by F. M. Parker
"You couldn't have seen that, for he didn't. I tricked him to throw him off guard. Then shot him."
"Don't tell me what I saw," Ben said. "And don't tell Redpath's man, Dubois, standing over there either. He saw what I saw and that was you shot Redpath when he reached for his pistol."
"Knowing you, you probably said something else to Dubois."
"Well, there's a little thievery in every man, so I pointed out to him how, if he thought real hard, he could make money from Redpath's death. And the women they'd brought from New Orleans would be his now and they were very valuable. I think there's more than just a little thievery in Dubois, and he was way ahead of me in just how to take a big chunk of Redpath's wealth."
"You told him nothing else?"
"I did tell him that you were a tough son of a bitch and would kill him if he didn't tell the right story."
"Did he believe you?"
"He just saw what you did to Redpath. So, yeah, he believed."
* * *
Rachel whipped her horse at the top of its speed along the road leading to El Paso. She must reach Evan before he was killed by Karl Redpath.
She had slept soundly and awakened tardily. Mrs. Payson had invited her into the kitchen for breakfast and they had sat talking. When Rachel had asked about Evan, she was told he had gone to El Paso. Rachel instantly knew Evan's plan, to meet with Karl Redpath and order him to stay away from her. She had hastily saddled Davis's horse and ridden away.
The road dipped down into the tree-lined valley of the stream that came by the ranch house. Rachel sent the horse splashing across.
The steed took the far bank with long lunges. At the top it shied abruptly as two horsemen raced out of the trees and blocked its way. Rachel was flung to the side by the sudden movement. She grabbed for the pommel, managed to catch hold of it, and stopped her fall hanging half out of the saddle.
One of the riders spurred up close, caught her by the shoulder, and sat her upright in the saddle. Rachel recognized one of the young Mexican cowboys she had seen on the street in El Paso.
"You!" Rachel exclaimed, looking directly at Carlos. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you, Rachel." Carlos was savoring his stroke of good fortune.
He and Leo had arrived at daylight and waited for an opportunity to capture the woman. They had seen a man come out of the house and ride off to the north with two cowboys from the bunkhouse. Shortly the man who had brought the woman from El Paso had left and come along the road toward El Paso. The two Mexicans had remained hidden and waiting in the trees to be certain there were no more men at the house. Then, to their surprise, the woman herself came racing past.
"How do you know my name?"
"I heard the man in El Paso say it."
"What do you want?" Rachel said. She wanted to be gone, but the two men blocked her way with their horses.
"I'm going to take you to Chihuahua with me."
"That's crazy. Get out of my way. I must go to El Paso."
"Not today," Carlos replied. "Not tomorrow. Not ever."
Rachel looked at Leo, holding the head of her horse by the bridle. His face was hard and determined. She looked back at Carlos, who was watching her with an expression of such intense desire that it frightened her.
"I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Oh, yes, you are, pretty Rachel," Carlos said. "And you're going with us right now."
"No, I'm not," Rachel cried out. She jerked the reins of the horse to the side to break free of Leo's grip.
Leo easily held the animal. He took hold of the reins and wrenched them from Rachel's hands.
"You lead and I'll follow," Carlos said to Leo.
Leo nodded, spun his mount, and leading Rachel's horse, went south at a fast gallop.
THIRTY TWO
"Where's that ugly brother of yours?" Lester Ivorsen shouted out to Tom Hawkins. Lester was standing in the entryway of the building where Tom manufactured wheels.
"Talk polite to me, Lester, or I'll come out there and we'll have some fisticuffs." Tom was enjoying the sight of Lester's bruised face. He was obviously hurting from Ben's beating.
"All right, Tom, all right. Do you know where Ben is?"
"He's in El Paso. Staying at the El Prado far as I know. What's your trouble with Ben?"
"That's just between him and me."
"I'll give you a free piece of advice, Lester. You'd better not yell at him like you just did to me. Ben's not easygoing like I am."
