When Georgia heard that James’s brother had been abducted a chill came over her. “Is that Sheriff McCloud’s brother they took, Mr. Clerk?”
“Tony. Please call me Tony, ma’am. Yes, ma’am, that’s the one. Old David is the gentlest feller you ever met. Why they would take him of all people, nobody knows. Unless, maybe it’s to get at the sheriff. Like I said, it’s got us all on edge.”
“Is the sheriff okay?” Georgia asked.
“Yes, ma’am. He organized a search party right away but they haven’t found his brother yet. Can I get your baggage for you?”
“No. Thank you, Tony. Sam unloaded it outside and I will be waiting for the sheriff here. Is it all right if I take a seat out front until he arrives?
“Of course. If you need anything just holler. I’ll be...”
“Hidin’ in the back?” Sam broke in with a grin and wink.
Tony looked embarrassed again.
Georgia turned and went back out into the street. She saw a small bench set against the building in the shade. Picking up her baggage, she brought it over and took a seat, watching as Sam unloaded the mail bags from the coach and delivered them into the office.
Then he came over to where she was sitting, stood in front of her and removed his hat. “Would you like me to wait with you until the sheriff gets here? After what’s happened it might not be safe for a woman out here in the street.”
“No. I’ll be fine, Sam. Thank you for bringing me to Sonora.”
“Sorry for cussin’ up a storm back there on the trail, ma’am. My old bones been bouncin’ along these roads so long...” Sam paused. “Reckon a man just forgets any manners he ever had.”
“We all fall short, Sam. It’s okay. I surely do forgive you.”
“Yes, ma’am. And thank you. The name’s Sam Kimball. I’ll be seeing you. Got to get to the livery now for some fresh horses.” He walked back to the coach, climbed slowly into the seat, and with a flick of the reins was off again.
When the clatter of the stagecoach had died away in the distance a profound quiet descended on the town again. The occasional bark of a dog, creak of a board, and a puff of wind rustling the leaves of a tree across the street were the only sounds.
As Georgia waited, she got up once or twice to stretch her legs. A peek into the window of the post office showed that Tony had resumed “hiding in the back,” as Sam had said. So much for the brave and rugged men of the West, Georgia thought. But maybe Tony usually spent most of his time back there. It didn’t matter. Somehow she felt safe sitting there alone. And the small derringer pistol William had persuaded her to hide in her petticoats didn’t hurt either. She took another deep breath of Sonora air and put her feet up on the baggage.
After a slow hour passed, Georgia began to wonder if her cowboy-sheriff had forgotten about her. Was he scared away like Tony? No. A county sheriff wouldn’t frighten that easily. And he has important business to attend to – like rescuing his brother from an armed gang of desperadoes. My goodness, they don’t call it the Wild West for nothing. This situation is like something you might find in a dime store novel. Yet here I am in Texas in 1890 and it is real...so very real...
The sound of hoof beats on the earth brought her awake with a start. She had fallen asleep. Georgia jumped to her feet, reaching down quickly under her skirt into the petticoats, looking for the derringer. She didn’t want to get caught unarmed if it was the outlaws coming back. My pistol isn’t there! Did it fall out in the stage? She fumbled deeper into the undergarments, grabbing wildly. It’s got to be in here somewhere.
A man on a horse trotted around the corner. He saw her grabbing crazily under her dress and stopped his animal in the middle of the street. Georgia froze and looked up at him.
“Uh...ma’am? You all right there?” the man said.
“Yes! Yes, of course,” she blushed, removing her hands slowly from underneath the skirts. She raised them both into the air above her head. “I’m not armed.”
The man began to laugh; quietly at first, then building up into a deep belly laugh that made his horse’s ears twist and turn like they were looking around for the joke. When Georgia noticed the man’s sheriff badge pinned to his leather vest she couldn’t help it: she began to giggle too. Soon, they were both laughing so hard that Tony came out of hiding to see what the commotion was about. He stood in the doorway of his office scratching his head. “What in the blue blazes?” he whispered.
“Oh, boy!” James guffawed, bent over in the saddle, slapping his Stetson on his knee. “I can’t breathe no more.”
Georgia continued laughing with high-pitched mirth, releasing all the stress of her long journey.
“What in blazes is happening out here?!” Tony asked from the doorway. A small child poked its head out behind his legs, sucking on a thumb
“Tony,” James announced, catching his breath at last, “Meet Ms. Georgia Warton of Massachusetts.”
“Yes, we met earlier, Sheriff. Welcome to Sonora, Miss Warton,” Tony said, coming out of the doorway to take her hand.
“Much obliged for the belly laugh, Ms. Warton,” James smiled, “it’s been a very tough couple of days here, as Tony probably told you. Sure felt good to let off some steam though.”
