Montana watched her well-put-together figure rise from the bench seat and crawl onto the roof behind him. She was about to slip over the side to enter the interior when she noticed there was a hatch in the ceiling, and calling back over her shoulder, she asked him what it was.
"It's an innovation the stage owners put in. His son is something of a tinkerer, and he had an idea that in the colder months, the hatch could be opened and let the sunshine in on the seats. Warm the folks up, so to speak!"
As hot as the day was now, Cassandra had to admit it was a forward-thinking idea for other times of the year as opposed to the dead of summer. Shaking it off, she seized the latch, flipped it open, and found herself staring directly down at the frightened faces of the Endicotts looking up at her from where they sat in the forward-facing seat.
Pulling her guns out, she flipped them around, held them by the barrels, and thrust them down towards the couple. Their faces registered confusion.
“Forget about that firecracker derringer and take these. We don’t know what’s going to happen, and you best be armed.”
"Dear lady, a derringer is one thing … but those. I've never handled a gun like that, and my wife has never fired any sort of gun."
“You’ll learn on the fly if your life depends on it!” she thrust them forward again, and the young couple both reluctantly took them. She was about to close the hatch when Millie called up to her.
“Poor Mister Renaud … he … he’s surely dead?”
Millie apparently had seen nothing after the first arrow strike, and Cassandra thought that was just as well. "Yes, Millie, I'm afraid so."
“Just like a similar fate that may await us,” Endicott groused.
Cassandra slammed the hatch shut and scrambled back down onto the seat next to Montana. Behind their calves mounted to the driver’s box was a Winchester rifle that she hurriedly freed. Quickly, she checked and was relieved to see it was fully loaded with rounds, and then she looked at Montana. Knowing what she was thinking, he reached down into a compartment, and his hand came back with a box of shells.
Silence fell over them now. The only sound was the frantic cracking of the whip forcing the team to pound the road as never before as the miles flew by in their headlong run for the relief station. Every precious foot seemed like a blessing to Cassandra. She was just turning to ask Montana for another estimate to the station, when the first arrow flew directly across their path, followed by another and another, crisscrossing in front of them. The pair in the driver's box crouched low, Cassandra sweeping the long gun from side to side. The Overland Express stage shot into the area where the arrows had been launched at them. As they passed, unseen archers on either side unleashed arrows that buried themselves in the sides of the stage. She snapped off several shots into the wooded area as Millie's screams filled the air, and she heard one of her twin Colts being fired.
As swiftly as they entered what had amounted to a shooting gallery, they swept out of it, and Cassandra bolted to her feet and looked back, the rifle still steady in her hands. She watched as about a half dozen braves spilled out onto the road receding behind them. One of them fired a shot that fell well short as they pulled further away.
"Looks like you were right about more," Montana said tersely.
“Even Lijuan wouldn’t be surprised to hear me say I wouldn’t have minded being wrong in this case!” she said as she slipped back down next to him.
“Who is Lijuan?”
“One of the sisters I was telling you about. The Chinese one. She loves to tease me whenever I’m proven wrong.”
"Right, of course! With a name like that, of course!" he slapped his forehead theatrically, "I guess being under attack has left me dumb as a post!" The two exchanged a smile, and she was happy to see one on his face again, no matter how tense the situation was. Then she remembered the Endicotts. Calling out over her shoulder, she asked, “Everyone all right back there?”
"You should have told me what a kick this gun has. Otherwise, we are fine!" came Endicott's chiding voice. She just shrugged, she knew he was scared. They all were. Anyone who said they weren't in a situation like this would be proven to be a born liar. Saying no more, her eyes scanned ahead. Something was bothering her, but she just didn't know what.
More miles fell behind them, the countryside whizzing by as they went, but Cassandra could see that the horses were tiring. They needed to go fast she knew, but it wasn't reasonable to expect superhuman abilities from a pack of draft horses. She pivoted her head to look back at the roof of the stage. Without saying anything, she tossed the rifle back up on the roof and scrambled on to it once more.
