Claim: A Novel of Colorado (The Homeward Trilogy) by Lisa T. Bergren Read Free Book Online

interrupted gently. He sat down on the edge of the bed. “What happened to your dad?”
    “I heard three, maybe four shots. And then they took off with our mule and Dad’s horse.”
    “And did you go back to the road?”
    Everett nodded as his face clouded with grief. “I went back. I found him. They’d dragged his body to the side of the road.” He reached up and wiped a tear from his dirty cheek with the back of his hand. “Didn’t even cover him up. Just set him under some brush. He was too heavy for me to lift. I had to leave him—” Another tear dripped from his other eye, and then he sobbed suddenly, as if it had all caught up with him.
    He sat up and flung himself into Nic’s arms. Nic slowly, awkwardly held the child as he cried for several long minutes. “I’m sorry, Everett. Your dad was a good man.” He sighed and continued to hold the boy as he cried. What was he to do now? Where was the child’s nearest kin?
    Anger surged through him, and there was a fierce desire to strike out immediately, hunt the two highwaymen down, and beat each one until dead. His heart pounded as he considered the sweet satisfaction of vigilante justice. Why’d they have to kill the boy’s father? Why not take his supplies and leave him be?
    After a few more minutes, Everett grew slack with sleep. The boy was clearly exhausted. Gently, Nic laid him back down on the bed and covered him with a blanket, and then he strode to the open doorway and stared out at the mountain valley, now deeply steeped in the shadows of twilight. That was when he saw them, Sabine and her Indian. Slowly, he reached for the rifle again, but the two steadily approached, undeterred.
    Sabine came to a halt three steps away. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun, showcasing fine, high cheekbones and wide eyes. She studied him without blinking. “Sinopa said the boy arrived home, but without his father.”
    What was it to her? Did they intend to jump Vaughn’s claim? He checked himself, noting that she seemed to care about the child. Maybe she has a relationship with Peter. Had a relationship .
    His eyes moved from the woman to the Indian. Sinopa, she’d called him. The same name Everett had referenced. He had an elongated face and a glossy black braid that fell over his shoulder. The Indian stared back at him unflinchingly. Was that accusation in his eyes? Nic tightened his grip on the shotgun and fingered the cool arc of the trigger.
    “Everett did get back today. Said his father was jumped by two highwaymen and killed.”
    Sabine sucked in her breath, looked away from him, and took a couple steps, gazing out to the valley.
    “The boy hid and escaped,” Nic continued, speaking mostly to Sinopa now, wondering how much English the man spoke. “The men rode off with the mule and Peter’s horse. And all their supplies, of course.”
    “I need to see Everett,” Sabine said, moving toward the cabin door.
    “No,” Nic said, reaching out a hand. “He’s asleep. And worn out. Please, let him sleep.”
    “The boy was certain that Peter was dead?” Sinopa said softly, his English perfect.
    Nic nodded. “Said he tried to lift him but couldn’t.” He leaned closer, not wanting the sleeping boy to wake and hear what they were discussing. “They left him just off the road, under some brush.” He looked over to Sabine and saw that grief filled her wide eyes, and wrinkles of concern pleated her forehead. She and Sinopa shared a long, significant glance.
    Nic looked down to the ground, embarrassed at his fascination about this odd pair. Trappers had long taken Indian brides, but he’d never seen a white woman befriend an Indian. Was there anything more than friendship between the two? He tapped his heel. It wasn’t any of his business.
    “The claim is yours, then,” Sabine said.
    Nic looked up at her, sharply. “Mine? No … it’s Everett’s.”
    “In this county, no mine claim can be passed to a minor.”
    “So that’s it?” Nic said