“No.” Dustin scanned the camp in the opposite direction. “That doesn’t mean she isn’t here.”
John slid back down the rock. “I agree. Looks to me like they’re breaking camp.” He looked over to his cousin. “Does it to you?”
Dustin nodded. “More women and children than men.”
“I’ve counted five men, although some are pretty old. Still, doesn’t mean they can’t shoot.” Or do other things, John thought. Like cut off the hands of a small child. “Let’s get closer and see if we can see Charity.”
Charity came awake slowly. She blinked, and for a moment she didn’t remember where she was. When realization dawned, she clenched her jaw and pain exploded through her head. Her fingertips felt bloody. She couldn’t have slept more than a few minutes. A trickle of sweat eased down her temple and she brushed it away. She leaned over to the crack between the door and jam, intent on getting some air, when a rattling sound erupted in the far corner.
Rattlesnake!
As slowly and as carefully as she could, Charity turned back around, trying to move as little as possible. Squinting through the dimness she could make out the outline of the reptile coiled up in the corner. Above its raised head was a tail that held a good three inches’ worth of rattles. As the deep timbre indicated, this snake was a granddaddy, and huge, much like the one that had been in the outhouse. After a few moments, it stopped rattling as it stared back at her.
Her pulse quickened until she feared she would pass out.
Dear Lord in heaven. What now?
Charity fought to keep a rein on her fear, which was vivid, rank and rapidly welling up inside her. What would she do if it started her way? Where could she possibly go? There wasn’t anywhere to climb to get out of its reach. She dared to take her gaze away from the hideous reptile for just one moment, long enough to quickly scan the low hanging ceiling. To her utter dismay, it was completely smooth.
The door. Her only avenue of escape.
Charity peered again at the door handle she’d checked countless times since being imprisoned. Was it was substantial enough for her to get her foot onto? Perhaps she could scramble up and somehow balance on the handle while garnering some sort of hold at the top of the doorjamb. Still, if the diamondback wanted to, she was sure he was large enough to reach up and strike her.
The creature was still quiet. It lowered its head and tail. It must have come in looking for a shady spot to sleep away the day. There was movement outside and a few voices. The snake raised its head. In a panic, Charity dared a look out the crack by the door, praying it was her captor finally coming to get her. At least with him she’d have a fighting chance when he went to kill her. In here, she was totally defenseless.
Guttural voices wafted in, then somebody walked by, leading a horse. The snake’s tail started to slowly move. It wasn’t like the first explosive rattle when she’d surprised it. This was soft, almost like the dance of raindrops on a tin roof—but still, a warning no less. It saw her. And, didn’t like her. In two seconds it could cross the room and sink its long fangs into any part of her it wished.
Charity swallowed, wondering if anyone would hear her if she screamed. Maybe they knew the snake was inside with her. An accidental death would be convenient; the law wouldn’t be about to pin it on anyone.
A scuffling sound outside made Charity look against her will. A child. A child stood next to the door. He was looking in.
“Please,” she whispered frantically. She stuck her fingers through the crack a small way, wiggling them at the child. “Here, honey, open the door. Open the door. Please.”
The little boy, who was no taller than three feet high, startled when he heard her and saw her fingers. His eyes went wide and he ran off as fast as he could go.
Tears sprang to the surface and Charity had no defense against them. “Come back. Please, come back.” Her throat, tight from trying to hold in her emotions while still getting her desperate whispers out, felt as if it would snap.
“Charity.” The voice was low and urgent.
Stifling her gasp, Charity turned so fast the snake began his low warning once again. “Brandon,” she gasped under her breath. “You’re here. You’ve found me.” Emotion flooded her as tears sprang from her eyes and streamed down her face. Fearing to move any more than necessary, she didn’t try to brush them away. “There’s a huge rattler in here. Quickly—open the door.”
Charity could see he held a large, leaf-covered branch over him as a cover. He was in peril every moment he stayed outside her door. “Shhh, honey, don’t cry. I can’t open it. Yet. It’s bolted and locked. If I shoot it off, it’ll bring the whole camp down on our heads.”