“Cassandra, what is it?” Montana called out, glancing back at her in worry.
Her knife was already out of her boot and was slashing through the ropes holding several pieces of luggage that had been strapped to the roof behind where the hatch was when there had not been any room left for it in the baggage area at the rear of the coach. “Lightening the load!”
The first piece of luggage that hit the road barely had time to bounce before an angry howl emerged from within the cabin as Endicott realized what was happening. “Are you out of your mind? Stop that! Stop that at once!”
Cassandra raised the next bag over her head and pitched it off, completely ignoring more incendiary bellowing from Endicott. She watched it bounce and then burst open. Cloths spewed out all over the road as well as a few books.
“Stop! You just lost my copy of this wonderful book, Moby Dick. It was signed by the author himself, Mister Melville!”
"You'll be losing your scalp too if we don't lighten the load! If we live through this, write to me at Cedar Ledge in Alamieda, I'll see it replaced. In the meantime, keep your mouth shut, or I'll come down there and close it!"
Cassandra’s own mouth blossomed into a toothy smile as she heard Millie cheer her on. “Here! Here!” Maybe this experience was helping her grow a backbone where Theodore Endicott was concerned. If they got out of this, it just might be worth it. Fair being fair, she hurled the last bag on the roof into the air … her bag. Cassandra’s ears caught the sound of the glass breaking in the frame holding the photograph of the four sisters she always carried when she traveled far. She sincerely hoped it would be possible to retrieve it when this was over. Once more, she thought, that depended on their survival.
CHAPTER 17
At last, the stage was only fifteen minutes away from the station by Montana’s estimates. For the last mile or so, they had been traveling parallel to a swiftly flowing river. Wanting to speak of anything besides the possibility of dying before they reached potential safety, she asked him what the river was.
The river had managed to have retained its original Indian name, and he gave it to her, but she had to ask him twice. In her opinion, it was nearly unpronounceable. She tried it herself, but Montana had smiled, shook his head, and said her pronunciation wasn’t even close.
“Roughly it translates to ‘The Big Deep,’ perhaps you should stick with that, Cassandra. Like the name says, it’s pretty deep for a river. Unusually deep, I reckon some folks would say. It eventually flows into the Colorado River.”
Suddenly, the sickening sound of a tomahawk burying itself in the side of the stage assaulted their ears. Several more flew from either side of the road. A couple more stuck as well, and one sailed through the window, missing Millie by only inches. As several missed or bounced off they pulled clear. Rising to look back again as she had done before, she saw a dozen braves emerge from the woods and stood looking at them. Soon the figures grew smaller and faded from sight. Cassandra slumped back down into her seat, never having fired a single shot.
"There's more with every attack …" she said glumly and looked down. The feeling that something was wrong here pestered her still. The feeling had just been a spark before, but now it raged within her like an inferno, but she still couldn't grasp what it was.
“C’mon, Cass! I know you can think of what it is … sure as sug
ar!” she smiled as she heard Catalina’s soft Spanish accented voice in her head. Her youngest sister had always looked up to her and had such complete faith in her. She thought of Catalina now back at Cedar Ledge, probably herding her beloved cattle at this very moment.
Cassandra's green eyes grew wide like saucers as suddenly it all fell into place. Nagging her was the fact that the Omegas were formidable fighters, only the best and the fiercest were allowed into the ranks by Black Hawk. Those not making the cut were turned away, and usually tried to go it alone and came to a bad end at the hands of the cavalry. These attacks along the way weren't anything of what the Omegas were capable of, missing every time with their arrows and their tomahawks? Why no gunfire? Black Hawk had no qualms about using the white man's own weapons against them.
