The terrain here was relatively flat, offering him a view for miles in all directions and letting him know if trouble was anywhere near. That would soon change though. Where the train had been attacked, it was much rougher and more confined. This made it easy for folks to creep about. Oddly enough, this was good news for Alaine. At least there were places to hide. If she got away. If she was alive.
Zeke crested a small hill that offered him a view of the landscape. He could see the train tracks a few miles ahead leading into the rough country. He removed a spyglass from his saddlebags and surveyed the area. Nothing. It made him uneasy. He stowed the spyglass and checked his weapon. If there was trouble ahead, and it was all but dead certain there was, he would be ready to meet it, guns up. He kicked his horse in the ribs and steered him towards the tracks.
As he neared the railroad, he eased up on the spurs and let his horse dictate the pace. If he got into trouble, he wanted his mount to have fresh legs. He kept his gaze moving from the tracks ahead to the ground at his feet. If there were any signs that might let him know what was waiting for him, he was bound to find them, but so far he saw nothing.
It was almost noon when he reached the edge of the Badlands. The trees became denser and denser until he couldn’t see more than a few hundred feet in any direction. He was unsettled by this, accustomed as he was to wide open spaces. Still, the pine trees blocking his view brought him some solace. They reminded him of his boyhood in Tennessee, before the war. Before the nightmares.
He inhaled deeply, tasted the scent of the trees. Strange how a familiar smell brought back such vivid memories. He remembered a girl named Rachel. They used to ride together near her father’s farm. He kissed her once against a pine tree. Wanted to marry her. When the war came, he went off to fight and told her to wait for him, but it seemed the agony of waiting was too much for her. He heard she had married a law clerk in Nashville. It was probably for the best, he told himself.
He shut his mind against these flights of fancy and focused on the task at hand. Distractions could kill a man out here just as quickly as a rattlesnake. He turned his attention back to the ground. Horse tracks. He was very close. He drew his rifle and proceeded slowly, though the chances were slim that there was anyone still around. As he moved on, the ground became more and more marked by tracks and he decided it was best to continue on foot, lest he ruin any chance of finding Alaine by destroying the only clues he had.
He dismounted and set his horse to grazing, which was not hard to do. The animal had not stopped for hours now and was eager for a break. Zeke stepped onto the railroad ties between the rails and advanced slowly, his rifle at the ready. Each deliberate step announced itself with the soft ‘ting’ of his spurs. During the war, Zeke’s marksmanship was legendary, but in this terrain where a man could see only about as far as he could throw a rock, rifle skills meant nothing.
On both sides of the tracks, trees offered cover to even the most inept stalker. To the right, a steep hillside rose quickly above the tracks and Zeke kept a wary eye on the ridge above. If there was anybody up there, he was a sitting duck.
Slowly, Zeke moved forward, ready for anything. He strained his senses in all directions for anything that might betray an attacker. At times like these, he had even learned to stop himself from blinking. His green eyes scanned the area ahead while his sharp ears reached out, waiting for anything, a twig snapping, a flock of quail startled, a woodpecker’s alarm call. There was nothing.
At length, he relaxed a bit. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would still be there, but that wasn’t the point. He wanted to be ready regardless. Slowly and carefully he began examining the ground. There was a large commotion of tracks in one area that then headed off to the southwest accompanied by several tracks made by women’s shoes. From what he could tell, there were probably no more than six horses, though he couldn’t be certain. Try as he might, he could not locate a blood trail. This, at least, was good news. Once he had determined the approximate size and direction of his enemy, he set about scouring the ground for other clues.
He noticed that one set of horse tracks led away from the others, toward the steep ridge to the right of the tracks. They had been moving quickly. He followed them some ways into the underbrush and noticed something strange wavering in the breeze. A small piece of blue fabric had been torn from an article of clothing. Zeke knelt down and examined the ground more closely. There was a single set of women’s tracks heading into the hills with horse prints right beside them.
