“Come on now,” growled Ferris. “You’ve seen how it is with Jensen and Eagle both. Ain’t nothing a dead certain thing when it comes to them.”
Roland’s expression suddenly turned cold and flat. “In that case,” he said, shifting his tone to match, “you’d better have some kind of backup plan ready. And while you’re explaining it to the old man and hoping he’ll even take time to listen, maybe you can also convince him how your failures have all been the fault of his orders to take Jensen alive.”
Chapter 34
By midnight they had their plan worked out.
Eagle was seated at the head of the long table under the camp’s central canopy, Luke immediately to his right. Clustered close in around them were the rest of the men who would be participating in the rescue raid: Barlow, Howard MacGregor, and the two old prospectors, Isaac Turley and Red Baker.
Also present was an ashen-faced Ben Pettigrew, whose input toward the planning was more than welcome, though he was in no shape to be riding out with the others this time. He would stay behind to be in charge of the camp.
Additionally, the other men who would be remaining behind had respectfully been invited to attend the meeting, though they sat slightly apart from the raid participants, listening, saying little. This group was made up of Jonathan Wray, Clarence Copley, Neal Vickers, and a brooding Dewey Akron. The women of the camp were all in their tents, opting to give their men the time and space they needed to plan the mission, though it was a safe bet that each was listening intently and would come flooding out as soon as things were settled and the meeting started to break up.
Tom Eagle leaned forward now, knuckles planted on the tabletop before him, and swept a somber gaze over those gathered in close as he announced, “Well, I guess that’s it then. You’ve all heard and agreed with how we got things figured, and those of you who’ll be riding with us each know what your part will be once we get there. Any final questions?”
His gaze continued its slow sweep, lingering briefly on the face of each man.
“I got a question,” said MacGregor. He inclined his head toward distant flickers of lightning in the night sky. “That storm away off yonder. What if it moves in and hits us when we’re in the middle of things?”
Eagle didn’t say anything. Barlow, his mouth curving into a lopsided grin, answered for him, saying, “Well, Howard, then I reckon what’ll happen is that we’ll all get a little wet.”
Chuckles came from the other men. MacGregor looked flustered for a moment, then ended up joining them. “Okay, okay. I didn’t mean for it to sound as dumb as it did. I just wanted to make sure it wouldn’t make any difference as far as delaying us or calling things off or anything.”
“It’d take a helluva lot more than a little rain,” Eagle rasped, “to turn me back from goin’ after my daughter.”
“Besides,” Luke added, “a good thunderstorm would make it harder for our enemies to see or hear us. But at the same time, if it comes to that, we’ll also have to deal with those conditions. Meaning it’ll be all the more important when things start busting loose for each man to follow his moves as assigned—do what you’re supposed to do, when you’re supposed to do it.”
“I can’t stress strongly enough,” spoke up Pettigrew, “that the best chance for pulling this off and keeping your hides intact in the process, is for everybody to listen to Eagle and Jensen. They’ll get you through it. I’m beggin’ you for your own sake, and for the sake of bringing my boy and Belinda Eagle back with you.”
MacGregor regarded him. “We’ll do everything in our power to get your boy back, Ben.”
Isaac Turley cleared his throat. “That’s all well and good,” he declared. “Ain’t a one of us here not in favor of gettin’ back those young’uns who’ve got themselves in a fix with them lowdown owlhoots. Couldn’t be no clearer that we’re all chompin’ to get at it. But I gotta say one more time that jeopardizin’ yet another youngster to help get the job done, that plumb sticks in my craw something fierce.”
As he finished this statement, the old prospector’s troubled gaze came to rest on the narrow space between where MacGregor and Barlow sat with their elbows resting on the table. Within that space, almost lost in the shadows slicing across it, the pale oval of Betty Barlow’s face pushed slightly forward. The young tomboy’s expression was set in the same stubborn, semi-pugnacious look that all who knew her were used to seeing. She appeared like she wanted to respond to Turley but was holding herself in check.
