The words were tumbling out of the woman while Catalina was trying to make sense of it but clearly, there was more to be said, and she told Noelle to go on.
“After that, he was on his best behavior. He took on an extra job besides filling the troughs, started putting money away. Then he came to me a few days ago saying he was a changed man, and he could provide for me. Still, I rebuffed him telling him even what he was making with two jobs would never suffice. That … that was when he did it.”
Catalina and Naomi said nothing waiting for her to continue.
“He’s the one everyone is looking for over in Halfmoon! He’s the one who gunned down that teller at the Detweiller Savings & Loan! He robbed that bank for me!”
***
As her palomino, Pretty Feet, thundered underneath her leaving a billowing cloud of dust in their wake, Catalina was just happy to leave Alamieda behind and continue her pursuit in the scrub brush country that lay between her hometown and Halfmoon where Noelle Dorrett had been adamant that this Ian Oaksford character would be heading.
Getting out of town hadn’t been the simple matter as it usually was. After racing out of Dorrett’s Decorum and mounting Pretty Feet, the first things she had encountered brought her gallop to a quick halt. Two men with a long ladder perched on their shoulders were just crossing the street blocking her way. As she waited for them to transit past in front of her, she looked at where they were heading. Propped up against the Rock River Bank was the twin of the ladder the men were carrying. On the ground was a new sign, its letters painted bright and bold. It was so new in fact she could almost imagine the paint was still wet. The sign proclaimed DETWEILLER SAVINGS & LOAN.
With the men out of their way already propping the ladder up on the other side of the bank's old sign, Catalina bolted away. For only the briefest of moments did she ponder the bank changing its name, and she might not have even given it that much thought but for the fact, the bank's new name was the same as the one that had been robbed … by Ian Oaksford according to Noelle.
As her horse pounded its hooves carrying her towards the edge of town, she had just been about to reflect on the conclusion of Noelle’s desperate story when suddenly the street was filled with a flood of cowboys, dandies, and even a few merchants mixed in. All coming from one spot … The Dancing Dream! The noon performance had just let out, and Catalina gritted her teeth at the sight of all the surely horny men who had plopped down a dollar to attend the performance of the Can Can Girls.
Normally Cattie would have chuckled at the thought of all the money the proprietor that everyone simply called The Russian, though her real name was one that Catalina always had trouble pronouncing, was raking in from easily aroused men drooling over the sight of tightly packed boobs and scandalous stockings. Today, however, she was not amused at having to dodge and swerve around the crowd of dispersing men, some who shouted angry curses at her and others still drunk off the allure of beautiful women made whistles and cat in her direction.
When the crowd receded behind her, Catalina's spirits buoyed somewhat. It's not like she could blame the men after all. Those were some beautiful women The Russian had recruited for her shows. One, in particular, had caught her eye. A petite little thing who, like her sister Honor Elizabeth, was a mulatto. As a child she had been a slave on a South Carolina plantation, it had been said. How she wound up in Alamieda was not known. In the back of her mind, she always had plans to pursue the woman in hopes she was as open minded as herself, but right now she had her hands full with her seduction of Naomi Dorrett, which had been so dramatically interrupted.
Catalina continued to charge along the road, always aware of the fresh wagon tracks that she knew could only have been made by Oaksford. Her thoughts finally were back on the stunning revelation Naomi’s sister had made back at the furniture store.
Oaksford had shown up, declaring that they would now have money to live on for a long, long time to come. All she had to do was accept his hand in marriage and they could be off to California, maybe even take up residence in one of those seaside communities that sat on the edge of the vast and glimmering Pacific Ocean that she had told him she someday longed to see.
Noelle had demanded to know how that was possible, and he revealed his role in the previous day’s theft. He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, he had admitted, but the teller had been reaching for something under the counter and he couldn’t take a chance, so he had shot the man. He had escaped, and none had any clue that it was he, thanks to the flour sack he had over his head, with just a few holes cut in it to breathe and see through. Tearfully, Noelle said that he kept saying repeatedly how he had done it for her, to show her what great lengths he would go to win her hand back and secure a future for them together.
