As he got closer, he slowed to a walk, dried his face with his bandanna, and then stuffed it back into his pocket. A group of five or six buzzards circling slowly in the sky sent a warning down his spine. A young woman was worth a good sum of money. If indeed these men had Katie, they wouldn’t just hand her over without a fight. He needed to slow down, be careful. Bungling this could get Katie Brinkman killed, as well as himself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Belle almost collided with Mavis as they each rounded the corner in front of the Toggery at a full run. Mavis pulled up, breathing as hard as she and Emma were. “Where’s Lavinia?” Belle blurted, not wanting to lose another sister. She was heartsick. The last twenty minutes hadn’t turned up a clue.
“She headed for the sheriff’s office to see if Sheriff Dawson is back yet.” People she didn’t know—all wearing worried expressions—hurried by, helping in the search.
“Did you find Blake?” Belle asked. “Does he know what’s happened?” That was the only thought keeping her sane.
A smudge of dirt marred Mavis’s forehead. “No. He wasn’t in the mercantile, and I was told he may have gone over to the livery.”
Belle looked to the end of the street. She’d already been to the livery. Was going back a waste of time? Mr. Daves, the smithy, hadn’t said a thing about Blake—but I never thought to ask about him either.
“What are we going to do?” Emma’s voice was as soft as a baby bird’s. “I can’t believe Katie left the room by herself. It’s so unlike her.”
“She has to be here somewhere,” Mavis stated in a no-nonsense tone that always alerted Belle that her older sister was close to tears. “Did you tell Henry? What does he think?”
Frustrated, Belle clenched her fists. “He wasn’t in his office. If he knows, it’s not because of us telling him. At least we’ve rallied the sheriff—and the whole town. She’ll turn up. She has to.”
Then why didn’t she hear the bell already and come running? What if she’s not able to respond? Or even to hear it?
“I’m sure you’re right,” Emma said, unable to hide the fear in her eyes. “Did anyone check that small business area on Hidden Creek where we had supper? Mademoiselle de Sells? All those small shops there need to be searched. Maybe she fell sick and is lying in an alley all alone, fighting for her life.”
Belle nodded. “Yes, all those small, empty shops. She could be in any one of them.” Hurt or dying. “Good thinking, Emma. You and I will go there next.”
Lavinia hurried up the road, her face shiny red to match her eyes. The hem of her black dress was caked with mud.
“Anything?” Lavinia gasped out as soon as she was close enough.
Belle shook her head. “No. Not a thing. And we still don’t know if Blake and Henry even know what’s transpired. I’d feel so much better if they were here.”
All three turned when Sheriff Clint Dawson came jogging up to the group. A sheen of moisture on his face was proof he’d taken their request seriously.
“Has Katie turned up?”
“No,” Belle answered, feeling angry at the man. He’s supposed to keep people safe! Katie’s disappearance seemed like it was his fault. “Where else can we look?”
“I have men checking the buildings around town, but I’ve yet to hear back.”
Emma let out a low moan, and Belle slipped an arm around her back.
“It’s time I get a posse mounted and extend the search,” he said. “Did anyone thoroughly search the hotel? Could she have gone into the sitting room and fallen asleep in a chair in a dark corner?”
“We thought of that a little while ago,” Mavis said, her back stiff with worry. “The woman who works in the café helped us search. She unlocked every room.”
“What about the deserted restaurant across from the hotel?” he asked. “The boards would have to be pulled off the door.”
“Yes, that’s been done.”
The sheriff let go a deep sigh. “All right. As soon as I hear back from the man searching the outskirts and vacated buildings, we’ll mount up and begin a sweep of the outlying land. You girls best go back to your room so nothing else happens to the rest of you.”