"He's got some answering to do," Lester said belligerently.
"I warned you. Don't push Ben."
"We'll see about that," Lester said, and stomped off.
* * *
"Have a drink with me," Ben said to Evan as they came out of Sheriff Willis's office.
"I could use one after all this," Evan replied. He was feeling the relief from not being charged with the murder of Redpath. Dubois had told the same eyewitness story as had Ben. After hearing both men, the sheriff had stated that it was probably a good thing that Redpath was dead for he had enough trouble keeping the peace in El Paso without a gambling house, and maybe a whorehouse, starting up in business.
"Let's try the cantina on the plaza. It's early but they'll probably be open."
"Okay."
They walked without speaking. Ben had a feeling it was going to be a bad day. It was still early and already there had been a killing. He thought of Tom's offer to become a partner in his wheelwright business. That was the only good thing that had occurred since Ben had returned. No, that wasn't true. The dance in the night with Maude had been wonderful.
They turned into the plaza, and Ben stopped short at the sight of Lester Ivorsen coming out of the hotel. Lester saw Ben and came swiftly at him.
"Trouble and more trouble," Ben said, pointing at Lester.
"He looks big enough to give plenty," Evan said. "And he looks damn mad."
Ben watched Lester's hands and hoped he didn't have a gun and want to fight.
"Where's Maude?" Lester called out in a tightly controlled voice.
"Now how the hell would I know that?" Ben replied.
"Because you have her."
"She's your wife so I'd think she'd be in your house with your other wives."
"Silas Dunlap said he was watching his sheep down by the river and saw you ride off with her."
"Silas is wrong." Ben felt his scalp crawl and the hairs rise and twist along his spine. Had something happened to Maude?
"Silas doesn't lie," Lester said, the anger sharp in his voice.
"I know he doesn't, but he's old and half blind. Tell me what he said."
"Just that. That he saw you carrying Maude off on your horse last night."
"Well, he didn't see me last night. In fact, I've been in El Paso for the past day." If Maude had run away from Lester, why hadn't she sent a message to Ben? Then again, maybe Tom had heard from her. "I want to talk with Silas and find out what he really saw," Ben said.
"You're not getting away with that kind of answer," Lester said. He advanced on Ben.
"Hold it right there," Ben ordered. He put his hand on the butt of his pistol. "I'm riding to Canutillo to talk with Silas and I don't have time to argue with you."
Lester halted instantly at the threat. "I know you have something to do with her being gone."
"Think what you want. But I'm going to get my horse and ride to Canutillo, so don't get in my way."
* * *
Ben arrived in Canutillo and went past Silas's house, found the old man not there, and continued to the Rio Grande to where Lester said the man had his sheep. As Ben neared the river, he saw Silas rise to his feet from where he had been lying in the shade of a big tree and look in his direction.
"Howdy, young Ben Hawkins," Silas called.
"Howdy, old Silas Dunlap," Ben replied.
The two men's words of greeting were fifteen years old, having begun when Silas had used his when Ben had been just a lad, and Ben, taking affront at being called
young, had yelled back his.
Silas laughed in a light, happy way. "It's good to see you, Ben."
"You too, Silas."
Ben had known the old man from the earliest days of his childhood, and liked him very much. He was a kind and gentle fellow who had never married and earned his living with his small band of sheep. Ben noted Silas appeared to have shriveled and grown old since last seen, but then at eighty or so—Ben could only guess his age—changes could occur rapidly.
"What're you doing in Canutillo? I thought you'd be long gone to distant parts with Maude."
"That's what I want to talk to you about. I don't have Maude. Tell me why you told Lester I did."
"Saw you and the pretty lass leavin' last night. Then this morning Lester goes running around town asking about her. Finally he comes to me and I told him what I saw."
"That's my trouble, Silas. Lester's accusing me of taking Maude. But it wasn't me you saw. And I don't know if that was Maude either."
"Well, now, I sure thought it was you and the girl."