Nothing says true love like murder, Catalina snorted to herself as she galloped on, the hot Arizona wind whipping against her face, her hat lying against the back of her head, only the strap keeping it from being lost altogether. Oaksford must either be a complete simpleton or a deranged madman if he had thought that would win Noelle back.
As she tried to dry away her tears she had told Catalina and Naomi that she had lashed out at him. Told him in no uncertain terms she would not be marrying and gallivanting off to some southern California paradise to live on blood money with a murderer. To say Oaksford didn’t take it too well would have been an understatement.
Losing all control, he had begun beating her, finally pushing her back and knocking her into a chair that flipped over sending her sprawling to the floor. Still, in a fury, he had grabbed the lamp and smashed it near her head making her scream. It had been that scream that had cut through his madness and had brought him to the realization that it would be drawing someone, and he had best put as much distance between him and the battered woman as possible. Before running out, though, he had paused for a second to kneel and whisper in her ear that he was going on the run and he would live his life with that money and look back and laugh at her pathetic life of that of an old maid. Grasping her by the hair he had slammed her head against the floor knocking her out.
The memory of Noelle’s battered face and the aching look of concern on Naomi’s stirred an anger deep within her. For over four years now, she and her other sisters had many times helped Cassandra on her missions for their uncle Nathanial Duvalier. In that time, they had encountered more than their share of monsters like this Oaksford that would murder an innocent teller and beat a woman in the manner that he had.
Fueling her anger, even more, was the knowledge that a piece of shit like this had no business walking the streets in the first place. Not if he had given a beating to his ex-wife that had nearly resulted in a stint in one of the territorial prisons. However, he was a free man thanks to this slick lawyer Kincaid the man had hired to get him out of that mess. What kind of man would defend a walking piece of garbage like Oaksford, she began to wonder. Not her father, that was for sure.
As a young man Whip Wilde had been a lawyer before the call of the sea had led him to hang up his shingle and join the Navy like his father before him. A father that he had lost as a little boy during the Battle of Lake Champlain in the War of 1812. Following his years in the Navy that included the shipwreck that had stranded him off China where he had fathered Lijuan, he had once more become a lawyer to earn enough extra money to take the family west to Arizona.
Eventually, he had once more put his law practice on hold to build Cedar Ledge and its cattle ranch, which had been the dream of her mother Mercedes Corderro. Finally, years later he had become a judge, once more returning to the law, leaving Cedar Ledge in Lijuan’s more than capable hands. And in all those times he had worked as a lawyer, he had proudly told her he would not take a case of anyone disreputable or whose innocence he had reason to question.
This lawyer Kincaid was clearly not cut from the same cloth as her papa, and in her mind, he bore partial responsibility for the wave of violence carried out by Ian Oaksford over the last forty-eight hours. If
she ever had the displeasure of meeting him, she would call him on it, maybe even find a way to make him accountable.
Her lips extended back in pleasure, as far ahead she could just make out the dust cloud of a rapidly moving wagon. At last, she knew she was closing the gap that his head start had given him. The time was coming to deal with Oaksford and bring him to the justice that he had managed to cheat when he had raised his hand to his ex-wife. Noelle had told her she had learned that the woman was so fearful of Ian that she had apparently packed up all her belongs and fled the territory.
It was now only a question of how she was going to deal with a scum that would beat women. At her side were her gun and her bullwhip and she was quite proficient with either one of them. The four sisters led dangerous lives, and their survival often depended on their skills either individually or collectively. Many times, when she was on her own she would ask herself how the others would handle whatever situation she had entangled herself in.
The answer was easy when it came to Lijuan. She would already have had her hammer out ready to throw it at Oakford’s head or simply draw her Colt .45 and blast him right out of his saddle. Catalina loved Lijuan, but even she was slowly having to admit, there was a certain darkness that seemed to be growing inside her Asian sister. What was fueling it she did not know, but what she did know was that she wanted to help her sister if she could. Perhaps one day she should sit down with the other two and talk about Lijuan.
