“It’ll get done, Grandmother, I promise. Samuel and I will see to it. I need to go down to Thornedge shortly to see the Sheriff” he said, taking a seat opposite Margaret and winking at Samuel, who grinned.
“Well, I hope you do, because I’m taking Liza in the trap down to Thornedge too. We’ve got fabrics to buy, and I need new threads too, else we’ll have no mending done on this ranch for a month,” she said.
“It’ll get done, along with all the rest,” Anthony replied, shaking his head.
Liza was the servant girl, a loyal and faithful little thing who had been with the family for many years and who was stood at the stove stirring a pan of porridge. She turned and smiled at Anthony, who grinned at her, as his grandmother continued to issue instructions for the day.
“And you see to it that the eggs are collected, I know that’s normally Liza’s job, but I need her with me on the trap, you hear me?” she said, turning to Anthony, who smiled.
“I hear you, Grandmother, now you’d best get going, else there’ll be no thread left in the seamstress’s shop,” he said, and she cuffed his ear and laughed.
“Don’t be so cheeky young man, but you’re right, we’d best be going, Liza. Come now, go get your bonnet we must look respectful coming in from the country,” she said, looking herself up and down in the mirror.
His grandmother was, despite her age, a handsome woman, and though her hair was graying, her light blue eyes remained keen, and her face retained the prettiness of her youth. She was dressed in red, with a white bonnet and basket on her arm, with an air of a bygone age about her.
Anthony had always thought that, and he loved to hear the old stories she would tell about life on the frontier when she was a girl. Her parents had taken her out west when she was just five years old, and they’d settled at Maynard Ranch when there was nothing about them but endless prairie and the open sky. It was still much the same, of course, the landscape, at least. But the railroad had brought more folks in, and the land around about them was now all taken. So that the ranch was no longer an island in a sea of waving grass, but one of many homesteads farmed in hope of the American dream, but still a place that expressed that frontier spirit which Anthony’s grandmother embodied.
“We’ll not be long, Anthony. But when we get back, I want to see that haybarn emptied and a basket of eggs on this table; a night of drinking or not, you’ve both got jobs to do,” she said, taking Liza’s arm as they walked out to the trap in the yard.
“Yes, Mrs. Maynard,” Samuel called after her, and she turned and rolled her eyes at him.
“‘Yes, Mrs. Maynard,’ ‘Right away, Mrs. Maynard,’” Anthony said, mimicking his friend, who just laughed.
“So what if I’m polite to your grandmother? Come on, we’ve got jobs to do,” Samuel said, scrubbing off his porridge bowl in the basin of water.
“We’ve got time, Sam, come on, sit for a moment. She’ll be gone for hours; you know what she’s like when she goes down to Thornedge. She’ll have Liza trailing around every shop in the place and then she’ll insist on taking tea in Charleston’s Tearooms. It’ll be gone noon before she’s back,” Anthony replied, stretching out and placing his hands behind his head and his feet up on the table.
“I’m going to see to the animals,” Samuel replied, “you shirk off if you want,” and he picked up his hat and strode out of the door into the ranch yard.
“You always try to please,” Anthony muttered, and with a sigh, he followed his friend outside, “I’m going to head down into Thornedge, I want to see the Sheriff about reports of some rustlers over in the next county. I’d hate to think we weren’t prepared for them.”
Samuel was already crossing over to the barn, a testament to his preferment for the company of animals to people. The two had been friends ever since Samuel had come to live at Maynard Ranch when he was eighteen years old. He was an orphan, and Anthony’s grandfather had found him sleeping on the streets in Thornedge and brought him home, much too Margaret’s surprise. Ever since then he’d been treated as part of the family, and the two men were more like brothers than friends.
Anthony followed Samuel into the barn, where the pigs were snorting loudly, and Samuel began feeding them mush from a bucket, as Anthony saddled his horse. They’d be ready for slaughter soon, and Anthony slapped one on its rear, causing it to start and run across the sty towards Samuel, almost knocking him over.
