by Ana Leigh
As the two men lifted her back onto the saddle, Jenny glanced at Andrea. She knew the tears running down her aunt’s cheeks were for her. She realized that she had taken her aunt’s lifelong devotion to her for granted, and had not shown enough appreciation for it. She’d never told her she loved her not only as an aunt, but as a friend. Her only friend. Somehow, some way, she would tell her before these animals harmed them. Murdered them.
The patrol was their only hope. Was that cocky scout with them? “I’m much better at the task than most.” Now would be the time to prove it, Rico Fraser.”
The sun had set by the time the fleeing gang reached the water hole. Slatter lifted Jenny off her horse and pulled her over to the shade of a tree. “You ain’t lookin’ so good, sister.”
Jenny was so thirsty, her throat felt swollen and she could barely speak. “Please, Mr. Slatter, may I have a drink of water?”
“Hey, Curly, fill a canteen and bring it over here,” he ordered. “And take care of the other bitch. We don’t want these ladies dyin’ of thirst, do we, boys?”
“Her name is Andrea,” Jenny declared defiantly.
Slatter shoved her to the ground. “Sit down and keep your mouth shut. Eddie, you see to waterin’ the horses. We’ll rest here for a few minutes and then get movin’.”
Putting her mind toward a way of escaping, Jenny glanced across the clearing to where Andrea was sitting under a tree. Hands tied, kept separated so they couldn’t talk to each other, how could they ever plan an escape?
Sighing, she checked her throbbing knee. It had stopped bleeding, but it needed to be cleansed and bandaged. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the tree.
Where is that patrol? A vision of the tanned face, thick dark hair, and brown velvet of the scout’s eyes flashed through her mind more often than she wanted to admit. Where are you, Rico Fraser?
Curly handed Slatter the canteen, and after he drank his fill, he held it to her mouth. She couldn’t swallow it fast enough and began to choke, which only produced a laugh from the bully. “Thought ya was thirsty,” he said.
The water helped to soothe her throat, but no sooner had she begun to feel better than Slatter announced it was time to move on. Wearily, she got to her feet.
Before they could mount up, Kansas arrived on the scene. “I think we lost that patrol, boss. ’Pears we ain’t bein’ followed no more.”
“Ya better be damn sure of that, ’cause if them soldier boys show up here, I’ll shoot ya myself.”
“I’m tellin’ you, Ben, we’ve lost them. There ain’t been a sign of dust behind us for hours. I need a drink.”
“Sit yerself back down, sister.” Slatter ordered. He and Kansas walked away and joined the Carson brothers.
Despondently, Jenny sank back down and tried to hear what the men were saying as they talked among themselves. If what Kansas said was true, there was no hope for a patrol rescuing them.
Slatter retrieved a bottle of whiskey from his saddlebag, and Jenny watched worriedly as he drank from it as the men argued. Time and again, she heard Curly raise his voice in anger to declare they should keep moving until they reached the town. Kansas agreed. It sounded as if Slatter and Eddie wanted to camp at the water hole.
“Who’s runnin’ this gang?” Slatter finally shouted. “We stay here for the night.”
Jenny braced for the worst when he trudged back with his saddlebags in one hand and the whiskey bottle in the other. Dropping the saddlebags, he sat down and dug out a stick of jerky and began to chew on it.
“You hungry, sister?”
Food was the furthest thing from her mind, but she attempted to stall him. “A little.”
He held the jerky to her mouth. “Take a bite of this.”
She wanted to gag, but did as he said.
“Tastes better when you wash it down with this.” He shoved the whiskey bottle to her mouth, and she had no choice but to swallow. The scalding liquid burned her throat and she started to cough.
Slatter laughed. “Ya ain’t much of a drinker, are you, sister?”
“No, I don’t drink alcohol.”
“Bet a proper lady like you never tasted it before.” He took another deep swallow.
“That’s not true. If I dislike something, it’s because I’ve tried it before.”
