“Come on. It’s almost full dark. We’ll attract attention sitting here.”
Agreeing, Aaron rose and followed Elmer, leading the donkey, yet cast glances over his shoulder at the closed iron gates. The gates that stood between him and his little brother. “I’ll free you somehow, Benji,” he whispered in the dark. “Somehow.”
Upon hearing the news, George danced a little jig of happiness. “We’re finally going to be a family again. I wish Franklin were here to see us free Benji.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Elmer cautioned, removing the basket panniers from the donkey and picketing her with the horses. “Seeing him and getting him out are two very different things.”
Aaron removed the sombrero and serape, putting his own hat on his head as he sat down by the fire. “We’ll have to watch the chain gangs for a few days. See if the guards have the keys, where they take Benji, how many are watching him.”
Elmer nodded, squatting by the fire and taking off his own disguise. “Maybe taking a couple guards as hostages,” he suggested. “Hold guns on them, the others might cooperate fairly quickly.”
“Maybe create chaos by setting a bunch of other prisoners loose, too.”
George, being a decent enough camp cook, had made biscuits and beans with bacon, doling out the food onto plates for each of them. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen Benji,” he said wistfully, sitting down with his own plate.
Aaron ate his food hungrily. “He looked good. Strong, so at least they’re feeding him right.”
“I bet he’ll have lots of stories to tell us about prison,” George added.
“Let’s not make too many plans until we bust him out,” Elmer said, frowning. “There are a lot of men and guns between him and us.”
“How about you stop stealing our hope,” Aaron snapped, growing angry. “Right now, that’s all we got.”
Elmer shrugged. “Just being realistic. Hope won’t stop a bullet.”
Later, as the stars came out and the sound of an owl hooting flowed over the hill, Aaron breathed deeply of the fresh prairies’ scents, of grass and wildflowers. His brothers slept in their bedrolls beside the dying fire, their light snores coming to him on the breeze as he sat on the edge of the knoll, gazing toward the small town.
Tiny lights glittered in the distance, blinking out little by little as the residents sought their beds. Aaron imagined Benji also sleeping right then, no doubt exhausted after the long day slaving in the heat. Though deep down he knew Elmer was right, that the odds of getting Benji out were slim, he still believed they would be riding north with their youngest brother within a few days.
“Sleep well, Benji,” he said softly in the dark. “I’ll be seeing you real soon.”
* * *
The guards set the prisoners to clearing a stretch of land with a river that ran amid it. Since the region was open grasslands spotted with clusters of trees and short rolling hills, Aaron, Elmer, and George were forced to ride around the town of Sugar Land and watch the chain gang from the south. That was the only cover for miles around.
Unable to see which of the prisoners was his brother, clad as he was in the same black and white striped clothing, Aaron despaired. From what he could see, the inmates were shackled together in groups of five or six. They worked in a cluster and took their short breaks together, all watched over by guards.
Without a pair of binoculars to see better, Aaron could only guess which one was Benji. After two days of watching, he saw no way he and his brothers could overwhelm twenty armed guards, even if they could take one or two hostage. They’d be forced to ride across open ground and be seen instantly.
“What about a ruse?” Elmer suggested, lying on his belly in the tall grass, gazing down on the work party. “Draw them out somehow?”
“We’d only get a few away from the prisoners,” Aaron replied. “The others won’t leave. If we can get in there, we can shoot Benji’s chains, but how do we get the guards away from him long enough to ride in there?”
“How about a fire?” George asked. “Won’t the guards have to go put it out?”
Elmer nodded thoughtfully. “A distraction might work. Explosives might work better. One of us should throw dynamite near them, they’ll ride in to save the prisoners, and catch us. Might work if we can get our hands on some.”
“Still,” Aaron added, “we need to know where Benji is. Won’t do us any good if we throw it into his location and draw all the guards down on him.”
“I think that’s him over there.” Elmer pointed to a group of men cutting down trees by the river. “I see only a few fellows with red hair among the inmates, and he’s about the right size as Benji is.”
Aaron peered closer. “That group was there yesterday cutting trees.”
“So,” Elmer went on. “If we create a disturbance on the far side over there, the guards ride that way, leaving Benji’s group by themselves. They can’t go anywhere, they’re chained. We ride in, grab him, and then run like hell. The guards can’t chase us very far, as they have to mind their charges.”
Hope filled Aaron. “If we free several others, they’ll be forced to run them down as well, leaving fewer to come after us.”
“Exactly.” Elmer grinned. “After the town goes to sleep tonight, we go in and steal a couple of boxes of dynamite from the hardware store.”
“We’ll have to get him out first thing in the morning then,” Aaron added, watching the inmates chop at the trees with axes. “Before word gets out that it’s missing. The prison would be warned immediately.”
“Let’s go back to camp, then,” Elmer suggested. “We are going to be very busy.”