Mavis looked him in the eye. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Exactly,” Belle added, a hint of exasperation in her voice. “I think you forget we’re Brinkmans, Sheriff. Our father and our grandfather helped to build this town! We won’t quit until we have our sister back—and not a moment before.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Fifty feet from the peddler, Blake called out. “Hello, wagon!” A picture of Katie bound and gagged in the back kept rolling around in his head. He remembered the night Mrs. Brinkman, after supper was finished and the dishes were dried and put away, had let each older girl, with her help, hold two-week-old Katie for a few minutes. Blake, still feeling like an outsider, hadn’t expected a turn. When Mrs. Brinkman had asked, he’d shyly nodded, carefully balancing a pink-faced Katie in his arms. The tiny blanket-wrapped bundle hardly weighed anything. And Blake had been astonished at how awake the infant was. He’d also been moved by the warmth he’d seen in Mrs. Brinkman’s eyes when she regarded him. Had she wanted a son? In the candlelight, Belle sidled up, tipping her face as the infant gazed up at them with all the trust in the world. The memory was one of his favorites.
Blake’s heart tripped. Katie has to be alive. She just has to be.
The rider looked back. Blake watched him lean over and say something to the driver. The wagon rolled on, but the rider pulled up and waited for him.
Blake plastered a wide smile on his face as he watched the man’s gaze take in the sweat under his armpits—and then fall to his thigh, where his Colt should be strapped. To his relief, Santiago’s horse did have a canteen looped around the saddle horn, plausible for a man setting off, but no saddlebags or bedroll. Selling himself might prove difficult.
The man was white. Middle-aged. Had seen his fair share of fights, judging by the scar at the side of his eye, another on his chin, and a disfigured nose.
“Howdy,” the man said, low, out of the corner of his mouth. “Only a fool ventures the Old Spanish Trail without his weapon.” He narrowed his eyes. “Or a desperate man. Which’re you?”
Blake took a deep breath and slowly let the air escape through his mouth. He reached up, lifted his hat, dragged his shirtsleeve across his moist brow. “I’ve been called worse, I guess,” he replied after a half-hearted chuckle. “Fool or buffoon. But it can’t be helped. I never did take to guns; the loud blast gets my ears every time, as well as spooks my horse. Gave up on ’em long ago.” He looked around. “Hot for this time of year, ain’t it? Seen any banditos?”
The fella blinked back his surprise and then slowly smiled, revealing a row of stained and broken teeth. All Blake could think about was the retreating wagon.
A sly smile appeared. “Banditos? Not today.”
Blake slouched in his saddle. “That’s a relief.” He started forward, and the man followed. “I’m on my way to the mining camp on the Animas River. Are you with the wagon ahead?”
“You talk a lot—for a stranger.”
Blake shrugged noncommittally, but squeezed his mount. The horse extended his stride, forcing the other fellow to jog to keep up. Hoping not to get shot in the back, Blake pushed the horse into a slow lope. Soon, he was only a couple of lengths away from the wagon. He slowed to a walk. The other fellow reined up beside him, clearly perturbed.
Blake strained to hear anything. A woman’s cries or struggles. But there were only the buzz of katydids, his horse’s footfalls, and the crunch of wagon wheels on the dry earth. Is Katie in there, bound and gagged? Has the worst already happened? He finally rode up alongside—to find an ancient Chinese peddler holding the reins.
“Well, howdy,” Blake said, hoping that if Katie was inside, she didn’t make a fuss if she recognized his voice. “I’ve been wondering who was driving.” He felt a little more optimistic now that he’d seen
the rider’s companion. He couldn’t be more than five feet tall. “I’m sure glad to meet up with y’all. Don’t like riding by myself since I’m unarmed. There’s safety in numbers, my pa used to say.” He grinned like a fool and hoped he wasn’t about to get the back of his head blown off. He didn’t see any weapons on the driver, but that didn’t mean the man didn’t have a revolver hidden beneath the robe he was wearing or under the seat. His guard had plenty of firepower, though. Enough to make Blake a bit twitchy.
There! A sound. Maybe a boot heel along the floorboards. This deep sensation I have can’t be wrong. Hold on, Katie. I’m coming, but this can’t be rushed.
Blake pretended he hadn’t heard a thing and began plotting how he’d take the rider first and then the driver. Beating up an elderly man didn’t sit well with his conscience. Maybe after he had the tough-looking guard subdued, the driver would give up and hand Katie over. What are the chances of that happening?
