Silver, Gold And Deception: Catalina Wilde Western Adventure (Half Breed Haven Book 4)

by A. M. Van Dorn

  She could have told the two men the details as they went, but she hoped more than just the two men were listening.

  “I think you all are making a grave mistake,” Yarlsson insisted. “This could be a one-way trip if you’re planning to go waltzing into their camp. We may never see you alive again. These injuns just slaughtered women and children! I wouldn’t put it past them to butcher you, too. Hell, you may never even make it to their village before they pick you off!” Yarlsson said.

  “You let me worry about that, Mister. I’ve had my share of experience dealin’ with Indians, friendly and otherwise.”

  Catalina itched to get her hand on her bullwhip and put a scare into the dandy with it. She was really starting to hate the man but she remained in control.

  “Well, good luck to you. We don’t have an undertaker in this town, so I hope we don’t have to be digging three more graves,” he said and remained silent.

  The men went to get their horses. While they were away, Yarlsson began to call for volunteers to bury the Torvold family.

  She heard one of the village folks call out to Yarlsson.

  “You think she and our folk can get to the bottom of this?” the man asked.

  “As I see it, there ain’t nothin to get to the bottom of,” Yarlsson answered. “Clear as day, the injuns finally decided this valley ain’t big enough for the both of us. They are coming after the white man. If that is the case, I don’t know what the woman is gonna do in the face of that.”

  “Now that I think of it, I’ve heard of the Wilde sisters myself,” the doctor spoke up. “If you ask me, I think Halmstad is lucky we’ve got one of them willing to help us.”

  Catalina smiled grimly, grateful for the vote of confidence.

  "Maybe she will bring back those dirty killers if they don't get them first," Yarlsson growled. "They got until sunup and then we ride—and when we do, we won't be leaving any injuns behind."

  Catalina scoffed silently at his words. He would be riding to Bold Eagle’s village only if she had nothing to do about it. A plan had already formed in her head, and she would put it into action if her hunch was on target. A short while later her volunteers came up with their horses and they trotted to the outskirts of town and plunged into the vast thick forest that lay between Halmstad and Bold Eagle’s village on the far side of the San De Cristo.

  CHAPTER 8

  * * *

  As the trio rode through the landscape, the sun had dipped beyond the valley rim some time ago and twilight fell on the San De Cristo Valley. Soon they came upon a stream and the group stopped to water their horses. Ingemar Johansen finished telling the group his story about leaving Sweden with his parents to come found Halmstad.

  Catalina had always wondered about the settlers of Halmstad and she appreciated Johansen’s story. She asked Sigurd Bergendahl to share his story as well, and the man settled down near her to start his story. The wonderful thing about being a pretty woman, Catalina reflected with a slight smile, was that she could get men to do anything she wanted. All she needed to do was ask.

  "Unlike Johansen, my sister, Nanna and I were born after our parents arrived here. They came on an invitation from relatives who had been among the first settlers. We've never seen our native land, but someday, we hope to," Bergendahl explained.

  “What made your parents make such a move?” she asked, curious to know.

  "It does seem drastic, doesn't it? Well, they had long heard that America was the land of opportunity and the west of it in particular. My father needed to find a way to support the family and he felt they should take the chance and emigrate. Lord knows his original career wasn’t making much money.”

  Catalina looked at him with interest. She so loved a good story, almost as much as she loved telling one.

  “What was that?” she asked him.

  “A magician,” Bergendahl said smiling at her reaction. “My father came from a long line of performers. Unfortunately, he was not the best at it, so it didn’t make him a lot of money. He had a few good tricks, taught my sister and me a few for amusement.”

  Catalina grinned, amused herself. “Like what?” She asked. Bergendahl reached into his pocket.

  “Coin tricks mostly,” He answered, and her smile got bigger.

  "Please, could you show me one?" she asked excitedly.

  He laughed, reached over, and suddenly seemed to have pulled a coin out of her ear with his right hand. She was delighted. He swished his hands around and when he opened them, the coin was still in his hand. Then he moved his hands around again and produced the coin from his left hand.