“’Zat right. Ever tried killing a man?”
“Of course not.”
“Then how d’ya know if you’d like doin’ it or not?”
“If you untie my hands and give me your gun, I’ll find out.”
He threw back his head in laughter. “I like your spunk. Too bad I’m gonna hafta kill ya when we’re through with ya. Wouldn’t mind keepin’ ya around for a while.”
“If you intended to kill us, why did you leave a ransom note?”
“The pickins have been slim lately, and we need some cash. Yer papa’s a rich man.”
“Then you don’t intend to return us to him?”
His chilling laugh sent a shiver down her spine. “No, but once we get the money, I’ll let him know where he can find your bodies.”
His eyelids were starting to droop from the whiskey. If she could just keep him talking, maybe she could delay the inevitable.
“Would you untie my hands, Mr. Slatter? My wrists are rubbed raw, and my knee needs to be cleansed.”
He shifted over and shoved up her skirt. She forced herself not to shudder when his fingers curled around her calf as he examined the cut.
“Reckon it could use a cleaning.” He poured some water from the canteen over it.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You see, old Ben ain’t so bad after all.”
“Will you free my wrists?”
Uncertain of his intent, she held her breath when he pulled the knife out of the top of his boot. He reeked of whiskey and body odor, and she turned her head when he leaned across her to cut the rope binding her wrists.
Relieved, she stretched out her arms in front of her. “Oh, thank you.”
His cold eyes followed every move as she wet the hem of her skirt and dabbed at her knee. “Waste of time, sister. Ya won’t be around much longer, so it ain’t gonna matter. Ya shouldn’t have made me lose my temper. I didn’t want to hurt ya, but I don’t take no sass from a woman—’specially in front of my men.” He took another deep swallow from the bottle. “They depend on me to look after them.”
She pretended to believe him. “I can see that.”
“I didn’t pick this life,” he continued. “I had a nice little spread in California, ’til the bank took it away from me ’cause I couldn’t keep up the payments.”
“Is that when you turned to a life of crime?”
“Reckon you could say that. My wife died and I lost interest in the place.”
“That’s unfortunate. What did she die from?” Revulsion, no doubt.
Slatter drank from the bottle again. “She stumbled and hit her head against the fireplace.”
Stumbled, indeed. More than likely she was shoved, or he banged her head against that fireplace. “How tragic. Do you have any children, Mr. Slatter?”
“No. The woman weren’t no good at producin’ offspring.” The corner of his mouth curled in a salacious smirk. “Bet a gal like you is made for birthin’ kids. Havin’ you for a wife would drive a man to spend more time in bed then out of it.”
She cringed when he reached out and groped her breast. “Yep, these tits of yours are made for a baby—or a man—to be suckin’ and lickin’.”
She wanted to throw up. She had to change his train of thought, or he’d be on her like the animal he was. “You know, Mr. Slatter, my father won’t give you a cent if he has no proof Andrea and I are alive. Now, I could convince him to give you more cash than you asked for.”
He tossed the empty bottle away. “Ya must think I’m dumb, sister. Ya think I’m gonna ride up to the front door with ya? He’d have a whole troop of cavalry waitin’ for me.”
“Then keep me with you,
and send a note back with Andrea for him to bring you the money alone. As long as I’m your hostage, my father couldn’t call in the cavalry, knowing you’d kill me.”
“Yeah, but once he has ya back, the whole United States Cavalry would show up.”
“I don’t think he’d risk my life trying that trick. And even if he did, you escaped from them before, didn’t you? I can’t believe you couldn’t do it again. Surely the fortune you would get from him would be worth more to you than the satisfaction of raping and killing us.”
“That’s for sure. There’s plenty of bitches in the world for a man to screw. Now you, sweetheart, have got a lot of spunk and fight in ya. I like a woman to fight me when I take her. I figure that aunt of yours is already dead from the neck down. She ain’t fought or spoke up since we grabbed ya.”
