“Thanks for your help,” Clint said, ignoring her other suggestion completely. When he started to turn so he could leave, he was stopped by a gentle yet insistent hand around his elbow.
“You’ve got to understand,” Jennifer said. “Those men come here and take these girls off to . . . I don’t even know where. All I do know is that they’re good girls and I never hear from them again. That friend of yours said she wanted to help and she meant it. I could tell by the look in her eyes. She’s the first one who ever wanted to help . . . women like us.”
Clint took Jennifer’s hand and told her, “She’s not the only one who wants to help.”
Jennifer nodded and smiled. “Head north,” she said. “That’s all I know about where those men go from here. They ride north and if they knew I told you that much, they’d come back and make me sorry for even lifting a finger against them.”
“Don’t you worry. They won’t be coming back.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
As much as he wanted to gather more information, find someone else who might have more to say, or even locate a track to let him know he was pointed in the right direction, north was all he had. Since it was a simple choice of using what he had or letting more time go by, Clint did the best he could with what he had.
He rode north.
As he rode Clint thought about how things had panned out since he’d started this hunt. It seemed like a year ago since he’d heard Kaylee crying at the Cherry Blossom. It seemed like weeks since he’d first met Rachel Dovetree. It seemed like a decade since he’d had a night of uninterrupted sleep.
But Clint didn’t feel tired. He was fed up with running in circles and being played like a fiddle by some bastard who kidnapped women for a living. Clint might have found out plenty since he’d started after Coltraine. For one thing, he knew Coltraine was either buying working girls from their places of employment or stealing them outright. For another thing, Clint knew that these same women were probably being sold to a tribe of renegade Indians.
Clint had met plenty of Indians in his day and most of them were good folks. Like any other group of folks, however, there was bound to be some who were just plain bad. Some Indians felt entitled to take whatever they wanted from the white man, since practically everything belonging to the Indians had been stolen as well.
As much as Clint hated to admit it, that was a tough argument to fight against.
But this wasn’t about striking back for land that was stolen or people who were killed. It was about money, plain and simple. Clint had found that out very early on and had only gotten it proved to him every step of the way.
Coltraine was out to make money.
All of the men riding with Coltraine were in it for money.
The assholes who handed their women over to Coltraine willingly were trying to make money or keep from losing it.
The only victims in this scheme were the women themselves. Sadly, Jennifer was right when she said that most people didn’t want to lift a finger to help them. Just thinking about that made Clint see red.
Suddenly, he pulled back on his reins.
Until now, he’d been riding north and allowing Eclipse to maintain a steady gallop. Clint’s mind had been wandering, simply because it seemed there wasn’t much else for him to do—until he saw something that could be of some use.
And he damn near passed it by.
Clint brought Eclipse around and flicked the reins, but only let the stallion run for a few seconds before bringing him to a stop once more. Clint’s eyes darted back and forth, up and down, glancing from one branch to another.
Trees were scattered on both sides of the trail and they were all full of leaves at this time of year. The sun was high in the sky, making all the colors stand out like an artist’s new set of paints. Clint saw the bright green of leaves, some purple flowers, even some yellows, but he didn’t stop until he saw the color he’d been looking for.
Finally, he saw red.
It wasn’t at the first few trees he’d stopped at, but Clint managed to pick it out all the same. When he did, he moved Eclipse to the proper spot and leaned forward to get a better look.
“I’ll be damned,” he muttered as he saw the red strip of material fluttering from the branch where it had been snagged.
Standing up in his stirrups, Clint reached out to grab the material. He felt it between his fingers and figured it must have been satin or possibly a cheap blend of silk. Either choice would have been ideal to make a red dress, and a red dress was exactly what Jennifer had lent to Rachel.
Clint held the strip of material in both hands so he could examine it closely. Sure enough, there was a faint pattern on the material that sure as hell hadn’t come from a flag, banner, or anything else made of satin that would have been torn out on that trail.
Even the shape of it was enough to give him hope. The edges were rough and strained, making it easy for Clint to imagine Rachel holding onto her dress tightly and ripping off that piece. Clint shook his head and looked to the north. Even though he’d somehow found the marker she’d left behind, he still wished she would have listened to him before. Her idea was insane, but by some miracle it was working.
Clint dropped down from the saddle and looked at the trail beneath his and Eclipse’s feet. There were a few sets of fresh tracks, but his were the freshest and ran over the rest of them. Thinking back to what he knew about Coltraine and how he traveled, Clint guessed that Rachel must be riding with whoever had been waiting at the cathouse and nobody else.
Coltraine would have a lot more men with him, as well as a few women. There weren’t any indications that a group that big had ridden by in the last few hours. There were, however, two sets of tracks just beneath Clint’s that led farther down the trail. As luck would have it, they were also headed north.
Not knowing what condition Rachel was in or if she was in any danger, Clint wasted no more time looking around at trees. He climbed onto Eclipse’s back, snapped the reins and got the stallion moving again.