"Tell me exactly what you saw."
"Well, this horse carrying two people comes down from the direction of the store and through those houses"—Silas pointed up the slope at the town—"past me here with my sheep, and then south along the river. The one in the saddle was small like Maude and had long hair. The fellow was riding the rump of the horse behind the saddle and hugging her up close. When
Maude was gone this morning, well, I just added one and one and got two, you and Maude. Now you're telling me I was wrong?"
"About the man being me, you were surely wrong. I don't know about the woman being Maude. Tell me more of what you saw."
"Like I said, I'm pretty sure the person in the saddle was a small woman. Men don't go around hugging other men up tight like that. The man, now that I get a fresh look at you up on that horse, was somewhat smaller than you."
"What did he look like?"
"Just a man. Couldn't make out his face. Had a big hat, a sombrero like most of the Mexes wear. Ben, you know there're no secrets in Canutillo. You were seen dancing with Maude behind the town hall and the story's all over town. Then Lester gets stomped real bad. There's few men who can do that to him. And I figure you were the most likely to have done it after dancing with Maude. Like I said before, I just added one and one. Seems I got the wrong two."
"Yes, you did. Maude could be the woman. But who could the man be?"
"Since it wasn't you, I can't guess. I'm sorry I got you in trouble with Lester."
"Don't be concerned about that. Lester doesn't worry me.
"I didn't think he would. You want me to tell him 'twasn't you?"
"Can if you want to. But I doubt he'll believe you with you changing your story."
"Most likely not."
"Gotta go, Silas. I may be back later to have you show me those tracks."
"I'll be here."
Ben reined Brutus toward Tom's place of business. He hoped Maude had left a message there for him. If not, then Ben would have a whole lot of worrying to do as to who really ran off with Maude.
THIRTY THREE
Maude paced the small space of her prison and tried to devise a plan to escape. For several hours—she didn't know how long for she had no way to measure time— she had been confined in the room in a warehouse in Ciudad Juarez.
Maude's Mexican captor had not spoken to her as they rode his horse through the night. He had held her against his chest, and at times had fondled her breast. She had made no resistance to his touch, thinking that perhaps he would become careless and she could run into the darkness and hide.
She had studied the stars and knew they were traveling south. Also, she recognized the rough, stream-cut land with the gullies running from right to left, and knew it lay just west of the Rio Grande. Toward midnight they entered a town and she recognized Ciudad Juarez. They were now in Mexico and her chances of escape had been greatly reduced.
They had crossed through the town and come to the warehouse, where her captor had awakened an old man sleeping in a room on the end of the building. The man had not appeared surprised at seeing Maude. Rather, he had seemed sad.
"Miguel, light our way to the room," Leo had ordered the old man.
"Yes, Señor Valdes," the old man replied. He took a lighted lantern and guided the way into the depths of the warehouse.
As they moved through the building, with Leo holding Maude firmly by the arm, she surveyed her surroundings, looking for something that might aid her in escaping. The main part of the structure was high-ceilinged and held many piles of freight. In a cleared area near the entrance of the building was a stagecoach, its body painted a deep red and its wheels a bright yellow. Many horses were in stalls on the far left, while on the right side was a row of strongly built freight wagons.
At the rear of the warehouse, the old man entered a small room, lit a coal-oil lamp, and returned to the outside. Maude knew they planned to imprison her in the room, and she tried to draw back. Leo tightened his grip on her arm and propelled her inside.
"You must stay here for a time, Maude," Leo said. "Everything you need is here. Food will be brought to you in the morning."
"Please let me go, Leo," Maude pleaded. "Take me back across the river and I'll never tell anyone what you have done."
"No."
"Why not? I've done nothing to you."
"I'm going to keep you for what you can do for me," Leo said.
"What is that?" Maude asked, but she knew the answer.
"We will talk later," Leo said. He reached out and ran the tips of his fingers along the curve of Maude's chin and across her lips. "Yes, later, but soon."
