About a half-mile from the barn, her eyes shaded by her big straw hat, Jo quietly made one of her famous wild guesses. This talent she’d inherited from her mother. Petra’d had, many times, the uncanny knack for unearthing secrets.
“You went back down to the pool last night, didn’t you?” Jo said.
Her statement plucked a nerve, and Birdie clutched at the reins. Her pony, Gypsy, tossed her head to let her know she’d felt it and didn’t much care for her jerking the bit.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Birdie said, her teeth tightly clenched. In an attempt to make light of her admission, she said, “The moon, did you see it? It was like daylight. Besides, I felt all fidgety, and I had to do something. A dip in the pool, I thought, would settle me down, relax me.”
“Fidgety, that’s what you call it now—fidgety? It’s Gabe, isn’t it? He’s got you feeling…fidgety.”
Birdie clamped her lips between her teeth to keep herself from revealing too much. She and Jo were best friends, but what happened last night down at the pool she meant to keep private between her and Gabe.
Jo shook her head. “C’mon, I know your face, Birdie. Something happened. Gabe has big bags under his eyes. I’m guessing he got about as much sleep as you did.”
Birdie stayed silent, reluctant to abandon her study of Gabe, the set of his shoulders, the way he sat easy in the saddle. She sighed—she loved everything about the man, more’s the pity.
Jo wasn’t about to let the subject drop. “All I have to say, you two better be careful…get this thing between you worked out before someone gets hurt.”
Birdie, her jaw tight and lips pulled back, said, “No one’s going to get hurt. There’s nothing to work out. Edditha is perfect for Gabe.”
Right then Edditha laughed at something Cornell said. And they heard Mrs. Millican declare to Doreen she’d forgotten how majestic the Wallowas were, rising up to tower over the plains.
The party crossed a wide, lush meadow, surprising as it sat between bare rolling hills covered in scree and scrub. A natural spring kept the vegetation green year round, even in the dead of winter. Elk and deer frequented this oasis. Doreen pointed out a large herd of elk lying off to the side in the shadow of the hills to the south. The big racks of the bulls blended in with the thicket of old scrub trees and brush. Giving it a hard look, Birdie could make out the cows and calves a little distance from the bulls, tucked behind and around some cottonwood trees and willows.
»»•««
Van turned in the saddle to wave at them, pointing to the copse of aspen off in the distance. Gabe kept his eyes forward. He could feel Birdie back there and knew her eyes were trained on his back.
He’d avoided her this morning. But he knew he couldn’t hold out for long. He couldn’t help himself. He wanted to know how she was this morning. He hadn’t slept at all, thinking about holding her, touching her. It didn’t help she had it right; he was lying to himself as well as Edditha. He would have to do something about their engagement. He couldn’t marry Edditha, not now—now he knew he would never be satisfied with anyone other than Birdie—his Curly-Birdie.
Edditha’s laughter sent a sharp stab of jealousy through his gut, which he analyzed and declared himself insane. Edditha was simply being kind, enjoying herself, and Corney was doing his best to entertain. And Besides, Cornell Norquist, whether he realized it or not, proved a big help today, leaving Gabe free to mull over this impossible predicament.
“That bother you?” Van asked him, giving him a sideways glance.
Gabe shrugged, pretending not to know exactly what Van was getting at. “What?”
“Your fiancée and Norquist back there laughing it up, you dumb shit. If Miss Millican were my fiancée, it would sure as hell bother me.”
“Can’t fight it, Van, Corney is good with the ladies. But yeah, I’d like to put my fist up his nose. He has that effect on people. He’s just too…too…thick, slick, smarmy.”
“He’s a big bag of gas, and you know it, Gabe. He doesn’t have the knack where Birdie-Alice is concerned. He doesn’t even try to be entertaining around Birdie. He gets on her wrong side every time he opens his big mouth. I don’t know how she keeps from punching him in the nose. Doesn’t it make you wonder why he really wants to marry her? It’s clear to me he thinks he can change her.”
Gabe agreed full-heartedly on every point, but couldn’t allow Van to see too much. Therefore, he shook his head. “Birdie doesn’t need to change. She’s just fine like she is.”
