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  Squire's Quest

  Behind the Ranges, Book IX

  By

  Judith B. Glad

  Something hidden. Go and find it.

  Go and look behind the ranges--

  Something lost behind the Ranges.

  Lost and waiting for you. Go.

  Rudyard Kipling: The Explorer

  Uncial Press Aloha, Oregon

  2010

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60174-114-1

  ISBN 10: 1-60174-114-6

  Squire's Quest: Behind the Ranges Book IX

  Copyright © 2011 by Judith B. Glad

  Cover design

  Copyright © 2011 by Judith B. Glad

  All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author or publisher.

  Published by Uncial Press,

  an imprint of GCT, Inc.

  Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com

  Dedication

  For years I had someone to act as a sounding board, someone who would tell me when a story idea was dumb or a plot was trite. Not any longer. This book is the first one I've written entirely without Neil's help. Even so, I must dedicate it to him, because he encouraged me to ignore all the rejection slips, to keep writing, to believe in myself.

  And I mustn't forget Star, who keeps telling me to put my writing first, Kat who catches my grammatical errors, and Chris who keeps my computer healthy.

  Prologue

  Boise City, Idaho Territory

  April 1865

  "Pa, did you ever go on a quest?"

  Emmet Lachlan had been halfway expecting the question. Merlin had said more than once how much he'd have liked to have adventures like the knights they'd read about last winter. This boy was more of a dreamer than the others, almost as if he was meant to follow a different path. He looked over at his son while he considered how to answer.

  The lad sat his horse like he was part of it. He was alert to his surroundings, so no man or critter would find sneaking up on him easy. Although his arms and legs still showed the gangliness of youth, Merlin had grown a handspan or so in the past year, and he was starting to put some meat on his bones. He'd never be as tall as Emmet, but he'd likely be big enough to hogtie a steer or handle a sledge.

  "Not really. I mostly did what seemed right at the time."

  "But you had adventures." Merlin's eyes took on a dreamy expression, like they sometimes did when he was listening to the stories. He rode in silence for near a half-mile.

  Emmet respected that. Too often folks talked just to hear their heads rattle. He'd rather listen to the meadowlarks and the sough of the wind in the cottonwoods along the river, and had taught his children that silence was better than useless noise.

  When they reached the river pasture, Merlin dismounted to swing open the wide gate. Once Emmet was through, he rode it closed, a wide grin in his face. When he was back on his horse, he said, "You know those stories we read about King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table? How they went off questing for adventure?"

  "Some of 'em found more than they bargained for, as I recollect."

  "Ain't that what adventure is supposed to be? More than you bargained for?" Suddenly he spurred his horse into a canter. "Hi-yah! Get on out of here, you mangy coyote."

  The prairie wolf scampered, not particularly worried by Merlin's pursuit. It slid under the lowest rail of the fence and ran about fifty feet on before it turned and looked back. Its tongue hung from the side of its mouth, like it was laughing at them.

  Emmet thought about taking a potshot at it, but figured it would be a waste of ammunition. So far they'd lost no cattle to the small wolves, and he wasn't one to shoot for the sake of killing. Now if it had been a panther or a timber wolf... But they didn't come down here much any more, not like in the old days. Too many folks about.

  They circled the pasture, both counting the cattle grazing there. The cattle had arrived just last week, and were still getting used to being out to pasture again. With their long, shaggy coats, they had caused a bit of comment during the drive from Umatilla, after a long journey by ship from Scotland. "I get twenty-three," he said when they met at the other side of the pasture. One short.

  "Twenty-four. There's a brindle hiding in the willows."

  "No wonder I didn't see it." The older he got, the less able he was to see clearly. Hattie had been after him to get spectacles, but he'd been putting it off. I used to be able to pick a sparrow off a branch at a hundred paces.

  They rode the fences and trimmed branches along the trails where the cattle went to water. The sun was westering when they finished their tasks and turned their horses toward home, an hour's ride away. "I hired a fellow yesterday, to stay out here for the summer. He's along in years, but still spry. When I told him about Buff's bathtub, he was plumb tickled. He's got a touch of rheumatiz in his legs."

  "Be a relief not to have to ride out every day," Merlin said, sounding as if his mind had been a long way off.

  "I thought you were going up to Cherry Vale with the others?"

  "Well, I'd like to, but with Buff taking off for England, I figured you'd need me here."

  Emmet was so taken aback he pulled his horse to a sudden halt. "Why do you think that?"

  Merlin circled back, so he was facing Emmet. "I'm big enough now to do my share. Now we're down here, there's lots to do, and without Buff..."

  "Buff's going to be around until August. We'll get along. It's not like there's much to do beyond taking care of the cattle."

  "You're sure?" Merlin didn't quite hide the relief in his voice.

  "I'm sure. William will need you a lot more up there than I do down here. Remember, he's going to be working both places now."

  After a while, he heard Merlin sigh. "What's on your mind, lad?"

  "I think I'd like to go questing someday. When I'm grown."

  A chuckle almost escaped him. "Those are old-time stories, son. Nobody goes on quests anymore."

