by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER TWENTY
KIDNAPPED
Lorraine had once had a nasty fall from riding down hill at a gallop.She remembered that accident and permitted Snake to descend GraniteRidge at a walk, which was fortunate, since it gave the horse a chanceto recover a little from the strain of the terrific pace at which shehad ridden him that morning. At first it had been fighting fury that hadimpelled her to hurry; now it was fear that drove her homeward whereLone was, and Swan, and that stolid, faithful Jim. She felt that SenatorWarfield would never dare to carry out his covert threat, once shereached home. Nevertheless, the threat haunted her, made her glanceoften over her shoulder.
At the Thurman ranch, which she was passing with a sickening memory ofthe night when she and Swan had carried her father there, Al Woodruffrode out suddenly from behind the stable and blocked the trail, hissix-shooter in his hand, his face stony with determination. Lorraineafterwards decided that he must have seen or heard her coming down theridge and had waited for her there. He smiled with his lips when shepulled up Snake with a startled look.
"You're in such a hurry this morning that I thought the only way to geta chance to talk to you was to hold you up," he said, in much the sametone he had used that day at the ranch.
"I don't see why you want to talk to me," Lorraine retorted, not in theleast frightened at the gun, which was too much like her movie West toimpress her much. But her eyes widened at the look in his face, and shetried to edge away from him without seeming to do so.
Al stopped her by the simple method of reaching out his left hand andcatching Snake by the cheek-piece of the bridle. "You don't have to seewhy," he said. "I've been thinking a lot about you lately. I've made upmy mind that I've got to have you with me--always. This is kinda sudden,maybe, but that's the way the game runs, sometimes. Now, I want to tellyuh one or two things that's for your own good. One is that I'll have myway, or die getting it. Don't be scared; I won't hurt you. But if youtry to break away, I'll shoot you, that's all. I'm going to marry you,see, first. Then I'll make love to you afterwards. I ain't asking you ifyou'll marry me. You're going to do it, or I'll kill you."
Lorraine gazed at him fascinated, too astonished to attempt any movetoward escape. Al's hand slipped from the bridle down to the reins, andstill holding Snake, still holding the gun muzzle toward her, stilllooking her straight in the eyes, he threw his right leg over the cantleof his saddle and stepped off his horse.
"Put your other hand on the saddle horn," he directed. "I ain't going tohurt you if you're good."
He twitched his neckerchief off--Lorraine saw that it was untied, andthat he must have planned all this--and with it he tied her wrists tothe saddle horn. She gave Snake a kick in the ribs, but Al checked thehorse's first start and Snake was too tired to dispute a command tostand still. Al put up his gun, pulled a hunting knife from a littlescabbard in his boot, sliced two pairs of saddle strings from Lorraine'ssaddle, calmly caught and held her foot when she tried to kick him,pushed the foot back into the stirrup and tied it there with one of theleather strings. Just as if he were engaged in an everyday proceeding,he walked around Snake and tied Lorraine's right foot; then, to preventher from foolishly throwing herself from the horse and getting hurt, hetied the stirrups together under the horse's belly.
"Now, if you'll be a good girl, I'll untie your hands," he said,glancing up into her face. He freed her hands, and Lorraine immediatelyslapped him in the face and reached for his gun. But Al was too quickfor her. He stepped back, picked up Snake's reins and mounted his ownhorse. He looked back at her appraisingly, saw her glare of hatred andgrinned at it, while he touched his horse with the spurs and rode away,leading Snake behind him.
Lorraine said nothing until Al, riding at a lope, passed the field atthe mouth of Spirit Canyon where the blaze-faced roan still fed with theothers. They were feeding along the creek quite close to the fence, andthe roan walked toward them. The sight of it stirred Lorraine out of herdumb horror.
"You killed Fred Thurman! I saw you," she cried suddenly.
"Well, you ain't going to holler it all over the country," Al flungback at her over his shoulder. "When you're married to me, you'll comemighty close to keeping your mouth shut about it."
"I'll never marry you! You--you fiend! Do you think I'd marry acold-blooded murderer like you?"
Al turned in the saddle and looked at her intently. "If I'm all that,"he told her coolly, "you can figure out about what'll happen to you ifyou _don't_ marry me. If you saw what I done to Fred Thurman, what doyou reckon I'd do to _you_?" He looked at her for a minute, shrugged hisshoulders and rode on, crossing the creek and taking a trail whichLorraine did not know. Much of the time they traveled in the water,though it slowed their pace. Where the trail was rocky, they took it andmade better time.
