But Rafe knew where the holes had been. At least the ones he put there.
He let his eyes wander over the saloon. The long bar across the entire far wall carried a high shine now. The brass footrail gleamed. Even the spittoons were polished. Four large wooden wheels with coal oil lamps hung from the ceiling, throwing light into all the corners.
Four bar tenders hurried from customer to customer behind the long bar. The quality of customers increased, also. No more drunken cowboys just off the ranch without having a drink or a fight for a month. Most of the men in the room wore dress coats, some wore ties. There was even a piano player picking out tunes he nearly recognized.
Rafe was the most ruggedly dressed of all of them. On his five-foot ten frame he carried a hundred and ninety pounds. Like many men who spent a lot of time in the saddle, his hips were narrow and his shoulders broad from the physical work he did when needed. Green eyes peered out of a face that women admired, but wouldn’t be called classically handsome. His thick brown hair had a mind of its own. Even if he combed it, within an hour, it went where it wanted. Pretty much like Rafe himself. The Colt he wore had known much use, but was clean and worked well.
His range dress had nearly kept him out of this poker game. The other men at the table made it clear to him that they expected fairly high bets and that he better have the money to back up his bets. When he laid a stack of double eagles on the table in front of him, there were no more questions.
Over the course of the past two hours, Rafe had won a little more than he lost. The same couldn’t be said for two of the men who angrily tossed their cards in the middle of the table, stood up, and left. As soon as the two chairs became empty, two more men sat down.
But he had a concern. Not a worry, not an accusation yet, but a concern.
He leaned back in his chair. The well-dressed man seated across from him played his cards very well. Maybe too well. Rafe decided to watch a while longer. He tossed in the cards in his hand and settled back to watch the well-dressed man.
The others still in the game placed their bets and asked for cards. Rafe watched the well-dressed man deal out cards to the rest of those still in the game. Nothing there he could see, just a feeling. And he learned long ago to trust his feelings. They’d kept him alive several times.
One by one, the other men folded and tossed their cards onto the table. There was only one man still in the game along with the well-dressed one. They went back and forth with bets until a sizable sum of money lay on the green felt table between them.
Rafe knew the last man in the game held a good hand. There had been several tells he
picked up as cards were dealt to him. He wasn’t sure about the well-dressed man.
The well-dressed man said, “All right, Mister, I’m about up to my limit on bets. I’m ready to see what you have.”
“That’s good,” the other man replied. “I was hoping you wanted to stop with the bets.” He fanned his cards out on the table. “A flush. Can you beat that?”
Rafe glanced at the cards. Five, six, seven, eight, and nine. Different suits, but in order. He looked back at the well-dressed man. Something in his eyes told Rafe what was going to happen next.
“Well, now, that’s a really good hand,” the well-dressed man replied slowly. “A real good hand.” He looked at his own cards once more, then fanned them out on the table. “But not good enough. Full house, Queens and tens.”
A sigh went around the table. The other man slumped in his chair, certain that he had the winning hand.
Probably would have, too, on any other night. And with an honest dealer , Rafe thought as he put his hands on the arms of the chair to push himself up. Time for me to say somethin’ .
As he got to his feet, one of the deputy city Marshals, tapped him on the shoulder. “Mr. Brannon, th’ Marshal wants to see you. Right away.”
Rafe stared at the man for a second, then nodded. “You go tell th’ Marshal I’m on my way. I got some business to tend to here first.” He turned back to the table and glared at the well-dressed man. “You’re lucky I’ve gotta go. I know you’re cheatin’, but I ain’t figgered out just how yet. Better for you to get outta town, ‘cause if you’re here when I get back, I’ll kill you.”
With that, Rafe turned and walked out of the saloon. His spurs jangled with every step. Every eye in the place followed him. Not often anymore in this newly civilized place did anyone make the kinds of threats they just heard.
Rafe walked the three buildings down from the saloon in four minutes. He opened the door and stepped into the large room. The Marshal, an older man with a silver mustache and hair, sat behind a desk at one end of the room in front of a window, no doubt so he could catch whatever breeze came through. Another door faced the one he just walked through. It had to be the door to the cells. Hanging on the wall by that door was a gun case. Three rifles and two double-barreled shotguns stood there, a chain through the trigger guards. At the end of the chain, a lock secured the weapons.
“Howdy, Rafe,” the Marshal said as he leaned back in his chair. “Got some news you’ll want to hear. Your cousin has a ranch over south of Amarillo, don’t she?”
Instantly, every hair on Rafe’s neck stood up. “Yeah, she does. What’s goin’ on?”
“Got a wire from the Sheriff over in that neck of the woods.” He shuffled through some papers on top of the desk, found a yellow sheet. “Seems there was a ranch over that way that was hit by some renegades yesterday. That’s been happenin’ a lot over that way. Don’t know if it was her ranch or not, but …”
Rafe didn’t wait to hear the rest of what the Marshal had to say. He was out the door. Ten minutes later, he was on his way to Tess’s ranch.