“Hey, quit it,” Samuel said, stumbling out of the pig’s way, as Anthony started laughing.
“What’s with you today, Samuel, you’re about as miserable as a condemned man; cheer up. I’m only having a bit of fun with you,” Anthony said, laughing, as Samuel scowled at him.
“Yea, well, it’s not funny, alright,” Samuel replied, and the two men fell silent, Anthony casting the occasional glance over at his friend, puzzled at his mood.
“I know what it is; you’ve not been downtown for a while, have you? You’re fed up of sharing a room with me every night, and you want some fun, is that it?” Anthony said, for Samuel often spent the night away in Thornedge, staying at one of the boarding houses and enjoying the fun of the saloon.
Samuel made no reply, and patted the pig’s head, before climbing out of the sty and crossing to the hen run. Anthony followed him, causing the chickens to scatter, as he leaped into the run and began hunting around for eggs.
“I won’t stop you from going, Sam. My grandmother doesn’t mind, you’re always back in time to work,” he said, and Samuel turned to him and nodded.
“Maybe you’re right. I’m sorry for being short with you. I could do with a night in the town, a few drinks in the saloon. The ranch hands are fun enough, but they’re not …” he began.
“They’re not a pretty barmaid or a saloon singer,” Anthony said, causing Samuel to blush, “I know your game, Sam. I can read you like a book, that is if I could read.”
“It’s alright for you; you’re engaged to be married. Very soon you’ll have the attentions of a pretty woman and be set for life. Some of us don’t have that luxury,” Samuel replied, glancing up from his egg collecting with a sorry look upon his face.
“It rather depends who you’re engaged to, doesn’t it?” Anthony replied, sighing.
It was true what Samuel said, for Anthony was engaged to be married. His fiancée was a Miss Betty Holt, the daughter of a local rancher named Patrick Holt. She was a plain girl, but not unattractive, with brown hair and large hazel eyes, the apple of her father’s eye. There was little wrong with her, except perhaps a slight snobbishness born out of years of being spoilt by her father, but the simple fact was that Anthony had no desire to marry her and had only agreed to the betrothal to keep his grandmother happy.
She had been so pleased when the chance of marriage had been proposed by Patrick. It would ensure the continuation of the family, and she had spoken fondly of the prospect of living to see her first great-grandchild. Anthony had felt duty-bound to agree and the marriage was set for sometime later that summer, though he had not yet committed to a specific date. He envied Samuel; the freedom he enjoyed. Even though a settled home was the ambition of many a man in his position, it seemed as though he were already trapped into something far from what he wanted.
“Come now, Betty’s alright. You could do worse. Didn’t your grandmother suggest Louisa Belle; she’d only met her once and came back here talking as though it were a signed deal,” Samuel said, laughing, as Anthony grimaced.
“Don’t remind me, it was only because Reverend Wayne quietly suggested she may be of loose morals that the matter was dropped,” Anthony said, remembering his relief when the saloon girl gave up her intentions of marriage and took the railroad back to New York City.
“You’ve got to marry sometime, why not now? And why not Betty?” Samuel replied as the two men carried the basket of eggs back to the house.
“Oh, I don’t know, I just … I don’t love her, that’s why,” Anthony replied, sounding far more matter of fact than he
intended.
“Who said anything about love? You’ve said yourself you’re doing it to keep your grandmother happy, and you call me a suck-up,” Samuel said, shaking his head and laughing.
But Anthony knew he was right, and as he rode down towards Thornedge later that morning, he could not help but feel the impending fate hanging above him, a fate over which he had little control.
Chapter Three
The road out of Thornedge was on one of the old wagon trails towards Utah. Back in the early frontier days, it had been busy with homesteaders journeying from the east to make a new life for themselves, but with the coming of the railroads the old trails had fallen into disuse, though local folks still used the road, and along its course lay any number of farmsteads and ranches, stretching off far into the distance beyond.
