‘Drop your gun, Mr Kypp. I’ve got you in my aim and I can shoot you dead.’
Angus heard Kypp’s vicious profanity. There was an awful moment when nothing seemed to happen, while the old man’s brain was ticking over as fast as a newly wound clock.
‘Drop it, Mr Kypp.’ The girl’s voice came again. ‘You’ve got five seconds. One, two, three….’
Kypp’s gun thudded down into the snow.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Angus heaved himself to his feet. He drew his Navy Colt and thumbed back the hammer, standing unsteadily but aiming it true at the crouched figure of the man who now appeared as the pitiful dwarf he was.
‘Put your hands up,’ Angus demanded.
Cursing, the old man complied.
It was then that the girl appeared, stepping out from the trees like a descending angel. Angus had never in any way associated her gentle nature with guns, nor did he have any cause to now. She held nothing in her hands but a short branch.
Kypp noticed too and unleashed an angry howl. Angus was recovering from his fall, was not lowering his guard against the old scoundrel for a moment – but his voice came gratefully.
‘Elizabeth, I told you not to come out here, but I’m beholden that you did. Thanks.’
‘I was so scared,’ she murmured, the firmness having left her tone. ‘I was so scared he’d shoot you.’
‘I was only bluffin’,’ Kypp muttered, but Angus was not convinced.
‘Elizabeth,’ Angus said, keeping his eyes and gun on Kypp. With his free hand, he reached into his pocket and extracted a pocket knife. ‘Cut a good length of rope from that trip-line.’
Obediently the girl took the knife; with trembling hands she opened it out.
‘Don’t cut the rope,’ Kypp pleaded. ‘It’s the best rope I ever had.’ Angus ignored his plea.
‘Cut the rope,’ he repeated, and when she had done it, he said; ‘Hold the gun. Keep it pointed at him, and if he tries anything, you shoot him. I really mean that.’
Elizabeth nodded. She was in a highly agitated state, violence and threats not being part of her gentle nature, but she was being incredibly brave. She took the Navy Colt and with both hands held it aligned with Kypp.
Stepping carefully, making sure not to get between the muzzle of the gun and its possible target, Angus had the old man lower his hands, and he wound the rope around his body, binding his arms to his sides. All the while, Kypp was chuntering with frustrated fury, but soon he was quite helpless.
‘Keep him covered, Elizabeth,’ Angus said. ‘Where’s your horse?’
‘Tethered back in the trees,’ she responded.
‘I’ll catch Judas,’ he said, ‘then we’ll ride on for the homestead. And, Elizabeth. …’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m real grateful for what you did.’
Angus limped away and found his sorrel standing in the shelter of the tree. The animal was trembling and skittish, showing the whites of his eyes, but from a quick feel of his legs Angus was pretty sure that the fall had not seriously injured him. The same went for himself, he concluded thankfully, though his body was probably black and blue.
Linus explained that he had a horse, tethered not far away. Angus sent Elizabeth away to release it and fetch her own, which she had done within five minutes. Kypp’s animal could find its own way home. Angus had no intention of letting the old man ride. Let him stumble along!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was well after midnight when they eventually reached the run-down dwelling that was the Kypps’s residence. They had ridden in grim silence, battling against wind and snow. A light shone from the window. They reined in their tired animals on the slope fronting the place. The old man was exhausted and totally dispirited. Angus had showed him no mercy, forcing him to stumble on. But now Angus felt invigorated by the knowledge that he might be on the threshold of reclaiming Anna. He was mighty grateful that Elizabeth had come along despite his reluctance for her to do so. My God, he had ample reason to be!
Linus Kypp had slumped to the muddy ground; his legs had finally given out. It seemed he couldn’t care less what happened next, but Angus didn’t trust him one iota. Angus cupped his hands to his mouth and called: ‘Hullo there!’
The response was a twitching of the curtain, a movement of the lantern from inside, then the door opened and the slim figure of Arabella Kypp appeared, drawing a shawl about her shoulders. She was holding the lantern.
