He grinned when he saw her shadowy form huddled against the wall. Crooking a finger on his empty hand, he said, “Come on. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”
“Wh-why should I believe you?”
He pressed his open hand to his breast as if he were offended. “Have I spoken a single falsehood to you, little one? In the time we have been together, have I lied to you?”
They hadn’t been “together.” She had been his prisoner. That was all.
But it was true that he had promised she wouldn’t be harmed if she cooperated, and so far that had been the case.
“What about the others?” she asked warily. “Will they be all right too?”
“Of course. I have come to fetch all four of you. Juan Alba wishes to speak with you. And there will be food and drink as well.”
Megan hadn’t realized just how hungry and thirsty she really was until he said that. She took a step toward the door without even thinking about what she was doing, then stopped short.
“Come on,” Flores said again, grinning at her. “You know you can trust me.”
Megan knew nothing of the sort, but even if this was some sort of trick, she doubted that she could be worse off than she already was, stuck in this cell with no food or water or even a blanket.
She took a deep breath and walked out into the hall.
Half-a-dozen men were gathered there besides Flores. One held the lantern while the others all gripped rifles. Megan allowed herself a smile and said, “You must think four defenseless women are mighty dangerous.”
“My orders are to take no chances with you,” Flores said. “You and the others are very important to Juan Alba.”
Megan couldn’t imagine why four women from a small settlement in Arizona Territory would be of any importance to the bandit chieftain, but she supposed if she were patient she would find out. Flores had said that he was taking them to see Alba, after all.
While Megan stood there with the other outlaws keeping an eye on her, Flores unlocked the other cells. Olympia Morelli and Abigail Krimp came out without much hesitation. They must have overheard Flores’s conversation with Megan and knew that they weren’t in any immediate danger.
But Flores had to go into Jenny’s cell and carry her out. She fought him every step of the way, and screamed until he clapped a rough hand over her mouth and shut her up that way.
Megan took a step toward them and said, “Don’t hurt her.”
Flores thrust Jenny at her. “You calm her down, then! If I take her to Juan Alba acting like this, he will be angry!”
None of them wanted that, Megan realized. She put her arms around Jenny and held the younger girl in a tight embrace. Jenny struggled against her for a moment too, before she seemed to realize that it was now Megan who held her and not the outlaw.
“It’ll be all right, Jenny,” Megan said. “Just settle down. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She hoped she would be able to keep that promise.
Flores and the other men herded the prisoners along the corridor and up a different flight of stairs than the one they had come down earlier. The staircase twisted back and forth on itself until Megan realized that they were climbing into some sort of tower. When they reached the landing at the top, they emerged into a large room dominated by a long, heavy table. Platters of food and pitchers of water and wine sat on the table, tantalizing the hungry, thirsty prisoners. The massive Juan Alba stood at the far end, his hamlike hands clasped behind his back.
“Ah, Flores,” he said, “you have brought our guests.”
Guests, Megan thought bitterly. That was a joke. They were prisoners, plain and simple, nothing more and nothing less.
Alba waved a hand at the heavy chairs around the table. “Señoras y señoritas, please to sit down. The food is for you.”
The others hesitated, but Abigail said, “Hell, I’m not going to turn down food. Lord knows when we’ll get a chance to eat again.”
She went to the chair at the end of the table on Alba’s left. Olympia sat next to her, and Megan and Jenny took the first two chairs to Alba’s right. The outlaw leader lowered himself into a big chair at the head of the table.
Flores remained in the room, standing at the far end of the table in an attitude of respect, but the other men left. Clearly, the two men thought they could handle any problems with the prisoners. They would be right about that too, Megan admitted to herself. Either of the bandits would be a match for all four of them.
The platters contained baked fish and chicken and strips of roasted beef, along with tortillas and beans and peppers. Everything tasted wonderful to Megan as she and the others began to eat. An Indian woman came into the room from somewhere and poured cups of wine for them. Abigail drank hers down and held out her empty cup for more. She grinned across the table at Megan and Jenny and said, “Whatever’s coming, maybe being drunk will help it go down easier.”
Alba ran his blunt fingers through his jutting black beard and asked, “Have you been harmed, any of you?”
“You mean besides being dragged away from our homes and families and forced to ride for scores of miles with a band of greasy, stinking outlaws?” Olympia asked, surprising Megan a little with her spirit.
Flores grinned, but Alba scowled and said, “Yes, besides that, I mean.”
“I’m fine,” Olympia replied with a defiant tilt of her chin.
“Me too,” Abigail said.
Alba turned his massive head toward Megan and Jenny. “And the señoritas?”
“Your men haven’t molested us,” Megan said, feeling her face grow warm as she did so.
Alba nodded. “Bueno. If any of those dogs had touched you, especially you two, I would have strung them up over a fire and stripped their skin off while they still lived.”
That image made Megan a bit queasy, but she shoved the feeling aside and asked, “Why are we so important?”