But at night the road was quiet, a place for those whom others might avoid lurking unseen, waiting for unwary travelers. Irma knew this all too well, and she had often heard tales of outlaws and outlaws on the trail, those they had robbed arriving into Thornedge desperate and in need.
She knew the risks, but the road out of town was the only one to take, and so she had no choice but to do so. She was not a naturally fearful person, far from it, and her upbringing had taught her to stand up for herself, just as she had to her uncle that night. But even so, she was still wary of the shadows and looked around her in trepidation as the trail rose up into scrubby prairie land above the town.
The excitement of escaping was giving way to the realization that she needed a plan. It would not do to be out alone on the trail for long, alone and unaccompanied. A woman in such a position would soon find herself taken advantage of, and despite her boldness, Irma knew that she was vulnerable. She had decided to make for the town of Deadman’s Basin; there she would sell Sandy and take a ticket on the railroad to New York City. Once in the east, she’d work out her next move, but she knew from the tales of men and women in the saloon that New York City was a place of opportunity. Perhaps even the place she could make her dream of becoming a schoolteacher come true.
It was a happy thought, and despite the darkness and loneliness of the trail, Irma felt happier than she had in a long while. Why she had not left long ago, she didn’t know. She’d come close at times, but her uncle had always seemed so helpless and in need. But now he’d brought his own fate upon himself, and it was time for Irma to realize her own dreams and ambitions.
She was lost in these thoughts when a sound in the distance caused her to startle. It was the neighing of a horse, and Sandy pricked her ears up and stopped dead in her tracks.
“It’s alright, girl, woah there, you’re alright,” Irma said, trying to reassure herself as much as the horse.
It was not unusual, she told herself, for others to be riding along the trail at this late hour. It may even be another solitary rider like herself; the two would pass one another and perhaps exchange a greeting, that would be all. Her thoughts were more confident than she felt, and her hand went to the hilt of the knife. Its reassuring presence taking the edge off her anxiety.
Irma urged Sandy on, and they came to the brow of a hill, where the scrubby trees gave way to prairie land below. There was no sign of another horse, and Irma wondered if she had imagined the whole thing. Across the moonlit prairie, all she could see was the grasses moving gently in the breeze. Far in the distance were the mountains, at the foot of which she knew was the town of Deadman’s Basin, though she had never been there.
In fact, Irma was about to go further eastthan she had ever done in her life. She had rarely left Thornedge, for she had nowhere to go, and her uncle rarely made trips away himself. Once, she had been sent to stay with an old aunt in the south, but she could barely remember anything of the trip, except being bitten by a dog and stung by wasps in her aunt’s garden.
“We’re just imagining things,” she whispered to the horse, and she urged the animal on.
But Sandy would not move, and it was as though she were rooted to the spot, her head shaking up and down as she whinnied.
“It’s alright, girl, see, there’s nothing there,” Irma said, patting Sandy’s mane, “but we don’t want to stay here. It’ll be light soon, and we’ll get some rest, just a few more miles and …”
But before she could finish speaking, a hand had grabbed hold of her and pulled from the horse’s back, sending her falling hard to the ground. She let out a scream and felt the acrid taste of a gloved hand about her mouth.
“Well, well, well, what have we here? A pretty little lady out all alone on the trail. It’s not safe out here, miss. You never know who’s around,” a man’s voice said, as another laughed.
They had come upon her from the undergrowth at the side of the path and must have been watching her for some time. The speed with which they had attacked her had taken her completely by surprise, and now the man had her in an iron grip as she struggled in his arms.
“Keep her quiet,” another man said, and Irma watched as he began rummaging through her saddlebag.
“Let go of me,” she screamed, biting the man’s finger through his glove and causing him to yelp in pain.
“Feisty little thing, aren’t you? We’ll have none of your blather,” he said and struck her around the head with a blow that sent her reeling backwards into his arms.
