“They went upstream,” Emilio said, grabbing Cochise’s reins. “This is where they got out, up there at those rocks. I found a feather.” He held it up, a broken, rather innocuous brown section of plumage.
“Birds drop feathers all the time,” Beckwith pointed out.
“Not with marks on them from a rawhide string.”
Emilio dropped the feather and the rest of the group remounted. Over the next few hours, the trail turned hard to the south and the going slowed. Emilio meticulously searched the rocky, shale-covered ground every few yards to make sure he was following the right path. Finally, in the midst of an aspen forest, he stopped abruptly. Here, even Billy could make out the trampled grass and trail of dirt clods thrown by shoeless horses.
Emilio turned his horse around so he could face Beckwith and McIntyre. “I think I know where they are going and I know a shortcut. But the trail, it is very rough.” He removed his hat and swiped his wrist across his forehead. “It is an old trail, a secret one the Spanish missionaries cut. They walked or rode small donkeys so there are many low trees.”
“First, where do you think they’re going?” Beckwith asked, leaning forward.
“Redemption Pass, there is an abandoned toll gate and shack there.”
“That’s most likely where they’re trading.”
McIntyre traced the stitching in his saddle horn, thinking. “They’re meeting someone who will be armed to the teeth, maybe several someones.” He swung his gaze up at Emilio. “There’s high ground in that pass. It’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel for whoever gets to it first.”
“Si.”
Billy inched his horse forward. “Can we get there first?”
Emilio sighed. “It will be close, but I think we can make it.” The body of men turned to Beckwith and McIntyre for a decision. The marshal stared off into the woods. McIntyre swished his reins back and forth and studied the ground. “For what it’s worth, if it was up to me,” Emilio raised his chin, “I would take the shortcut.”
~~~
McIntyre exhaled as he and Emilio dismounted again. The boy shrugged apologetically. The trail was so overgrown it was almost invisible. Everything from chokecherries to junipers had laid a claim to the path. And every time they had to dismount so they could shoulder their way through thick, evergreen branches or side-step a briar patch, they lost more time.
Two hours into this mess, his temper flared. “Emilio, this isn’t a trail, it’s barely a rabbit path–”
The boy whirled on McIntyre with a finger pressed to his lips. He didn’t say a word, but wrapped his horse’s reins around a bush and slipped off into the brush. McIntyre turned and passed the hand signal back. They all waited in tense silence, interrupted occasionally by the swish of a tale or the stomp of a hoof.
How close were they to One-Who-Cries? McIntyre realized his hands were sweating and he wiped them on his trousers. His throat was dry, too. He knew he should move on from the hate, put it behind him like a good, church-going man, but he wanted revenge so badly he could taste it. Justice for three of his best friends, redress for Naomi. Today, maybe the scales would finally balance.
But he had made a promise and it stirred uneasily in his soul.
I’ll do anything, give You anything …
Then give Me your hate.
He pushed the request to the shadows of his heart, to be dealt with later, when he found Naomi.
A good half hour passed. McIntyre had resolved to go retrieve Emilio when the boy soundlessly slipped back among them. “I found One-Who-Cries. I …” His voice wavered, “They had a guard watching the trail. I killed him.”
McIntyre saw that Emilio doubted his course of action and felt for him. “You did the right thing, son. They’ve got three women down there.”
“Four.” He nodded at the surprised looks. “Si, another girl, but I’ve never seen her before.”
“The peddler’s daughter,” Beckwith said.
“How many braves, lad?” Ian asked, checking his revolver.
“I counted six braves, and then four banditos with a wagon rode up. They are all at the old tollgate.”
The men exchanged knowing glances. Time for the fat to hit the fire, McIntyre thought, and started to offer a plan. “If we can get to that high ground—”
“No good,” Emilio shook his head. “There was a rock slide. The whole pass is different.”
All right, McIntyre breathed. Think of something else. God, help me think of something else. “Are they keeping the girls in the cabin or out in the open?”