“Of course not. You’ve threatened her if she did.”
Slatter yawned as the whiskey finally took effect. “I threatened you, too, but ya don’t pay it no mind.” Slatter’s words slurred and his eyelids drooped. “Sure ain’t shut ya up at all,” he mumbled, just before he fell back in a drunken stupor.
For a long moment, Jenny held her breath. Had he really passed out? In the moonlight, she saw that two of the others were stretched out, but Kansas got up and headed over to them. She quickly put her hands behind her back as if they were still bound, and closed her eyes.
“Ben, what do—”
Jenny opened her eyes. “He’s asleep. I think he passed out from the whiskey.”
Kansas listened to the snores emanating from the drunken sleeper. “Yeah, he drinks himself to sleep every night. When he wakes up, he’s meaner than a rattler in the sun.”
“Is Andrea all right?” she asked.
“For now. None us dare touch her ’til Ben has her first.” He walked away.
For the first time since their abduction, Jenny felt some hope. As soon as Kansas fell asleep, she would free Andrea and they’d try to escape. Even if the attempt failed, they were doomed regardless.
Pretending to sleep, Jenny forced herself not to move.
Patience, Jenny. Just be patient.
4
Don Masters folded his arms across his chest and leaned against a tree as he watched Rico examining a couple of crushed leaves on the ground.
“This is their trail, all right.” Rico stood up and gazed thoughtfully toward the west.
“What makes you think a few crushed leaves is their trail?” Don asked. “A wild animal could have crushed those leaves.”
“Could have, but didn’t.” Rico climbed on Bucephalus and rode away.
Don scurried to mount up and follow. “Dammit, Rico, I’m not a child,” Masters said when he caught up with him. “Do you mind telling me why you’re so certain this is their trail?”
“Those leaves were pressed into the ground. That would take a heavy weight,” Rico said.
“Like a horse and rider—is that what you’re thinking?” When Rico nodded, Masters added, “There are some big cats in this area, you know.”
Rico shook his head. “A cat is light-footed; it would never disturb those leaves like that. But a shod horse would.”
“So would a lumbering bear,” Masters argued.
Rico’s patience was dwindling quickly. He was used to traveling alone and not explaining his actions to anyone except his horse. “A bear would have eaten the eggs in the quail nest that was nearby, Captain Masters.”
“I didn’t see any nest.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Disgusted, Rico goaded his horse to a faster gait.
“Don’t you think we should slow up a little?” Don warned. “At the rate we’re traveling, we could thunder into their camp before we even realize it.”
“If that’s your worry, you can slow down. I know what I’m doing.”
“I’m sure you do, but logically, this doesn’t make sense. It’s slower heading higher into the mountains than taking the quicker route to the border. They must know they’d be better off there, because the patrol is forbidden to cross into Mexico.”
Rico snorted. “Maybe they figured the army would lose the trail in the mountains.”
“They had no way of knowing the patrol would lose the trail, so your sarcasm isn’t necessary, Rico. I may not be as knowledgeable at following a trail as you, but I do know horses. You’ll run them to death if you keep up this pace.”
Rico glared at him. “That bastard’s not escaping from me this time.”
“Then why don’t you take the time to think this through thoroughly and weigh all the possible options, instead of racing off in a gallop?”
“I’m racing against the sun, Captain. If we can reach them tonight, we might be in time to save the women.”
“Then you do feel there’s hope for them?”
“From dying? Maybe. From being raped? I doubt it.”
“At least answer me this,” Don said. “At this rate of speed, isn’t there the danger of losing the trail?”
“I’ve figured out they’re headed for Perdition.”
“From what I’ve heard of them, I’m sure of it. They deserve to burn in hell.”
“I’m referring to the town, Masters.”
“I didn’t know there was such a town. We never patrol this particular area, and I’ve never seen it on a map.”
