Jenny’s heart raced and her stomach clenched. “Oh, Mac,” she said. “William won’t like that—he feels so confined anyway.” She was afraid of Johnson, but she also worried about Will’s reaction. He was like a caged beast most days, standing at the windows gazing outside and pacing when he thought no one noticed.
“I can’t risk Johnson hurting you or the children, Jenny,” Mac said. “Will’s grown since the spring, and he’s had the militia experience. He’s the best protection I can provide for you, other than myself.”
“Where will you be?” she asked. She felt safer when Mac was home.
“I’ll stay here as much as I can. But I told William Ladd I’d meet him in Portland tomorrow. I’ll leave in the morning. I’ll only be gone two days, and I’ve asked the sheriff to keep an eye on the house. But up here on the cliff, it’ll be hard for him to get here much.”
“Can’t you delay your trip?”
Mac shook his head. “I would if I could. But I failed Ladd before, and I don’t want to do so again.”
That night, Jenny lay awake for a long time. What would happen if Johnson returned? She’d keep a loaded pistol in her pocket, though she hated to with little children around. If anyone was going to shoot Johnson, she wanted it to be her, not William or Maria, and certainly not one of the younger children. The dreadful memory of Maria holding the rifle on Johnson last spring was etched in Jenny’s memory.
As was her long-ago memory of the first time she’d shot the brute.
Will lounged in his room, trying to read, when Mac knocked on the door. “Come in,” Will said, and sat up.
Mac entered and closed the door, then turned the desk chair toward the bed and sat facing Will. “We need to talk,” he said.
That sounded ominous. Will waited for Mac to continue.
“The sheriff says Jacob Johnson is back in town,” Mac said.
“Do you think he’ll try to attack Mama again?” Will asked, an icy fear settling in his gut.
“I don’t know. He might. He might also come after you.”
“Me?”
“You attacked him last time. So did Maria.” Mac sighed. “And he knows you might be his son.”
Everything in Will recoiled at Mac’s blunt statement. He was no part of Johnson. He was nothing like the man. He refused to be. And Maria—if Johnson went after Maria, Will would kill him. Or Mama—the same went for Johnson attacking Mama again. Will would go after the brute, no matter how afraid he was.
“I need you to stay close to home,” Mac said. “I have to go to Portland tomorrow. I need to rely on you.”
Will nodded. He hated being confined to the house, but there was no help for it. “I’ll be here. I won’t let Johnson hurt anyone.”
“You left last spring after I told you to stay.”
Will’s face went hot, embarrassed to remember his earlier action. “I was wrong then. I won’t do it again.”
“Good man.” Mac nodded in approval. “Sheriff Thomas says you came to him wanting a job.”
Will shrugged. “I need to do something. The storekeepers turned me down.”
Mac sighed. “Did you know Johnson’s father Isaac was a sheriff? Did I tell you that? And Jacob was his deputy.”
Will’s stomach lurched. Had he inherited the Johnson men’s predilections without intending to? He shook his head.
“I’d rather you not work for the sheriff,” Mac said. “When I get back, we’ll see about finding you a job with someone here in Oregon City. So your mother won’t be uneasy.”
The next morning, Mac took the steamboat to Portland. He almost didn’t make the trip. Before he left the house, he leaned over to kiss Jenny, still sleeping with the baby beside her. “Good-bye,” he whispered when she stirred at his touch.
At his voice, she bolted upright. “You’re leaving now?”
He nodded.
She got out of bed and began dressing. He saw her slip his pistol into her pocket.
“Maybe you should give that to Will,” he said. “Let him guard the house.”
“I will take care of our children, Mac.” Her mouth was set in the stubborn line he’d loved for so many years.
“I’ll make sure Will has my other pistol,” Mac said. He roused Will, gave him the gun, and left, a prayer on his lips.
His business with Ladd went well. They agreed on how Mac might invest in the bank. “I plan to expand early next year,” Ladd said. “You’re still in time to be on the ground floor of this enterprise. With or without your brother in Boston.”
Mac sat in the hotel restaurant that evening nursing a whiskey after he ate. He would give anything to be home with his family.
The next morning, he stood at the bow of the sidewheeler as it churned upriver toward Oregon City. As soon as it docked, he raced home.
All day long, Will stared out the front window. Except when Mama and Maria sat in the parlor sewing. Then he went to watch out the kitchen window, trying to act nonchalant as Mrs. O’Malley bustled about.