“In the cabin. I saw them take them in. One Indian stands at the door. The other five, they are … ” Emilio struggled for the right words and drew circles in the air, “in different places around the …”
Matthew shouldered into the group. “He’s trying to say they’ve established a perimeter, but they don’t know their main guard is down.”
“Which should allow us to get closer than they’ll expect,” Beckwith reasoned.
“Aye, but ye’re forgetting about the four new men. We have to assume they are armed and we can’t make a plan till we know where they are.”
Frustrated, McIntyre removed his hat and scratched his scalp through dirty hair wet with sweat. If he had just married Naomi the other night, maybe none of them would be here now. They could be doing something mundane and safe, like drinking lemonade down by the stream. If this all fell apart, the guilt would consume him.
“All right,” he replaced his hat. “Emilio, do you think you and Billy could sneak up to the cabin, maybe slip the girls out if we cause a diversion? Is there any cover for you at all, brush or a woodshed, something?”
“Si, there is scrub brush and junipers that come close to the cabin.”
“What kind of a diversion?” Billy asked.
“Well, I’ve got three sticks of dynamite in my saddle bags.”
Every head twisted toward Wade, whom McIntyre had all but forgotten.
“What are you doing with dynamite?” Beckwith asked irritably.
“I thought it might come in handy.”
~~~
Fifty-Four
Hannah shuffled into the cabin behind the girls and grimaced. A one-room structure, it was barely bigger than a small bedroom, one that had been abandoned for years. It only had two small windows, both missing their glass, and a warped door in the back wall that, judging by the dust, had not been opened this decade. Cobwebs reached floor to ceiling and covered the rusty, dilapidated stove. One splintered chair forlornly occupied a dark corner and the rest of the room was bare. Dust, an inch thick on the floor, swirled around the hem of her skirt. The lean Indian shoved Hannah hard between the shoulder blades and sent her crashing into Naomi.
Both girls turned, fists balled, daggers in their eyes, but held their peace and watched him leave. As the door closed, Naomi groaned, rotated her right shoulder and sank to the floor. Hannah thought her sister would die if she could see herself, left cheek red and puffy, blood smeared on her face and dress. But the beating the Indian had given her could have been so much worse. Grateful it wasn’t, she dropped down beside her sister and took over gently rubbing her shoulder. “Sore?”
“Uhmm. It was kind enough to break my fall.”
Beside them, the new girl sat down and took a deep breath. “I’m scared.” It was the first sound she’d uttered.
“Oh, sweetie,” Mollie sank to the floor beside her and leaned in, raising her tied hands to show her she’d hug her if she could. “It’ll be all right.”
The poor thing looked terrified, the way she hunkered down into herself. Hannah wanted to ask how long she’d been a captive, but thought the question could wait. She needed something more positive on which to focus. “What’s your name?”
“Terri.”
“Where are you from, Terri?” The question from Naomi drew the girl’s gaze. She took one look at her blood-covered face and burst into tears.
As Mollie tried to comfort her, Naomi leaned
into Hannah. “What? What did I say?”
“Nothing. Nothing. She’s just exhausted.” There wasn’t a thing they could do about Naomi’s appearance right now, so why mention it?
Conversation effectively snuffed for the time being, Naomi stared up at the ceiling. After a long while, a tear rolled down her cheek, cruising right across the dried blood. “I overreacted again, Hannah.” She shook her head, clearly disgusted with herself. “I should have given him a chance to explain. Now I may never know—”
“Don’t think like that. Charles is on his way. So is Billy. We’re going to get out of here.”
Hannah smiled with pride as Naomi squared her shoulders and shook off her moment of self-pity. “You’re right. We’re not giving up.”
Terri’s crying dried up and she wiped away the tears. “I’m sorry. It’s been hard. They killed my family.”
Mollie took the girl’s hand. “We are going to get out of here. You’ll see.”
