Chapter Fifteen

Zachariah was completely lost in thought and nearly cried out with shock when the tent flap suddenly flew to the side and a mess of red hair entered his line of vision.

"I'm over here," he announced quietly, hoping she wouldn't do what seemed to come natural to her and scream as she hid herself away.

Instead she turned to face him and Zachariah found himself staring at a pair of wide green eyes in a pale face. "You want to know about her, don't you?" the woman inquired, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"You know about her?" Zachariah demanded. He barely managed to suppress the urge to reach out, take her by the shoulders and shake her violently when she didn't answer immediately. Instead he balled his hands into fists and clenched them tightly. "Do you know Eleanor?"

The woman stepped out of the tent, keeping the wool blanket she was wrapped in, tight around her body despite the heat of the evening. She sat down on the ground and pulled her knees into her chest as she stared hard at Zachariah's legs.

"They took her away about two days before you arrived."

Shit. He'd missed her by that much?

"Was she alive?"

The woman met his gaze as her face paled and her eyes darkened. "She was breathing. I wouldn't call any woman Clint has held captive alive."

Zachariah squeezed his eyes shut tight as he swallowed down a hard ball of twisted guilt, sadness and bile. He didn't open his eyes when he asked. "Do you know where they took her?"

"No."

That one word sent a rock crashing through Zachariah's gut. No. She didn't know. He had been so sure that she would know. He'd been so sure that she would be his ticket to finding his missing sister.

But she wasn't going to be

She didn't know.

A hand fell upon Zachariah's shoulder and he didn't even have to open his eyes to know that he'd see Wyatt's dark skin. The hand squeezed gently and Zachariah let himself lean back against the man whose presence gave him comfort.

A quick glance to the campfire revealed Craig sitting beside the flames alone and looking none too happy about it.

"I'm sorry I'm no help," the woman whispered. "I can only say she was breathing when they took her away. She left with Clint and two other men."

Zachariah simply nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak just yet. The woman quickly ducked back into her tent and let the flap fall. Wyatt came to the front of Zachariah and crouched down to his level.

His soulful brown eyes let his with a certainty that was breathtaking. 'We'll find her, Zachariah. They still have her alive and she's waiting for us. We won't let her down.'

Zachariah nodded but didn't speak. If he spoke, it would be around the lump currently lodged in his throat and Zachariah didn't want Wyatt realizing just how close to tears he was.

Finally, Zachariah glanced at Craig. "What about him?"

'He's helping.'

Great. One more person standing between Zachariah and Wyatt and any time alone the two might have. Zachariah sighed. It was probably a blessing that Craig was coming along. He needed to be focused on finding Eleanor, not getting Wyatt alone.

'She talked to you.'

Zachariah frowned and it took a moment for him to realize that Wyatt meant the woman in the tent. "Yeah." He nodded. "She did."

'What's her name?'

Zachariah shrugged. "Hell I don't know. I didn't think to ask."

***

Wyatt frowned as he searched through his saddlebags and realized his notebook was missing.

"What are you looking for?" Zachariah asked, glancing up from the knife he was sharpening just inside the orange glow of the campfire.

'My notebook is missing.'

"I don't reckon you need it," Craig assured him as he lost yet another hand of solitaire. "Me and the injun both know what you're saying just fine."

Zachariah growled. "He enjoys writing in it every night. I reckon that's something else I know."

Craig snorted and focused his attention on an exasperated Wyatt. "Maybe the crazy woman has it," he stated, tilting his head toward the tent.

Wyatt glared at his friend. 'Why would you call her crazy?'

Craig backpedaled quickly and pointed an accusatory finger at Zachariah. "He said she was!"

Wyatt turned his glare in Zachariah's direction while the man looked at Craig with an expression that made it clear he wished the other man harm. Zachariah shook his head. "I might have said she was a bit odd.... But I don't remember saying crazy."

Wyatt's gaze went skyward and he wondered how he'd manage to deal with both men from here on out. He decided to go check the tent for his notebook and headed that way.

As he pushed the flap aside and stepped in, it took Wyatt's eyes a moment to adjust to the change of light. When his vision cleared, Wyatt's eyes widened and his stomach turned.

He stumbled backward, scrambling for the flap. Wyatt took a deep breath once back in the open but his eyes remained lost in the horror he'd just left behind.

Without offering an explanation to either of the men frowning at him from the fireside, Wyatt ran off into the darkness.

***

"Wyatt?!" Zachariah called out as the man disappeared into the night.

"Where's he going?" Craig wondered aloud.

Instead of replying to the question that he didn't know the answer to, Zachariah focused his attention on the tent. What could have caused that horrified expression that had been on Wyatt's face as he'd run away? A hollowness settled into Zachariah's gut.

There was only one explanation, one answer, that his mind could come up with.

"I'm going after him," Craig spoke up.

Zachariah shook his head and stood slowly. "First, let's see what had him running off."

Zachariah's footsteps were slow and hesitant. His hand shook as he reached out and took hold of that flap of cloth.

The moment Zachariah stepped foot into the tent, the acidic scent of copper slammed into his senses.

Blood.

His sharp eyes went to the bedroll and he quickly looked away.

Dead.

The woman was lying dead in a pool of her own blood. The knife she had used upon herself was lying beside her lifeless hand.

Zachariah cursed under his breath. Suicide. It was something he had never understood.

He could only imagine the pain Wyatt would be in. He had saved the woman and he had gone above and beyond in trying to help her recover and feel safe. And it had all been for nothing.

"Oh damn."

Zachariah merely grunted in response to Craig. The man didn't seem like the brightest of men but if he was Wyatt's friend, then Zachariah had to tolerate him.

Zachariah's eyes fell on Wyatt's notebook and, even in the darkness, he could see writing scrawled across the page. And it was clear the writing was far too neat to be Wyatt's penmanship.

Zachariah snatched up the notebook and turned to face Craig whose face was looking a bit green. "Do you read?"

Craig blinked several times as he tore his gaze from the woman. "Yeah... I'll need light though."

Zachariah nodded and led Craig back out to the fire, happy to breathe fresh air into his lungs. When they reached the campfire, Zachariah shoved the notebook into Craig's chest. "Read it."

Craig winced and it was clear the man didn't want to do what Zachariah was telling him to do. "I can't read well, dammit, and I need to know what it says."

Craig sighed and his eyes dropped to the paper. "I'm sorry. Please know that I am grateful that the two of you took me away from that place and those men....but the truth is, you were far too late to save me. Wyatt, thank you for your patience and kindness. Zachariah, I am sorry I couldn't help more in your search for your sister. She's lucky to have a brother looking for her. I have heard Clint mention a cousin who lives north on the trail—he may have gone there. I hope you find her in time to not only get her away but save her as well. Please forgive me."

Zachariah felt somehow numb inside. An image of Eleanor lying in a pool of blood, dead by her own hand, seemed to burn itself into his mind.

He felt a presence behind him and knew it was Wyatt. Zachariah turned and pulled the other man into his chest He knew Wyatt would be hurting and he wanted to offer what comfort her could. And holding Wyatt that way was all that gave Zachariah the smallest bit of comfort in that moment.

"I'm sorry, Wyatt," Zachariah offered, feeling the words were fall too weak.

Wyatt pulled away slightly, his brown eyes shining and sad. 'We will save Eleanor.'

Zachariah swallowed hard and nodded. "I know we will."

Zachariah kept a strong arm around Wyatt as Wyatt turned his gaze toward the tent. 'We never even learned her name.'