Not long after midnight, Aaron led the way through side streets and alleys in the town of Sugar Land, their horses’ hooves muffled on the packed dirt. The noise of their saddle leather creaking never sounded louder in the night’s silence as the three of them rode to the rear of the hardware store. It lay near the center of town across the street from the bank and several streets up from the prison.
Leaving George to mind the horses and look out for trouble, Aaron and Elmer dismounted at the back entrance. Of course, the door was locked. Pulling his knife from its sheath, Elmer set its tip into the lock and worked it around until the spring popped open. Slowly, so as to not let the hinges squeal, Aaron and Elmer slipped in like ghosts.
Finding a lantern, Aaron lit it, but kept the flame down low, barely enough to illuminate their immediate area. Without the need for words, the two of them searched the storage room for the boxes of dynamite most hardware stores kept in stock. Many farmers and ranchers used it to blow stumps from the ground when clearing land. No doubt the prisoners would also use it in their labors.
At last, Elmer pulled a wooden box from a shelf. “Got it,” he muttered. “Let’s take as much as we can and leave the box there. They might not notice it’s gone for a while.”
Stuffing their pockets with the long pieces of explosives, Aaron found the fuses in the box, and also stuffed that into an inner pocket of his coat. Elmer returned the box to the shelf, and Aaron blew out the lantern. Closing the door softly behind them, the two filled their saddlebags with the dynamite, then remounted. Their departure from town seemed to go as unobserved as their entrance.
Rather than return to their hill once they left the town behind, they headed toward the river and the area the chain gangs would be working later that morning. Watering their mounts, they loosened cinches but kept the saddles on, and made a dry camp in a small grove of trees. Aaron munched on a strip of dried beef as Elmer and George caught a little sleep in the grass.
Up shortly before the dawn, Aaron and his brothers tightened cinches while eating cold fare and led the horses to water. “This is it, boys,” Aaron said, gazing out over the slowly lightening landscape. “Today, we get Benji back.”
George grinned. “I can’t wait to see him.”
“He’s going to be plenty sad to find out about Franklin,” Elmer said, stan
ding beside Aaron. “They were close.”
Thinking of his brother’s ghost who still haunted him, both waking and sleeping, Aaron replied, “If Franklin can see us now, he’ll be cheering us on.”
As Elmer had the best arm, he was given the dynamite and one of Aaron’s thin cigars to light the fuses with. “You throw from the cover of those trees there,” Aaron said, pointing. “It’s close by the river, and you have a good view of what’s going on. When you see us ride in, then you get out of there and join us. It won’t take them long to figure out where you’re throwing from, so create a lot of confusion, then spur hard.”
“You got it, Aaron.”
Aaron clasped Elmer’s hand. “Good luck, brother.”
“You, too. I’ll see you soon.”
His gut clenched with nervousness, Aaron mounted his horse. With George, both of them leading a spare mount, he trotted along the river toward a spot not far from the area where Benji had been set to work. Let’s hope they don’t change up where they have him at the last minute. That would certainly throw a cog into their works if they create absolute chaos and ride in only to find Benji wasn’t there.
Finding some cover amid a grove of hackberry and mesquite trees, Aaron mentally bit his nails as he waited for the chain gang to arrive. There was so much that could go wrong with this plan – Benji not being where he was supposed to be was the least of them. If they failed at freeing Benji this time, there would never be a second chance.
Dust rose in a cloud as men and horses made their slow way toward the river and the work area. Aaron sucked in his breath, waiting, his gut roiling in anticipation and gnawing worry. “Follow me,” he said to George in a low voice, even though the men were still too far away to hear them. “Shoot the chains between each man, shoot at any guards who come running.”
“I know what to do, Aaron,” George replied, his voice annoyed. “I ain’t dumb.”
“I know. I’m telling myself as much as you.”
Within thirty minutes or so, the labor gangs were spread out to their various tasks, the guards already seeking the shade trees though it was barely an hour after dawn. From this position, Aaron easily saw the redhead assigned to chop trees down again. There was no doubt any longer. It was Benji.
“There he is,” George whispered, excited. “Oh, Benji, I can’t wait to talk to you again.”
“Shush,” Aaron muttered. “Any minute now.”
Willing himself to focus and be patient, Aaron waited for the explosions to start. Long moments later, they did. The dynamite blasted amid the trees, detonating like thunder, mesquite trunks splitting wide, dirt and water exploding high. More explosions rocked the river, water fountaining, as Elmer threw stick after stick into the mass of men and horses.
Guards shouted orders as inmates yelled, panicking, trying to run in all directions. Chained together as they were, they had no place to run to, no way to hide as dirt, parts of trees and water rained down on them. Horses reared, some bolting in terror as more sticks blew up in their faces. Leaving their charges, the guards surrounding Benji spurred their mounts toward the chaos.
“Now!” Aaron yelled.
Brandishing his rifle, he and George burst from the cover of the trees, galloping hard toward the chained men. He socked it to his shoulder and fired a round at a mounted man who sat in his saddle, gaping in shock. The guard tumbled from his saddle, his gun falling to the ground with him. Reining in amidst the panicking prisoners, Aaron met Benji’s eyes.