Somewhat hurriedly, as if he wanted to be sure and speak before his daughter lost her restraint, Whit Barlow said, “Come on, Isaac. We’ve already gone through this. I appreciate your concern for my daughter, but doggone it, I’d be the first to try and hold her back if I didn’t believe she could do us some good and we could keep her safe.”
Not holding back any longer, though in a polite, tolerant tone, Betty herself said, “Thanks for worrying about me, Mr. Turley. But everybody knows I can ride as good or better than anyone in the valley. And I can shoot good, too, if need be.”
“Now don’t start that,” her father was again quick to say. “You’re coming along to help with the horses, not get involved in any shooting.”
“I’m just saying I’d be willing and able, if it came to that,” the girl said stubbornly. “You nearly worked your tail off putting our horse herd together, Pa, and I worked and rode beside you as hard as anybody half again my size, man or boy. I understand that riding out to save Belinda and Heath is our main goal tonight and I understand, too, what my role is. But if I get the chance to sink a slug in one of those lowlife skunks who busted up our herd and caused us to lose our ranch, it’s gonna be mighty hard for me not to pull the trigger.”
Luke smiled faintly in spite of himself, admiring the girl’s spunk. “Nobody will begrudge you a potshot if the opportunity presents itself,” he told her. “Just make sure your trigger urge don’t get in the way of doing your main job of taking care of our horses.”
Betty gave a sharp nod. “I say it won’t, it won’t.”
Luke cut his gaze to the reluctant old prospector. “That goes for you too, Turley. The girl’s in, it’s already been decided. If you’re going to keep fretting about her, then that means your full concentration won’t be where it belongs. Bullets start flying out there later on, your mind better be where it’s supposed to be, you hear?”
“You don’t need to worry about me, mister,” Turley grunted. “Comes lead slingin’ time, both my mind and aim will be straight!”
“All right then. Anybody else got anything?” Eagle said, showing signs of impatience.
That was enough to cause MacGregor to hesitate before he went ahead and said, “Yeah, I got a question. You’re putting a lot of faith in the Elkhorn Saloon as the place where they’ll be holding those kids. What if we hit town and they’re not there?”
“The Elkhorn is the only place that makes sense. Them namin’ the main street out front as the spot where they want to make the trade for Jensen and me makes it all the more certain,” Eagle said confidently.
“But what if, leastways for tonight, they take the kids somewhere else? Like maybe up to the Gold Button mine?”
Eagle shook his head. “Hack Ferris’s thinkin’ ain’t that complicated. Be too much trouble to haul the kids all the way up to the mine and then back down again tomorrow for the trade. Besides, I can’t see young Dixon allowin’ any part of the dirty dealin’s right in his front yard. He’s kept the Gold Button strictly a minin’ operation for the most part, not lettin’ the nastiness takin’ place throughout the rest of the valley reach in. Don’t see no reason for him to change now.” The former sheriff set his jaw firmly. “No, I’m convinced the Elkhorn is where we’ll find the kids. Ferris and his boys have taken it over, made it their hangout for weeks now. It’s where they’ll feel the most confident . . . and, because of that, where I’m bettin’ we got a chance to find ’em relaxed and least expectin’ us.”
“That’s
good enough for me,” said Luke. “And if we should find something different, then we’ll just have to adapt.”
Eagle’s impatience showed again. “If we’re gonna do this, we need to get a move on. Time for everybody to get your gear together and saddled up. We’ll head out from the corral area in fifteen minutes.”
* * *
Half an hour later, they’d emerged from the boulder maze that guarded the entrance to the mountain encampment and were starting across the rolling grassland of the valley. Jensen and Eagle rode at the head of the little column. Barlow and his daughter came next, then MacGregor, then Turley and Baker, all following in a fairly tight group.
Wind gusts from the northwest were growing chillier and more frequent. High overhead, a cold silver moon was still managing to peek through on occasion, but thickening, rapidly skidding clouds blotted it out with increasing frequency.