Van huffed and rose up in the saddle and then settled again. “I know it, and you know it, but Corney, I think he’s got an idea in his head what a wife should be. Birdie, right now, the way she is, doesn’t fit his mold. But I think he’s gonna try to make her fit, trim her edges off and push her into a box with a very tight lid.”
Ashamed of himself, Gabe hated to admit it, but he and Corney had the same problem. He too had his own idea of what a wife should be. She should be pretty, gracious, full of fun, loving, kind, and yes, damn it, passionate. He wanted her to lie next to him in the same bed every night. So, he asked himself, what in the hell had he been thinking when he’d asked Edditha Millican to marry him?
The answer—he’d tried to convince Edditha she would enjoy sleeping with him, like his kisses and his caresses, even though she’d refused him every time he tried to get the slightest bit intimate.
Idiot.
Chapter Fourteen
Buck shaded his face against the bright blue sky with his hand. They’d left a little before sunup. He gauged it near mid-day. It sure felt hot enough with the sun pounding down on his neck and shoulders. “It’s been a while since I’ve ridden this distance.” He glanced over at Rafe and didn’t feel so bad for complaining. Rafe had sweat pouring off his temples, and the back of his shirt looked soaked with sweat.
“I know I’m gettin’ too old for this long a ride, especially after chasing Birdie out to your place yesterday. My ass is sore. I’m hungry, and I’d sell my soul for a beer.”
Buck nodded. “Dave makes his own from hops he imports from Boise, tastes like fuzzy piss, but he keeps it cold in his root cellar. I bet we can talk him out of a pint or two.”
Inspired, they set off at a fast trot for the Thurman ranch in the distance.
Dave Thurman had a big spread with cattle and horses, and he kept two full-time hands. When they rode into the yard before the sprawling two-story house, they didn’t see any signs of human occupation. There were a couple of nags in a far corral, and cattle grazing out in the far pasture. He was about to swing down off his horse when the barn door squeaked open and a big ugly collie charged out, snarling and barking, teeth bared and his back hairs up.
“Well, shit, I guess no one’s home.” Behind him, he heard a whistle. One of the ranch hands shoved his head out the barn door and waved.
“Caesar,” Rafe called out. “You wanna call off the damn dog?”
“Oh, hey. Si, Señor Bollo. Blanco, no. Shut-the-hell-up, dog.”
“We came out to see Dave,” Buck said and dismounted now the dog had retired to the shade of the big cottonwood in front of the house to lie down. “Looks like we missed him, I don’t see anyone around. Is the boss out on the range somewhere?”
“No, Señor Buck, the family left two days ago. They went over to the Blues to a hot spring.”
“The Blues? What the hell….?” Buck couldn’t talk. The words wouldn’t line up. He wanted to shout cuss words and stomp around. He almost threw his hat on the ground but stopped himself.
Rafe saved him from having to speak. “You got any idea why they canceled going to Buck’s place this year, Caesar?”
Caesar Arturo wasn’t a young man. A puff of wind could take him away. Short and wiry, his bony jaw covered with a weeks’ worth of stubble, and black eyes swimming in red pools, he didn’t look at all robust. But Buck wasn’t fooled, he knew Caesar could put in a full day’s work and then some with the horses, maintaining the corrals, water tower, and an
ything and everything needed to keep the big house running.
Caesar removed his scruffy, gray, sweat-stained hat and ruffled up his thick silver hair. “Well, I don’t know ’zactly. A man come out here ’bout a month ago. I hear him say Mr. Thurman should try the new hot spring over in the Blues. Mr. Thurman got the lumbago, you know. Man say Mr. Thurman and the whole family could stay free, no charge. You know Mr. Thurman, he always lookin’ for a bargain.
“You know, when Blanco bark, I think maybe everybody come home. I ain’t got my work done. Then I think Blanco don’t bark at Mr. Thurman.”
Buck had stopped listening. Rafe removed his hat and scratched his balding head. He started to lead their horses over to the water trough and said to Buck as he took the reins, “Well, I guess that answers that.”
Buck had himself under control now. He had questions. “What did this fella look like, Caesar? Anybody we know? Did you recognize him?”
“No. I never see him before. He talk funny, fancy English.”