There were only two possibilities. These weren't Omegas, but just some renegades trying to imitate them was the first possibility, but she quickly dismissed it. Though it had been at a distance, she saw the brave who was about to scalp Renaud had the tell-tale Omega symbol tattooed on his chest. She had always found it strange that the Omegas had embraced the name given to them by the white eyes. At the same time, she supposed there were those that might have found that the four sisters enthusiastically embraced the moniker first coined to hurt them and were proud to refer to themselves as the Daughters of Half Breed Haven along with their HBH sign was puzzling as well. To them, these things bonded them even closer than they already were.
Returning to the brave with the tattoo, she believed he was indeed an Omega. Others who had tried to brand themselves as Omegas, Black Hawk had hunted down and killed if the mood struck him. If they were actually Black Hawk's men, then they were holding back for one reason. Her thoughts on Catalina had brought the word to her head that had been escaping her.
Herding.
The Omegas were, without a doubt herding them. Frantically, she grabbed Montana's arm and begged him to stop the stagecoach. The driver cocked his head to one side and looked into her full and pleading eyes. With a deep and weighted sigh, he jerked the reins backward, and the exhausted horses were more than happy to cease their gallop and come to a standstill panting.
Shouts of protest erupted from both the Endicotts as they flew out of the coach on either side and raced up to where the pair sat. Each had Cassandra's Colts tightly in their grasps as they nervously scanned their surroundings before the young banker looked up at her; Endicott's face was nearly red with fury.
“Why are we stopping? Are you trying to get us killed?”
“Cassandra?” Montana's look told her that even he expected a damn good reason for ending their mad dash. With all attention on her, she climbed down off the seat followed by Montana and then she spoke.
“Herding. They’re herding us like cattle. That’s why!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Endicott snarled, baring his teeth.
“Montana, this is a well-traveled stage route, yes?” he nodded, clearly uncertain of where she was going with this question. “You said yourself that there has never been any trouble, that’s why most folks take this route instead of taking the pass, right?” Again, he nodded, but still, he had a distant look on his face.
“And didn’t I see another stage leave just before ours?”
Montana scratched his chin, “Yes, ma’am. That was from Decklan’s Stage and Steed Company. I know the driver quite well, an old chap by the name of Bill Overbeek.”
“So, where is Overbeek’s stage? The way we’ve been driving our team, we should have caught up to him by now.”
Though wholly unnecessary, Millie raised her free hand before speaking. "Don't forget, Miss Wilde, we made several stops to accommodate the poor and unfortunate Mister Renaud," she aptly pointed out, but Montana surprised Cassandra by answering for her with information only he knew.
“Cassandra’s right. We should have caught up with them by now even stopping for Renaud. The stage Overbeek is driving was much larger than the one we’re using because it can hold more passengers. The only way we wouldn’t have caught up to it by now was if …” he looked over at the woman from Cedar Ledge with respect.
“… if they were forced into a flight for life too … because they were being herded as well,” she finished.
Endicott had been pacing back and forth since Cassandra had started questioning Montana, and he came to a sudden halt, pinching his lips together.
“Herding to where and for what end?”
"The relief station," Cassandra said with certainty. "They want us to get there instead of turning back to Sierra Bluffs. Showing themselves after each attack assures we don’t try to turn around. That's why none of their attacks took us out. They want us to keep going in this direction. Black Hawk's braves are the best of the best when it comes to warfare. There is no way they weren't holding back on us. The first brave that killed Renaud probably had been shadowing us waiting for the right moment. We gave it to him with the final stop. They wanted to get the herding started right then and there. If it were any other case but that, you would now be dead, Mister Endicott murdered when you and Renaud went off by yourselves."
A slow change came over the man's face as the anger seemed to drain out of it, and the frightening realization just how close to death he had come swept over him. For a moment, it looked to Cassandra that he was unsteady on his feet. His wife came around to his side and reached out to offer him a hug, one he did not refuse. Millie then turned and looked at her.
“Why do they want us at the relief station?”