Rico slowed the pace. “That’s because decent folks don’t go near it. It’s just a few scattered buildings, no law, and a haven for every outlaw and cutthroat in the territory. Until he gets the ransom, I figure he might hole up there.”
“If this town is as bad as you say, Slatter might have more men waiting there.”
“I suppose he could, but he never has before. Slatter, the Carson brothers, and Kansas Brody have been riding together for at least the past three years.”
“Have you been to Perdition before?”
“Once. I trailed a deserter to it, but he’d already gotten into a fight with one of the locals and died from a knife to his gut. I didn’t hang around to claim his corpse.” Rico grinned at him. “You still want to continue on, Masters?”
Don’s jaw hardened in determination. “More than ever. They’ve had to keep moving as fast as we have, so I believe the women are still alive or we’d have discovered their bodies.”
“Maybe you’re catching on after all, Captain Masters.”
Perdition was nothing more than a cluster of small terra-cotta–roofed structures and mud huts. Darkness had descended when they reached it. The few people on the street appeared to be Mexican and regarded them with curiosity as they rode into the town.
Spanish was a second language to Rico, but when he’d asked about Slatter, he received only head shakes or shrugs. Nobody claimed to have seen him.
They dismounted in front of the cantina and tied their horses to the hitching post.
“If they’re in town, I’d think we’d find a couple of them here,” Rico said.
“Do you think you’d recognize any of that gang if you saw them?” Don asked.
“I never forget a face, amigo. Especially that of someone who tried to hang me.”
“What if they recognize you?” Don asked.
“I doubt they would. It was three years ago, and I wore a mustache down to my chin back then.” He rubbed a hand across the dark stubble on his jaw. “I haven’t shaved for the past five days, so that helps, too. Remember, I’ll do the talking,” Rico said, pulling his rifle from the sling.
“You figure on doing it with that Winchester?”
“If I’m lucky enough to find them here.”
Rico shoved open the swinging doors and looked around through the haze of tobacco smoke. Five men were playing cards at one of the tables. A half dozen other men were at scattered tables and two more were standing at the bar.
The occupants all glanced up and regarded them with the same curiosity, before returning to their drinks or their card game.
“See any of them?” Don whispered.
Rico gave h
im a disgruntled glance. “Keep your mouth shut.” He moved to the bar and tossed down a gold piece. “Couple beers.”
“Whiskey only,” the bartender said. He filled a shot glass for each of them, then regarded them through narrowed eyes set closely in a blotched face. “Don’t recall seeing you boys before.”
“Slatter around?” Rico asked.
“Don’t recall the name,” the bartender said.
“He’s expecting us,” Rico said calmly. “Told us to meet him here. We’ll wait. And send over a couple plates of steak and potatoes.” He picked up the bottle and glasses and moved to a table.
“What do you have in mind now?” Don asked quietly. “Are we going to sit here all night waiting for Slatter to show up?”
“Be quiet and let me think,” Rico said. “Just eat fast so we can get out of here.”
As soon as they finished their meal, the bartender came over to collect their plates. “Where can we get a room for the night?” Rico asked.
“I’ve got one upstairs that’s open.”
“We’ll take it. When Slatter shows up, tell him where he can find us. You got a livery in this town?”
“End of the street,” the bartender said.
“Any whores around?”
“My wife. She works the rooms when she ain’t frying steaks in the kitchen. She’ll take you both on at the same time.”
Rico wanted to punch the salacious smirk off the bastard’s face. “Sure about that? We both like it rough.”
“She likes it any way she can get it, boys.”
“If she’s half as good as she is at cooking, I figure we’re all in for a good time. Right, pal?” Rico poked an elbow into Don’s ribs. “We’ll be back as soon as we take care of our horses.”
Outside, Rico started to lead his horse toward the livery, and grinned when the swinging door on the cantina squeaked as they walked away. “Don’t turn around, but I think my plan is working. A man at the next table was listening to our conversation. I think we’re about to find out where Slatter is.”