“No problem, Sheriff,” she grinned, “I can’t say it was exactly my pleasure how we met...but glad to be of service nonetheless.” James chuckled at her wit. Tony looked puzzled. “You see I got very frightened, Tony,” Georgia said, “I thought maybe it was one of those outlaws that you told me about coming. So there I was digging like crazy through my petticoat trying to find the muff pistol stashed there and the sheriff came galloping around the corner...”
“And froze in my tracks,” James said, chuckling. “Never seen anything like it in all my years as a lawman.”
“I think I like this lady, Sheriff,” Tony said, grinning at her, “she’s funny!”
“Thank you, Tony,” Georgia said, bowing theatrically toward him.
“Well sir, I’ve got work to do,” James said to Tony. “We still haven’t found David. I’m gonna bring the lady out to the ranch for safekeeping with Aunt Martha. We’ll send one of the boys over to pick up her luggage later, Tony. Will you keep an eye on it until then?”
He nodded. “No problem, Sheriff.”
Still sitting on his horse, James held out a hand toward the new arrival. “Sorry I didn’t have time to bring another mount for you today, Ms. Warton. Would you ride with me to the Golden Lane?”
“I would be delighted, Sheriff,” she said brightly, “and please, call me Georgia.” She walked over to his horse and reached up both arms toward him. “I’m not armed.”
James laughed and picked her up, placing Georgia in front of him. “Call me James,” he said gently. Then he nudged the horse with his heel and they started forward together.
5
David slowly came to in the darkness. His head was throbbing like an angry mule had kicked it. He tried to focus on the dim light from a window but the fuzzy square seemed to pulse and move with the rhythm of the pain. Trying to sit up, he realized that his wrists were tied together in front of him.
Where am I?
He remembered the Comanche dart piercing his neck and him falling to the ground, darkness closing in.
Voices slowly penetrated his consciousness. They sounded far away. He turned his head toward them and saw a narrow band of light glowing on the floor. Must be a door, he thought groggily. He stilled himself and concentrated on the sounds: two men, one complaining angrily.
“Confound it, Jess,” the angry one said, “why didn’t they stock the cabin for us? What’d they expect us to eat? Squirrel?”
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with squirrel,” the other voice said cheerfully, “I’d sure go for one right about now. Fried up with some onions and a bit o’ cayenne pepper.”
“Shut up!” angry man said.
“All right, all right. Keep your shirt on,” his companion replied. “Boss man said we won�
��t be here long anyway. Just long enough to teach the sheriff a lesson, that’s all. Then we can get us some fat steaks.”
“I ain’t waiting for no steaks. Come on, get your rifle. Maybe we can scare up a couple flying squirrels tonight. Gimme that lantern.”
David heard footsteps approaching and pretended to be unconscious. The door opened quietly. Paused. Then closed again. He heard the boots scuffle back across the room.
“McCloud’s still out like a light,” angry man said. “Don’t know what was in that Indian dart but he looks to be sleeping ‘round the clock again. Let’s go huntin’.”
David heard a door slam and the two men’s voices faded into the distance outside. He sat up and tried pulling his wrists free of the rope. They wouldn’t budge. “Shoot!” he whispered, swinging his feet off the bed. His head began to swim dizzily with pain and a groan of agony welled up from his chest.
He got slowly to his feet and the cabin floor felt like the swaying deck of a ship in a storm. He fell heavily, hit a table, and heard something fall to the floor. A bottle! He felt for it, grasped the neck. Testing the weight of it, the glass seemed to be empty. That’ll do. He rolled the bottle clumsily into the cloth of his shirt and felt along the wall for something hard to smash it against.
His fingers touched a small, low shelf. Carefully taking aim, he swung the bottle and it shattered with a muffled pop. He stopped and listened intently for a moment. There was no sound from inside or outside.
David shuffled slowly toward the window holding the neck of the bottle in his hand. Sure hope I don’t slash my wrists instead of the rope. James needs to know what those boys are up to. Reaching the dim light from the window he looked down at his hands. They seemed far away and his eyes wouldn’t focus on them. I got to try and cut these ropes anyway. You fellers keep chasing your squirrels for awhile longer, y’hear?
It seemed like it took an hour to cut through the tough material. He had to grasp the bottle and saw away using only the leverage he could get from his fingers and hands. They seemed like they weren’t working properly and they got tired very fast. Once he dropped the bottle and the glass broke again but there was still enough to get a grip on it and carry on.
Finally the tough cattle-rope gave way and dropped to the floor. David listened again for a moment. All clear! He lurched to his feet and stumbled toward the place where the bar of light had been. Finding the doorknob he moved carefully into the next room. It was pitch black. Feeling along the wall for an exit, the cabin floor swayed beneath him and pain hammered away at the inside of his skull. He felt nauseous and wanted to vomit.
Can’t pass out! Gotta get out of here, tell James what’s going on.
After what seemed like a long time he found the front door and put his ear to it. There was only the sound of wind in the trees. He opened it a crack and peered outside. Clear. Walking as fast as he could, he moved toward the shelter of the forest. Almost there.