“What are you going to do?”
He drew his Colt 45 and tried to push it under the door. The gap was too small. “Not sure yet. John and Dustin are here, too. Somewhere.” He paused, then looked around.
“What? What are you thinking?”
“If I can find a large enough rock I may be able to bust this off.” His face was so close to the crack she could see the gold-colored flecks in his eyes that she knew so well. He felt the lock, testing it. “No. It won’t work. Shooting is the only way.”
“Then shoot it off! But get me out quickly. We’ll make a run for it.” She looked over her shoulder. The snake wasn’t coiled any longer, but stretched out on the back side of the wall, its head turned in her direction. “Brandon. Shoot it off!”
When he looked at her through the gap she didn’t like his expression. “What?”
“I’m going to have to leave for a little while until I find your brother and get some back-up. If I try to bust you out now we’ll both be killed.” He paused, still looking at her. “I’ll be back.”
She stuck her fingers out and he caressed them. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you what I was doing,” she murmured. “Please forgive me. I…”
“Shhh, Charity. There’ll be time later.” He stopped and quickly flattened himself to the ground. Two men talking loudly passed by and were gone.
“Brandon,” she whispered as seriously as she could. “No. Don’t go. Don’t leave me here. The snake has moved. It’ll come at me. I just know it.”
“They sleep in the day, Charity,” he whispered back. “Stay still. I’ll be back as fast as I can, darlin’. Trust me.”
“Brandon?”
“Brandon!”
It was no use. He was gone.
Chapter Fifty
With John gone and Dr. Bixby injured, Lily kept a close watch on Chaim as the morning sun climbed higher in the sky. Mostly he slept, but once he’d awakened and Emmeline had fussed over him like a mother dog over her pup. She spoon fed him soup and held his head when he asked for water. There was a slight sheen to his skin, but, all in all, seemed to be on the road to recovery.
And, poor Dr. Bixby. Stretched out on a cot in the doctor’s office, he eyed her each time she walked by. He had a lump on his head and an awful headache and felt humiliated from being tricked by the killer.
Winnie, Madeline and Becky all helped, as did Emmeline. Somehow, Lily found herself in charge, so to speak, and she attributed it to having been John’s assistant with Chaim. Winston McCutcheon had rounded up a sizeable posse and had ridden out over an hour ago, with Deputy Miller and Cradle Hupton.
Tante Harriett, still shaken, sat in silence by the kitchen stove, sipping a cup of tea. Seeing her aunt made Lily think of the jewel she had hidden away. As soon as she had one spare second, she would wrap it up and send it back to Mr. and Mrs. Lowerby, saying that Harriett had taken it and that she wanted to give it back. They were good people, and surely after they had it back they would forgive her. If they had gotten the law involved she would tell them about the pawnshop owner and what he had tried to do to her aunt. No need to involve John ever again now that she had a plan. She’d put his life in danger once; she would not do it twice.
“We’re taking Harland his lunch,” Tucker called from the back door. “He must be spittin
g mad by now since we forgot about him this morning.”
“Be careful. We don’t want any more patients to tend to,” Madeline said, her brows arched knowingly.
“I’m going, too,” Theodore announced. “We’ll be especially careful. No one else will be escaping from the jail today.” They went out the door with Theodore carrying the tray of food and Tucker following behind with a Colt 45 in his hand.
It wasn’t but five minutes and the boys were back. Becky took the now empty tray from Theodore, glancing adoringly into his face.
Lily looked up, surprised at the perplexed expression on Tucker’s face. “Is everything all right at the jail?”
“For one thing, Harland confessed, so to speak,” he answered as he came into the room and put his gun on the sideboard. “Mr. Shellston was over there. It was just him and Harland. He was rooting around in Sheriff Dane’s desk. I think he was looking for the key to open the cell. He was furious with Harland and before they knew anyone else had come in, Harland kept saying he was sorry for shooting Chaim. Soon as they saw us he shut up.”