Chapter Seven
Silence grew in the wagon after the initial try to get to know the other women. With the sun shining into the wagon, the heat grew oppressive. This, too, kept the women from talking. They simply endured. Tess used the time to observe and see if there were any weaknesses among the men or the way they worked she could exploit to escape.
It looked like Snake Eyes had planned everything with almost military precision. There were two other wagons besides the one she rode in. Neither of them appeared to have any other women in them. Both of the others had covers that were drawn tight over the beds.
One clearly was a chuck wagon with a dirty canvas cover over the front part. The back was a wooden affair with a tailgate that could be let down to make a work surface. The other must be carrying supplies. And probably loot from the ranches they raided. Its canvas top was snugged down a lot flatter than the other one.
Outriders were posted on both sides of the wagons and behind them. She saw four on each side of the wagons and at least three behind. Not able to see ahead of them, Tess didn’t know how many rode there.
At least twelve outriders plus the three driving wagons , Tess realized. Fifteen men. A lot to be riding around, raiding ranches. They must steal a lot from the ranches . She paused then, aware of the situation they faced. Or make a lot of money selling women in Mexico .
Did the others fully realize what lay ahead for them? She looked around the wagon, examining each woman’s face. Most of them had pulled within themselves, either not wanting to grasp what was going on or praying that husbands and fathers would show up to rescue them.
Only two were different. The teen-ager, Bessie, still lay on the floor of the wagon curled into a ball. The woman who refused to give Tess her name stared back at her. A scowl narrowed her eyes, brought her brows together over her nose, and turned the corners of her mouth down until they nearly touched the lower edge of her jaws. Her lips pressed together so tightly, they nearly disappeared.
They held each other’s eyes for another minute. Then the woman looked away.
Tess also gazed out toward the outriders. She had been riding in the back of the wagon for hours. The wooden floor of the wagon was broad boards worn smooth and hard as iron. Lying on her back grew tiresome quickly, with he
r head bouncing every time the wagon hit a rut or a rock. Which was often. Then she tried lying on one side or the other with her head pillowed on one arm. That lasted slightly longer than on her back. But her shoulders and hips paid the price.
Slowly, keeping her balance in the swaying and bouncing wagon, she got to her knees and then to her feet. The top of the wagon prevented her standing fully upright, but even bent over a little at the waist was a welcome change. It would be nice to be able to stand to her full five-feet four inches, put her hands on the small of her back, and stretch.
Then she thought again about what lay ahead for them. The women, at least. She didn’t know how many days it would take them to get to Mexico, but she figured at least a week. Plenty of time , she considered. I hope .
But between now and then there would be trials. Lots of them.
Tess was no youngster. Thirty-four next month. She knew what men did with women. And men outside the law, far away from civilization, would certainly do that with women they had under their control. Likely, they would not be hurt too badly since they were merchandise.
She glanced back at the other women again. Did they understand what surely was going to happen? If not tonight, then the next? None of them would be spared, that was certain.
Another thought. She had to tell them. Make sure they knew. Let them get ready, or as ready as they could.
Tess sat down again facing the other women. “Ladies, I think it’s important we talk about … things.”
The other women stirred, blinked as if they’d been asleep, focused on her. They didn’t seem to understand what she was saying.
“We’re all in a lot of trouble here,” she began. “We need to talk about what might happen. What will happen.”
Sarah shaded her eyes against the lowering sun. “What do you mean?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Tess said, “Think about this. We’ve been kidnapped, stolen from our families, our husbands, our fathers. By a group of men who steal women and sell them in Mexico. Sell them to other men who use them. Those of you who are married know what I mean.”
She could see they were thinking. Even the younger ones knew what she was talking about. She let them think about that for a few seconds.
Then, “If they’re going to sell us for that, what do you think they’ll do to us on the way?”
“Who are you to talk about things like that?” This came from the woman who wouldn’t
give Tess her name earlier. “What do you know about such things?”
“I know men,” Tess responded. “All of us know about men.” She addressed the entire group, “And here we are with a group of men who don’t care about the law.” A pause, just long enough for a deep breath. “They can, and will, do whatever they want to us.”
They all got silent then, looking at her, then out at the men, back at her. The older women began to understand. She could see it on their faces.
“When do you think …?” one of the other women tried to ask.
Tess looked from one to the other of the women before responding. “Tonight, I think. After we stop for supper.”
Several of the women gasped, held their hands over their mouths. The younger girls began crying.
“Won’t they come and get us?” another of the women asked.
“Who?” Tess said. “Your husband, your fathers? No, they won’t. They don’t know where we are. These men have done this before. Many times. And they haven’t been caught. We don’t need to think we have anyone we can rely on except ourselves.”
“Why are you talking like this?” the woman who Tess came to call Sour Face asked. “This isn’t something civilized women should talk about.”
Tess swung around on her. “You need to stop thinking about being civilized. There won’t be anything civilized about what these men do to us.”
“You should be quiet! You’re scaring the others.”
“They should be scared!” Tess shot back. “But knowing what’s going to happen gives us time to get ready for it.”