Right now, though she had Oaksford to handle. She didn’t rightly know what kind of approach Honor Elizabeth would take because she was the least predictable of all of them. Her best bet was her default one. Handle it like Cassie would. She had always looked up in awe at her oldest sister. The woman had, through grit and determination and out and out skill, won her way into the man’s world of law enforcement, and few were her equals.
Cassandra, she knew would want to take the man into custody if possible and let the legal system do its work. For a moment Catalina transferred the reins to one of her hands and the other fell on the butt of her pistol. This man had been through the legal system once already and with the help of this shady sounding lawyer Kincaid, managed to get off the hook. Should she leave it to chance that he might do so again?
Grudgingly, she brought her hand back to the reins. Her papa always said to trust the law, and she would have to believe that this time the law would do right and see this abuser do some hard time at the Claymore Territorial prison or perhaps one that was even worse than Claymore like the one in Yuma, she thought with a relish. It was high time to get this done and that didn’t include shooting him in cold blood.
Even as she had come to her decision she saw that Oaksford had chanced to look back and had spotted her. Not once but three times his head had swiveled back in her direction as she drew ever closer. The abusive, bank-robbing murderer was clearly trying to figure out what to do.
Her faithful Pretty Feet had now brought her within shouting distance of the wagon. She guided the horse to keep them to the left of the curling dust cloud the wagon was kicking up. In Catalina's mind, the dilapidated old wagon looked like it could have been the original model all subsequent ones had sprung from.
“Ian Oaksford!” She called out in a booming voice. “I’m fixin’ to take you in for the attack on Noelle Dorrett and the murder of that poor bank teller!”
Oaksford’s response was to whip the reins harder, and the rickety excuse for a wagon sped up. For a moment she wondered if Lijuan’s way wouldn’t be right and just shoot the bastard. No, she still wasn’t going to do it that way. She was going to do it Cassie’s way … but with her own spin on it, she thought with a grin. She knew just what she was going to do. Ian Oaksford was going to get a taste of his own medicine.
Being close enough she had taken in his physique. He was bigger than her, no question about it. But he wasn’t some rock solid, tree trunk of a man. Maybe he was on the higher side of average and that gave him the confidence to smack women around like his ex-wife and Noelle. Still, Catalina had no doubt that she could hold her own against him. All she needed to do was to be in a position to engage with him and give him a taste of his own medicine.
Catalina took a final look ahead. They were coming up on the drought-shrunken Apache Creek and beyond that was the sloping rise that on its other side gave away to the flat open expanse of terrain the Grand Western had found to be the ideal place to lay the track bed from Halfmoon out to the mining town of Gillespie. If she had her way, he wouldn’t even make it as far as the creek.
As she spurred her Palomino to compensate for the wagon’s increased speed, she watched as Oaksford’s head continually pivoted between her, the road ahead, and the back of his wagon. Catalina managed to pull the horse up until she was nearly parallel with the bench seat that Oaksford was frantically driving his team of two horses from. Unfortunately, she had ridden Pretty Feet into an exhausted state from their mad dash out of Alamieda, and she was beginning to slow.
Catalina knew she was only moments away from falling behind the wagon so the moment to act was at hand. If she thought about what she was about to do she might have had trepidation, so the best thing she could do was simply act without thinking about it. Catalina kicked her left leg out of the stirrup and then her right and wrestled her legs up until she was kneeling awkwardly on her own saddle before taking a final breath and standing straight up in the saddle. With a chuckle, she allowed herself a brief second to imagine just what Honor Elizabeth would say if she saw a risky stunt like this.
"Catalina Mercedes Wilde! You surely have taken leave of your senses! Clearly, you are out of your mind. I insist you get back down this instant or I shall …"
“Sorry, Honor!” she said to her scolding, phantom sister, and leaped in full view of Oaksford who, she noticed, had abandoned control of the wagon and was turning to make a leap of his own. Both were headed into the back of the wagon and managed to come crashing down into its bed at the same time. Neither lost anytime collecting themselves and in another simultaneous move they leaped at each other and began grappling.