A picture of hopelessness, the girl rested her head on Mollie’s shoulder, and Mollie did the best she could to pat her on the knee. Hannah’s own hope wavered because of the fear and hopelessness Terri exuded. She whispered to Naomi, “Truth be told, I am a little afraid too.”
“I wasn’t, until I saw his eyes.”
Hannah turned inward and waited. God would give her something to strengthen them. A moment later, she had a verse. “Blessed be the Lord, my Strength, which teacheth my hands to war,” the other girls bowed their heads, “and my fingers to fight. My goodness …” She spoke the list slowly so they could savor the promises, “and my fortress, my high tower, and my deliverer, my shield, and He in Whom I trust, who subdueth my people under me. Heavenly Father, we give You glory and honor. We know no weapon formed against us shall prosper. No enemy shall have victory over us today. Please, God, I ask that You would deliver us from these evil men and send Your angels to protect our loved ones who even now draw near. Thank You, Lord. We pray this in Jesus’ name.”
She looked up and Naomi was staring at her. “Why did you say they’re near?”
Had she said that? Yes, and she knew it to be true. “Because they are.”
Naomi’s gaze shifted suddenly from Hannah to something behind her. She sucked in a little breath and Hannah turned to see what had her sister’s rapt attention.
“See? In the dust there.”
Hannah slid closer to the wall. At first she didn’t see it then she recognized the potential tool all but hidden in the dust. She picked up the rectangular piece of glass, about two inches long and one inch wide, one end broken into a sharp point. Breathless, she held the piece of glass up for them to see.
Smiling, Naomi raised her bound hands. “And the truth shall make you free.”
~~~
Billy’s heart pounded so loudly in his chest, he was afraid the sound might give him and Emilio away. Slowly, silently, rifles in hand, they crawled on all fours through tall grass and short, twisted junipers toward the back of the cabin. The tollgate and house sat in a wide, long ravine, a high pass between two colliding mountain ridges. The floor of the ravine and the lower part of the mountainside was spattered with these clusters of dense scrub. A broad, lazy stream cut through the pass, leaving one side just wide enough for the road, the tollgate, a small corral holding the Indian’s horses, and a one-room dilapidated cabin. Across the water, a hundred feet or so from the gate, a large rock formation, like a whale’s back, tore itself free from the mountain. It trailed the creek for a good four hundred yards, forming a cliff along one shore twenty to thirty feet high.
Where the cabin sat, a finger of scrub grass and junipers came down off the mountain and reached almost all the way to the back door. Billy guessed the gap they had to cross in the open was maybe forty feet or so. He wished it was less. Aware that there was a guard on the cliff, as well as one somewhere farther up on the mountain, they kept low and took their time moving.
They had not had a chance to scout the area and were clueless as to where the other Indians or Mexicans might be. They were trusting that their friends did. Stiff and sore from their previous skirmish with the renegades, not to mention the fight with each other, their goal was to avoid confrontation, if at all possible, and quietly slip the girls out the back door. McIntyre, Beckwith, and the others would attempt to draw the Indians’ fire if it became necessary.
That was the plan anyway.
Crawling on their bellies, the boys slithered to the edge of the brush. A low, twisted juniper gave them the chance to rise up on their knees and study the back of the cabin. It didn’t have a window on the back wall, but there was a door. “I don’t know.” Emilio sounded hesitant. “That door, who knows how long since it was opened.”
“I doubt it’ll open easy as a church door on Sunday morning.”
Emilio stared at him through the evergreen’s needles. “We’ll have to use the dynamite to cover the sound.”
This meant they had to use their one stick for getting to the girls, rather than for getting them out of there. Billy didn’t see an alternative. They needed a diversion now, something to cover the noise, and there was no way to signal Wade.
Unexpectedly, he felt a cold wind blow through his soul, a wind that threatened to break him with panic. Empty and afraid, he peered at Emilio through the needles. His friend lowered his head and quickly mouthed a silent prayer.