“Taking him out would be breaking the law,” Becky said slowly.
Winnie shook her head in disbelief. “He wouldn’t do that, would he? The boy’s only been there one day. For all the trouble he’s caused over the years it’s hardly a punishment at all. Especially in light he almost killed Chaim.”
Madeline harrumphed. “I’m not surprised. I’ve never trusted that man.”
Lily waited for the women to finish. “What happened when you went in and found him?”
Theodore threw a glance at Tucker. “Tuck asked him what he was doing. Boy, that really got his dander up. I guess he didn’t like being questioned by a kid. He demanded to know where the key to Harland’s cell was.”
Lily and the other women had gathered around. Hearing a noise, Lily turned to see Dr. Bixby standing in the doorway, interested in what Tucker was about to say. She ran to his side and helped seat him at the table.
“Go on, Tucker,” the doctor said. “What did he do then?” He was looking old and feeble.
“After I informed him the sheriff usually keeps the key on him and I was sure the deputy must have it now, he went into a hollering fit. Even Harland looked scared. For a minute I thought he was actually going to come after us. Finally, he stormed out the door muttering all kinds of crazy things. I think he’s gone mad.”
Dr. Bixby cleared his throat, still looking wan. “I’d feel better if everyone stayed close to this here office until the posse and the rest get back. So many strange things going on. I don’t like it one bit.”
Emmeline rushed into the kitchen. “Chaim is awake again. Come see.”
***
“Look,” John said to Dustin and pointed. “Brandon. Three o’clock.” Both men lay on their bellies under some thick underbrush at the north edge of the Comanchero’s camp. They watched Brandon as he came around a deserted tent, staying low and moving in the direction where they’d first left the horses. John gave the bird call they’d used for years. Brandon stopped and lunged behind a large granite boulder. A few moments went by, then the call was returned. John repeated once. Slowly then, Brandon came from behind the rock and picked his way toward John and Dustin, being careful to stay hidden.
“I’m glad you saw me,” Brandon said, rolling in next to Dustin. He was covered in dirt and sweat. “I found her. She’s locked up with a rattlesnake.”
“You couldn’t get her out?” Dustin said.
“No. The door is bolted closed and the lock will need to be shot off. I didn’t want to get her killed in the process of rescuing her.”
“Where?” John was having a hard time keeping himself from running straight into camp. He remembered how frightened Charity had been when the snake was in the outhouse.
“Close. Just past the horses, where the hill starts.”
“We need a plan,” John interjected. “Dustin, you go back and get the horses. Bring them straight up from the town and leave them out of sight on the north edge. Brandon, do you know where I’m talking about?”
“Pretty much. I’ll find it.”
“Good. Now, Dustin leaves the horses there and circles back halfway, by the rock where we first came in. I’ll be there. We’ll create a diversion, draw the men off. Hopefully, that will leave it clear for Brandon to run in, shoot the lock, and get Charity before anyone realizes what’s happening. We’ll all meet back at the horses and make a run for town.”
“Okay,” Dustin said.
John nodded. “When Dustin is back, I’ll give the call, long and loud. It won’t matter if they hear since we’re going to make our presence known moments after that. Just be ready.”
“You know I will be,” Brandon said.
“Yeah, I do. Let’s move.”
The snake had come half way around the wall since Brandon had left. As it moved, Charity did too, barely inching along to keep as much distance between them. As it edged forward, she backed away, and she was now a good three feet from the door—her only source of fresh air.
It was stinkin’ hot. Dehydrated and dizzy, Charity tipped her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. Nausea swirled inside. Not daring to keep her eyes off the slithering devil for more than two heartbeats, she opened them and glanced across the room.
Where was Brandon? And John and Dustin? How long had it been since he’d left? Nothing made sense. She couldn’t quite remember how she’d come to be in this stifling tomb in the first place. She wiped her hand across her face, longing for her space by the door. She took a step in its direction before remembering about the hideous creature waiting to sink its fangs into her leg. She pulled up clumsily, but not before the reptile had lifted its tail and rattled.