The trail was fairly easy to follow. Whoever had been chasing the girl had been in a fearsome hurry. There were broken twigs and branches everywhere. Zeke hurried on. Even though this chase had happened days ago, he felt a sense of urgency. He also kept his eyes out for the locket, even though he had no real expectation of finding it.
The ground became very steep rather quickly and it appeared the rider had dismounted and continued on foot. Zeke thought he could see tracks going back down, as well, but only one set which meant that the quarry had either escaped or had been caught and carried back down to the railroad. This seemed unlikely to Zeke. The ground was steep and full of small rocks. Trying to carry anything down it would have been difficult. Difficult, but not impossible.
With some struggling, Zeke reached the top of the ridge. He took a moment to locate his horse in the scenery below. It stood still, grazing and swishing its tail. He turned his attention back to the ground, which was much rockier than the gravel below. Finding tracks on this type of terrain was far more difficult, the signs much subtler. The two trails diverged. Whoever had been following the girl was not very well practiced in the art of tracking. Zeke moved off in the direction of the smaller, lighter footprints.
She had been moving fast, he could see. Fast and scared. This was good. Fast tends to survive. He followed the trail up into the hills, which were now made up of larger and larger boulders. Plenty of spots to hide. From what he could gather, the trail led up towards what appeared to be a small cave. If she hadn’t wandered into a mountain lion’s den, whoever this girl was, she was conceivably still alive.
“Hello?” Zeke called out, “Anybody up there?” It was a risky move, hollering like that when he had no idea who was around, but he had no choice. The trail was vanishing into the stones and there were just too many places to hide. He listened for an answer, but there was none except his echo.
“Damn.” he grumbled to himself. The trail was cold. Zeke decided he would have to look around. He was now starting to think that he had a better chance of finding a girl’s corpse than anything else. He didn’t like to think of it, but the odds were against her.
He clambered further up the rocks towards the small cave with his pistol drawn. If the only thing up there to greet him was a mountain lion, he wanted to be ready.
“Hello?” he hollered again, not wanting to startle any wild animal that might have made a home there. Slowly he approached the mouth of the cave with his shooter in front of him. The brightness of the sun made it difficult for his vision to penetrate the cave more than a few feet. He squinted hard and moved in, listening intently for a growl or worse, a roar.
Slowly he stepped into the shade of the cave and his heart sank. A girl’s dead body lay on the ground, her back towards him.
“Damn.” he holstered his gun and moved closer. If she were wearing a locket, he’d take it back to the Englishman. Either way, he intended to bury this poor girl. He knelt beside her and rolled her onto her back. Just as he was beginning to wonder why she had died clutching a fairly large rock, her eyes snapped open and she slammed the rock into the side of his head with all her strength.
If she hadn’t been weakened by hunger and dehydration, she might have killed Zeke. As it was, she merely knocked him unconscious for a minute or two. He came to with a thundering ache in his temple and for a moment, he had no idea where he was. Then he remembered.
“Damn.” he growled and set out on the girl’s trail. He was angry, mostly at
himself. How had he let this happen? He had underestimated this girl. He wouldn’t do that again, he told himself. Whoever she is, he thought, she’s pretty clever. No wonder she’s still alive. She had gotten past him, but she wasn’t getting away.
Zeke moved swiftly across the uneven terrain and closed on her fast. When he caught up to her, she was trying to climb up a steep incline, but the gravel kept sliding out from under her. Zeke merely watched. Eventually she gave up and turned around, her brown eyes burning out from her dirty face.
“You done hitting me with rocks?” asked Zeke, but the girl said nothing, “I’m not going to hurt you.” She didn’t seem to believe him, but there was nowhere to run. Zeke looked her over. She was about nineteen years old, by his guess. Her dress matched the color of the fabric he’d found near the tracks. She was filthy and her brown hair fell in disheveled curls onto her bare shoulders. Her dress had been expensive at one time, now it was torn and tattered. He examined her neck for the locket. The girl noticed his gaze shifting to her throat and tried to cover herself up.