He left the room and closed the door behind him. Maude heard a heavy bar drop into place to lock her in. A chill ran through her.
She turned to inspect her surroundings, and was surprised at the furnishings of the room and its cleanliness.
It was obvious that the space had been prepared for her, or some other woman. A wool carpet of good quality covered the hard-packed dirt floor. A wooden-framed cot had a feather-tick mattress and snow-white sheets freshly washed and ironed. A table held an earthen pitcher full of water, a porcelain cup, a washbasin, and a coal-oil lamp and six matches. A chamber pot sat in a corner.
The room had no windows. The walls were made of thick boards, rough and splintery. The door was of the same material. The room smelled of horses, leather, and saddles. Maude judged it had been used as a tack room prior to being emptied and prepared for a prisoner.
She had listened at the door, and now and again heard movement, as if someone was stationed to prevent her from escaping. Still, even with the presence of a guard who might hear her efforts, she had tried to find an avenue of escape. She had tested every board of the walls, pushing on them with all her strength. Not one had budged the slightest degree. She had considered digging out under one of the walls, but had nothing with which to dig. Dejected she was resolved to the fact that the only route to freedom lay through the door.
A crack high in a wall began to show a little light, and Maude knew daylight had come. Soon Leo, or somebody, would come to do whatever they planned to do to her. Dreading the future, she sat down on the edge of the bed.
* * *
Maude had not waited long when she heard the bar on the door being removed. The door opened moving outward and a thin, brown-skinned man wearing a pistol strapped to his waist stepped into the opening. He had jet-black eyes set in a face deeply pockmarked like brown mud trampled by horses. His sight fell upon Maude sitting quietly on the bed and he studied her for a moment. Then he motioned at someone Maude could not see to come forward.
The old man who had guided Maude and her captor through the warehouse in the night came into the room with a tray of food. He placed the tray on the table beside the lamp and hastened from the room. The pockmarked man closed the door, and it rattled on its hinges as the bar dropped back into its slot.
She eyed the food, not wan
ting to eat something her captors had given. Still, she was ravenous, having missed supper, and she would need her strength for the ordeal that lay ahead. She ate, and then lay down on the bed and rested. She had a plan for what she would do the next time the door opened.
* * *
Maude heard voices outside in the warehouse, and rose to her feet and took up the earthen pitcher. She had emptied out the water, and now held the heavy pitcher ready to use as a weapon. She would strike her captors and run. If she could reach a horse before they caught her, she would give them a hard chase.
She heard the bar being removed. Then the door began to open. Maude rammed the rough wood with her shoulder, striking it with all her strength, and it flew wide. She charged through, the pitcher held cocked in her right hand and ready to swing.
Maude was startled to find a white-skinned woman standing directly in front of her. Behind the woman were the two men who had kidnapped her. She swerved around the woman and charged on. She hurled the pitcher at the head of the nearer man, Leo, who had carried her into Mexico.
Leo ducked the pitcher, then quickly moved toward Maude as she hurtled past. He hooked her around the waist and stopped her wild flight.
Rachel was frozen in place for an instant when Maude exploded from the room. Then she whirled and dashed across the warehouse. Carlos had anticipated Rachel's attempt to run. He leapt after her and dragged her to a stop.
"None of that, Rachel," Carlos said as he propelled her back.
"They are spirited ones," Leo said, smiling.
"I like that," Carlos said. "They’ll give spirited colts. Now don't let them out of your sight at any time."
"They won't get away from me."
Maude listened to the two men talking and looked around the warehouse. The old man she had seen before and a younger man were hooking a second team of horses to the stagecoach. It appeared she and the other woman would be hauled away in that vehicle. She had wanted to leave Canutillo and Lester, but not like this. The man with the pockmarked face stood off by himself and watched her and the other woman with his black, coal-chip eyes.
The two kidnappers lapsed into Spanish; however, Maude understood enough of the language to get the gist of what they were saying. She wanted desperately to know what they planned for her.