“Oh, be quiet,” she scolded. “You’re not so damn tough. So what if you’re a snake.” She began to laugh uncontrollably but stopped abruptly when she heard a shout from somewhere. Then a shot. “Brandon?” she whispered, shocked back to her senses.
Several more shots. Women screaming. What was going on? The same muffled sound she’d been hearing all day whenever the snake made a move caught her attention. He’d coiled again and was rattling loudly. Soon the room was filled with the terrifying sound.
A blast threw her to the ground. The door was yanked open. Brandon stood in the opening. He lunged in her direction at the same exact moment the snake lashed out with lightning speed.
Charity flung herself back. The sight of the six-foot-long reptile stretched out like a lance was terrifying. It knocked Brandon down at the same time he swung his arm around. He pulled the trigger a second time, the report almost breaking her eardrums. The diamondback’s heavy body was blasted back against the wall. The next instant Brandon was pulling her into his arms.
She couldn’t stop her sobs as she clung to him, running her hands over him, wadding his shirt front into her fists. She needed to make sure he was actually here with her, holding her, not just a figment of longing she’d dredged up from her fevered imagination. “The snake bit you,” she gasped.
“No. It hit my spur.”
He silenced her by pulling her scantly clothed body close. They melded, and heat surged inside her. All the days of torture of the unknown, when Brandon had angrily left Rio Wells, bubbled up. She pushed closer, needing the feel of him. She ached to show him just how much he meant to her, how much she loved him. His fingers scorched her skin as they traveled down her arms, around her back, straying lower still. He gazed into her eyes, reaching into her soul. Then, his lips found hers and he kissed her hungrily, fervently as if she was his sustenance after a ten-year fast. She whimpered when he started to pull away, not wanting to lose this sensation, this yearning burning deep inside. He buried his face into her hair, breathing deeply.
“We don’t have much time,” he said low.
He turned, and taking Charity by the hand, approached the door with his gun outstretched. When she wavered, he scooped her up and dashed outside. She buried her face into hi
s neck and closed her eyes. If she died now, she didn’t care. At least it would be in the arms of the man she loved. He ran swiftly, dodging among horses, rocks and cactus. There was shooting somewhere else, and shouting. Confusion all around. He stopped and put her on her feet. Hand in hand, they started down an incline, her sliding and lurching and trying to keep up. Right before they hit bottom, she fell onto her buttocks, but kept sliding until they stopped. A rifle fired close by with a deafening sound. All at once she found herself enfolded in John’s arms; and she felt as she had as young girl—love and cherished by her older brother.
Not wasting a second, Brandon mounted up and John lifted his sister onto the back of Brandon’s horse. Charity clamped her arms around Brandon’s waist and locked her fingers, burying her face into the solid presence of his back. Without another word the three horses turned and bolted off through the dense West Texas brush, as if the devil himself was on their tail.
The horses thundered back into town, sliding to a halt at the doctor’s office. John dismounted and carefully took Charity from the back of Brandon’s horse and carried her inside, shielding her from curious gazes of bystanders that had gathered. Aunt Winnie and the rest of the women watched as he crossed the room without saying a word. He went straight up to his room and shut the door, not yet knowing what his sister might have endured in the hours she’d been captive. He laid her on his bed and covered her with his blanket.
“Are you okay?” he asked, taking in her scraped and blood-stained face. His heart feared the worst.
“I am now.” She sat up, keeping the cover pulled tight to her chest. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
Unable to stop it, John heard a sound like a hurt bear escaped his throat. He sat on the mattress next to her and enfolded her in an embrace, marveling at how small and delicate his usually tough little sister felt. “Of course I’d come for you. If hell froze over I’d come for you. If Texas broke open creating a vast cavern a thousand feet deep, I’d come for you. Find you. Nothing could stop me. I hope you realize that.” He had to know more. “Did they hurt you—” he paused for a heartbeat, then sat back and looked into her face, “—more than what I see?”
Texas Twilight Page 26