Billy pondered his part in all this, everything that had happened to bring him to this moment, and wondered why he was here. Initially, he’d believed he’d made a grand mistake coming west. After all, he’d been covered in blood and bruises practically since he’d left home. And, he’d made only the slightest headway with Hannah.
Yet, if he hadn’t come, would Emilio be making this stand alone?
At that instant, he knew he had been placed here by design, and the revelation terrified him because nothing felt certain to him except that. He had no idea how things were about to unfold but he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt his presence here was planned.
For such a time as this, a voice whispered to him.
God, he prayed with everything in him, I know–I KNOW–You have Your hand on this situation. I don’t know if I’m supposed to live or die today, but please don’t let this be the end. Let it be a beginning for Hannah and me. Please. I’ll give You anything You want, do anything You want, just, please, help me, use me to get us all home safe.
Before his prayer had finished, an explosion on the other side of the cabin shook the ground, bringing a trickle of rocks down from the mountain behind them. Stumped as to why Wade was already throwing dynamite, the two boys took advantage of the ensuing chaos, overrode the pain warring in their bodies, and charged for the cabin.
~~~
McIntyre almost cursed when he saw Wade light the dynamite and toss it … until he realized the deputy was trying to stop four riders who had come up from the south side of the pass, men wearing sombreros like the four down there gathered at the wagon. Beckwith, Ian, Matthew and McIntyre had positioned themselves in rocks almost roof level with the cabin, but on the opposite side of the rock-outcropping, where Wade was, across the stream. Not the high ground they had wanted, but they could see most of the yard, and the front and one side of the cabin.
Wade had ridden far to the north over rough terrain so he could circle back and come in on the rock escarpment. His vantage point had allowed him to see the four new riders cross the stream and trot toward the gate. The deadly throw had eliminated the new threat before they’d gotten off a single shot, but all hell had broken loose. The brave on the look-out in the rocks spun and fired at Wade. From somewhere above McIntyre and his group, another rifle fired.
The four Indians below had been chattering and gesticulating wildly at the Mexicans, striking the wagon with their hands. A sign the negotiations weren’t going well. They heard the explosion and started shooting wildly as if they were at Custer’s Last Stand.
After a few indiscriminate rounds, they located Wade’s
position and opened fire, screaming their bone-chilling war cries. The deputy leapt behind some rocks for safety and McIntyre, Ian, Beckwith, and Matthew brought their guns into the fray with a deadly, thunderous barrage. Instantly, the men below whirled on them. The brave atop the rocks went down with a screech, the rifle flying out of his hands and bouncing over the cliff into the water. Rifles and revolvers fired in deafening chaos. Gun smoke and expelled cartridges filled the air. McIntyre tasted sulfur. A shot came from behind him, up the mountain, shattering rocks beside his group. “Ian, there’s someone in the woods above us!” he shouted over the cacophony of gunfire.
His friend spun and scanned the tree line, waiting for the man to give away his position.
Returning fire in frenzied confusion, the sombrero-wearing men below and one Indian lunged for cover behind the wagon. The other three braves dove to the side of the cabin McIntyre couldn’t see. He couldn’t see them, but Wade should be able to, if he could raise his head long enough to fire.
Looking down his rifle sight, he saw Billy and Emilio charge for the cabin’s back wall, but lost sight of them as well. He realized the two boys had no idea the explosion had driven the guard at the front door of the cabin back inside with the girls, or that there were now three other braves using the cabin’s exterior for cover. Wade had the high ground on that side of the cabin and it would only be minutes, if not seconds, before the three renegades realized they also needed to take cover in the cabin.
McIntyre knew they had to keep the Indians and bandits pinned down. Otherwise, Billy and Emilio were in a real hornet’s nest. Shots zinged back and forth in the pass. Lead bounced off the rocks behind McIntyre. Pieces of slate shattered next to his head and he hunkered lower, recalling the bullet hole in his Stetson. Ian fired and they heard a muffled grunt in the woods above them. Below them, screams erupted from the cabin.
Hearts in Defiance (Romance in the Rockies Book 2) Page 32