Snake lagged a little on the upgrades, but he was well trained to leadand gave little trouble. Lorraine thought longingly of Yellowjacket andhis stubbornness and tried to devise some way of escape. She could notbelieve that fate would permit Al Woodruff to carry out such a plan.Lone would overtake them, perhaps,--and then she remembered that Lonewould have no means of knowing which way she had gone. If Hawkins andSenator Warfield came after them, her plight would be worse than ever.Still, she decided that she must risk that danger and give Lone a clue.
She dropped a glove beside the trail, where it lay in plain sight of anyone following them. But presently Al looked over his shoulder, saw thatone of her hands was bare, and tied Snake's reins to his saddle and hisown horse to a bush. Then he went back down the trail until he found theglove. He put it into his pocket, came silently up to Lorraine andpulled off her other glove. Without a word he took her wrists in a firmclasp, tied them together again to the saddle horn, pulled off her tie,her hat, and the pins from her hair.
"I guess you don't know me yet," he remarked dryly, when he hadconfiscated every small article which she could let fall as she rode. "Iwas trying to treat yuh white, but you don't seem to appreciate it. Nowyou can ride hobbled, young lady."
"Oh, I could _kill_ you!" Lorraine whispered between set teeth.
"You mean you'd like to. Well, I ain't going to give you a chance." Hiseyes rested on her face with a new expression; an awakening desire forher, an admiration for the spirit that would not let her weep and pleadwith him.
"Say! you ain't going to be a bit hard to marry," he observed, his eyeslighting with what was probably his nearest approach to tenderness. "Ikinda wish you liked me, now I've got you."
He shook her arm and laughed when she turned her face away from him,then remounted his horse. Snake moved reluctantly when Al started on.Lorraine felt hope slipping from her. With her hands tied, she could donothing at all save sit there and ride wherever Al Woodruff chose tolead her horse. He seemed to be making for the head of Spirit Canyon, onthe side toward Bear Top.
As they climbed higher, she could catch glimpses of the road down whichher father had driven almost to his death. She studied Al's back as herode before her and wondered if he could really be cold-blooded enoughto kill without compunction whoever he was told to kill, whether he hadany personal quarrel with his victim or not. Certainly he had had noquarrel with her father, or with Frank.
It was long past noon, and she was terribly hungry and very thirsty, butshe would not tell Al her wants if she starved. She tried to guess athis plans and at his motive for taking her away like this. He had nocamping outfit, a bulkily rolled slicker forming his only burden. Hecould not, then, be planning to take her much farther into thewilderness; yet if he did not hide her away, how could he expect to keepher? His motive for marrying her was rather mystifying. He did not seemsufficiently in love with her to warrant an abduction, and he was toocool for such a headlong action, unless driven by necessity. Shewondered what he was thinking about as he rode. Not about her, sheguessed, except when some bad place in the trail made it necessary forhim to stop, tie Snake to the nearest bush, lead his own horse past theobstruction and come back after her. Several times this
was necessary.Once he took the time to examine the thongs on her ankles, apparentlywishing to make sure that she was not uncomfortable. Once he looked upinto her sullenly distressed face and said, "Tired?" in a humanlysympathetic tone that made her blink back the tears. She shook her headand would not look at him. Al regarded her in silence for a minute, ledSnake to his own horse, mounted and rode on.
He was a murderer; he had undoubtedly killed many men. He would kill herif she attempted to escape--"and he could not catch me," Lorraine wasjust enough to add. Yet she felt baffled; cheated of the full horror ofbeing kidnapped.
She had no knowledge of a bad man who was human in spots without beingrepentant. For love of a girl, she had been taught to believe, the worstoutlaw would weep over his past misdeeds, straighten his shoulders, lookto heaven for help and become a self-sacrificing hero for whom audiencesmight be counted upon to shed furtive tears.
Al Woodruff, however, did not love her. His eyes had once or twicesoftened to friendliness, but love was not there. Neither was repentancethere. He seemed quite satisfied with himself, quite ready to commitfurther crimes for sake of his own safety or desire. He was hard, shedecided, but he was not unnecessarily harsh; cruel, without beingwantonly brutal. He was, in short, the strangest man she had ever seen.