“A turkey shoot. Be easier to kill a bunch of people if you got them all in one place," Montana said gravely, his mind still that of a lawman had put it together just as Cassandra had, and she was impressed. The ashen-faced Endicotts looked on expectantly.
“Black Hawk is as crafty as they come. He’s out to kill whites, blacks, Mexicans; anyone who he feels doesn’t belong in the territory. Why pick off a bunch of wagons one by one? My guess is he wants to trap as many as he can at the relief station. He’s probably got a similar herding operation going on for coaches coming in the opposite direction of ours as well.”
“Not just stages too. People in wagons coming to and from California are going to be on this route too,” Montana said softly, casting his gaze downward.
“Black Hawk would have planned this operation well. Tell me about the relief station. Is there anything unusual about it?” she urged him. Biting his lip, the man seemed to think for a long moment.
“Just like any of the other ones along the fifty-mile route. Ma’am, the only thing different about it is that it’s set back from the road … kind of in a small canyon in the side of the escarpment.”
Cassandra felt her stomach roll. There was the turkey shoot that Montana had theorized before. She did not doubt that it was a box canyon. Visions of the passengers being captured and herded into a three-sided prison from which there was no escape, and the Omegas mowing them down with their weapons of war. She watched a chill sweep over her three companions as she relayed what she just envisioned happening.
At long last, Millie, her voice barely audible, asked the question that was on everyone’s mind.
“So, what do we do?”
They all turned to her … even Montana. Cassandra looked them all in the eye before turning away from them. She tilted her head upward to the left, her golden hair tumbling a little further down her back as her eyes swept over the rocky slope towering over them. Then she turned and gazed towards “The Big Deep.”
The expectant group leaned in as she put her hands on her hips as she faced them once more.
“I can say, without a doubt, no one is going to like this plan.”
CHAPTER 18
Stalking Wolf, the right-hand man of Black Hawk himself, stood with his powerful, muscular arms crossed on the back porch of the Heidelberg relief station. Behind the building was the corral where fresh horses were stored when the stages arrived and needed to be switched out.
; The horses were gone now. All had been led down to the river along with the ones captured from the travelers, forced into it, and then shot in the head, their bodies swept away by the swift current. It was a waste Stalking Wolf knew, as he would have preferred to take them as a bounty from this successful mission … his mission. He alone had come up with it, planned it out, scouted for the perfect location across the territory, and now he had successfully executed it. He wished to return home with the victorious news to Black Hawk. Trying to wrangle a herd of horses as a prize would only imperil their chance for escape, so with great reluctance, he had dispatched them.
Now in their place, were three dozen men, women, and children. Everything had gone as planned. His forces had led raids in the area prompting a response from Fort Bessette. When he was satisfied enough pony soldiers had gone to meet their Great Spirit that he knew they referred to as God, he had ordered a retreat. The trick had worked, and the blue coats believed they had the Omegas on the run. The truth, however, was he and a select group of forty braves had remained hidden during the skirmishes, waiting until the hated white eyes were lulled into believing the Omegas had been defeated, and they were now safe.
As planned on the morning of the fifth sun since the retreat, this morning, they had set about the plan for a mass capture and execution of the invaders to their land. In the grand lodge in a place the white man spoke reverently of as Washington, word would get back in the days to come of the loss of not just soldiers but settlers as well. In this so-called White House, the Great White father Grant would tremble in fear at what the mighty Omegas could accomplish.
The sight of the frightened faces in the corral pleased him. The men and children had been separated into the larger of the corrals, and the women had been placed in another smaller one. Most of his men stood guard over the prisoners. He knew some of his warriors longed to have their way with them, but Stalking Wolf believed in fairness. They would have to wait until the braves he had tasked with shepherding the wagons and coaches to the relief station from both directions arrived.
River 0f Death: Cassandra Wilde Adult Western (Half Breed Haven Book 13) Page 13