  "Yes they do, Pa. Ain't that what Buff is doin', taking off to England? He goin' on a quest. He'll find adventure too, I'll bet. When it's my turn, that's what I want to do."

  Emmet leaned one arm across his saddle horn and contemplated his second son.

  The lad's been thinking about this a lot. I never realized he had a streak of adventure in him. He's so quiet. Not like Buff. Nothing like me.

  Maybe I've been wrong about him.

  Part One

  1869

  Chapter One

  Boise City, Idaho Territory

  September 1869

  Merlin shouldered the pitchfork and looked across the hayfield in satisfaction. The last of the harvest, save Ma's vegetable garden. Not that it was his responsibility any more. Iris and Rhys were big enough now to know the difference between a carrot and a weed.

  It's time. The thought had been coming to him more and more often, all summer long. Time to go. Time to break away from his too-hovering mother, his strong and protective father.

  Ma and Pa didn't mean to be that way. They tried to let him stand on his own two feet. Trouble was, every time they looked at his eyepatch, it reminded them of how close he'd come to dying. Both of them agreed an eye was a small price to pay to be alive, but knowing something and believing it were not the same thing.

  "Comin'?"

  He looked up
at Abel, sitting on the wagon seat. "Nope, I think I'll walk home." He handed the hired man the pitchfork. "Toss down the water bag, will you? Haying's thirsty work."

  "Leave some for me."

  Merlin drank until the water sloshed in his innards. Replacing the cork, he tossed the nearly-empty pouch back. "You'll be there before you die of thirst." He waved at Abel and started walking, cutting across the field toward the river.

  There was something about the sound of running water that helped a fellow sort things out.

  "Wish I knew where to go first."

  There were so many places he wanted to see. The Mississippi--he couldn't imagine a river a whole mile across--the canyon of the Colorado--neither could he conceive of a hole a mile deep--the ocean. He really wanted to see the ocean, but he'd just as soon do it from a high cliff, rather than from the deck of a ship.

  Pa had told stories of sailing for weeks and never seeing land. The very thought sent shivers down his spine.

  Ma would have a fit when he told her he was leaving. He was too young, she'd say, and too inexperienced. Pa probably wouldn't say anything, but he'd not like Ma being upset. Neither of them would mention his eye, but they'd be thinking of it.

  He paused, pulled his knife and threw it. It caught the cottonwood leaf he'd aimed at and pinned it to the tree trunk, five feet beyond. The days and weeks of practice had paid off. He was better than he'd ever been with a knife, a dead shot with a rifle. The only problem he still had was not being able to see to his left like he could to his right. So he just turned his head that way more often.

  Ma and Pa still worried about him getting along.

  "I've got to go. The longer I put it off, the harder it's going to be. Both for me to make myself go and for them to let me." He pulled the knife free. "I'll tell them tonight."

  The opportunity never arose. Ma had decided it was time for her to be with Katie, whose first baby was due in a couple of weeks. She spent the evening fussing, making lists and worrying about leaving her family to fend for themselves. Merlin couldn't remember a time when Ma wasn't about, and he could see Iris and Rhys were feeling a little scared.

  He took them out to the barn to visit the latest litter of kittens. Regina, who was near thirteen and liking to act all grown up, tagged along. Merlin had a hunch she was feeling a little bit lost herself.

  "Y'know, there's nothing ever stays the same," he said, when each of the others had a warm, soft kitten to cuddle. "Reggie--"

  "Don't you dare call me that!" Her glare could have scorched the hide off of him if she'd been closer.

  He grinned. "Regina will be going off to school in a couple of years and I'll bet Ma and Pa will feel just like we do tonight. Kind of like there's going to be a Ma-sized hole in the family."

  "It ain't the same," Iris whispered. "Reggie's just a sister. Ma's... Well, she's Ma."

  "It's different different, too," Rhys said. When they all looked at him curiously, he said, "When us youngsters go away, we're goin' for good. Ma's just goin' out to Katie's. She'll come back in a while and stay."

  "That's right. So there's no need to fret, is there?" This wasn't the first time Rhys had come up with just the right thing to say. Merlin had long thought his quiet little brother was a lot smarter than anybody gave him credit for.

  "I'll miss her," Iris said with a quaver in her voice.

  Regina didn't quite sniff, but her voice wasn't much steadier when she said, "Me, too. But while she's gone, I'll be the woman of the house. You can help me cook, Iris. We'll make cookies and bread pudding and all sorts of good things so Pa won't miss Ma so much."

  "Don't like to cook," Iris said. She released the squirming kitten and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

  Now Merlin was really worried. She hadn't done that since she was just a tyke. "Tell you what. You and me can go hunting. How's that sound?"

  "Don't want to kill anything." Her words were distorted by the thumb, but still understandable.

  "Well, then what do you want to do?" Regina demanded. "You can't just sit around and sulk. That would really upset Pa."

  "I want Ma to stay home."

  Rhys pulled her hand away from her mouth. "Iris, ain't Katie your sister, same as I'm your brother?"

  Iris nodded, but didn't re-insert her thumb.

  "Then she's still Ma's little girl. And she needs her ma right now. Are you begrudging her?"

  A tiny shake of Iris' head.