“You mean to fight?” Sarah jumped in.
“No.” The short answer startled some of them. “If you fight, you get hurt. It’s going to happen anyway, so we should let it.”
“What?” Sour Face almost shouted. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we have to survive. In order to survive, we have to be ready for anything. And you know what I’m talking about.” She noted the shock on their faces. “Yes, even that. It won’t kill you. But if you fight, they might kill you.”
“They won’t take me,” Sour Face declared. “I’ll fight! You wait and see!”
“If you fight, you’ll die.”
No one said anything more. They all sank back into themselves, no doubt thinking about what Tess had said. Sour Face stared at her as if daring her to say any more. She simply stared back.
Half an hour later, by Tess’s best guess and judging by the sun, the wagon slowed, then stopped. A small grove of trees stood nearby. She figured there was water there.
The men started getting their camp set up. Tess was right about one of the wagons holding supplies and the other being the chuck wagon. One of the men who she thought was the one next to the leader rode up.
“Two of you,” he pointed to Tess and Sour Face, “will help the cook with supper.”
When he rode off, two other men came up and unlocked the door to the wagon. They took Tess and the other woman over to the chuck wagon.
They worked with the cook for the next two hours. Once finished cooking, they then
washed up the dishes and pots. The cook gave them extra food then, and they stood by his
wagon eating.
In the near distance, they heard screams. Tess swung her head toward the sound, saw one of the women being dragged out of the wagon and toward a tent. While she watched, two other men took two more of the women, who screamed the entire way.
When she turned back, Snake Eyes stood there in front of her. They stared at each other for seconds, then Tess laid her plate down and stood with her head down.
He held his hand out to her. After a moment, she lifted her head and walked by him.
Chapter Eight
After riding hard for two days, Rafe Brannon rode into his cousin’s ranch yard just short of sundown. His buckskin horse was lathered and blowing hard. Rafe was as near exhausted as he ever got. He dismounted stiffly, stood for a moment to get feeling back in his butt and legs.
As he stood there, he saw Edward sitting on the large porch. He’d met the man twice before when he was traveling through the area. Neither time had he been impressed favorably. He let his eyes linger on his cousin-in-law for a moment, then glanced around the ranch yard. A large barn stood thirty yards away from the house, a corral behind it. No horses stood in the corral.
Rafe figured all the ranch hands were off looking for Tess. That accounted for the lack of horses and the quiet around the place.
Coming back to the house, he saw it looked to be in really good shape. He wouldn’t have expected anything less from Tess.
“Howdy,” he said as he walked up to the three steps leading up to the porch. “Mind if I come on up?”
“Sure. Come on up.” Edward didn’t bother to get up, but stayed in the rocking chair sipping a glass of something. “Rafe, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. Tess’s cousin.” He climbed the steps and stood there, waiting to be invited to have a seat and a drink. “We met a couple of times.”
Edward remained seated. “I remember.” He squinted up at Rafe. “You were wanderin’ through.” He slightly emphasized the ‘wandering’ to make it sound demeaning.
“Yeah.”
Rafe wondered at the lack of simple Western hospitality Edward was showing. Sure, his wife had been kidnapped, but he still should have seen to the minimum of greetings. He decided to give the man the benefit of being his cousin’s husband.
“Understand Tess has been kidnapped,” he said, hoping it would bri
ng some kind of response from Edward. “Thought you might need some help findin’ her.”
“Yeah, she’s been gone two days now.” Edward’s voice seemed to hold a little more emotion that time. But only a little.
After waiting for him to go on, Rafe said, “Your men out lookin’ now?”
Edward glanced from Rafe’s face out over the ranch yard, down to the drink in his hand, back out to the barn. “No, they’re not.” His eyes darted up to Rafe’s face, then slid off quickly to focus in the distance behind him. “I, uh, I needed them for the spring count.” He hurried on before Rafe could do anything other than open his mouth. “We looked for two days. Didn’t see any sign. Couldn’t even find which direction whoever took her left out. Had a dead man and another one wounded to take care of, too. In addition to the ranch.”
“No sign at all?” Rafe tried to catch Edward’s eye, but couldn’t. “They cover up their tracks?”
“No. There were a lot of them. Too many tracks. Then they got in the river and we lost ‘em.” Another glance up at Rafe’s eyes and away quickly. “We tried. But I guess she’s gone. Like the others.”
“Others?” Rafe repeated.
“Yeah. There’s been several ranches hit, women stolen. Never could follow whoever it was.” Lots of people tried.
Rafe wondered how hard he’d tried to find Tess. But he said nothing about that. “You said you had a wounded man. Can I talk to him?”
Edward seemed to hesitate a moment, then he said, “All right. But he’s in bad shape, might not get much out of him.”
Rafe walked down to the bunkhouse after Edward pointed it out. His cousin-in-law stayed where he was on the porch.
The bunkhouse was a sturdy affair, with several bullet holes in the door. Rafe knocked, then walked in. One man lay on his bunk along the wall. He watched Rafe all the way in.
Tess's Trials Page 4
