by A. T. Butler
She nodded.
“That’s a lovely name.” He was shaken. This poor helpless creature tied up and gagged was bad enough, but picturing his own Bonnie in such a situation nearly broke his heart. Jacob stood up again, now that she had been untied. “If you’re not hurt, let me go help one of these others, alright?”
She nodded again and wiped her face, dragging the streak of dirt sideways.
Jacob turned his attention to the next closest—it seemed to be the same young man he had seen Maloney just drag into the barn. At this close distance, Jacob could see he was likely fifteen or sixteen years old. Practically a man. As soon as the gag was pulled down, he sputtered angrily.
“I’ll kill him! I’ll—”
“Shhh,” Jacob warned, less kindly this time. This young man should know better. “You’re not killing anyone. I need your help. What’s your name?”
“George Thatcher,” the kid said sullenly.
“George Thatcher,” Jacob repeated, as he untied the binding from around his wrists. “I need you to tell me what happened here. What are we dealing with?”
“That man,” he said, rubbing the raw skin of his wrist.
“Untie someone while you talk,” Jacob said as he interrupted him. The final two people tied up in the barn were both young ladies, both younger than George. Jacob was surprised and pleased by the way the girls stayed calm all while he and George freed him, and the young man told his story.
“That man showed up here, I dunno, a few hours ago and just— He just—”
“I can imagine,” Jacob said, trying to be soothing. “Where are your parents?”
“They’re still inside,” George said.
All four children were free now, but Jacob kept them close, sitting on hay bales inside the barn, away from the door and keeping their voices low for now. The oldest girl sat between the two others and tried to comfort them. George seemed too agitated to even sit, let alone notice his siblings.
“So this man comes, and he somehow manages to corral the whole family?” Jacob couldn’t imagine the damage this outlaw must have doled out to have accomplished that. The risks he must have taken. The cold-hearted threatening.
“As far as I can tell,” George said, “he got us all one at a time. He musta been watching and waiting and … I worry for my ma, you know? All the girls were in here, but when I was I the house, the man had separated our parents into different rooms, and Ma … she …”
He trailed off, then shook his head as though he couldn’t speak any more.
“I understand. Let me just ask a few more questions. Other than you four, and your parents in the house, is there anyone else on the land? Any hired help that might walk into an ambush, or—”
“No, sir. It’s just us. The Thatcher family all take care of ourselves,” he said proudly.
“Well, that’s good, then,” Jacob said approvingly. “Fewer people to come to harm.”
“Excuse me, sir?” the oldest of the girls said. “Is this a … a bad man?”
Jacob softened. “What’s your name?”
“Eliza.”
“Well, Eliza, I’m glad you asked that. He is a bad man, but that’s why I’m here. So he can’t do any more bad things. I just need you to trust me and everything will work out fine.”
She nodded, and held tight to both of her sisters’ hands.
“Now, George,” Jacob said, turning his attention to the boy. “What can you tell me about the weapons your father has on hand?”
“Well, this man probably found ‘em.”
“All of them?”
George’s face slowly lit up. “No, you’re right. Not all.”
“Are there any weapons stored or hidden outside the house that we can still get to?”
George nodded. “You bet! I can take you!”
“That’s great, George.” Jacob smiled at his enthusiasm. “Your help will be really instrumental in getting your parents freed. I have an idea, and I’d like if you helped me.”
“Course I will.”
Jacob turned to the three sisters, who were sitting and listening.
“Girls, I think you will probably be safest in here.”
The middle girl shook her head, afraid. “No, please.”
“I’m sorry,” Jacob said. “But if you stay in here you can stay out of his sight, and maybe if George and I can distract or capture the other man, he’ll forget all about you. Now that you’re untied, you should be able to run and hide in the deep recesses of the barn if you need to as well.”
Eliza nodded. “He’s right, Sarah. We’ll be okay.”
“I don’t wanna.”
“Where do you want to go instead?” Eliza asked her sister.
She shrugged. “With Ma and Pop.”
“They’ll be here soon,” Eliza said, putting an arm around her. “We need to stay hidden and safe for them, though, okay?”
Sarah didn’t respond, but she had stopped protesting.
“You all have been very brave,” Jacob said. “We’ll get through this. I just need you to make sure to follow my instructions no matter what. Is that clear?”
All four of the children nodded solemnly.
Chapter Eleven
The sun had just set behind the horizon when Jacob finished explaining to George how they would set about freeing his parents. Working without light would make the entire enterprise more fraught with danger, but would also afford them cover. George knew the ranch far better than Maloney would, and so Jacob put his bet on the boy. He needed to get this man into custody as soon as possible. He had already killed, injured, or otherwise hurt far too many people and Jacob couldn’t have anyone else becoming a victim.
Maloney would not be leaving the Thatcher ranch except under Jacob’s control.
Eliza had calmed her younger sisters, and settled them into a far corner of the barn where they could wait and relax as best possible. He was sure they would worry, but he trusted they wouldn’t give the game away by crying out or interfering with what he and George were setting out to do.