  Merlin clapped both hands onto his knees. "Well, then I guess that's settled. We're going to get along just fine whilst Ma's out to Katie's. And when she comes home, maybe we can all go out and see our new niece or nephew."

  Iris's eyes opened wide. "I'm gonna be an aunt?"

  "Well, sure. You already are, to Ellen's little girl--"

  "Never saw them."

  "Well, you're still an aunt," Regina told her impatiently. "This'll make you a two-times aunt." She set her kitten back into the nest the mama cat had made and stood, brushing straw from her skirts. "Let's go in. I'm getting cold."

  As they left the barn, Merlin put one arm around his little sister. "Iris, can I depend on you not to show Ma that you don't want her to leave? She's so excited about Katie's baby. No need to ruin it for her."

  "Uh-huh." It was said grudgingly, he was sure.

  "And you won't let Pa see either, will you? He's gonna be missing Ma something awful, so I'm depending on you to help keep his spirits up."

  Her little body stiffened and she straightened. "No, I won't upset Pa. I'll take good care of him."

  Well, I guess I won't be going anywhere for a while. Merlin pushed the back door closed behind him, resisting the urge to slam it. But soon as Ma's back from Katie's...

  * * * *

  Luke rode in one rainy day to announce the birth of his son, Isaiah Charles. He stayed just long enough to describe the baby, wolf down a sandwich and deliver a message from Ma.

  The mood in the house was much lighter as they gathered in the library after supper. "Your ma will stay a week or so, to make sure Katie and the baby are all right," Pa said. "She sends you all her love and warns Iris to get outdoors for an hour every day."

  "Oh, Pa--"

  "I'm making sure," Regina said. "If she doesn't go out, she knows I'll hide her books."

  Pa reached for his pipe. "Who's reading tonight?"

  "I am," Rhys said. He picked up the copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth and began to read.

  Merlin tuned him out. He'd decided he couldn't wait any longer to tell Pa. Winter was coming, and if he didn't get away before the first snowfall, he wouldn't go until spring, not with a clear conscience. While his brother kept the others enthralled with Professor von Hardwigg's adventures, he mentally listed what he would take with him.

  Rhys' voice ceased. Merlin waited impatiently for the others to say their goodnights. "I need to talk to you," he said when Pa looked at him in silent question.

  "I wondered when you would," Pa said, setting his pipe aside. "When do you reckon to go?"

  Merlin's jaw dropped. "Y-you knew?"

  "I figured." Pa's eyes seemed to look past Merlin, into a distant place, far beyond the walls of the library. "You've been restless since spring. Even your Ma noticed, but I don't think she understands what's driving it." His gaze came back to Merlin. "I do."

  "You remember when I was about Rhys' age? I said I wanted to go on a quest, like the knights did back in the olden days."

  The corner of Pa's mouth kicked up. "There's a restlessness sets in when a lad's at the edge of becoming a man. Nothing much satisfies it but testing his mettle. Call it a quest or running away from home or having an adventure. It's all the same. A man's got to know what he can do and what he can't. What he's willing to fight for and what he's not. The only way he can learn is to go out and try."

  Merlin simply nodded. Pa had put into words his exact thoughts.

  "Only trouble is, the trying has a price," Pa went on, his voice deepening, slowing. "Some pay with their lives, some
with their honor."

  "And some come home safe," Merlin said, thinking of his older brother. They hadn't heard from him for three months. "I figure to do that."

  "I pray you will." Pa rose and stepped across the space between them. He laid a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "If you're wise, you'll be ready to go when your ma comes home. Say goodbye to her and scat on out of here. Lingering will only be painful, for the both of you."

  When Buffalo had gone to Europe he'd had five hundred dollars in his pocket. He'd never writ home for more. "I gamble," was all he'd ever say about how he supported himself. Merlin knew his older brother did some work for an covert organization that fought white slavery and drug dealing through Europe and Asia, but he didn't know whether Buff was paid or not.

  He had no inclination to visit Europe or any other foreign country, not until he'd seen his own. Nor did he want to be any kind of policeman or soldier. Both seemed too regimented, too dangerous. He wasn't sure what he wanted to be, to do, except see grand sights and have grand adventures.

  * * * *

  Hattie Lachlan watched her middle son ride away and let the tears she'd held back flow freely. When Emmet's arms came around her, she leaned back into his embrace. "He's so young."

  "Older than Buff was when we sent him off to a gold camp with a herd of cattle. Older than Silas was when he went off to see the world. About the same age I was when I went to sea. He's sixteen, Hattie-girl, and man tall. Besides, we couldn't have held him long. He was ready to go."

  "But a hundred dollars! How long will that last him?"

  "Long enough." He gave her a squeeze. "It's a fortune. You only offered me fifty dollars to marry you."

  "And you'll never let me forget it, will you?" she turned in his arms and looked up at the tall man she'd chosen because his gaze was level, his stance proud and his voice strong. They were yet, and after twenty-odd years she still figured she'd gotten a bargain. "One of these days I'll have to pay you, won't I?"

  They both laughed, for the fifty dollars in gold had been lost when Emmet had chosen to leave part of her cargo behind after her second wagon was wrecked.