Cassandra had heard of the Gabriel’s Horn ministries and its charismatic leader with his growing web of churches in the Southwest, but her interest remained in Jeb Holt’s location. She asked the old postmaster once more for his address giving him a quickly improvised story that her father had fought side by side with Holt against the Mexicans and he had asked her to send his regards knowing she was going to be in his town. She had no sooner gotten the information when she heard Lijuan say her name sharply. Cassandra knew that meant that Coltrane was on the move. Thanking the man, the pair of sisters hustled quickly out of the post office, leaving the elderly postmaster to return to his business of sorting the mail.
CHAPTER 3
To the relief of both women, trailing Coltrane proved to be a far easier task than they were accustomed to and they hadn’t had to worry about losing him during the pursuit. The terrain leading to the uncle’s house had been a boon featuring a ridgeline that the pair were able to travel along and keep sight of their quarry below. This had eliminated the danger of being spotted by him if they had to trail behind him no matter how discreetly they would have done so.
The open valley Coltrane traveled in below the ridgeline, ended at the edge of the Colorado River. There snuggled amidst a copse of tall trees, sat a stone building that was a two-story box-like structure with a flat roof. Jutting out from one side of the building was a smaller one-story rectangular-shaped extension. Three things about the building besides its utter squareness struck Cassandra as she and her sister dismounted and lay on their stomachs atop the ridge. First, the façade was all rocks mortared into place, meaning it was constructed of timber underneath, just giving it the look of stone. Lijuan speculated that the smooth-looking stones had been pulled from the Colorado when it had been built. Second, though it had a flat roof atop it, there was a tower with a good-sized bell hanging within it. The third thing was the man had a section squared off with foot high wooden siding that contained a vegetable garden. In addition to that she saw sitting on the lip of the building several potted plants. Why those were there she didn’t know but she suspected the man grew his own vegetables to cut down on his trips to town in order to better carry out his life as a recluse.
They watched as Coltrane tied up the horse pulling his wagon to a hitching post not far from a stone well with its little cupola that rose to one side in the yard in front of the building. Coltrane vanished inside as Cassandra continued to survey the property and take note of everything. Her attention focused on the side wing of the building noticing what appeared to be some manner of lattice work on the flat roof. But really drew her attention was the sizeable chimney that rose from the back of the rectangular extension. It was belching a considerable amount of smoke for a hot afternoon.
“That side wing … it’s got to be the bell foundry, and by the looks of things, it’s in full operation,” Cassandra murmured. Lijuan turned her head away from looking at the building and narrowed her eyes.
“Mister Postman back there said he was out of the business.”
“So he did, so he did.”
Before they could ruminate further on that matter, Coltrane appeared from the front door followed by a stocky, heavyset man with a balding head. Even at this distance, the man’s arms looked like tree trunks with hands, and in one of those hands was a hammer. The pair walked to the back of the wagon, and the stout man put the hammer to work prying off the box’s lid. Once it was free, Coltrane reached into it and held up a long, strange-looking piece of metal. It was a straight rod on each end until the middle where it curved into a semi-circle. Lijuan whispered, asking her what it was but Cassandra could only shake her head.
Whatever it was, it seemed to please the new man, and he slapped Coltrane on the back. Even at their distance, they could hear him laughing. The pair took the strange item with them and disappeared back inside the building. Lijuan rolled over on her back and propped herself up on her elbows and Cassandra did the same.
“Uncle Jeb, I presume.” Lijuan muttered. “Now what, golden girl?” she asked next, but Cassandra remained silent despite Lijuan’s expectant gaze until at last, she’d stitched together her plan.
“Okay, this is how I reckon we’ll play it. This here ridge runs the rest of the way to the river’s edge. You follow it, and that should put you behind the house down by the water. Scout around and see if you can see any potential entry points into the back of the place, and then hot-foot it back to here and we’ll compare notes.”
“Where are you going to be?”
“I was getting to that. I’ll head back the way we came, and once I’m out of the sight of the house, I’ll drop down the side. As you can see, the trees run right up alongside the left-hand side of the trail to the Holt place and right up past the house. Hidden in them I’ll make my way to the grove right up next to the house.”
“And?”
“Some of those trees are higher than the roof. I’ll climb one, drop down on it, and see if there is a hatch or a door leading down from the bell tower. There has to be. It’s just a question if it’s locked. Then I’ll meet you back here. Whoever finds the best way in is how we’ll get in there and ambush them.”
Lijuan nodded her approval even if she didn’t outright say it. Cassandra was well aware the woman respected her leadership when it came to these matters, but she wasn’t going to come right out and admit that it was a good plan. That was just Lijuan’s way. All four Wilde sisters had their quirks and varied personalities, and they were all as comfortable as a snugly fitting glove with each other’s traits and wouldn’t ever wish them to change.
The pair crawled backward and rose once they were sure they were out of any line of sight from the bell foundry. Lijuan reached up and touched Cassandra’s shoulder.
“One last thing, Cassie. How many broomtails do you think we’re going to be going up against in there?”
