CHAPTER 36
The storm rolled in out of the southwest. It came fast, as the day wore into late afternoon. Thickening black clouds rapidly swallowed the clear sky and blazing sun.
Firestick and Moosejaw had found the spot where their quarry had stopped to rest in the shade of some scraggly trees running along the base of a low, rocky ridge. Footprints of two women mingled in with those of two men confirmed they were following the right trail. Signs that the women had been allowed to walk around and even sit in the shade for a time seemed to indicate they weren’t being treated too shabbily, at least so far.
The pursuers took the opportunity to switch their saddles to fresher mounts and pause for a short break themselves, cooling and watering the horses and giving them a breather. The storm clouds were visible along the southwestern horizon by then, climbing higher and darker.
“Damn, I don’t like the looks of that,” Firestick muttered, eyeing the threatening line of darkness as he lowered his canteen.
“Me neither,” said Moosejaw, gazing in the same direction. “The trail so far has been easy to follow. I figure we’ve closed the gap between us by an hour or more. If that storm delivers a hard rain, though, it’ll mess up their tracks and change things in a hurry.”
“Damn,” Firestick said again. “And not a chance in hell to catch up with ’em before it hits, is there?”
“I don’t see how. We’d have to ride these horses half to death, and even then . . .” Moosejaw let his words trail off.
Firestick’s mouth pulled into a tight, straight line. “All the same, we gotta keep pushin’ on. Maybe that storm will blow itself out before it reaches us.”
It wasn’t to be. Not even close. When the storm hit, it slammed with full fury. The churning, wind-whipped clouds were ripped open by pitchforks of brilliant lightning that released bursts of ground-shaking thunder. Rain slanted down hard and cold and drenching. Except for the blinding lightning, the erasure of the sun by gray-black clouds turned the fading brightness of afternoon into the gloom of dusk.
Firestick and Moosejaw had time to shrug into their rain slickers as they saw the gray wall of water bearing down on them. Otherwise they were caught out in the open and had no choice but to bend their heads against it and keep urging their horses forward. At length, they came to a shallow gully with sloped walls and a sudden bend where a ragged, north-facing cliff had long ago broken away in such a manner that it created a concave, cigar-shaped area into which they were able to tuck themselves and their horses. It wasn’t ideal, but it blunted most of the direct rain and was high enough up on the slope that they’d be above any sudden rush of water in case a flash flood came swirling down the gully. The men squatted there on their haunches, cocooned inside their slickers, while the horses stood with lowered heads, bunched resolutely together as deep as they could get in the scooped-out area.
By the time the fiercest part of the storm began to subside, the sun had long since set and full night was upon them. Almost as quickly as the storm had built, once it passed the clouds began to break apart and here and there faint glimmers of starlight could be seen peeking through.
The former mountain men mounted up and once again went on the move, looking for a better spot than the muddy gully to make night camp. It took nearly an hour before they came to a small stand of trees. These were thick enough that the ground directly at their base yielded enough dry twigs to fuel a fire. In short order, the men had some coffee cooking and the horses, after each receiving a handful of grain, were hobbled with access to a few patches of graze.
“So far,” said Moosejaw, the flicker of the campfire flames dancing on his broad face as he got ready to raise a cup of freshly brewed coffee to his mouth, “they’ve been traveling in a fairly straight line. Always due south. In the morning we’ll reach the Rio Grande, which I expect they already made it across before they got caught by the storm. Finding their trail again is gonna be a mite tricky.”
Firestick didn’t respond right away, thoughtfully chewing a bite of beef jerky that he’d softened with a swallow from his own coffee cup. “How far you figure they were ahead of us when the storm caught ’em?”
After taking some time of his own before answering, Moosejaw said, “I’d say between an hour and a half and two hours.”
“Okay then,” Firestick said slowly, his gaze focused on the fire but seeing something far beyond the flames. “If we calculate how fast they were travelin’ up to the time the storm hit ’em, and reckon that backward to where the storm hit us . . . we ought to be able to come up with a reasonable idea of how far they got before they had to stop. That make sense?”
