
Instead, he stands, shirtless, at the top of the rocky staircase on a platform that overlooks the waterfall, two stories up. His back bears a tangle of tannish scars. Beside him, a pair of pine trees grows stubbornly from the platform.
Isaac steps dangerously close to the edge. Then he spreads his arms wide, like a black crane preparing to dive.
“What you doing up there?” cries Andy. But either he doesn’t hear her against the wind, or he chooses not to listen.
She grabs the edges of her hat, then looks furtively around her. “I need rope.”
Both of us search the supply pile, which is a disorganized mess, like Isaac just dumped everything in a hurry. Blankets are unfolded and a sack of nails is half open and leaking its contents. But no rope.
I continue rummaging, and Andy dives into the tent, quickly emerging with two coils of rope.
As she forms her loop, a mocking voice freezes both of us in place.
“Ye going swimming, blackie?” asks a voice in a Scottish accent.
I don’t see the person speaking. Isaac turns his head a fraction to the left.
“Always a good day when ye spot a blackie. They’re always runnin’ from something, nae?” says another voice, followed by a cackle.
With a sickening twist of my gut, I recognize the voices of Ian and Angus MacMartin, the trackers from Mr. Calloway’s caravan.
“Where are they?” says the first Scot. “Tell me now a’fore I shoot you,”
Isaac finally turns, giving us a view of his profile. “Who you talking about?”
“The China girl and the Negress. We come a long way fer them.”
They’ve come for the bounty.