As they moved along at a steady gait, Luke said to Eagle, “The layout of this saloon we’re targeting—I take it you’re pretty familiar with it from your peacekeeping days?”
“Way more than I ever wanted to be,” Eagle replied sourly. “The Elkhorn was one of those places that just seemed to naturally attract rowdy types. You probably know the kind I mean. Brawls, shootin’s, stabbin’s were all common occurrences that I got called in to tame down. Guess it stands to reason that it’s the kind of joint Ferris and his bunch would flock to and settle in after they ran all the decent folks out of town. Anything higher-toned, like the Palace that you put a torch to, would never be to their taste. Too bad it wasn’t the Elkhorn you cut a swath through the other day when you first introduced yourself to that sorry pack.”
“I was moving kind of fast so I can’t say positively,” Luke drawled, “but I’m pretty sure I didn’t miss any welcome mats laid out to greet me—only gun muzzles aimed my way.”
“Been there myself,” said Eagle.
A sudden gust of cold, damp wind whipped down over a grassy knob and cut through the riders with a low moan.
“Getting back to the layout of the Elkhorn,” Luke said after the gust had passed. “You think there’s any chance that Ferris’s men might have changed anything in the time they’ve been there? Anything that might alter the layout from what you’re familiar with?”
Eagle grunted. “No, other than pilin’ up empty whiskey bottles and other trash, I can’t see them makin’ any changes to amount to anything. Layout’s pretty basic, don’t really see how or why they would. Downstairs there’s the main barroom with a storeroom and small office behind the bar. Then here’s an open stairway that goes up and feeds straight back to a short hall on the second floor with six rooms, three on each side. Closed stairwell at the back that opens directly to an alley. Can’t get much simpler than that.”
“And glass windows in front, you said, right?”
“One on each side of the batwings. Not big, fancy-lettered ones like the Palace, but sizable enough to see through okay.” Eagle cast a sidelong glance over at the bounty hunter. “Something botherin’ you?”
“Nothing in particular,” Luke said. “Just chewing over some things.”
“If you got a chunk of gristle that ain’t goin’ down, might be best to just spit it out,” Eagle suggested.
Luke gave it a moment, then said, “Okay. It makes sense for them to have the kids at the Elkhorn, just like you said. But not having a better idea exactly where in the building they’re being held is gnawing at me some.”
“They’ll be in one of the rooms upstairs, right? Probably one of the middle ones. Hardest place for anybody to get at, ain’t that how we figured it?” Eagle’s tone was very earnest, that of someone trying hard to be convincing—maybe in part to himself. “With guards at each end of the hall and men also likely in some or all of the other rooms. Plus whoever we’ll find passed out—almost a certainty at three o’clock in the mornin’—downstairs in the barroom. Maybe a guard or two down there as well, though at that hour I wouldn’t expect much in the way of them bein’ on real sharp lookout.”
“They might be sloppy, lowlife scum. But no matter what else they are or aren’t, they’re a gang of ruthless killers. We need to be sure to keep that in mind and not take anything about them too lightly,” Luke advised.
Eagle scowled in his direction. “You think you need to remind me of that? Me, of all people? If I sound like I’m takin’ the actions of this pack of vermin too lightly, it’s only because I know ’em so well from trackin’ and watchin’ ’em over the past two months. Yeah, they might be dangerous and even cunning. But I’m tellin’ you they’re also lazy and not overly bright. That’s why I’m bettin’—with my own daughter’s life on the line—that their little pea brains ain’t in no way expectin’ or ready for us to show up tonight and hit ’em right in their own stronghold.”
“I hope you’re right,” Luke told him. “But no matter how big our element of surprise, simply storming the joint and trying to safely pull the kids out of the middle of the building with gunfire on all sides . . . that’s going to be mighty tricky.”
The anger left Eagle’s scowl, replaced by intense concern and curiosity. “So what else is there? You got something in mind?”