‘Who is there?’ she enquired anxiously.
‘It’s Angus Troon. We won’t harm you if you do as you’re told.’
‘Oh….’
‘Stay here, Elizabeth,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘Keep your eye on the old man.’
She murmured her understanding as he slipped from his saddle. His body still ached all over, but expectation had him quickly moving down the slope into the brighter circle of Arabella Kypp’s lantern.
‘Are you alone?’ he demanded.
Arabella hesitated, then said: ‘Sí. Where’s Linus?’
He noticed how her dark hair was flattened and wet. She must have been outside recently.
‘Linus is resting for a moment,’ he explained. ‘He’s had a long walk. Give me the light.’
He took the lantern from her hand and walked straight past her and into the cabin. Many unwholesome smells assailed his nostrils, but one was more distinctive than the others. It was baby.
The whole place was a tip; everything was littered about and filthy-looking. Half-finished food, dirty dishes, cast-off clothing, muddy boots. Even the pictures on the wall were hanging crooked. There were three small rooms, leading off what stood for the parlour – and the full, insistent cry of a child led him to the third. He saw a cot against the far wall and he could hardly breathe with emotion.
‘Leave the baby,’ Arabella cried from behind him. ‘’Tis not yours!’
Angus ignored her, unable to stop the name of Anna from coming to his lips. He placed the lantern on a table. He reached into the cradle and drew the child out, his heart hammering, his gaze centring on small face, its mouth open as it screamed with fear. He struggled to mould the child’s reddened features into those of Anna. It took him twenty seconds before he was totally convinced. And then the dreadful truth dawned on him.
This was not his child.
‘Where’s my Anna?’ he shouted above the bawl. ‘Where’s my baby?
‘I told you,’ Arabella said. “Tis not yours. I do not know about your chica.’
‘You’re lying,’ he snapped out, but she stood, hands on hips, shaking her dark head from side to side.
‘I know nothing of your chica.’
He returned the struggling baby to its cradle and Arabella stepped past him, picked it up and hugged it against her breast, gradually soothing its cries.
He felt devastated. He wanted to weep with frustration, with disappointment. He paced the room clenching and unclenching his fists.
‘Where’s Glaswall?’ he shouted at last. ‘He must know where Anna is!’
‘Glaswall?’ she murmured vaguely. ‘He has not been here for a long time.’
He stamped through the cabin. He climbed the slope to where Elizabeth still sat her horse and Linus lay upon the snowy ground.
Angus reached down, grabbed the old man by the shoulders. ‘I thought you said my child was here!’
Linus groaned. Angus shook him really hard.
‘I’m an old man,’ he gasped. ‘I can’t tell one kid from another, not when they’re that age!’
Angus threw him back into the snow like a discarded sack.
‘Poor Angus,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I’m so sorry.’
He looked up in the gloom and saw the pale oval of her face. She was shivering. He felt a compassion for her. The tension and long hard ride of the night, and the cold, were taking a toll on her slight young body. He rubbed her hands to get the blood flowing. ‘We best get you home,’ he said. ‘Your folks will be worried sick.’
‘No they won’t,’ she responded quickly. ‘They won’t be worried at all.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I told them I’d be with you, Angus.’
Had he been in better spirits, he would have felt flattered. As it was, he pondered for a moment. ‘Well, we’ll ride for Kelly’s Hole,’ he said. ‘We should be able to get some shelter there. Find somewhere warm and start back in the morning.’
‘Yes, Angus.’
The old man, still tied on the ground, was struggling to sit up. ‘Don’t tell Johnny I tripped your horse up,’ he pleaded. ‘He’d kill me if he knew I’d done that to a horse.’
Angus grunted. He felt the old man was not quite right mentally.
He slipped his foot into the stirrup, pulled himself into the saddle, and as he and Elizabeth edged their horses up the slope, he took a quick backward glance. Arabella had rushed out from the cabin to her prostrated husband, her young tongue berating him like that of an experienced shrew.