“As soon as we know it’s safe, we’ll come back for you,” Jacob said in a whisper to the girls. “If Maloney comes for you before I do, scream. Scream as loudly as you can and run and fight. I know you can do it. All three of you together can keep each other safe. Promise me.”
The three girls nodded eagerly. Jacob was satisfied they knew what to do. He could turn his focus to their parents.
The first thing he and George needed to do was to uncover the other weapons that the boy thought to be hidden on the ranch. The barn was one of the farthest outbuildings from the ranch house. Approximately fifty yards away was a shed that George claimed was full of the tools his mother and the girls used for the vegetable garden.
“Last I saw there was a rifle in there, up on one of the high shelves. And extra bullets. Pa has kept it there to shoot the jackrabbits that had been getting into the lettuce.”
“How long ago was that?”
George shrugged. “Spring time. Six months, maybe?”
Jacob nodded, thinking. Hopefully the weapon was still there. He would have to trust to George’s word on whether or not he was a good shot. But even if he couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn, Maloney didn’t know that. Jacob didn’t want to be bringing the boy in to any situation unarmed.
He cracked open the barn door just an inch, just enough to see out. The angle wasn’t exactly right to see the shed, but George could direct them.
“It’s just around the corner there.”
Now that the sun had fully set, there was a lamp lit within the house. It was in a front room. The curtains were drawn, so Jacob couldn’t see in to what was happening, but it was clear that the activity was happening in there.
“That’s my parents’ bedroom,” George said in a whisper. “What is he doing to them?”
“We’ll find out,” Jacob reassured him. “Just as soon as we have that weapon for you.”
George nodded. “I’m ready.�
�
“Okay. Follow my lead.”
The room with the lit lamp was, fortunately, on the opposite corner of the house from where they needed to run. If they could be quiet enough and quick enough, Jacob believed they could get to the shed without being seen. He took one last look to the corner where the girls were sitting, satisfied that they had all but blended in with the dark corner, and turned his attention back to the barn door.
“Don’t forget to close the door behind you,” he whispered to George.
With that, Jacob slipped through the narrow opening and began running around the ranch house to where he knew the shed should be. As soon as he rounded the corner, he saw it. The building couldn’t be more than six foot squared, but that was big enough. Jacob sprinted the final few yards to the structure, and behind it. He needed to be sure he could unlock and open the shed door before he dawdled on the side facing the house.
George was right behind him. “Made it.”
Jacob nodded, staying as quiet as possible. He peeked around the corner. From this side of the house, he couldn’t see the lit room at all. Which means he really had no idea if Maloney was in any of the rooms on this side of the house.
There was so much at stake, so much Jacob was risking, but really what choice did he have.
“You know how to open this door?” he whispered.
“Yup. I’ll do it.”
“As fast as you can.”
George disappeared behind the building, leaving Jacob to wait breathlessly for confirmation he had gotten in. In moments, there was a light knock on the wall in front of him, where George was on the other side.
Jacob took the cue and darted around the building himself, through the door and closed it behind him. As soon as the door latched shut, the small building was pitch black dark. They could only feel their way around the room.
“I found it!” George whispered triumphantly.
“Good. And the ammunition?”
“That’s here too. I wish we could light a lamp. There’s probably lots of other good stuff in here we can use.”
“True,” Jacob whispered. “But I’m not willing to take that risk. Are you?”
“You’re right. What’s next?”
“Now we have to figure out where Maloney is and how to get into the house.”
“The backdoor is right there,” George whispered excitedly.
“Does it have a lock?”
“Not yet. Pop keeps saying no one will bother us way out here.”
“I see.” Jacob wondered how this trauma would affect the family going forward. If only a lock on the door would make them feel more secure. “That’s good news for us, then. If we can confirm that Maloney is still on the other side of the house, we can sneak in through the back and surprise him.”
“How do we do that?”
“We listen.”
Jacob felt his way to the door of the shed, fingers nudging along the edge of the door. He pushed it open just an inch, another tiny sliver he could use to see as much as possible. Jacob reminded himself that he had been in positions like this before. Maybe not precisely, maybe not with a sixteen year old kid as his help. Maybe not with the volatile unknown of a multiple murderer. But he had often found himself in situations where he knew little or nothing, and had to make precarious decisions.
This was nothing.
He could do this.
As he examined the house, he noted again that no interior light was visible on this side of the house.
“What rooms are those?” Jacob asked George in a whisper.
“The backdoor goes right into the kitchen. That window on the right is the pantry just off the kitchen. I sleep there on a cot, but otherwise Ma only goes in there for ingredients. The window on the left is the bedroom where the girls sleep.”
“Alright,” Jacob said to himself. “The kitchen worries me. If he’s feeling hungry or thirsty after whatever deeds he’s doing in there, he could easily wander into the kitchen looking for something. Maybe without a lamp. Maybe he brings the lamp with him and we don’t see it in time.”
George was silent a moment before asking, “So what do we do?”
Jacob stood up straighter and squared his shoulders. “We go in anyway.”