“I can tell you that, sweetie,” Abigail said before Alba could answer. “It’s because you’re virgins.” She looked at the outlaw leader. “Isn’t that right, big man?”
Alba’s broad, burly shoulders rose and fell in a shrug of agreement.
“That means you’ll fetch a higher price,” Abigail went on.
“A . . .” Megan had to swallow. “A higher price?”
“Right. When he sells you to whoever he’s got lined up to buy a couple of young white virgins.”
Alba scowled at Abigail. “You are a crude woman.”
“I just tell the truth as I see it. And I worked in enough whorehouses to know that the young, inexperienced girls always fetch the highest prices . . . especially the ones who have never been with a man before. You can still get a good price for women like Mrs. Morelli and me—no offense, Olympia, I’m not calling you a whore.”
“None taken,” Olympia murmured.
“Because we’re white and still fairly young and good-looking, if I do say so myself,” Abigail went on. “But we don’t compare to a pair like these two.”
Jenny’s bottom lip started to quiver, and Megan was afraid she was going to start crying again. That wasn’t going to help matters. She was relieved when Jenny took a deep breath and seemed to get hold of herself.
“Is all this true?” Megan asked.
Alba said, “Tomorrow morning, a ship will arrive. On it will be men from China—warlords, they call themselves—who have arranged to purchase American women to take back to their homeland. You four will be the first, but if the warlords are satisfied with the arrangement, it will continue.” A grin stretched across the bandit’s bearded face. “There are enough young women in Arizona Territory to make me a very rich man before I am through.”
“To make all of us rich hombres, eh, Juan?” Flores put in.
Alba nodded. “You understand now why I ordered my men not to harm you.”
Abigail said, “You didn’t want to hurt the price you’d get for us.”
“But what about after you turn us over to the
Chinese?” Megan asked.
Alba’s smile broadened into a grin. “After that, I will have my money, señorita, so what happens to you then will be no concern of mine.”
This time, Jenny couldn’t contain her sobs. She put her head down on the table and her back shook. Alba looked irritated.
Megan put an arm around Jenny’s shoulders and told her to stop it. “It won’t happen,” she whispered into Jenny’s ears. “Jason and Matt and the other men from Fury will come to save us. You’ll see.”
But even as she spoke the words, she wasn’t sure she believed them. In fact, she thought the chances of that happening were so slim that she found herself considering that leap from the window she had thought about earlier.
Plummeting hundreds of feet to her death was looking better all the time.
Chapter 27
The five men from Fury hunkered on their heels, back in the sand dunes a short distance so that there was no chance of them being spotted from Juan Alba’s stronghold.
“You can’t sneak in there by yourself, Jason,” Wash argued. “You’ll get caught, sure as shootin’.”
“One man has more of a chance of not being noticed than two,” Jason pointed out.
“Then let me go. I lived with the Injuns. I know how to move around quietlike.”
“We need you to go back across the sand dunes and bring the rest of the posse.”
“Damn it, send Dixon or Zach!”
Jason shook his head. “Like I said before, you’re the best man for the job, Wash.”
Matt spoke up. “Keough’s right about one thing. It’s too big a risk for you to go in there by yourself, Fury.”
Jason looked at him and asked, “How do you figure that?”
“When the posse launches its attack, those men won’t stand a chance unless something distracts the outlaws. And if you get caught, you won’t be able to provide that distraction.”
Jason frowned. Much as he hated to admit it, what Matt was saying made sense.
“Two men sneaking in doubles the chances of being caught, all right,” Matt continued, “but it also doubles the chances of one of them succeeding.”
“Boy may be a damn squatter, but he’s right about that,” Dixon said.
Matt was about to make some sort of angry retort to the rancher’s acerbic comment when Jason stopped him with a curt gesture.
“Let it go, Matt. I guess you’ve got a point. Who’s going with me?”
“I am,” Matt said without hesitation. “I’m younger, and I can move faster if I have to.”
Zachary said, “I hate to admit it, Jason, but I’m not as spry as I once was. I think Matt’s right again.”
Twice in one day, Jason thought. That had to be a record.
“Dixon, what do you think?”
“Well, we already know he’s good at sneakin’ around—”
“Damn it,” Matt grated.
“All right,” Jason cut in. “I guess it’s settled. You and I will try to get in there somehow and provide a distraction. If we can find the women and set them free at the same time, so much the better.”
“What sort of distraction?” Matt wanted to know.
Jason had to shake his head. “I can’t tell you. I guess we’ll just have to play it by ear.”
“We better figure out some sort o’ signals,” Wash said, “so you’ll know when the posse’s out here ready to attack, and so we’ll know when to hit the place.”
Jason’s mouth curved in a thin smile. “You’ll know when to attack, because it’ll be when all hell breaks loose inside the house. But you’re right, we don’t need to make a move until we know you’re ready.”
“Wait until dawn if you can. That’s when them bastards’ll be the groggiest. If I’m back with the posse, I’ll take off this here red bandanna of mine and lay it out on the grass where you can see it. If it’s not there, you’ll know to hold off . . . if you can.”