  “That was great! I wish my sister, Honor, could have seen that. She loves magic, so mysterious,” Catalina commented happily.

  Bergendahl smiled. “I hate to shatter your illusions, but all magic tricks really come down to simple formulas. A good magician can master the art of distraction and misdirection, which allows deception with ease. It keeps the audience focused on one hand so they miss what the other is up to. It is called sleight of hand for a reason. Don’t get me wrong though, when I was a kid, I did them at the schoolhouse all the time. I admit there is a certain satisfaction in creating an illusion to use misdirection and deception to make people think they are really seeing something occur that didn’t,” he explained.

  “Interestin’…” Catalina murmured. Bergendahl had said wise words. She stopped a moment to deeply consider what he just revealed.

  “So, wait now, you’re sayin’ that’s really all magic is basically distraction, misdirection, and deception … making things appear to happen that didn’t happen?” she wanted to know.

  “Yes,” he said briefly.

  “Goddamn it to hell and back!” Catalina exclaimed, alarming the men.

  "What is it, Miss Wilde? You seem overly excited," Bergendahl said with concern.

  “Damn straight I am. Sleight of hand—that’s what I was missin’ all along with that business back in Alamieda. Mr. Drummond and that slick lawyer Kincaid are damned con artists to be doing such tricks.”

  The words were more to herself than the men. She remained silent as she contemplated. She knew what she needed to look into when she got back to Alamieda. Johansen tipped his hat smiling.

  “You know we have no idea what you are talking about, don’t you?” he asked.

  “I am sure sorry about that, it’s a long story that I can’t go into just now Mr. Johansen. I’ll just say I’m glad we had this talk. Mr. Bergendahl here has opened my eyes. Now I know what I need to consider when I get back to Alamieda. Come on men, let’s ride!”

  Miles later, Catalina was feeling better. Spirits buoyed, she cheerfully told a few stories of her adventures to them. Both men, she found, were enthusiastic to hear her tales, but Bergendahl especially gave her his rapt attention, laughing at the tales of her carousing with her sisters. The sky was now a black curtain above them and she held up a hand for them to stop.

  They were having such a good time, but she knew that it was time to reveal everything she had been thinking about to the men. She certainly hoped that they would go along with her plan. She thought that Bergendahl might believe her, but she wasn’t sure about Johansen. Up ahead was a small clearing that they could rest for the night. It was also perfect for what she had in mind.

  “I reckon we can stop here, boys,” she said, dragging her heels into Pretty Feet.

  “You sure you don’t want to ride further, Miss Wilde? I’m not feeling tired and the Yavapai camp is not more than five miles away, maybe less,” Johansen said.

  “No, we have to stop here. I got good reason for it,” Catalina said.

  “What do you mean, Miss Wilde?” Bergendahl asked.

  “It is high time I shared with you what I think is goin’ on around here. I believe I know the true killer, but I just don’t know the why of it.”

  She began to explain her idea of what had happened at the Torvold farm. As she did, she watched the anger burn in the eyes of her new companions.
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  ***

  The man led his two brothers into the clearing. It was time to take care of business and he especially liked taking care of business of this kind. They called them troublemakers, he and his brothers, but the Naughton family didn't mind. As long as there was someone willing to pay for their services, what was burning a farmstead and killing a handful of people to them? No question about it, this job would bankroll the brothers' vices for some time to come. They each had them and they delighted in them.

  His brother, “Crick,” was well known in any establishment that passed for a gambling hall. Many just shook their heads at the man’s endless supply of luck, but only the brothers knew of Crick’ skill for counting cards. Whenever Crick had his ass planted at the latest card game his brother Jed could be counted on being upstairs indulging in his love of women, even with the most worn out soiled doves some of the places had to offer. Their youngest brother among them had a weakness for brawling. Cole Naughton would go out of his way to pick a fight, and he had beaten more men within an inch of their lives than Vic could count.