Rafe tied off the horses to the hitching rail. “What did he look like…young, old?”
Reaching up to touch his head with his skeleton-like digits, Caesar said, “Rojas, red like sunset on top, mustaches too. Not old…not young. Fine clothes, fancy hat, with bill.” Grinning from ear to ear, he said, “And funny pants.” He gestured, pulling the fabric of his worn baggy trousers out at the thigh. “Nice boots, black, very shiny.”
Buck started to mount up.
Caesar held the bit and looked up at Buck to ask, “You want beer? I got some in the barn…got tortillas and beans. Mr. Thurman, he would want me to feed you after you ride out here to see him.”
Buck and Rafe exchanged glances, shrugged their shoulders, and followed Caesar to the barn.
»»•««
Cornell sat beside Edditha on the blanket and bent his head to the side to demonstrate how to use a reed of grass for a whistle. Edditha had a blade of grass up to her lips but had the giggles so bad she couldn’t find the wind to blow.
Beside Gabe, Van lowered his head. “You mean to sit here and tell me it doesn’t bother you?”
Gabe and Van found a spot on a fallen log where they could eat their meal, giving the ladies the blanket in the shade. Corney made himself comfortable on the blanket as well, stretched out on his stomach and acting the fool.
Gabe eyed his fiancée and Cornell Norquist. Oh, yeah it bothered him all right. But it wasn’t jealousy. It had to do with territory, possession. He didn’t understand it, reckoned it stupid and unreasonable, but there it was. He wanted to paste Corney a hard one on the nose for stealing what he’d staked out as his.
His what? His responsibility? His ex-fiancée? The woman he was about to jilt? Gabe couldn’t quite face up to what Edditha meant or didn’t mean to him…yet.
After carefully considering the question from all sides he said, “Corney is irritating. Always was and always will be. But I don’t own Edditha. She’s a morally centered young woman. I admire her for that quality. Cornell, well, Corney is Corney. He no doubt believes he’s causing me considerable distress, which feeds his antics. For all I know, Edditha is playing the same game. I don’t know, I’m a little confused right now, Van., but it’s Birdie who should be upset, and she’s not, not as far as I can tell.”
Gabe turned around. His sister and Birdie had vanished. “Speaking of Birdie, where did she and Jo get off to? They said they were going to go pick berries. But I figured they meant right here behind us.”
“You had your back to them. I saw 'em head off. Jo waved at me before they walked down into the creek bed.”
Mrs. Millican and Doreen sat a ways off on the grass in the shade, deep in conversation. It made Gabe uneasy the two had their heads together. Doreen didn’t mind at all filling in the blanks on the Buxton family or anyone else’s history for Mrs. Millican, who appeared enthralled with the telling of each and every tale. Her daughter, to Gabe’s relief, didn’t appear at all interested in discourse today.
Gabe picked up his plate and cup and elbowed Van. “We should probably pack up and head back soon.”
“Yeah, they should have enough berries by now. I’ll go down to the creek and let them know it’s time to head back.”
»»•««
They separated, Jo disappeared into the willows and aspen and the brush along the creek, leaving Birdie to take off her boots and stockings to wade into the water. The mud near the bank felt cool between her toes, the water rippling by cooled her ankles. Carefully, she selected the ripest berries from the bushes along the water’s edge. She’d eaten a few, but most of them went in her bucket. At first, she kept Jo within shouting distance, now and then catching sight of her yellow skirt.
She heard a squeak. A flock of black birds rocketed out of the treetops about thirty feet ahead of her on the right, about where she imagined Jo would be.
Birdie hiked up her skirt and waded to the other side to go in search of Jo, thinking she might have run across a snake. Rattlers were always an unwelcome surprise.
She found where Jo had been picking. Her bucket of berries lay tipped over on its side where the grass and brush were trampled down, but there was no sign of Jo. When she started to call out, Birdie got her mouth stuffed with a wad of filthy fabric. Her arms were pinned behind her, and her head and torso were soon encased in a wet, musty feed sack. She could still smell the mash. Next thing she knew, her shoulder and hip met solid ground. She started kicking, flinging herself every which way, but too little avail. Her captors hogtied her hands to feet.