“Just keep her quiet,” the other man said.
Irma was dazed, but she managed to keep her eyes open, listening to what the men were saying.
“There’s nothing here worth much, what’s she got on her?” the man rummaging through the bag said.
“A wad of dollars,” the other replied, his hand searching through her pockets and pulling the money out triumphantly.
“Well, where does a little lady like this get all that money from, I wonder? Did Daddy give it to you, lucky thing, aren’t you? Well, it’s ours now,” he said, laughing, as his companion pocketed it.
“And this, well now, you could have done someone a nasty injury with that,” the man holding her said, as he pulled out the knife from her belt.
The other man whistled and took the knife, bringing it menacingly close to Irma’s face, as she struggled and whimpered.
“Oh, buck up, little lady, we’re not that kind of outlaws. We’d never hurt a lady, and certainly not one as pretty as you, would we Edward?” he said, smiling at her, his face illuminated in the moonlight.
“Indeed, we would not, Joseph,” the other replied, and they laughed.
The one called Edward kept Irma in a tight grip and despite her fears, she gave up her struggle against him as Joseph went through her bags. In the end, they decided to take only the horse and money, along with some of the food she had packed.
“And what’s this?” Joseph asked, holding up her copy of The Portrait of a Lady. “You must be an educated sort to have this, what are you doing out on the trail so late at night?”
Edward released his hand from her mouth, and she gulped in the fresh air, her mouth tasting of his glove.
“Let me go,” she said, her voice breaking as she began to sob.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did we frighten you? That was never our intention, was it Edward?” Joseph said, tutting to himself.
“Most certainly not, Joseph, we just don’t find that folks take kindly to being asked to hand over their possessions to two gentlemen in need,” and the two men laughed again, as Joseph threw the book onto the floor and stamped upon it.
At length, they prepared to leave binding her wrists and ankles with cord so that any hope of pursuit would not be realized.
“We don’t like doing this, but you’ll be running to see the Sheriff no doubt, and we’d hate for you to shin out and get a good start on us,” Edward said, stuffing a dirty rag into her mouth.
“Well, there, aren’t you a pretty looking little thing?” Edward said as the two men stood over her.
“It seems a shame to leave her out here where anyone could find her. Just count yourself lucky little lady that we are honor
able men and respect a woman’s dignity, it could have been a lot worse,” Joseph said.
Irma spat out the rag from her mouth and began to scream, but quick as a flash, Edward was upon her, forcing it back inside.
“You quit your blathering, you hear me? Do you want the whole trail to know you’re here?” he said, raising his hand.
“She’s only going to scream again when we’re gone,” Joseph said, and before Irma could spit out the rag again, he had raised his hand and struck her a blow about the head, which sent her reeling to the ground in a haze.
“There, that’ll see to her until the morning. Then she can scream all she wants,” he said.
“Or we could just kill her,” Edward said.
“If we kill her, then we’ll have a price on our heads so high we’ll never leave the state. You want to end up in the Calaboose and have a noose around your neck? It’s better just to leave her here, someone’ll find her. But by then, we’ll be long gone. Come on now. It’ll be getting light soon,” Joseph said, and with his partner in agreement the two men left, taking a reluctant Sandy with them.
Irma managed to roll herself over, and she watched as the two outlaws walked off along the trail. The ties on her wrists were smarting and the more she struggled, the more they cut viciously into her skin. The blow to her head was hurting more now, and a trickle of blood ran down into her eye, her vision becoming bleary.
“Stay awake,” she said to herself, gagging on the foul-tasting rag which Edward had stuffed inside her mouth.
But she knew better than to scream again, not after their threats to kill her. The cords on her legs were looser and only roughly tied, and she managed to crawl some distance back towards the trail. The rocks cut into her knees and the sand flew up into her eyes as she struggled along, but with a final effort, she was back on the path and knew that eventually, someone would come along, though whether they would be friendly remained to be seen.
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