“Relax.” said Zeke, “I wasn’t looking at your chest. I mean, I was, but not for the reason you think.” He was flustered, “I’m looking for someone.” he blurted out by way of explanation. “What’s your name?” The girl said nothing. “You thirsty?” he asked, holding out his water skin. Her eyes focused like a hawk’s on the water, but she would not move forward to take the skin from Zeke’s outstretched hand. “Here.” he said, tossing it to her. She snapped it up and made to inhale the entire thing. “Don’t drink like that.” admonished Zeke, “You’ll vomit. Take small sips or you’ll end up wasting it.” The girl did as she was told and took little sips like a bird. “You want to tell me your name now?” The girl made no response. “My name is Ezekiel, but you can call me Zeke,” he sighed, “if you ever start talking. Now listen, I’m looking for the raiders that attacked the train. They took a girl with them. I need to find her. Did you see anything? Or hear anything?” She lowered her eyes and shook her head. “Well, follow me back down to my horse. I can give you some food and point you in the right direction, but then I have to get going.” The girl made no move. “You are hungry, right?” She looked him in the eye with her hard gaze but made no sound. “Follow me or starve.” he said and headed back down the hill. The girl stood still for a moment, then headed after him. Once they reached Zeke’s horse, he fetched the beef jerky from his saddlebag and took a bite as the girl watched.
“Mmmmmm.” he said, chewing as she watched intently, “Want some?” He extended his arm. As she stepped forward, he rescinded the offer. “First you have to tell me your name.” The girl took a moment to gather herself.
“Helen.” she finally answered. Zeke tossed her a hunk of the jerky and she tore into it, most unladylike.
“Where you from, Helen?” In between gargantuan bites and swallowing, Helen found a second to answer him.
“Boston.” Zeke chuckled. “What’s so funny?” she wanted to know.
“It’s just strange,” he said, “meeting a Yankee girl all the way out here. Where were you headed?”
“California.”
“You and the rest of the world, it seems.” Zeke took a brown cigarillo from his pouch and lit it. “Well, Helen from Boston,” he said, “I need to keep going. There is a girl I need to find. She was on that train with you. There’s some tracks over yonder that head west, but the nearest town is back east. While I don’t like sending you alone, I ain’t got much choice.”
“You mean to leave me?” Zeke chuckled again.
“You Boston girls sure do talk funny. Listen, I don’t want to leave you alone, but that band of raiders has a four day head start on me. Now they’re hauling a load of women and that’s going to slow ‘em down a piece, but I ain’t leaving nothing to chance. I need to chase ‘em, and quick. You’ll only slow me down.” Helen stepped closer to him.
“Please don’t leave me here.” Her eyes begged in ways her words could never manage, “I’ve been up in that cave alone for days. I can’t bear the thought of being alone again.” Zeke made no reply, “Please. I don’t weigh much. Your horse will scarcely notice.” Zeke weighed his options. If he left her, chances were, she would die. He knew that much.
“All right,” he finally relented, “but if you’re coming with me, we need to change your appearance.”
“Why?”
“Because we might come across some unsavory characters out here and if we do, you need to look like you belong. Right now you stick out like a…” Zeke couldn’t think of a good example, “Well like a girl wearing a blue dress in the middle of Indian territory.” It was Helen’s turn now to consider her predicament.
“Very well.” she said, “What am I to do?” Zeke removed a bundle from his horse and gave it to Helen.
“Put these on.” he said. Helen looked around.
“I shall need privacy.”
“Privacy is a luxury you can’t afford out here.” She made no response, but simply stared at him. “Aw, Hell.” He finally said. With a huff, he unrolled his blanket and stomped over to a low branch in a nearby tree. Draping it over to form a curtain, he turned back to her, “Will that suffice?” He asked without patience.
“Yes,” she said, “It will. Thank you.” She stepped gingerly behind the makeshift curtain and began to disrobe. “I must say you are quite the gentleman.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes. Most men would take advantage of a woman in my situation.”
