CHAPTER XXVI
AT THE HAIRPIN CURVE
The storm in the mountains continued all night, the downpour shiftingfrom hail to sleet and from sleet to a cold, drenching rain. Jo in herremote little tent kept dry and comfortable. Hiram kept the same,rolled in his blankets under a wagon, the ground about it ditched torun the water off. There was shelter for the mules and horses, too,for at the approach of winter Jo had freighted to the mountain campingsite sufficient lumber for a roof, which was supported by poles cutfrom the forest.
It was still dark and raining when the two beleaguered freighterscontinued their journey next morning. Hiram, with eight of his ownblack horses hitched to the wagon, and four span of mules and horsesleading, went ahead, as usual. They left the level mountain valleythat swaddled the lake and started down the steep grades toward theJulia side of the desert.
"We'll have a pull coming back if this keeps up!" Jo shouted throughthe rain, just as Hiram's teams began negotiating the system of hairpincurves upon which Jo's skinners had rolled the boulder in retaliationfor the drained water tank.
Hiram did not hear her, for the wagons were rumbling, thirty-two setsof big hoofs were sloshing in mud, the bells a-jingle, the rain a roar.
Jo wore a yellow oilskin slicker and a sou'wester of the same material,and rubber knee boots. Only her pretty face, smiling from theconcealing garments, showed that she was a woman.
The animals that trailed behind Hiram's wagon went out of sight aroundthe first curve. The last of these mules were not a hundred feet aheadof the noses of Jo's white leaders. As her leaders reached the curveJo called shrilly to her off-pointer to cross the chain and pull thewagon away from the rock wall on the right-hand side. Obediently themare stepped over the chain, and she and her mate began pulling thepole at an angle of forty-five degrees from the direction in which theleaders and swings were traveling. The wagon and its trailer made thesharp curve, and the mare was stepping back into place at Jo's command,when suddenly the girl's breathing was shut off, and she was whippedfrom her feet as if a cyclone had struck her.
Several pairs of arms were about her; a heavy cloth was over her mouthand nose and eyes. Fighting frantically against she knew not what, shewas borne rapidly toward the tail-end of the wagon. Some one's armswere about her middle; another pair circled her shoulders; stillanother held her booted legs at the knees.
She tried to scream, but only a vague b-b-r-r sounded through the cloththat covered her face. She kicked and clawed and twisted and jerkedand squirmed with surprising suddenness. Nevertheless, a rope wasbound about her slicker, round and round from her shoulders to herankles, swathing her like the bandages of a mummy, until she was almostas stiff as one. She heard the roar of the rain, but no sound of hermoving team. She was whipped from the ground as if she weighed no morethan ten pounds; and in a horizontal position the three pairs of armsbore her along rapidly in the direction that she had come, much as ifshe were a roll of canvas bound about with marline hitches.
Presently she felt herself ascending; then wet foliage brushed herface. Not a word had been spoken--almost she had heard not a sound,because of the noise of the rain and the slushy hoofbeats and thebells. Whoever her captors were, they had lain in wait until the elbowof the curve separated Hiram's outfit and hers, and then had climbed inher wagon at the rear and stolen stealthily upon her from behind.Their work had been distressingly thorough.
She was not greatly frightened, merely stunned and bewildered. What onearth could be the meaning of such an act, was the question that keptuppermost in her thoughts as she felt herself borne swiftly alongthrough the dripping forest.
Meantime, Hiram Hooker had looked back to watch Jerkline Jo's whitesround the curve. There were not many opportunities for looking back atthe girl that Hiram did not improve. He loved to watch Jo's experthandling of the team in tight places. It made a picture to delight theheart of any man. He saw the leaders come around, then the swings.Next he saw the off pointer mare recrossing the chain and returning toplace. Then came the butt team and--an empty wagon.
For an instant or two Hiram gazed unbelievingly, then turned and sethis brake, calling to his team to whoa. Next moment he was runningback.
He sprang into Jo's empty wagon, set the brake, and stopped her team.Then he was out by the tail end, running back along the road, callingfrantically.
On the left-hand side of the road yawned a chasm, five hundred feet indepth. Had something happened? Had Jo fallen down this precipice?
As he ran he skirted the edge, shouting down. Only the pelting rainand the swish of forest trees made a mocking answer. If for any reasonthe girl had been obliged to leave the wagon, she would have stoppedher team. This was no place to allow a team to travel alone.
He was thunderstruck--scarce able to believe his senses. Back in theroad he trotted along, his blue eyes searching expertly in the mud forsigns of what had happened. But it seemed that the trampling of theanimals that were following Jo's wagon had obliterated every trace,provided the girl had been afoot in the road. And she must have beenafoot there, or flown up into the sky!
Ah! He came to an abrupt halt. In the mud at the roadside was asingle footprint--the print of a man's shoe. Then on the rock wall onthe right-hand side of the road, and close to the footprint, was freshmud. On hands and knees Hiram climbed up the rocky slope, and at thetop found mud again. Buckthorn bushes grew close by. Some one hadbrushed against them recently, for the raindrops had been shaken fromthe leaves. In all the big-timber country of Mendocino County therehad been no surer trailer than Hiram Hooker. For days he had followedpanther and bear, eventually to track them to their lairs. No biganimal hunt ever had been considered complete without Hiram Hooker togo along.
He remembered the incident of the man in the pines by the lake shoreand groaned: "Fools!" he muttered. "They thought the rain would helpcover their trail, where it only makes it plainer. Men can't travelthrough wet bushes without leaving a trail that looks like it had beenmade with whitewash and a broom. What has happened? Oh, Jo! Jo!"
He was off at a lope, his eyes darting glances hither and thither,following the trail as accurately as a hound follows a scent. Hereleaves glistened with raindrops--there they looked dull. The trail wasplain.
What has happened? The footprint of a man, and no sight of tracks madeby the girl! Hiram was unarmed. He had left his wagon too surprisedto think of grabbing up the Colt that he carried. Should he go backnow and get Jo's six-shooter? No, the rain was falling too fast. Soonthe bushes that the kidnapers had brushed in their escape would becovered with drops of water again, and the tail would vanish, since theland was rocky and showed no footprints. He must keep as close to thefleeing men as possible. He knew there must be more than one tomanhandle Jerkline Jo!
Thus raced his thoughts as he sped on, never for an instant falteringon the trail.
"If it only doesn't rain harder!" came his groan. He prayed withchildlike simplicity against this calamity, for more rain would wipeout the trail altogether.
He saw a large pine knot as he ran along, and paused to grasp it up.It was heavy with pitch and shaped like the warclub of an Indian. Itwas, in fact, too heavy, and few men would have considered it in thelight of a weapon. Fifty yards farther Hiram found a mate to it, andpicked it up too. Then he sped on and on into the forest of pines andfirs, praying that the brush would not give out and make his trailingslower.
If these men ahead of him were trusting to their own legs to get awaywith Jerkline Jo, their legs would have to be better than any HiramHooker ever before had matched his own against. Why, he could keep upthis pace for hours and hours! He knew more about surmounting thedifficulties of a forest wilderness than any man in the south, heproudly told himself. These woods were as nothing compared with themajestic, seemingly endless sweep of the vast forests which he hadroamed since childhood! If they did not take to horses, he'd make themsick of their bargains before they had gone many miles!
The She Boss: A Western Story Page 26