A metal pot, a lantern, and other odds and ends hung from hooks on the side of the wagon. “You have any food for sale?” he asked. “It’s a far piece to my destination. I set out rather off the cuff. This burning in my belly won’t keep me for seventy-eight miles, give or take a few.”
The peddler looked his way and studied him for several seconds. “Off cuff? Why dat?”
“I’m a messenger delivering a communication to the foreman of the Rio Grande Railroad Company. After getting my orders, I got to talkin’ in the saloon, like men do. Being stupid, I rode out without any supplies. Now it’s too late to go back. I should have packed a few edibles for the trip, but I didn’t. I have money if you have any eats to sell.” He waggled his eyebrows at the wagon and licked his lips. “Maybe you’d like to make a dollar on your ride down the trail? Whaddaya say?”
The rider was even with him again, and Blake gauged the distance between them.
“Message?” the peddler said. “Let us see.”
Blake tapped his temple under the brim of his hat and smiled. “All up here. Every last word.”
“You share with us, I give eats,” the Chinese peddler said softly. “Not charge friend. Eats for free.”
“I couldn’t do that. Don’t take charity. Never have. I’ll pay my share. Besides, the message is private. Only to be given to the foreman. You fellas don’t want me to lose my job, do ya?” He’d begun pleading about halfway through his little speech—and ignored the way the rider’s gaze kept searching out the driver’s. They wouldn’t kill him just to kill him, but he had no doubt they would if they suspected he was really hunting for Katie.
The driver shrugged. “When we stop.”
“I hate to beg, but I can’t wait that long.” He rode close to the wagon now. The guard moved to within arm’s length. “My stomach is near on—”
A low, garbled “Help!” sounded from inside.
If he heard the cry, Katie’s captors had as well.
Blake lunged across with his right arm and grasped the handle of the pot dangling on the side of the wagon. Swinging wide, he smacked the rider square in the face. The man fell from his horse like a sack of potatoes.
Before the guard hit the dirt, Blake swung back. The peddler halted the wagon and scrambled up in the seat. Several small silver daggers glittered in his hands. Blake had seen throwing knives like these before. They were fast and deadly.
With a speed of a rattlesnake, the Chinese peddler flung the first blade.
Blake spurred his horse, and it bolted forward. The blade sank deep in the leather skirt of his saddle. From the corner of his eye, Blake saw the peddler again raise his arm. Without thinking, he hauled back on the reins, then turned the horse on his haunches as a blade sizzled past his ear—and another his forehead. How many did the old man have?
Arm up again! This time, as if cutting a steer, Blake spurred with his left heel, making the horse jump to the side. The dagger impaled the canteen, and water spurted everywhere.
Blake charged the wagon. The frightened horses danced in their harnesses.
The driver must be out of knives because he’d turned to clamber inside.
Blake galloped forward, leaned from the saddle, and pulled the Colt from the holster belonging to the unconscious man on the ground. He vaulted onto the side of the wagon. Instead of entering from the front like the peddler had, he yanked open the back door.
Blake stared down the barrel of a shotgun.
A cry of pain pierced the air. The small man rocked to the side, and the shotgun fell to the floor with a clatter. Blake jumped forward and struck him in the head with the butt of the Colt.
Katie! Bound and gagged. Her eyes swollen red. Beaded sweat rolled down the side of her face, mixing with her tears. But there was no mistake. If she hadn’t kicked the peddler’s knee out from beneath him, Blake would be dead right now.
Relief coursed through him.
“I’ll be right back, Katie. Give me one minute to make sure the other fella doesn’t wake up and give us trouble.” He cast a confident look at the knife thrower. “He’s out good. I’ll have you out of here quickly.”
Blake jumped out into the sandy loam and strode over to the unconscious outlaw. The man’s bloody face was smashed into the dirt. The anger Blake felt at the sight of John’s youngest bound and gagged smoldered in his gut.