As much as he wanted to take off at a full run, Clint didn’t want to make a wrong turn. Charging off now, knowing what he did, was the same as riding straight into a thick patch of fog that had settled in over the edge of a cliff. One lapse in judgment would take him to the end of his road. In this case, however, it would be the end of Rachel’s road, as well as her sister’s and Alicia Higgins’s.
One thing was certain.
Clint had come too far to give up on all of them now.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Clint kept riding and strained his eyes to keep sight of the tracks he was following. The trail widened into a flat mix of rock and hardened soil that wound between trees, rocks and through a few trickling creeks. Although it was a pretty trail and pleasant to follow, it wasn’t good at holding tracks.
Before long, Clint was unable to keep sight of the tracks without occasionally stopping to climb down and lead Eclipse by the reins so his eyes were closer to the ground. Soon, even that wasn’t enough and Clint was nearly misled by deeper tracks that had been put down when the ground was wetter. Since there hadn’t been any rain for more than week, Clint knew those deeper tracks were a hell of a lot older.
Swearing under his breath, Clint rode back to the spot where he’d last seen the tracks for certain. From there, he pieced together what he’d learned about where Coltraine and his men were headed. Crow territory was due north and the hills that he’d been told about were only slightly west of north themselves.
Clint knew all too well that sometimes a man needed to have some faith. He knew it, but that didn’t mean that he had to like it every time he was forced to take a leap himself. But he was all out of options and so he kept riding.
A few miles later, he saw several branches from the trail, which led in three different directions. The branch headed east didn’t seem like much of an option, but the ones headed north and west were definite possibilities. He pulled back on the reins a bit, tried to have some faith and watched
for more red.
Before too long, he saw it.
Just like the last time, the red he spotted was a shred of material from a dress. Unlike the last time, this shred was tied around a stick that was large enough to keep the makeshift flag in place. That stick was lying directly beside the part of the trail that branched west, so that was the direction Clint rode.
Clint kept right on riding for a good chunk of the day. He didn’t spot another shred of Rachel’s dress, but he also didn’t spot any parts of the trail that veered off course. The flat road continued winding its way west, before eventually veering to the north.
By the end of the day, Clint could see the hills directly in front of him. There weren’t many tracks along the way, but the ones he occasionally saw might very well have been the ones he’d been following at the start of this ride.
He kept riding through the night, constantly reminding himself about the faith that was supposed to be keeping him going. Whenever he couldn’t quite feel the faith, Clint passed the time by cursing Rachel for knocking him on the back of the head and taking off on her own. Every so often, he cursed himself for betting on a marginal hand back in Markton when he’d been leery of staying in that game in the first place.
All of those things took turn fueling Clint’s fire until he rode through a cluster of trees and found scattered bits of a settlement on the other side. It wasn’t quite a town, but it was much more than a camp. It was also composed of a mix of cabins and teepees, just like the big Indian had described it.
Clint brought Eclipse to a stop and wondered if he should trust the word of the Indian.
Now, more than ever, a bit of faith was needed.
THIRTY-NINE
Even though they’d stopped a little sooner than she’d expected, Rachel felt like she’d been on the longest ride of her life. Rice had led her on a horse from the livery instead of her own. She’d discovered the reason for that when she’d tried to steer the horse off the trail once or twice. The animal only took commands from Rice, which might have been an impressive trick if it didn’t keep her from escaping.
So she’d quickly settled on her backup plan, which was also the reason she’d chosen such a brightly colored, and ill-fitting, dress. She’d torn pieces from her dress while making the occasional bit of small talk with Rice. When she’d needed to cover the sound of material being shredded, she’d whistled or complimented Rice on his riding style. When she’d tossed the markers down, she prayed all her mindless chatter would do more than stroke Rice’s ego.
They arrived at the village as the sun was on its way down. Rice headed straight to one of the cabins, where he jumped from the saddle, tied off his horse and motioned for Rachel to follow.
“Looks like you tore up that dress,” he said.
Rachel looked down and even seemed shocked to see the tattered remains of her skirt. “Damn.”
“Don’t worry about that. Donnie’ll fix you up with a new one. You’ll need to wear it to impress your new bosses.”
“Who’s Donnie?” she asked, wondering if another man could possibly be as easy to please if she was forced to prove herself again.
After tossing his saddlebags into the cabin, Rice grabbed Rachel by the wrist and dragged her toward the teepees. “Right over here.”
Rachel was practically thrown into the teepee, only to find a small boy and a slender Indian woman stitching a pattern into tanned leather. Although both of the Indians were surprised by the sudden intrusion, they quickly recognized Rice’s face.
“This one needs a new dress,” he said. “Her name’s . . . what’s your name again?”
Despite the fact that she’d given him the wrong name before, Rachel couldn’t help but be offended that it had already been forgotten. “Lilly. I told you my name’s Lilly.”
“Fine, whatever. Fix Lilly here a new dress.” With that, Rice left the teepee and dropped the flap in place over the entrance.