Kelly’s Hole was a dead-bit place at the best of times, just a collection of shacks and small buildings, some of sod, some of logs, cast haphazardly on the prairie like buffalo droppings. In the small hours of a dreary night, with the snow thickening, a person couldn’t have wished for a less cosy place. The settlement had originally been erected in a dip resembling a huge buffalo-wallow. This had been fine for protection against the sharp prairie winds, but come storms and rain the place became flooded.
As they rode up what purported to be main street, Angus spotted a sign swinging in the wind: KELLY’S GRAND GUEST HOUSE. Their horses needed little encouragement to trail to a halt. Angus slid from his saddle and banged his fist against the door. They waited an age, then a lantern flared from within and the door was opened by a scrawny man in a striped nightshirt.
With ill-grace, he agreed to provide shelter for both travellers and horses, though what crazy reasons they had for being abroad on such a foul night he could not imagine. The place was ramshackle and grubby, but after the discomforts of the outside world, it provided welcome shelter.
Their host poked some life into an open fire, put on two big logs, and supplied blankets for his guests. Angus said they would sit by the fire until the morning. The man nodded and shuffled off to his bed.
Without emotion Angus helped Elizabeth remove her wet outer garments, and suddenly it came to him that she was not a child, but a woman with fine young breasts. She was drawing her soft body against his, and there was a trembling in her, an intensity that frightened him.
‘Oh, Angus,’ she murmured huskily.
‘You mustn’t catch a cold,’ he said, and swiftly drew a blanket about her.
He did the same for himself, and they sat by the fire. He knew she was annoyed with him. Presently he heard her breathing become steady and she rested on his shoulder. She had drifted into sleep. For a long time he listened to the wind ravaging outside, the draught down the chimney having the flames in the fireplace dancing, and in those flames he swore he saw Leah’s face.
The disappointment of not finding Anna rested inside him like a heavy stone, but eventually sheer weariness drew him into slumber.
When the first glimmer of morning light showed through the windows, thinning the shadows in the room, he was awake. An idea was in his mind, like a chick struggling to escape the egg. It represented a remote possibility. Perhaps all was not lost.
Run down though the guest-house was, the owner certainly laid on a hearty breakfast of eggs, pork, flapjacks and strong black coffee. As Angus and Elizabeth sat at the saw-horse table, Angus posed a question to their host.
‘Is there a doctor in Kelly’s Hole?’
‘Are you crazy!’ The other man looked at him as if he was out of his head. ‘You’ll have to ride twenty miles to see a doctor.’
Angus nodded, frowning. ‘How do they go for birthing here, then? Is there a midwife?’
‘Why … is this young lady expectin’? She sure looks mighty slim.’
Elizabeth blushed, shaking her head.
‘No, it’s not that,’ Angus said. ‘It’s just something I need to ask.’
The host looked totally mystified. ‘Bertha Hopkins,’ he said. ‘End of street, left hand side. She ain’t exactly over-employed here.’
Angus said: ‘Thanks,’ and tucked into his breakfast while his mind pondered.
A half-hour later he and Elizabeth struggled through the snow to the end of the street, passing a dozen or so dilapidated dwellings and a store. At least the wind had eased now. They found the home of Mrs Bertha Hopkins and knocked on her door. She opened up, a questioning expression on her round face. She was a big and strong woman with wispy grey hair.
Angus gave her his warmest smile and, overcoming her initial reluctance to divulge details of her recent work, he eventually gained the information he sought. Yes, two little ladies had taken up abode in the district during the past couple of years. One of them had died in her mother’s arms. The other belonged to the Bevan family a half-mile down the trail from Kelly’s Hole – a strange couple, according to Bertha Hopkins.
Soon, Angus and Elizabeth had recovered their horses from their overnight stable and had ridden down the trail to where the Bevans lived in their smallholding. A burly man in a yellow slicker was brooming snow away from his cabin door. He paused when he saw the approaching riders and looked up, his face inhospitable.
‘You got a young child here?’ Angus enquired.
‘What the hell is it to you?’ Bevan responded, gripping his broom as if it were a weapon.