Without any hesitation, he struck the man full force over the head again with his gun to be sure he remained unconscious until things with Katie were squared away.
He turned to the sound of a fast-approaching horse arriving in a plume of dust.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
A cry of joy sprang from Belle’s lips when she spotted Blake riding up the street with Katie behind him, her arms wrapped around his middle. Her face, covered with dirt and grime, showed the tracks of her tears, but it was still the prettiest sight Belle had ever seen. Blake’s hat was pushed back, and there was no mistaking the grin on his face.
“It’s Katie!” she called out. “She’s alive!”
Along with Lavinia, Mavis, and Emma, Belle ran from the boardwalk after their tenth circuit around the town, searching every building from top to bottom as if for the first time. A congregation of people followed behind Blake, and Santiago rode proudly at Blake’s side, his gaze straying often to her sister.
“What happened?” Lavinia called when they were within hearing distance. “Katie, where’ve you been?”
“Shame on you, Lavinia,” Mavis chastised. “That can wait. How are you, Katie?” she asked instead. “Are you hurt?”
All Belle could think was, Thank God!
The two groups met in the middle of the street in front of Poor Fred’s Saloon, and everyone pushed in tight. Santiago, looking more dashing than ever, dismounted first. He reached up and plucked Katie off the back of Blake’s mount, setting her feet on the ground beside him. Once her feet hit the dirt, Belle and the rest rushed forward, circling, petting, kissing.
“I’m all right,” Katie said softly. She kept her gaze fastened on the ground between them. Her hands trembled, and when her face clouded over, Belle thought she was going to cry. “I’m just so thankful Blake found me.” She turned into his arms and wrapped her own around him, causing a murmur in the crowd. She placed her head on his chest and closed her eyes.
Belle, thinking how much Katie hated confined areas, pushed back at the crowd. “Give her some breathing room. She looks white. You’re not going to faint, are you, Katie?”
Katie shook her head.
“So what happened?” a man standing behind them called out. “Where’ve you been? The whole town’s been searching for almost two hours. The sheriff and his posse are still out looking.”
Santiago turned and glowered at him, causing a hush to fall over the crowd.
Katie opened her eyes and stepped away from Blake. “I was kidnapped.”
Everyone gasped.
“The Chinese peddler and his hired man left with more than they arrived with,” Santiago said with a sneer. “It was Blake who found he
r. I secured the scoundrels in the back of the wagon and drove them back. They’re parked in front of the cantina.”
Hot shivers coursed down Belle’s spine. And what did they intend for Katie? A life worse than hell.
Blake still hadn’t said anything. She turned to him.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “You saved our little sister. You’re our hero. We can never thank you enough.”
Blake smiled shyly. “Without Katie’s fast thinking, I’d be a dead man now, and she’d be on her way to Santa Fe or Mexico. She was pretty heroic herself.”
Emma reached out and stroked Katie’s shoulder. “Really? You saved Blake? Tell us what happened, Katie. Why did you leave the hotel room?”
Shame crossed Katie’s face. “I was so stupid. Please forgive me. I—”
“Shh,” Belle said softly. “Nobody’s blaming you. Accidents happen, and that goes for a slip in judgment as well. We’re all”—she looked around at the townspeople she was finally beginning to recognize—“just thankful you’re here, safe and alive. Nothing else matters.”
“We just want to know what transpired,” another person called.
Katie took a deep breath, her lips wobbling.
Belle thought her little sister must be the strongest of them all.
“I was sitting by the window in my room when the peddler’s wagon I’d seen before parked behind the hotel. At my teachers’ school in Philadelphia, I’d read about Chinese medicine. Their remedies are so old. So fascinating.”
The crowd pressed tighter, trying to hear. Katie’s breathing became labored, and sweat slicked her forehead.
“Back up, everyone,” Belle said. “Please give her some space. She doesn’t like confined spaces.” Blake offered Katie his arm as support.
“Mavis had gone to the mercantile,” Katie said, “so I thought it couldn’t hurt if I hurried out before the peddler passed through and asked a few questions.”
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