Jason nodded. It was an arrangement that was full of uncertainties and great risks, but it was the best they could do.
Jason and Matt left their hats and rifles with the other men, taking only their holstered revolvers and a knife apiece. With Jason in the lead, they crawled toward the big stone house, staying low in the grass.
Fear gnawed at Jason’s mind. Not fear for himself so much, although he knew he was heading straight into a very perilous situation. He was worried about Megan, Jenny, and the other two women. Right now, he and his companions had no way of knowing if the prisoners were even still alive. His sister and the woman he loved might be dead already. Jason didn’t want to let himself think that, but the possibility intruded into his brain anyway.
And if the captives were still alive, there was no telling what sort of degrading ordeal they had gone through. Jason tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter, but he knew to some people it would. Women who had been raped were regarded as soiled, as somehow less than they had been before. It wasn’t right, but it was the way things were, and he knew that the stigma would eat away at Megan and Jenny and make their lives miserable.
Worry first about saving their lives, he told himself. Other problems could be dealt with later.
When he was about fifty yards from the gate into the courtyard, Jason paused and let Matt crawl up beside him. He put his head close to Matt’s and whispered, “We can’t get in there. There are guards in the courtyard. We’ll have to circle the place and look for some other way in.”
Matt nodded that he understood. Jason turned and resumed crawling, staying well away from the stone wall around the courtyard.
The place really did look like a castle with that tower sticking up at one end, he thought. For some reason, his eyes kept returning to it, drawn there as if by some unknown force. He wondered if it could be climbed from the outside, so that the window could be reached that way. Almost as soon as the idea came into his brain, he discarded it. Anybody trying to climb that tower would be spotted right away and would be an easy target for riflemen down below.
A group as large as Alba’s gang had to have quite a few horses, and sure enough, a stable was built to one side of the big house. Jason hadn’t been able to see it until now. It was a long, low building, and the smell that came from it told him what it was. He also heard the faint sounds of the horses moving around inside.
Most importantly, a passage connected the stable to the house itself. That was their way in, Jason told himself.
He tapped Matt on the shoulder and pointed, and both young men crawled toward the far end of the stable. When they reached it, Jason saw an open window. There would be guards inside. Alba was too smart to leave this way into his stronghold undefended. Being as quiet as possible, Jason crawled closer and spotted a deeper patch of darkness at the base of the wall. An opening of some sort? He moved toward it, and as he did he found himself crawling through mud and wet grass. The smell of horseshit was almost overpowering. Jason realized that the opening at the base of the wall was a drain, so that when buckets of water were sloshed across the stable floor to wash it out, the liquid would have somewhere to go.
He heard Matt gagging a little behind him, and twisted his head to hiss for silence. Sure, the smell was bad, but they would have to put up with it. This was a possible way in that the outlaws wouldn’t suspect anyone of taking. No one in his right mind, that is.
Jason wasn’t sure he was in his right mind at the moment. He was too worried about the prisoners for that.
He reached the drain opening and put out his hands to see if it was barred in any way. He almost groaned out loud when he touched iron bars that were too close together for a man to crawl between them.
But he wasn’t ready to give up. The bars were set in stone on their top end, but the bottom ends were buried in the ground. How deep did they go? Jason knew only one way to find out. He started digging with his hands.
The ground was softer here, since it stayed wet a lot of the time. Matt caught on to what he was doing and started to dig as well. Both
of them ignored the stench as best they could.
Jason came to the bottom of the bars about six inches deep in the ground. He and Matt cleared the mud away around several of the bars, then each of them gripped one of the bars and started to heave. They were big, strong young men, but they were working against iron and stone. The stone didn’t give, but after a few arduous, teeth-gritting minutes, the iron began to bend under the strain.
Jason and Matt took a break to catch their breath, then resumed pulling on the bars. Over the next half hour or so, they bent several of the bars up and out of the way so that there was an opening just large enough for them to wriggle through it one at a time. Jason went first, being careful as he pulled himself onto the sloping stone floor of the stable that his holstered gun didn’t scrape against it.
He saw a light and heard men talking at the front of the stable. When Matt was through the drain, they both edged forward until they could look along the straw-littered aisle between the stalls where the horses were kept. Two guards, both Americans, were at the far end of the aisle where the passage from the house opened into the stable. One man sat on a three-legged stool while the other leaned a shoulder against the wall. Each of the hardcases had a quirly in his mouth and a shotgun in his hands.
Not surprisingly, they were talking about the prisoners, as men always will whenever there are good-looking girls in the vicinity. Jason’s jaw tightened as he listened to them trading lewd opinions about the women and detailing what they would like to do to them. None of that mattered now, he told himself. What was important was figuring out a way to draw the guards down here so that they could be disposed of without any noise or fuss, nothing that would give the alarm to the men in the house. Once they were taken care of, Jason and Matt would be able to get into the stronghold.
“Too bad those Chinamen will be the only ones who get to enjoy them gals,” one of the guards complained.
A Town Called Fury Page 36