He could wait and watch all night, but he could never be absolutely certain of what he would be walking into. Better to just go, take action, and figure out what to do as he went.
Hunched over, nearly bent in half and exacerbating the bullet wound in his side, Jacob ran. The distance between the shed and the back of the house was only twenty yards or so, but that would be plenty for Maloney to see them if he happened to be glancing out the window at the right moment. If Jacob could stay low, below the windowsills, they had a better chance.
He hoped George thought to do the same thing.
Jacob ran so fast he almost slammed into the back siding of the house; he couldn’t slow quickly enough. He cursed under his breath. Maloney was sure to have heard that thump of his shoulder against the wood. He drew his weapon, ready, aiming it at the back door for the moment the outlaw came out to check.
George was right behind him, fortunately stopping before he too slammed into the building. The young man saw what Jacob was doing and also held his weapon ready. The two of them were armed, on guard, and pointed at the back door of the house.
After a short moment of waiting, Jacob began to think he had caught a break. Maybe Maloney was too busy yelling or otherwise harassing George’s parents to have paid attention to some sound from outside. Maybe he was lulled into thinking he was secure, since this ranch was so far out of town.
Maybe Jacob had a chance.
He glanced at George, nodded to indicate they were going forward, and crept the few feet between him and the back door of the house. He put his hand on the door knob and turned it slowly. Slowly. It was in good order and made almost no sound. Jacob held his breath as he pulled the door open, bit by bit, and was again relieved to find that the hinges didn’t squeak, the door didn’t creak. There was no big noise to give them away.
Jacob was quick, into the house, into the dark kitchen, still ducking low to keep his silhouette as small as possible. Maloney could be watching from anywhere.
He took a few steps into the room and listened. He held his breath as George entered the house right behind him, but try as he might Jacob couldn’t hear any indication of any activity happening elsewhere in the house.
It was bigger than he expected, but still not so big that they couldn’t expect to hear a commotion just a room or two away.
He took a few more steps into the kitchen, slowly to keep his boots from making too much noise on the floorboards. His revolver was ready; he expected Maloney to appear around the corner any second.
But the silence unnerved Jacob. What was happening in here?
He shot George a puzzled look, then turned back to walk farther into the house. In just a couple steps, he was in the doorway, looking down the hallway toward the bedrooms.
The lamp was still lit in the front room, in George’s parents’ room, in the room where he had believed the two adults were being held captive. But still he heard nothing. Not even a muffled protest of someone crying through a gag.
Nothing.
Jacob shook his head. He didn’t like this. Not one bit.
Chapter Twelve
Jacob peered down the dark hallway toward the lit room and listened. He could have listed at least a dozen different sounds that he would have expected, but not a single one of them met his ears. Not footsteps, not crying, not even the sound of a murderous outlaw’s heavy breathing.
All he heard was George in the darkness next to him.
Jacob would have to check it out.
He stepped cautiously, quietly, resolutely down the empty hallway. Only ten feet, but ten feet of thick tension. As Jacob got near enough to the door of the bedroom to see in, he slowed even more.
Just inside the doorway was a bureau, a heavy wooden set of drawers
that must have been very important to the family to have been brought all the way out from the east. As Jacob took several more steps forward, he spotted the corner of the bed. He paused. He braced himself for what he might be about to see.
And yet still he heard nothing coming from the room.
Jacob walked the final several steps until he was standing in the very doorway of the bedroom, his weapon drawn, ready and aimed at …
Nothing. There was no one in the bedroom.
He cursed under his breath.
At least, there wasn’t anyone there any more. There had been, however. Of that Jacob was sure. The chaos and mess left behind were a clear signal that Maloney had used this room for some kind of nefarious deeds.
“What?” George said from just behind Jacob. He walked around the bounty hunter into the center of the room and turned in a circle. “Where are they? Where are my parents?”
“Quiet, now,” Jacob admonished as he looked around the room. “We don’t know where Maloney is either. We’ve gotta keep a clear head about this.”
George collapsed onto the bed. “What do we do now?”
“We look for clues. Tell me what you see. The bed has been used. What else? What is different?”
“I don’t know. I almost never come in here.”
“Look, George. You’ve got to help me. You’re the only one that can do this.”
He nodded, sighed, stood up and looked around again.
The bed was a mess. A quilt had been pulled off and was cast over the footboard of the bed and mostly on to the floor. A plain sheet still covered the mattress, but only over three of the corners. A struggle had occurred there, pulling the sheet away from one of the corners. Jacob took a few steps farther into the room and noticed another sheet on the floor next to the bed.
George saw it too. He bent down to pick it up and both men realized it was only part of a sheet. At least a third of the piece of fabric had been ripped off. Jacob cringed inwardly, sure that the torn-off fabric had been used to detain the Thatchers.
On the floor near the wall, next to the side of the bed, Jacob noticed a few tiny dark spots. He crept closer to look, and found drops of blood on the floorboards near the wall. Not many. Not enough to signal a bullet wound or elaborate fight. Maybe one of the parents had been bludgeoned or punched and this small blood letting was the result.