“As a rough guess, yeah,” Moosejaw allowed. “Keep in mind where the storm hit ’em and where they stopped might be two different places. We had to forge on for a fair distance after we got caught in it, remember?”
“But we kept pushin’ hard even though we saw the storm comin’,” Firestick pointed out. “Since we’ve seen indications those two skunks are treatin’ the women fairly decent as they go along, I got a hunch they might have took shelter ahead of the rain.”
Moosejaw shrugged. “Okay. You could go with that. But you’d still have to call it some rough calculatin’ because there’d be no way of knowin’ how far ahead of the storm they might have stopped.”
“I’m still willin’ to go with it, even as a rough calculation,” Firestick said. “Here’s what I’m gettin’ at. When we start out again in the mornin’, there ain’t much sense tryin’ to pick up their trail right away because we know it’s gonna be washed out by the storm. So I say we head due south once more, ridin’ hard, gamblin’ they didn’t suddenly veer off a different way. No sense wastin’ time tryin’ to cut sign, not at first, until we’ve gone as far as we calculate they made it before they ran into the storm. There is where we fan out and start lookin’ to cut fresh sign—either where they camped or after they started out again. The ground will be soft after the rain and from that point their tracks oughta stand out even plainer.”
“Once we find ’em, yeah.”
“That’s why we look sharpest for a likely shelter spot. You’ve seen how few of those there are on this flat ol’ prairie. If our calculatin’ takes us close to as far as they got, there ain’t gonna be that many decent spots to choose from. The right one will tell us where they camped the night.”
Some of Moosejaw’s skepticism appeared to lift. “Goin’ about it that way would give us our quickest chance to pick up their trail again,” he conceded.
“Damn betcha,” Firestick declared.
CHAPTER 37
On the other side of the border, the land had quickly turned more rugged, with barren, choppy ridges cut by twisting arroyos and tall upthrusts of ragged, sun-blasted rock. It was a harsh land, but one thing it offered was a number of cave-like cuts into the jagged, sawtooth-topped upthrusts, which held the promise of shelter from the storm boiling in out of the southwest.
Josh and Charlie weighed the approaching storm against these ragged openings and knew they had to make a quick choice of one suited for protecting the women, horses, and themselves. Hard, chilly gusts of wind thrown ahead of the storm were already stinging their faces with bits of sand and gravel by the time they spotted a cavernous half-dome that appeared a good fit for their needs. In short order they were huddled within, and when the lashing rain came it never touched them.
“This is a prime example of what you can count on from me and Josh when it comes to protectin’ and providin’ for you,” said Charlie, addressing Kate and Cleo as he held out cups of steaming coffee to them. “No matter the situation that might come along, we’ve got the savvy to make the best of it.”
Even though they glared while doing it, the women took the coffee, its warmth welcome against the chilly gusts the storm brought. The women still had their wrists tied in front and in addition each had a leg iron clamped around one ankle and then attached to a spike driven securely into the rocky ground. The chain gave them a
movement range of three or four feet, and the shackles were cushioned against their skin by wraps of soft leather. Each had a thick, dry blanket draped over her shoulders.
From where he was forking strips of bacon into a sizzling skillet resting on the coals of a campfire, Josh looked over his shoulder and said, “We even thought to pack a bundle of kindling and sticks to feed a fire in case we got caught unexpected this way. Like Charlie said, we’re men of savvy and experience who’ve learned to take care of ourselves and will always be sure to do the same for our wives.”
“I guess you didn’t take the time to notice,” said Cleo through clenched teeth, “but both of us happened to be doing pretty good jobs of taking care of our own selves before you came along to drag us to hell and gone out here in the middle of nowhere. And it surely didn’t include being chained up in a sandy, gritty ol’ cave with a thunderstorm ripping all around us.”
Josh smiled tolerantly and said, “But it also didn’t include a husband to share the burden of tough times and then the good ones to follow and the workin’ together to see ’em keep gettin’ better.”