“Aaron?” Benji yelled in shock and awe. “Aaron!”
Not taking the time to reply, Aaron aimed his rifle at the chain between Benji and the man beside him, shattering it. George alternated firing at chains, breaking them, and at the prison guards who now saw them, and charged back to stop them. Aaron shot the other chain holding his brother to the next fellow.
“Mount up,” he ordered. “We ride now.”
As the freed prisoners ran in all directions as fast as their flopping chains would allow, Benji swung up onto Franklin’s horse. Aaron had time to notice that the explosions stopped and caught a quick glimpse of Elmer riding at a dead run toward them, pursued by several mounted guards.
“Go, go, go!” Aaron screamed.
Benji lashed his reins over his horse’s rump, whooping and yelling with joy, his chains rattling down from both his shackled feet. Elmer caught up to them quickly, hollering, “Ride hard, they’re coming. Benji, damn glad to see you.”
Galloping toward the hills to the north, Aaron flashed a quick glance over his shoulder, seeing their pursuers close behind. The guards had raised their rifles to their shoulders, firing even at a dead gallop, the bullets striking the ground all around their running horses. Aaron bent low over his horse’s neck to create a smaller target.
Riding beside him, Benji laughed in exultation, the wind from their speed whipping his tangled hair behind him. “I can’t believe you did it! You got me free, you got me –”
Aaron clearly heard the sound of lead striking flesh. Benji’s mouth went slack, his eyes widened in shock. “No, no, no,” Aaron cried out, seeing his youngest brother swaying in his saddle. “Benji.”
He reached to grab Benji, to hold him upright in his saddle, but the distance between their two horses was too great. Elmer, too, tried to grab him, George whipping his horse into greater speed to try to catch him. Benji’s eyes rolled back in his head. He toppled from his saddle.
“No!” Aaron screamed, reining his horse to a rearing halt, Benji’s horse, its saddle empty, and those of his brothers galloping on. He stared at the still figure of Benji lying in the grass, blood bright against the back of his black and white shirt. “No.”
The ground around his horse’s hooves burst up as rifle fire exploded around him. Aaron might have sat there until the prison guards shot him down if Elmer hadn’t reined around, galloped back, and forced Aaron’s horse to turn.
“He’s dead,” Elmer screamed in his ear. “Ride, or we’re dead, too.”
Hardly aware of his horse galloping with Elmer’s Aaron sat stunned and shaken. Benji dead. Benji was dead. He risked a look over his shoulder, saw the mounted men had stopped at the spot where Benji lay, his body hidden by the tall grass. “He’s dead.”
“Yeah,” Elmer choked as they caught up to George. “He’s gone.”
Riding hard for the north, Aaron’s throat closed up, choking him. Both Elmer and George wept as they rode, not bothering to wipe their tears from their sleeves. But there were no tears in Aaron. Instead, a rage grew within his grief, a burning fire that only one thing could quench.
Tyler Price’s death.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Poppy?” Tyler asked, gazing at Harold in confusion. “The flower?”
“When harvested at the right time,” Harold said, “the herbs from it can cause anything from pain relief to death. The middle ground is sleepiness. If we add it to water, and bread, leave it in the cell, they’ll eventually eat and drink. Once they get too drowsy and unable to think straight or understand what we’re doing, you can walk right in and pluck the guns right from their fingers.”
“And you know how much to dose them?” Charlene asked. “We don’t want to kill them.”
“I’ll consult with McFadden,” Harold said, heading to the back room to fetch his hat. “I have poppy here as I sell it every now and again, mostly to McFadden so he can create his laudanum.”
After he left the store, Tyler put his own hat on his head. “I need to round up a few men to help.”
“Count on me,” Josiah said from his spot in the corner.
Charlene had almost forgotten he was there and spun in surprise. “Do you know who else might volunteer?”
Josiah smiled gently. “Just ask. Everyone in town wants their peace and quiet back, don’t want these boys coming back to shoot the place up.”
“Since you know them, Mr. Jones,” Tyler ventured, “would you mind finding about five men for me? Between me, you, Harold and five othe
rs, that should be enough to capture them.”
“Please, call me Josiah.” The blacksmith stood. “Yes, I’ll be happy to. If you’ll stay here to guard the lady here, I’ll do it right now.”
“Have them join me here just after dark,” Tyler said. “They attacked Victor near dawn to free Johnson, but that doesn’t mean they’ll stick to the same plan.”
Josiah offered him a half salute, then strode to the door. “I will.”
Charlene gazed up at Tyler. “I want to come, too.”
“Now wait a minute,” Tyler said, his tone sharp, “that’s no place for you. I won’t risk your safety.”
“But you’ll risk yours,” she replied evenly.
An Unconventional Bride For The Rancher (Historical Western Romance) Page 22