There had to be more than one attacker. One tied the bag around her middle, and the other tied her feet. They didn’t make a sound. Oh, she heard a grunt when she connected with one of them with her feet. They carried her, wiggling and squirming. Birdie thought they crossed the creek—she heard the water. They tossed her up on a horse on her stomach, her head hanging down on one side and her feet on the other. Her arms were tied behind her back, and her legs were tied at the ankles. Her captor kept patting her butt, but he never said a word.
Chapter Fifteen
They were almost home. Buck could smell the hot spring and see the barn, the yellow house, and the big old cottonwood beside the hot spring. The sun had gone down far enough it no longer bothered him, but the heat remained oppressive. He’d be glad to be home. He heard a shout and glanced off to the east. A rider rode toward them, barreling down from the top of the hill. He didn’t recognize the rider, but he knew the horse. It was Gabe’s palomino, Royale.
“Is that Cornell?” Rafe asked, pulling back on the reins, shading his face with one hand and squinting.
Buck stood in the stirrups. “I can’t tell from this distance, but that’s Gabe’s horse. Something’s wrong.” Spurring his horse into a run, Buck charged up the hill with Rafe eating his dust.
“Buck, Rafe,” Cornell shouted, pulling up his winded mount. “Jo and Birdie…something’s happened to them. Don’t know if they’re lost or what. Can’t find them. Disappeared…no trace.”
“Where’s Gabe and Van?” Buck asked, working hard to keep a rein on his instinct to tear off on his own to go find the girls.
“Gabe’s on Gypsy, Birdie’s mustang. He said Gypsy might be able to pick up their trail. I never heard of such a thing. Gabe and Van scoured the aspen grove. They found Birdie’s boots and stockings. She must’ve waded into the creek. Gabe and Van have the leftovers from the picnic. They said they’d stay out looking until they found them.”
“Doreen?” Rafe asked. Buck heard the panic in his voice.
“She’s driving the buggy. Mrs. Millican and Edditha are with her. They should be pulling into the hot spring soon. They left right after I did.”
“This isn’t like Jo,” Buck said. “She doesn’t wander off.”
Rafe echoed his sentiments. “Neither one of those girls has ever gotten lost. If one of them was hurt, they’d find a way to let someone know.”
Buck, his jaw working, nodded. “Right. We gotta assu
me there’s foul play…they’ve been taken. But why? And who?”
Rafe, his face pale and eyes stormy, said, “Van and Gabe have a good chance of finding them, Buck. They’ve got a good fresh trail.”
“I know, but I should be out there.”
“I feel the same, you know I do. But we both know we’d only slow them down.”
“True, but we can get this sorted out—find out what the hell’s going on around here, and who’s behind all of this. Those two boys will find the girls. They know what to do.”
Buck shook his finger at Cornell. “First thing in the morning you go into town and get your old man, drag his butt out here.”
Rafe had a question. “Cornell, you know a man with red hair, fancy boots, and coat? I’d say he likes to wear a riding costume, speaks funny English.”
Cornell puckered up his brows. “McDaniel, Ivers McDaniel. Sounds like it might be him. He’s a land speculator from back east. He tried to get Pa to sell him one of our mines and some timber. Made some threats when Pa turned him down. Pa didn’t take him seriously though, basically, told him to go to hell.”
Buck nodded. “If you know where to find the son-of-a-bitch, get him out here too. I got a gut feeling this is all hooked together with your blasting orders, my cattle dying off, and the canceled reservations. I mean to find out who’s at the bottom of it. Taking my girl, they’ll pay for that. Whatever this is about, someone’s gone too far.”
»»•««
Birdie, slung over the back of a horse on a stomach full of apple pie, an egg and ham salad sandwich, nauseous and disoriented, feared she’d throw up. The wadded-up, nasty, sweat-soaked rag they’d stuffed in her mouth would certainly increase the odds of her choking to death on her own vomit if she did.
She had to pee. She didn’t know how long they’d ridden, but it seemed forever. She and Jo had gone down to the creek shortly after lunch, and the sun had been right overhead. She could feel the heat of the sun on her backside but couldn’t tell in what direction they were headed with her head hanging down and the damn sack over her head.
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