“Don’t you remember who you’re talking to?” sneered Cleo. “I had me a husband every night of the week. Hell, I had several of ’em most nights. I had ’em lined up outside my door, waitin’ their turn to—”
“Stop it!” Josh shouted. “I told you I don’t want to hear that kind of talk. You’re better than that, and that life’s behind you now. You don’t have to think about it no more, and you never need to speak of it. You’ll see. You’ll become my wife and never have to worry about bein’ a . . . a . . .”
“Whore!” Cleo hurled the word. “That’s what I was and there ain’t no two ways about it. Whore! My own mother said that’s what I was and all I was ever gonna amount to.”
Josh took a step toward her. “Then she was wrong! She was wrong and in order for a mother to ever say something like that to her own daughter, she must have been—”
“A whore, too?” Cleo smiled bitterly. “Yeah, she was. Dear ol’ Mom.”
Josh stood frozen, poised in a half crouch. His expression was anguished and he gripped the bacon fork in one hand almost as if he wanted to thrust it at Cleo. Abruptly, his shoulders sagged and he turned away, turned back to his skillet. In a low, barely audible voice, he muttered, “You’re better than that.”
Watching him, for the briefest moment Cleo’s expression softened and something—Sympathy? Regret?—passed across her face. Then it was gone. She looked away and glared down into her coffee cup.
Except for the roar and howl of the storm, everything was quiet for several minutes. The understandable tension and awkwardness that had gripped the four ever since riding out of Buffalo Peak was increased following the exchange that just took place. By the time coffee cups had been refilled and plates of bacon and beans were being passed out, however, it settled back some. But there was still little or no conversation, and Josh and Cleo studiously avoided looking at one another.
Partway through emptying her plate, Kate spoke up. “I can’t help wondering how you picked out the two of us for your wives,” she said. “I gather you had some awareness of Cleo’s situation. But how much did you know about me?”
She swept her eyes over both of the abductors but lingered mostly on Charlie since he was the one “claiming” her for his own.
“I knew all I needed to know about you, darlin’, from just one look,” Charlie promptly replied. “The fact you was walkin’ all by yourself, passin’ right there in front of my eyes, was like a sign. An omen. It all came together that you was the woman meant to be my bride.”
“What if I’m already married?”
“I don’t see no ring on your finger. Married women never part from wearin’ their weddin’ ring.”
It crossed Kate’s mind to lie, to try and convince him that she was married and there was some logical explanation for not wearing her ring. But she couldn’t think of a good reason. Furthermore, she somehow sensed Charlie would instinctively know she wasn’t telling the truth and she feared it might anger him. Anger him to the point of worsening her treatment as well as Cleo’s. She didn’t want that for the simple reason stricter treatment would surely lessen the chance for some kind of opening she could possibly turn into an escape. The way it was now, the captives were being given certain amounts of leeway and she hoped this might eventually yield some advantage. Kate didn’t want to risk losing that sliver of hope.
“While it’s true I may not be married to a man,” she said now, turning a bit coy, “there are certain things in some people’s lives to which they are so committed that it’s practically like a marriage. It’s rather common among professional men—bankers, lawyers, storeowners, and such—to hear them say ‘I’m married to my job’ or ‘married to my work.’ Haven’t you ever heard that?”
Charlie scowled. “No, I never did. And I’m glad of it. Sounds pretty stupid to me.”
“Be that as it may,” Kate continued, “I fall into that category. You see, I own and operate the hotel back in Buffalo Peak. The Mallory House. I’m married to it, in a manner of speaking. I don’t know if you heard any talk about it while you were in town, but it is quite successful.”
“You mean that fancy joint right on the main drag?”
“Exactly.”
Charlie snorted. “All it took was one look for me and Josh to see that place was too rich for our blood. I guess that’d be some folks’ idea of success.”
“And you say that whole shebang belongs to you? You run it all on your own?” said Josh, also taking an interest.
“Naturally I have a staff of employees who help me,” Kate answered. “But the deed is free and clear and strictly in my name. I inherited it after both of my parents were struck down in an influenza epidemic.”