Luke’s expression turned brooding. “I don’t know yet. I’ll know better after I’ve had the chance to give that saloon a good looking over.”
Another howling gust passed over them.
“Appears more and more like you’re gonna have to do that looking through a hard rain,” Eagle observed.
“Fine by me. I’d welcome it,” Luke replied grimly.
Chapter 35
“You awake, Belinda gal?” Heath Pettigrew’s voice was low and hushed in the near total darkness.
Frequent gusts of wind rattled the room’s single window a few feet away. Now and then, the flicker of distant lightning lanced through the filmy curtain and very briefly diminished the deep shadows with short bursts of illumination.
“Of course I’m awake. How could I sleep under these awful conditions?” came Belinda Eagle’s tense response.
Heath wished he could see her, wished he could look on her lovely face. Although, at the same time, he knew the anguish he surely would find there—the same anguish he could hear in her voice—would only pain him more. Under almost any other circumstances imaginable, having her so close, pressed tight against him, the warmth and scent of her filling his senses, would have been wonderful and satisfying. But not now, not this way . . . The two of them trussed together, back to back, their hands and feet bound individually and then still more wraps of coarse rope lashing them into a bundle then tossed onto the filthy bed where they could do nothing but wait and wonder.
Heath whispered again, “Up until a few minutes ago, the way you were breathing, I thought you had fallen asleep. I wished you had, so you could escape from all of this, at least for a little while.”
“I . . . I guess I was, actually,” replied Belinda after a moment. “I don’t know how I managed it, but you’re right. It was a relief for the precious little while it lasted.”
“Good. I’m glad for that much,” Heath said.
“I’m sorry if I was testy with you when you first asked me.”
“It’s all right. These are awful conditions and you have every right to be testy and more,” Heath groaned. “Belinda, I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I got you into this fix.”
“Don’t do that to yourself,” Belinda was quick to say. “We’re in this fix because of decisions we made together. You’re no more to blame than I am.”
“But I’m supposed to be the man,” Heath protested. “A man takes a woman for his wife, he’s supposed to protect her, take care of her no matter what! And look how far I got. Those dirty skunks came out of the rocks back at Balfour Pass and clunked me on the head and I never got even a lick in against ’em. Some fine protector I am. And now here we are, hogtied like a couple sides of beef ready for the barbecue spit.”
“We’re still alive, aren’t we?” Be
linda countered. Then, realizing her response had been sharp and perhaps a little too loud, she fell silent, listening intently for any sound out in the hallway that might indicate she’d drawn the attention of one of their captors. Thankfully, the late night quiet surrounding them was broken only by another gust of wind rattling the window.
When she felt it was safe to speak again, Belinda said in a more subdued whisper, “As long as we’re alive, there’s hope. You’ve got to remember and believe that. And me, too. I need to keep from feeling sorry for myself and you need to quit blaming yourself.”
“Those are good words. Brave and inspiring and all,” allowed Heath, trying to sound stirred by them but coming across decidedly flat. “Only trouble is, they don’t do a doggone thing to loosen these ropes holding us down. And until that changes, we’re at the mercy of Hack Ferris and his thugs and whatever they got in mind for us.”
“We already know what that is,” Belinda reminded him. “They’re hoping to trade us for my father and Mr. Jensen.”
“Your father’s too smart for that,” Heath said. “He’s got to know he can’t trust the likes of Ferris. Still, his love for you might be enough for him to go ahead and take the risk in order to save you.”
Belinda said, “That’s hardly a comforting thought—that my father might be trading his life for mine.”
“It’s like I was saying before about a man doing whatever it takes to protect the women in his life,” Heath replied. “That goes for daughters as well as wives.”
“And it goes for a man protecting others in his life, too,” Belinda said pointedly.
“What do you mean?”
“You know darn well what I mean. That voice down in the rocks when Ferris was making his demands on the trade for us . . . that was your father, Heath, and you darn well know it.”
Hired Guns Page 20