  Lastly, there was Vic himself. The man had a passion for killing as it gave him a pleasure inside he truly couldn't explain. Sometimes he thought to himself that it made him god-like having the power of life and death, and he loved that feeling. Now he was about to experience it again.

  He raised his bow and glanced at his two siblings that had accompanied him. They could all see the silhouette of three figures bundled up asleep in the moonlight. Each of the brothers raised their bows. In a matter of seconds, they were going to be leaving dead bodies behind and the redskins would be pegged as the bloody killers!

  Nothing was as exciting to Vic as killing and there was no point in delaying putting off the pleasure anymore. With a look of glee sweeping over his hawk-like face, he nodded his head and arrows went flying in the air, burying their tips in the flesh of the three sleeping figures. Following the plan, they emptied their quivers all over the ground before they sprang forward, laughing that the trio went out like pussies not even making a sound. Each man raised a tomahawk to slash the bodies to ribbons. Vic’s heart was pounding with adrenaline as the tomahawk he brought down in a savage swing sank into the nearest body and … something felt wrong.

  “Sure, do appreciate that moonlight shinin’ on your pasty white faces. It’ll make hittin’ you easy like from here.”

  Stunned, Vic turned towards the voice. The bushes rustled around them and to his utter shock their three targets who were supposed to be dead came out of the foliage, guns drawn and faces grim. The men were bare-chested; the woman had discarded her jacket. Vic turned towards the bundles on the ground. Dummies, fooled by goddamn dummies, he swore silently, knowing he and his kin were screwed.

  “Better throw your weapons on the ground or we’ll blast you to bits,” the Mexican woman drawled. The hand holding her weapon did not shake and something told Vic that he would be dead faster than he could say “Vic,” if he moved a muscle. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to accept the idea he was going to have to surrender to a woman, and one of those greaser Mexican ones at that. He was further galled as she continued to chide them.

  “It looks like you were fooled by the clothes wrapped up to look like us.”

  “You heard Miss Wilde. Drop ’em or we’ll bury the lot of you right here!” Bergendahl told them. Naughton did as instructed and his brothers did the same. There was no doubt that the jig was up. All Vic could hope right now was that their boss could get them out of this mess, or at least Jed still had his freedom, and as long as he was out there, maybe he could find a way to rescue them. Before he could speculate further on the matter, his attention was drawn to one of the men walking up to his brother Cole. He studied the man under the light of the full moon.

  “I know these men. The Naughton brothers. And I especially know you, Cole Naughton! I sure remember you and that sucker punch you threw at me when I told you to stop bothering my sister Nanna.” Bergendahl snarled at the Naughton brother he was standing before.

  “So, what’s it to ya! One blow and ya folded like a skirt!” he spat out a plug of tobacco he had been enjoying since before they had approached the encampment.

  Bergendahl didn't answer, he simply shoved his gun into his holster and swung his fist, harder than he ever thought possible, striking Cole's jaw, causing the man's head to snap around violently accompanied by a very audible crack. The brute stood there stunned, but only for a moment before he balled his fists ready to do what he loved to do best and throw down. However, the sounds of the hammers being pulled back on Catalina's and Johansen's guns caused him to rethink the matter.

  “Now we all is gonna have a little chat about exactly what’s goin’ on here, boys, and-”

  “Catalina wait! Something is wrong here!” Bergendahl cried out. Keeping her eyes on the Naughtons she spoke. “I’m listenin’. Go on.”

  “There are four of these bastards. One of them is missing. I think his name is Jed!” Bergendahl’s gun was back in his hand now and the triad from Halmstad cautiously swept their eyes over their surroundings, wary of an ambush. Vic’s foolish boasting quickly did them a favor by erasing their worries.

  “Don’t waste your time looking for my brother. He’s nowhere around here! You might have got us but you won’t get him!”

  “That right? Supposin’ I decided to go round him up wherever he is?”