‘I’m from Linus Kypp,’ Angus said, then he played his hunch. ‘He … he sent us over to collect the child.’
Mention of the Kypp name seemed to do some sort of trick. Bevan’s attitude softened. ‘Where’s our kid, then? She all right?’
‘Ay, she’s fine,’ Angus nodded.
Bevan looked somewhat uncertain. ‘Trouble over, then?’ he asked.
‘Everything’s OK.’ Angus dismounted. He glanced up at Elizabeth. She was looking pale and drawn, holding her breath in suspense.
At last Bevan nodded towards the cabin door. Angus pushed it open and walked through, immediately meeting the puzzled gaze of a deprived looking woman.
‘Linus sent the money, like he said?’ she wanted to know.
‘Later,’ Angus said, but his mind wasn’t on his speech.
In the corner of the room was a baby’s cot.
He rushed over and peered into it, and the name rose to his lips of its own accord. ‘Anna!’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Within half-an-hour they were embarked upon the long ride home. Angus, riding ahead, kept glancing over his shoulder at Elizabeth and the blanket-wrapped Anna she held. He had to keep looking to convince himself he was not dreaming. To him, having his daughter back, his and Leah’s little girl, was more wondrous than anything else in the world. It was like having part of Leah back.
As they travelled he drew together his interpretation of events. Clearly Glaswall had sheltered at the Kypp place after his release from prison, but he and Johnny seemed to have fallen out over something – and old man Kypp had taken Glaswall’s side, turning Johnny out. Only after Arabella’s nagging did Linus Kypp ride to Pawnee Bend and make reconciliation with his son.
Glaswall had obviously formed some sort of relationship with Arabella and promised he’d get a baby to make up for the offspring Linus could not give her. Glaswall had raped Leah, kidnapped little Anna and handed her over to Arabella Kypp, who’d made her husband promise never to divulge the secret. When Angus had somehow extracted the clue as to his daughter’s whereabouts, old Linus had ridden hard for his home, getting well ahead of Angus. He’d then sent Arabella to swap babies with their neighbours, the Bevans, promising them, no doubt, a good recompense. To make doubly sure of forestalling Angus, he’d ambushed him, maybe would have killed him had not Elizabeth intervened. Even with the ambush failing, he must have figured that when Angus found a different baby at the Kypp
homestead, he would return home.
But things had not worked out that way.
As they eventually neared Pawnee Bend, Angus’s euphoria was levelling out. So overwhelmed had he been at rescuing his daughter that he had given no thought as to how he would look after her. Without his beloved Leah, how would he cope?
It was afternoon when they reached town. Elizabeth rushed away, taking Anna with her, while Angus took the horses to the livery. Afterwards he walked to the Claytons’ house. As he stepped inside, a shock awaited him.
Johnny Kypp was sitting in the surgery, while Edmund Clayton fixed a sling for his arm.
‘Johnny was lucky that the bullet just burned a groove in his shoulder,’ the doctor said, then he gave Angus a smile. ‘Wonderful news about finding your babe!’
Angus heartily agreed, but now he found himself meeting the cold eyes of Johnny Kypp and the old hate was rising in him.
For a moment he was speechless. Then he broke the uneasy silence.
‘That’s your right shoulder you’ve hurt, Johnny,’ he said. ‘Seems you won’t be able to handle a gun for a while.’
‘I can used my left hand,’ Johnny said.
‘But you won’t be so fast, eh?’
Johnny ran his tongue across his lips. ‘That’s why I wanted to see you, Angus Troon.’
‘I would’ve thought you’d want to keep out of my way,’ Angus said sourly.
Johnny shook his head. ‘I got news today. A telegram came through. It said that Duquemain has escaped from the penitentiary!’
A cold sickness struck Angus.
‘And one thing’s sure as Texas,’ Johnny went on. ‘He sure ain’t no friend of yours.’
Angus tried to steady his breathing. He’d always dreaded the day Duquemain would be free of jail, knowing full well that the outlaw would make a beeline for him and there would be a gun in his hand.
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