A shot rang out from the woods. “Think I got him!” shouted the angry man. David froze. He felt no bullet hit his body, heard no sound of lead tearing through the branches overhead.
They must have found a squirrel, he realized with relief.
“Good for you, boys. Enjoy your dinner,” David mumbled quietly and moved away in the opposite direction.
* * *
As dawn broke, he saw the Golden Lane Ranch house in the distance. David had gotten his bearings by the position of a fuzzy, pulsating moon and made his way slowly overland. Fortunately, the outlaws had had enough misplaced confidence to keep him in a cabin relatively near the ranch. He was able to make the journey under cover of darkness and reach the outskirts of the Golden Lane before dawn. The two outlaws had tried all night to find him, crisscrossing the area on their horses. Two times David had to seek cover when they passed by just a stone’s throw away.
He was two hundred yards from the house when the front door flew open and Aunt Martha rushed onto the veranda. “James!” she shouted to the sheriff who was sitting inside at the breakfast table. “It’s Dave!”
James quickly pushed back his chair, grabbed the rifle leaning against the wall, and ran out the door. “Where?” he asked Martha. She pointed across the yard to a gray, limping figure moving slowly toward them. James jumped off the veranda and broke into a run towards his brother. Several ranch hands who had been inside followed after him.
Georgia came outside too and stood on the veranda next to Martha. “Is he okay?” she asked anxiously.
“Hope so,” Martha replied, a look of concern on her face. “C’mon, let’s get some hot water on, he’ll need nursin’.”
The men reached David and checked quickly for broken bones or any other injuries. Then, with one of them on either side to support his weight, they helped the hurting man into the house and placed him onto a bed in the closest room.
James knelt down next to his brother. “You all right?”
“Yeah. Just a few blisters on my feet,” he joked, smiling weakly. “How are things goin’ here?”
“Good. No sign of the outlaws again,” James replied.
“They’re trying to get to you, brother. That’s why they grabbed me. I heard ‘em talking when they had me tied up in a shack yonder. Something about teaching you a lesson.”
“A lesson about what?”
“Dunno. Don’t know who’s leading ‘em neither. That’s all I heard. I had to get back and let you know.”
“Thanks,” James replied. “Rest easy now. Martha’s gonna help you get cleaned up.”
“Hey, how about that pretty young thing from Boston?” David’s face lit up. “Saw her when you brought me in. Wow! Can she give me a sponge bath?”
“You’re hallucinating!” James laughed. “But you’re right about one thing. She sure is pretty, ain’t she? Funny, too.”
“Well, that’s always a bonus,” David added wearily. “Think I’m gonna have a little nap now, if you don’t mind. Been a long night.”
“All right, partner, in a minute. Let’s get those ripped clothes off you first. That’s some way to meet a lady from Boston. All dressed in rags like that,” James teased. “What’s she gonna think of us two Texas gentlemen?”
“We ain’t gentlemen, we’re cowhands. You told her so yourself in the newspaper ad,” David grinned.
“Ranchers. I said we was ranchers, not cowhands. Put a cork in it now. You’re beat up, drugged up, tired as a dog, and still ribbin’ me about taking out an ad for a wife.”
“The womenfolk around the county are awful put out that you didn’t think they was good enough for ya, partner.”
“That weren’t why I did it. You know that. They just come on so strong it made me skittish. A man likes to do the asking, don’t he? Unless he’s the kinda guy who goes for them dance hall girls.” James grinned mischievously as he tugged off his brother’s boots.
“Hey, now who’s ribbing who? So I like them ladies. So what? They ain’t the kind that tangles a man up and ties him down. I like my freedom.”
“I know you do. Take her easy now.” James eased his brother’s shirt off and winced when he saw the puncture in his swollen neck.
David noticed his brother’s reaction to the dart wound. “Yeah, that Injun medicine sure knocked me out,” he murmured. “My head still hurts like Hades.”
“Did you recognize any of ‘em?” James asked.
“Nope. It was a Comanche who took me down, though. Never seen him before.”
“Blue Shadow,” James said.
“Blue who?”
“A renegade from the Nokoni tribe. Their chief told me he’s a bad one.”
“I believe it. That was one crazy look in his eyes when he ran up and took aim on me,” David remembered. “It gave me the willies. You watch out for that one, James.”
“Not to worry, amigo.” He slid the injured man’s socks off and saw swollen ankles and blisters. “Holy mackerel! How many miles you cover last night?”
“I dunno, wasn’t that far. B
etween the Comanche’s poison and not having anything to eat...it took awhile.”
“Once you’re doing better, we gotta find that shack.”
“You got it, brother.”
Martha entered the room with an armful of towels and a basin of hot water. “Hey! I ain’t decent here, Aunt Martha!” David protested.
Caught Between Love And Duty Page 4