Charlie smiled slyly. “Hey, you hear that, Josh? I’m not only gonna have me a real pretty wife, I’m gonna have me a rich one, too. If, of course, Miss Katie here ain’t lyin’ her pretty little head off.”
Kate felt a flush of anger burn her cheeks. She fought to control it but couldn’t keep it completely out of her tone. “Why would I lie about something you could so easily disprove? All you have to do is ask anybody in Buffalo Peak. You’d have verification in a matter of seconds.”
“Oh, now there’s a grand idea,” Charlie scoffed. “Sure, we turn around and ride back into a town where we just stole a couple pretty women, tap some good citizen on the shoulder, and say, ‘Excuse me, but could you tell me if one of the women I stole owns and runs the fancy hotel there across the street?’ And then what? By the time Mr. Good Citizen is done spittin’ out his answer, I got a whole passel of law dogs snarlin’ at me from behind the muzzles of their rifles and shotguns. How doggone dumb do you think I am, darlin’?”
“If you’re dumb enough to think you can snatch a pair of women who are complete strangers to you and then ride off and be able to convince them you’re their dream husbands because you’re clever enough to find a dry cave in a thunderstorm,” Kate replied in an angry rush, “then the measure of your dumbness is beyond comprehension!”
Charlie threw back his head and crowed with delight. “Whooee! Looky here, Josh—you ain’t the only one who grabbed hisself a spitfire. I got me one with a whole lot of sass in her, too!”
Kate’s anger flared hotter than ever. “You want sass, you cackling moron? You’re calling down more of it than you can begin to imagine. I tried to give you an easy way out, was working my way toward offering you money— a ransom, if you will—to end this insanity and let us go. But now you’ve laughed that off. So let me tell you the rest of what you didn’t bother to find out about me.
“Back in Buffalo Peak, it so happens, I am a very special friend to the marshal there. You can take that however you want. But how you should take it, if you had any sense, is to know that he will be coming after me. He will be relentless in his pursuit, and when he catches up it will be the sorriest day of your pathetic lives!”
> Charlie smirked throughout this tirade. When Kate paused to catch her breath, he said, almost lazily, “Well now. That was quite a spiel, darlin’. And you might have even given me cause to worry a little bit if not for a couple of things. Number one, I figure you’re probably lyin’ through your pretty little teeth again—which is really a bad habit, and one we’re gonna have to work on as time goes by. Number two, even if you’re tellin’ the truth about that marshal bein’ sweet on you and comin’ to fetch you back, I’ll remind you that we have crossed the border into Mexico. Which means no law dog from Texas or anywhere else up north has one lick of say down here. What’s more—supposin’ he was bold enough to come chargin’ across the border anyway—after this frog-strangler of a rain finishes gushin’ down he won’t have a chance in hell of pickin’ up any sign to try and follow. He’ll be plumb out of luck, and as far as holdin’ out hope for him to come ridin’ to your rescue, so will you.”
“You go ahead and believe that,” said Kate, her tone now turned to ice. “You sleep real comfortable tonight thinkin’ you’ve got it all figured out. And I’ll do the same. Because I have complete confidence in Marshal Firestick McQueen. No border and no amount of rain will be enough to stop him. He’s coming to get me and God have mercy on anything or anybody who tries to stand in his way.”
CHAPTER 38
The storm that cut a swath along both sides of the border did not reach as far north as Buffalo Peak. The evening sky clouded over during the final handful of rodeo events and stayed that way during the street dance that was the final activity of the daylong festival, but nothing more than a few distant lightning flashes came of it.
The mood of the festival stayed high throughout, even in the wake of the abduction. Word of the incident spread all during the mid-day picnic, and there were a few occasions when fear and panic, surging abruptly though thankfully in small pockets, threatened to take hold. But Beartooth was right there, steadily threading his way in and out of the tables, always with Victoria in hand and always somehow managing to be near one of these pockets of distress whenever it was building. He quickly soothed the concern, pointing out that Firestick and Moosejaw were on the job, pursuing the abductors with fierce intent to catch up and rescue the women.
Blood and Bullets Page 21