  “You ain't got no clue where he’s at, greaser, and I sure as hell ain’t gonna tell ya, none of us are!” Catalina just smiled at the cocky, arrogant look on the man’s face. Time to erase it she reckoned. She may have deferred using Lijuan’s approach when she was chasing Ian Oaksford the other day, but she had no qualms about assuming one of her tactics here.

  "We'll see about that. Mr. Bergendahl, will you help this one out of his shirt?" Bergendahl exchanged a puzzled look with Johansen for a moment but holstered his gun for the second time and went over to Vic and ordered him to put his hands down. Quickly he yanked the jacket off the outlaw. Next, he grabbed the man's shirt and gave a savage tug on it ripping the cheap fabric as he did so exposing his bare skin.

  “What are you doing?” Vic demanded but Catalina said nothing other than to ask Bergendahl to turn Vic around until his back was to them and then to draw his gun. Her new friend did he was asked and once his gun was trained on Vic, Catalina put hers away and unclipped the bullwhip from her belt.

  "Now look here! Ya can't do that to my brother!" shouted Crick Naughton, but she ignored his wild-eyed look, the same one the other brother, Cole Naughton, had on his face. With more than a little bit of theatrics, she began cracking the whip, causing Vic to look over his shoulder in fear.

  “You can’t do this, you bitch!”

  Laughing she asked what there was to stop her … other than Vic giving up the location of the last Naughton brother.

  “I ain’t gonna tell you nothing! You hear that?”

  “I do, and do you hear this?” she cracked the whip within an inch of his head and he shouted out in terror. “The next one is gonna be across your back. So is the next one and the next one until you talk!”

  A string of epithets burst from the man’s mouth that would have shocked even the most grizzled sailor on the seven seas. Catalina merely shrugged.

  "Suit yourself." She drew her arm back when Vic's swearing gave way to almost tearful pleas. "Stop, stop, stop! Jed, he's back at the cabin we've been staying in just outside of Halmstad. He asked me if he could stay behind. Said we didn't need him to handle a couple of dirt farmers and a dumb Mexican with more tits than brains." For an instant, Catalina's hand tightened on the whip but then she relaxed as the man continued to ramble and what he said next shocked her to her core.

  “I said sure. That was fine. I knew he wanted to stay behind for when the girl woke up. So’s, he could have his fun and all!”

  Johansen who had been quiet for the entire encounter suddenly drew closer, his raised gun was shaking in his hand. “What girl
?”

  “The one we let him take while we was raining brimstone down around that farm. I don’t know what her name was. Pretty thing, blond like most of you all are. About the age of the greaser here, maybe younger. He wanted to have his fun with her, and we figured we just kill the bitch later. Jed, he knocked her out with his gun and she still hadn’t come too when we left to come take care of you. Soon as she’s awake though … it ain't gonna be pretty!”

  "Signe … oh, Signe!" Johansen's voice was breaking and to Catalina's alarm, it looked like his knees were about to give out from under him.

  “Steady now, Johansen! Who is this here Signe?” she called out to him attempting to be commanding and soothing at the same time.

  “My cousin’s oldest girl! They have her! They have Nels’s first born!”

  A cold clamminess had swept over Catalina that had nothing to do with the late hour. Arriving at the farm she had assumed that everyone had been killed. There had been bodies everywhere, and at least one of the Torvolds had been trapped in the house. Logically she tried to reconcile that there would have been no way to know someone was unaccounted for but it didn't stop her from feeling guilty as a cold fist closed around her heart. In her mind, she now remembered the delirious Nels Torvold mumbling that name during the dash to Halmstad.

  “You jackasses listen and listen good! We’re gonna go get that girl back, and you’re gonna lead us right to where she is. And if he’s hurt her like he was plannin’, I swear to you I will plant this Colt .45 in his stinkin’ mouth and empty my entire chamber through the back of his head!” she was snarling now, her usual good nature locked away where it needed to be. There was American justice and there was western justice and this time she had no qualms about picking the western style and for good reason.