Relaying the details of the holdup, Cassie told her that there was likely five men inside: the two they had just seen as well as the other three hold-up men that witnesses had said participated in the Mint robbery. Those numbers assumed Jeb Holt didn’t have some other companions, but on the other hand, there was no guarantee Coltrane’s group was all still together.
“Could be plus or minus, Lijuan, plus or minus,” she finished.
The next few minutes moved quickly after the pair of women separated. Cassandra made her way backward, came down the ridge, and crossed into the forest of trees lining the trail. As she drew close to the stone building, she was on high alert. Her eyes scanned all around, and her ears listened for the sounds of anyone coming out from within. When she was at last at the side of the building, she was relieved to find minimal windows
Carefully, she surveyed the pine trees that grew next to the house, picking out one that rose straight up with only the mortared stone next to it and no windows that might betray her. Before ascending she slipped the two rawhide loops that secured her cherished silver-plated, pearl-handled Colt .45s into place to prevent them from falling free from her holster as she climbed.
Hand over hand, she went, wondering how Lijuan was making out canvassing the rear of the building. As she neared the top branch, her hands landed in pitch oozing from the tree bark, and she shook her hand in annoyance as her fingers started webbing together. Now higher than the roof, she made her way out on a limb hanging over the top of the building that allowed her to dangle above it. There was a three-foot drop beneath her, and she prayed the clump of her boots striking the wooden roof wouldn't alert any of the bank robbers below.
With a gentle thudding sound, her feet touched down at the same instant that she flipped the loop off her pistol on her right hip and slid it free from the holster. Standing stock still she listened but didn't hear anything. Fearful of any creaking boards, she gently made her way across the planks and around the vegetable garden in the center to the rear to be able to peer down to survey the landscape behind the building.
There appeared to be about fifty fee
t of land between the bell foundry and the Colorado River. To the left, she saw a stable with its doors wide open, and to the right, she spied directly across and behind the wing of the building with the belching smoke was a dock jutting out into the river. Tied up with thick ropes were a sturdy looking flatboat on one side and on the other a sloop. The former Lady Pinkerton in her reared its head as in her mind she could picture the sloop with the wind in its sails pulling the flatboat up the Colorado … a flatboat laden with U.S. government silver!
Before she looked away, she focused on one final thing. Just barely visible past the river bank was what appeared to be part of the roof of a shack-like building not far from where the dock ended. The river bank obscured most of it, but she had a pretty good idea what it might be. The fact that Lijuan was nowhere in sight told her that being closer, her Asian sister had already come here and was now headed back to their rendezvous point on the ridgeline.
Turning away from the rear of the building, she crept over to the side and looked down towards the extension she suspected housed the bell foundry. Instantly, she drew back from the edge, caught by surprise that the latticework she had seen earlier actually contained squares of glass for an elaborate skylight. No wonder they had but the single window in the front.
Cassandra hustled away to draw up under the four-legged cupola that held the immense bell near the front of the Holt residence. A series of rods and gears ran up from a hole cut in the roof and ended where they attached to the yoke holding the bell. A smile knitted its way across her face as she saw next to the hole where the piping vanished into the roof was a trap door with a convenient handle mounted atop it that was just beckoning for her to pull it.
She dropped down on her haunches and tightened her grip on her gun as she used her free hand to begin slowly tugging on the handle. Cassandra had expected some resistance if it were locked on the other side, but it easily raised under her pull. Peering down into the darkness below, she saw a short ladder and light spilling from an unseen doorway opposite where the ladder ended. Despite the danger she was cloaked in, for a moment she found herself tantalized by a smell wafting up from somewhere in the house. Someone was cooking something that smelled really good. Ruefully, she shook her head at the well-earned reputation in the family at being a dreadful cook. The ever-cheerful Catalina liked to remind her that she could burn water if she put her mind to it.
Closing the door, she rose to a standing position quite satisfied. She’d found their way in unless Lijuan’s scouting had yielded a better entry point into the Coltrane gang’s hideout. Cassandra was just about to move away from the bell when she drew a sharp breath. The mechanical gears suddenly came to life, and her mouth fell open as the bell suddenly pivoted to one side and then swung toward her. Her reflexes kicked in, but she wasn’t fast enough. As the clapper struck the side of the bell, the bell itself hit Cassandra’s hand with the raised pistol in it. Her finger involuntarily jerked, and the Colt blasted a round straight through one of the nearby flower pots. Shards of clay and brightly colored gardenias rained down on the glass skylight.
As she started to run towards the edge of the building with the tree that had given her access, the bell rang a second time, and she realized it was tolling off the hour. She and Lijuan’s luck had been running in their favor ever since she’d spotted Coltrane on the street, but every lucky streak has its ending she knew, and hers had chosen to terminate with her standing at the wrong place at the wrong time at the top of the hour.
Shrugging as there was nothing she could do about it now, she jammed her gun back in its holster and flipped the rawhide loop, securing it as she came to a stop underneath the tree limb. Vaulting upward she seized the limb on her first try and then threw her leg over the branch and heaved herself up. Just as she scrambled across the branch and positioned herself to start her descent close to the trunk, she saw the trap door under the cupola spring open, and Coltrane’s head and shoulders emerge.
“Hey!”