The Indian woman’s eyes wandered up and down over Rachel’s body. Even though Rachel had been scrutinized more in the last few weeks than in the rest of her life combined, this time she felt comfortable. The Indian woman wasn’t sizing her up the way the men had done those other times. Instead, she looked for what she needed and then reached around to take some skins from a pile behind her.
“This will not fit you,” the Indian woman said while waving to the dress she’d been working on before. “I can make you another.”
Rachel nodded. “Thank you.”
After returning Rachel’s smile with a quick one of her own, the other woman bustled about her task.
“Who’s Donnie?” Rachel asked.
The woman shook her head and put on a tired smile. “The man who brought you here calls me that, even after I tell him it is not my name.”
“What is your name?”
“Dyani.” She looked up and saw the perplexed look on Rachel’s face. “Dee-yah-nee.”
After sounding it out for herself, Rachel repeated the name and brought a more genuine smile to Dyani’s face. “What does it mean?”
Dyani stopped in the middle of a stitch and studied Rachel’s face. “Deer.”
“That’s pretty.”
“Your name is Lilly?”
Just then, Rachel almost corrected her. Even though Dyani seemed friendly enough, Rachel fought back her impulse and nodded.
“That is pretty, too.”
The little boy in the teepee looked to be no more than five or six years old. He kept in his corner and wouldn’t take his eyes off of Rachel.
“Do you see all the women that come through here?” Rachel asked.
Dyani shook her head quickly, but it seemed more out of distaste for the question than a lack of an answer. “Sometimes, there are many. I make new clothes for most of them.”
Already, the leather in Dyani’s hand was taking shape. It wasn’t anything too fancy, but it would be a fairly good dress very soon. “You should probably not ask about the others,” she said while concentrating on her stitching. “The white men here do not like that.”
Rachel glanced over her shoulder at the entrance flap of the teepee. Even though it was still closed, she was well aware of how thin the hides were that made up the circular wall. “I need to know about a specific woman that could have been brought here. Her name’s Emily.”
Dyani kept shaking her head and stitching the leather.
“It’s important that I find her.” Reaching out with one hand, Rachel took hold of Dyani’s arm so she couldn’t make another stitch. “Are you listening to me?”
“I hear you,” Dyani said. “But you would be smart not to ask such questions. The men here do not like to answer questions from the women.”
“Are you here because you want to be here? Or are you being held prisoner?”
“I am here to do a job and that is what I need to do.” Suddenly, Dyani’s face took on a more intense quality as she stared directly into Rachel’s eyes. “If you have a job, you should do it. If you do not prove yourself useful to these men, they will kill you. The ground outside this village is full of women who did not do their jobs.”
“The woman I’m looking for is my sister,” Rachel said. “Her name’s Emily. Do you know if she was here or not?”
“All I know is that you should either please these men or run when you have the chance.”
With that, Dyani shut her mouth and went back to stitching. Two seconds later, the teepee’s flap was pulled aside and Rice stuck his head in.
“Come on,” he grunted. “Donnie’ll bring that dress over when it’s done.”
FORTY
Rachel was dragged from the teepee to a cabin in the middle of camp. The cabin was more like a shack and had just enough room inside for two cots, a small trunk and a washbasin.
Rice all but threw her into the shack and said, “This is just temporary. You’ll have some company soon enough.”
“What about my dress?” Rachel asked a little too anxiously. When she saw the look on
Rice’s face, she added, “This one’s barely going to last after all the rips it got.”
“I told you Donnie will be here. She’s real quick. After that, I can come back and see how easy it is to get you out of it.”
Responding to Rice’s lecherous smile, Rachel nodded and sat down on the cot. As soon as he left, she got up and began searching the small room. The first thing she noticed was that the shack’s door locked from the outside and didn’t so much as budge when she tried opening it. Both windows were equally stubborn and weren’t big enough for her to crawl through, anyhow. Before she could do much more checking, Rachel heard the latch being opened on the door.
Another man stuck his head in to get a look at her. He was younger than Rice and hadn’t shaved for at least a week. He seemed disappointed to find Rachel dressed and not lying on the bed for him. “Yer new clothes are ready.”
“Good.”
Dyani pushed her way past the younger man and turned around to look at him. It took some effort, but she managed to get the door shut so he was left outside.
“I can talk while we are in here,” Dyani said. “These shacks are made to keep women and their screams inside, but that man will be standing right outside.”
Dyani unfolded the bundle she was carrying and held it up to Rachel. The dress was similar to the simple one she, herself, was wearing and was even adorned with a few small decorations. “Put this on. I made it long and fit so that it is hard to be pulled up. Most of these men like to grab at us like we are toys.”
“So you are being held here as a prisoner?” Rachel asked as she pulled off her torn red dress and took the one Dyani was offering.
“I was one of their first trades with the Crow. My husband thought I could bear no more children, so he traded me for a woman like you. One with lighter skin and golden hair.”
“I’m sorry.”
“The truth is that I would not bear any more children. Not to him. He was a cruel father. I am fortunate that I managed to bring my son with me.”
Shadow Walker Page 13