As the two adversaries wrested, each tried to gain the advantage over the other. Then Oaksford broke his grip on Catalina, giving her opportunity to get up on her knees in preparation to stand. When he took his eyes off her, she scrambled to her feet and was about to lunge and grab him, when she saw that he was reaching for his shotgun.
Well sugar! she thought to herself. Was hopin’ I wouldn’t have to shoot him. In the split second that these thoughts were forming in her consciousness, she yanked her pistol from its holster and took aim. Ian’s hand had closed on the barrel of the shotgun, so he couldn’t turn it fast enough take aim at Catalina. Instead, he swung it at her, the stock connecting with her upraised pistol knocking it out of her hand. The momentum of the swing flung the shotgun out of his hand, too, leaving them both weaponless.
The shotgun, rather than flying out of the wagon and out of reach, landed on the wagon bed and skittered to a stop against the end gate behind Catalina. She considered trying to grab for it but didn't have time as Ian tried to lunge past her to retrieve it himself. She blocked his path with a punishing blow of her right fist to his abdomen.
Surprised that a woman could pack such a punch, he hesitated for a second, giving her chance to deliver a left hook to his jaw. He grabbed her left arm, trying to stop her, but she broke from his grasp at the same instant that she delivered another blow to his chin.
“How does that feel, you woman-beater?” she taunted him, smacking him another good one on his cheekbone. “Take that Noelle… and that for your wife!” she said, continuing to pummel him with her small fists. She favored neither one of her hands as the one peculiar quirk that united all six Wilde children was they had all been born ambidextrous. One hand was always just as good as the other they often laughed.
Her sudden onslaught took him off guard for just a second, and in a reflexive move, he raised his arms to try to ward off her vicious blows. He r
ealized in that moment that he shouldn’t be fooled by her size. She was as fierce as a mama mountain lion protecting her cubs. The other women he’d beaten had merely cowered beneath his blows. He wasn’t accustomed to a woman fighting back and with such skill and force.
So intent were the two in their struggle that they failed to notice that the unguided horses had veered off the road and were heading at a rapid rate toward Apache Creek. The jostling of the wagon bed as the wheels rolled over the rough terrain momentarily threw them both off balance. Ian recovered before Catalina did, which gave him the upper hand and allowed him to grab her by the throat with one hand and drive his fist into her temple with the other. He shoved her just as the wagon reached the creek bank, causing her to fall backward as the wagon sped into the water.
Even though the water level was low, the wagon hit it with enough force to send water splashing up and into the wagon, thoroughly wetting them both. The water soaked through Catalina’s white shirt, leaving little to his depraved imagination. This unexpected distraction gave her the opportunity to react. Before she could really think about it, her right leg shot up and she planted her booted foot squarely in his crotch.
As he screamed and grabbed himself, she pushed aside the thought that a Wilde woman never fought dirty. This is a different situation, she told herself. This beast deserves whatever I can give him. She jumped to her feet and kicked him again in the upper leg, but this time he caught her foot. She grabbed the side of the wagon bed to keep from falling again and shoved against his hand, freeing her foot. She was vaguely aware of the sound of an approaching train as the wagon cleared the creek. The horses continued their mad dash up the incline that led away from the creek and toward the railroad tracks.
Ian finally managed to get to his shotgun as the train’s whistle pierced his consciousness. Just as the wagon crested the top of the hill and began heading down the rolling slope he fired wildly, missing Catalina by several inches, but the slug passed under the spring seat and ripped through the wagon floor striking the weakened spot where the tongue holding the doubletree attached to the bottom of the wagon bed. That was all it took to finish the job and sever the tongue from the wagon. The frightened horses broke free in the down disconnected doubletree, dragging the tongue behind them as they veered off to the right while the wagon pulled by gravity shot downhill picking up speed as it surged towards the Great Western railbed.
Silver, Gold And Deception: Catalina Wilde Western Adventure (Half Breed Haven Book 4) Page 3