“Is that why you hit me with a rock?”
“I’m dreadfully sorry about that.” She tossed her petticoat over a branch, and after some time, her corset. She undid the bundle and began searching through it as if something were missing. “There’s been a mistake.” She said, “You gave me the wrong clothes.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“There is nothing here but a man’s shirt, breeches and leather slippers.”
“They’re called moccasins. Put ‘em on.” Zeke spat on the ground.
“I will not. You honestly expect me to wear breeches?”
“I expect you to do what I tell you.”
“What if I refuse?” At that, Zeke stormed over to the tree causing Helen to back away in terror, holding the new clothes against her. Angrily, Zeke ripped her dress and underthings from the branch, threw them on the ground and set them ablaze.
“Get this straight, missy,” he growled at her, “there ain’t gonna be no refusing out here. Understand? I don’t want to leave you out here but if you get between me and what I’m after, that’s exactly what I’ll do.” Helen was taken aback but gathered herself quickly.
“I’ve changed my mind.” she announced, “You’re no gentlemen. You’re a brute.”
“Get dressed.” was Zeke’s curt reply.
At long last, Helen emerged from behind the tree. The clothes were much too big for her and she looked rather comical. In her hand she carried the high, lace up boots she had been wearing.
“I am keeping these.” she said defiantly.
“No, you’re not.” Zeke was in no mood to argue. Helen gestured angrily at her burning dress.
“You’ve already burned my favorite dress.” she said, “You are going to take away my favorite boots?”
“Those boots,” said Zeke dismissively, “leave very distinctive tracks, and those tracks ain’t common out here. I told you, you have to blend in. That means everything.” She and Zeke stared each other down, neither one budging.
“I would think a cowboy would appreciate the need for good boots.” Zeke had no retort for her logic. Unceremoniously he undid a saddlebag and held it open for her as she placed the boots inside. “Thank you.” She said.
“Don’t mention it.” Zeke replied mirthlessly. He motioned to the saddle but Helen merely stared at him. “Well?” he said, “Sometime today would be nice.” Helen eyed the stirrups. They seemed far higher than she could manage to lift her legs. At least now the breeches made sense.
“
I don’t suppose you could help me.” she smiled. Zeke sighed and knelt beside the horse, offering his other knee for her to stand on. “Thank you.” she said as she mounted. Zeke swung his leg up and settled in behind her. He was rather uncomfortable sitting on the brim of the saddle, but it seemed ungentlemanly to push a lady up against the pommel. He hoped she appreciated his chivalry.
The two of them managed a decent pace. Though he would hate to admit it, Zeke was glad to have the company of a woman. As they rode along with her sitting in the saddle in front of him, his sharp senses could still detect the faint scent of fragrance in her hair even if it had been days since she’d taken a bath. Zeke was content to ride in silence, especially since his mind was on the task at hand. The trail was pretty obvious and from what he could surmise, all of the women were yet alive. Still, he kept an eye out for anything that would indicate otherwise.
He wanted to believe the Englishman. He wanted so badly to go home, back to Tennessee where the hills were green and the land was rich and dark. That was only possible if he were exonerated. Out west, a man could evade detection with little effort. Truth be told, law didn’t seem to matter much. Zeke didn’t know how he felt about that. True, that environment had offered him protection, but it came at a price. He longed for a simple life. A wife. A farm. Children. That was hardly possible here, and quite impossible as a wanted man back east. There, they put a high premium on law and order and criminals couldn’t hide in such a place, not for long anyway. At once, Zeke had a terrible thought. If he went back and was caught, he might wind up in front of a Nashville judge and come into some kind of contact that law clerk that Rachel had married. That would be a fate worse than death and he decided he’d rather just swing from a rope and be done with it. He was busy picturing that grim scenario when Helen began asking him questions. He didn’t feel much like talking but at least she could distract him from his macabre reveries.
Hell for Leather Page 3
