The sound of flesh meeting flesh came through the darkness, and Brandon stopped, cocking his head to listen and gauge the distance between them.
No more than twenty, maybe thirty feet. Silently, he cursed the blackness. One false step could end it all. He moved forward again, three steps more bringing him abruptly to the edge of the tree line. Ahead of him was a small clearing. He put a hand behind him to stop Ben. Looking into the clearing, he could see Sam on the ground, a big man towering above him. As anger blossomed in his chest, it took everything in him to keep from running across the expanse of grass and beating Isaac Gabriel to a bloody pulp.
A breeze had picked up, and the smell of rain was on it. Brandon glanced upward as a small bit of moonlight escaped through the thick clouds.
Isaac bent over Sam and hauled him up by his collar. "Get moving, Sam, before I show you my fist rather than the back of my hand. You will help, or your precious brother will pay for it." He gave Sam a shove, and the boy stumbled forward clumsily.
Brandon drew in a sharp breath. Sam's captor had bound his wrists behind him. Ben started forward, but Brandon laid a firm hand on him. Pulling him back into the trees. "No!" he whispered fiercely. "Stay put!"
"But—"
"You heard me, Ben." He softened his next statement, realizing his anger at Sam for baiting the big man was fueling his temper at the entire situation. "Have some patience. We'll make this come out all right."
Ben swallowed, and nodded his understanding.
Brandon gripped his shoulder quickly. "We'll stay close to the tree line."
"It'll take longer!"
"Don't you think he'll be looking behind him?"
"Sure."
"And what would he see, Ben?"
Ben was silent a moment, then he muttered, "Us in the clearing, if the clouds parted just right."
"We won't lose much ground, I promise." He started around the tree where they stood. There was no more talk as they worked their way around the edge of the woods toward the spot Sam and Isaac had disappeared.
****
Allie was torn as she'd hurried back to the cabin. She paced the length of the porch and back; then, again. Should she stay here with the boys, or go with Owen when he arrived? She thought of what Brandon would say if she followed. Her chin rose in silent defiance. Oh yes. He'd be plenty mad that she'd not stayed behind. Guiltily, she thought of her own surge of anger at the boys when they'd come to the line shack a few days ago, defying her orders to stay at the cabin.
But she was no child, she reasoned. And, she knew the risk this time. The boys might decide to follow. Probably, they would. They'd been lucky, there at the line shack. Bullets were flying, and chaos had ruled everything, for a few moments.
They'd stayed safe, that time. Yet, if Brandon had known that she and the boys were there, watching, would he have been more cautious – maybe even too wary? Sometimes, that led to a mistake of a different kind, yet the result could have been the same as one made in carelessness. Once again, she started toward the opposite end of the porch as the boys gathered in the front yard. A storm was blowing in. She'd hoped the rain would hold off for another few days, until they'd had a chance to get a start on a bunkhouse and a barn. There was room for the boys inside the cabin, now that there were only thirteen of them. It would be cramped, but doable.
The first rumble of distant thunder sounded and she stopped to listen, hoping that Owen, James, and Jay would make it back before the storm hit.
Travis stood away from the other boys, alone. She watched as he lifted his head toward the sky, and read his thoughts as easily as if he'd spoken them aloud. If they didn't beat the rain, it wouldn't matter how well he could track. The rain would wash all of it away.
He met her eyes in the dim lamplight, and she motioned him to her. She'd been thinking about the burden he must be feeling, and had seen a glimpse of it in his face.
He walked toward her with sure strides that bespoke a kind of arrogance. But Allie had seen it before from so many others like him, she wasn't fooled. It was a ruse he'd adopted to cover his uncertainty.
"Travis," she said as he stopped a few feet from the end of the porch. "Let's talk a minute."
He shrugged his thin shoulders. He needs more to eat, she thought. His frame was large enough to carry more weight. Twice, she'd seen him sharing his food with some of the younger boys, as if there weren't enough for all. How well she remembered those days. There had never been enough to eat in the Benevolent Christian Home.
Of all the boys here, Travis Morgan touched Allie the most. She supposed it was because of his fierce pride and independence. But he had a soft heart. She'd seen evidence of that on more than one occasion. And he had a last name to hang onto; something many of the boys had lost through their years of living in an orphanage.