Ignoring him, she began to drop her hands from limb to limb in a mad rush to get earthbound once again. Fury and disappointment burned within her as sweat began to trickle down from under her golden hair onto her forehead. She had so wanted her and Lijuan to get the drop on the men if they outnumbered them. Likely outnumbered, now her only option was to flee, regroup with her sister, and come up with a new plan on the fly.
Easier said than done, she thought, as her boots slapped the earth as she dropped out of the tree at the same moment that Coltrane, having made a mad dash to get down and outside, spun around the corner with a double-barreled shotgun leveled at her.
“Hands in the air, bitch!”
***
High above on the ridge, Lijuan lowered the field glasses through which she had just witnessed the capture of her sister. Her lips curled themselves up in a vicious snarl.
“Great. That’s just f’ing great. I knew we should have gone to the fence company!”
CHAPTER 4
Coltrane pushed the blonde intruder through the door to the large room that held the bell foundry jutting out from the side of Jeb Holt’s home. Holt followed the pair into the room and dashed over to look into the vat from the blast furnace holding the smelted, liquid silver. Holt’s head nodded in approval, and he quickly opened a cabinet. When he was through rifling around in it, he emerged with a coil of rope. Next, Holt raided a drawer in a workbench, plucked out a knife, and cut two pieces off the rope. With the first section, he bound the woman’s hands in front of her. With the second length, the man squatted down and secured her legs with it. As he worked he berated her for destroying one of his wife’s flower pots, one of the few things he had left of her and he’d managed to keep them alive all these years. Once done, Holt gave her a final scowl before he put down the knife atop the workbench hastening off to tend to the silver. Coltrane then turned to stare at the captive coldly.
Who the hell was she, and what was she doing here? Outside, he had demanded those questions of her, but she had stubbornly remained silent. After Holt had joined him outside he had cautioned him that they best get her out of view, no matter how unlikely someone would be around to see her being held. He'd continued demanding answers from her as they had entered, but she remained infuriatingly silent. Coltrane now found himself entirely on edge. Things had gone so smooth for so long. The last thing that he needed was for it to all fall apart.
His eyes swept the room taking in the sight of Holt’s smelting equipment including the molds the man had custom-ordered during the time he’d been holed up here. Then they traveled to the meek little Chinese woman who sat in one corner with her paints and her brushes working away on the fruits of their labor. Not surprisingly, she hadn’t looked up when they’d hustled the blonde into the room. She wasn’t stupid enough to risk another beating like the one he’d given to her when they’d broken into one of the meager shacks the railroad provided for its workers and killed her brother as they kidnapped her and brought her here to work.
That beating had been a warning to obey and do as she was told, and the “lesson” had worked. From that day forward, she sat at the table working from the examples of two real china plates set in brackets on the tabletop for her to study. Before he and Holt, who he was pretending was his uncle for the benefit of any of the townspeople he encountered, had kidnapped her, they’d dealt with the so-called “gang” that he’d recruited to help them steal the silver. That had almost been too easy. Yes, he thought as his eyes took it all in one more time, everything around him signified all their plans coming to fruition, but now it all felt threatened. This woman caught on the roof clearly was up to something.
“Coltrane! Get over here! I need your help!” Holt suddenly bellowed.
“What about her! I wanna know what the hell she’s doing here!”
“We can’t worry about her right now. Lock her up in the kitchen! It’s the only room with a lock on it. It was the missus’s way of keeping me out when she was cooking because she knew I’d
be trying to taste everything,” Holt said, for a brief moment there was almost a trace of warmth in it, something Coltrane had seen little of from the man. “Go on, do it. The key’s hanging just inside the door. We have work to do. Once this batch is poured, you can question her until her ears bleed!
Coltrane amused himself by thinking that there would be bleeding all right, but not from her ears. The blows he would deliver to her body would make her talk. That he’d see to. He was loath to do it, but he scooped the bound woman up in his arms and began hustling towards the door. He caught a faint whiff of a perfume wafting off from her, and it hardened his heart even further than it was. Coltrane hated women, hated them with a passion because they were now useless to him. To be so near a beauty like this but not to be able to do anything with her was frustration incarnate. Two years ago, he had been on the losing end of a gunfight with a bandit down Mexico way when a round from the desperado’s gun had chosen a path straight through his balls, destroying them. Now his dick was useless as well, hanging like a limp flag on the jackstaff of a ship becalmed on the sea. He had turned his bitter anger over his castration and impotence toward the women he could no longer have in any meaningful way.
Arriving at the doorway, he roughly dropped the blonde and shoved her and her big tits into the kitchen, where she crashed to the floor. Laughing at her, he reached for the key hanging just inside the door. Thrusting it into the waiting keyhole, he turned it, and with a click, he pulled the skeleton key free and turned his back on the door, assured that she would not be getting out. Stalking off, he tried not to think about the days before he was a gelding. Back then he would have stripped this woman’s clothes off in a minute, freeing her melon sized jugs and having his way with her, but that was all in the past now. His cock was now as lifeless as his old friend, Holt’s son.
River 0f Death: Cassandra Wilde Adult Western (Half Breed Haven Book 13) Page 3