Snowed In(manxman)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

Stretching his arms in the air, Turner tried to ease the ache in his back. He rubbed at it with his fist and let out a tired sigh before wiping at his brow with his snow covered coat sleeve. He was moving at a back breaking pace but it was necessary if he wanted to get all these lines took down today. As it was, it was already past lunch and he still had quite a bit of work to get done.  

Turner's run had been successful so far. Already he had three minks, two coons and a bobcat, which was really damn good given the snow they'd had. It meant he'd be up all night skinning but those furs would fetch a pretty price in Trinity--more than they'd have fetched in Caudilltown--and plenty enough to stock up on supplies for the trip to the ranch.

Turner thought about seeing his brother again after all these years. Christopher was the one family member that Turner had who hadn't turned his back on him when they'd learned of his relationship with Peter. Turner found it quite comical that killing, thieving and all around lawlessness had not earned him a one way ticket from the family but falling in love with a man--now that had been more than anyone, other than Christopher, had been able to stand.

Turner looked up at the sun and cursed when he realized it was later than he had thought. He was miles from the cabin and he wasn't enjoying himself. Turner had always hated being separated from Peter for any length of time and he found that the same thing was true for Will. "Come on, Bernice. Just two more lines to go and we can get to the house," he urged as he hopped up on the mare's back.

They came upon a ridgeline which wasn't necessarily the safest route to his next line but certainly the quickest. Turner let Bernice have her head, knowing the mare was wise enough to pick the path that best suited her without any help from him. While she was busy doing all the work, Turner let his gaze wander northeast toward the cabin. With a cry of shock, he grabbed up the reins and yanked them hard, causing Bernice to toss her head and stomp her foot to voice her displeasure as she came to a stop. 

Turner had little concern for her comfort just then, because, off in the distance, in the exact location where he knew his cabin sat nestled amongst the trees, was a thick dark plume of smoke. It filled the sky, hovering like a blanket over the tree line and causing Turner's blood to freeze in his veins.

Will.

Will needed him.

Turner cursed and let out a yell as he dug his heels into Bernice's sides. The old mare seemed to sense that something was amiss and she quickly picked up her pace along the slippery ice and snow covered trail, never faltering in her movements.

Turner was miles from the cabin--miles of rough terrain and no real trail or road to follow. It would take him at least an hour no matter how hard he rode. What if Will didn't have an hour? Turner couldn't lose Will! He simply couldn't. 

Why in the hell had he left the man alone!? The truth was, he hadn't really thought that Thompson and his men would make it up here this soon. He had assumed he still had a week, at least, before they felt the trails clear enough to come snooping around and catching Turner in his lies. 

Turner forced all thought from his mind. He couldn't dwell on what might be waiting for him at the cabin; he could only concentrate on getting there as quickly as possible without killing himself, or Bernice, in the process. 

As they neared the clearing the scent of smoke was the first thing to reach Turner's nose. It became thicker in the air the closer they rode and Turner nearly vomited when he realized he could smell the burning flesh of his cow, his mule and all his chickens. Who killed helpless livestock?

Bernice shied away from the scent at first but she was a horse who had seen a lot of things in her eighteen years of life and she rode right on into the clearing which was unrecognizable to what they'd left hours before.

Turner slid from the saddle and nearly dropped to his knees. The barn, the woodshed, the smoke house, the tool shed, the cabin--everything was gone. All that remained were smoldering piles of ashes and the occasional chunk of wall and chimney.

"Will!" he cried out with desperation that was met with nothing but silence. Turner ran, stumbling along through the snow, and reached what remained of his cabin. 

Paying no heed to the heat of the embers burning his hands or the smoke irritating his lungs, Turner sifted through the smoldering remains praying that he wouldn't find Will among them. If Will was dead.....Turner shook his head; he couldn't let himself think that way. 

His search was proving fruitless and for that he was thankful. Then his gaze found the back door which was charred and lying crookedly across the floor and what was left of the bed. Turner walked to it stiffly and tossed it aside.

The sight he was met with caused him to cry out with pain that was not physical. Turner dropped to his knees and stared down at the lifeless body of one of his oldest and dearest friends. "Beaux?" he whispered, though he knew the hound would not respond.

Beaux's body had been fairly protected by the door and Turner saw the bloody bullet wound in his chest. He let out a sob and lifted the hound, burying his head against his singed fur. "I'm so sorry, Beaux! So damn sorry." 

Turner let Beaux's body fall back to the floor and stood slowly. Will was not here. Thompson's less than subtle message had been received. Turner had lied to him, Thompson had found out, and so Thompson had showed Turner what happened to men who stood against him.

Turner's steps were slow and determined as he strode back out into the snow and scanned for tracks. They were easy to find. Thompson Caudill thought that he was untouchable. He thought that no one would dare come at him and he probably expected Turner to simply scamper off into the woods and learn his lesson. 

Turner was not the scampering, lesson-learning type. 

Peter had worked hard to tame Turner's outlaw side, and he had been successful to a certain degree. Turner might have still pushed the boundaries from time to time even after straightening up but he'd stayed just this side of good.

Not any longer.

Thompson had burned his home, killed his livestock, murdered his dog and taken the man he loved. 

Thompson Caudill had a reckoning coming his way. 

A/N; I know it's a bit short but this just came flowing out of me and i feel it's a good spot to end the chapter so, here ya go!  I know, i know, it's another cliff hanger but I never leave you waiting long so have a little faith in me. And, sad face time, I know y'all will be up in arms over the death of Beaux.... but I felt it was necessary. There was simply no way that Beaux would have allowed anyone to hurt Will while he still had life in him to protect him with.  Anywho... I'm off to bed!