“I hope no one was hurt.” Kimimela shivered and rubbed her arms.
“Oh no, thanks to the skill of our driver, he guided the coach to the side of the road before the thing broke all to pieces. We’re headed for San Francisco, and then we’ll be heading back this way, so we might catch up with him yet.”
“Yes, you might, possibly at the Needles Station.”
“If we don’t, here’s my name and contact information in Washington, DC. If you see him, will you kindly give it to him?”
“Yes, of course.” Kimimela admitted to herself that going east was a wonderful opportunity to be a voice for native people and the plights they faced, but she didn’t want to see him leave.
“Time to pull out, folks. We need to get to town before the rain hits,” the stage driver called as he placed his hand on the brake.
“Nice to have met you,” the men said as they clambered back into the conveyance. She watched as they rolled out of sight.
Remembering the rabbit, she hurried back into the kitchen. After she stoked the fire, she placed the pan back in the center of the stove and turned the meat once again. She checked on the bread. When she reached for a kettle for the potatoes, she noticed she needed some more water if she was to put them on to boil.
Grabbing a bucket from the pantry, she strolled outside and then froze. Rayford Montgomery stood by the water pump, glaring at her. How could she have not heard him ride into the yard? There wasn’t time to formulate an answer. The man spit tobacco juice onto the ground and then lunged for her.
A heavy rain poured down on Gabe as he rode pell-mell for the next station. Two more legs of the journey and he’d be back at Weber Station. He was anxious to see how Kimi was doing. Had she gone back to her people? If she had gone, would she have left an address where he could write to her?
He remembered the promise she made, not to leave without first saying good-bye. Only Gabe didn’t want her to go. She possessed a warm heart, and her dedication to her family made him smile when he thought of her. He wanted her to stay and wished he could find the courage to tell her so.
At both stations he made the transfer quicker than the two-minute maximum, probably because the hired hands didn’t want to be out in the rain any more than they had to. Gabe wished he could duck into a warm bunkhouse with the rest of the Pony Express crew, but he had to keep going. Somebody had to take the pouch when it rained. He pulled his slicker tighter around him with one hand and clung to the slippery reins with the other.
A short time later, he steered the horse into the yard, pulled on the reins, and stopped the soaked horse next to the barn. Home at last.
The barn door flew open, and a young rider pulled a reluctant pinto from the structure. Gabe tossed the pouch onto the saddle and the rider leaped on. With a loud yell, the kid rode off.
With the mail pouch on its way, Gabe led the wet beast into the warm barn. He brushed the creature and gave him some warm food and water. When the horse had been taken care of, Gabe could go inside and get some warm food himself.
Gabe started toward the house but noticed something eerie. Besides the noise of the rain, no other sound met his ears. The station wasn’t usually so quiet. He tried to tell himself that everyone was probably indoors, nestled under quilts in front of a roaring fire. Much as that thought made sense, something didn’t seem quite right.
Sprinting into the kitchen, he found bread burning in the oven. Blackened meat of some kind sat in the skillet on the stove. Smoke poured from the pan. Gabe’s skin crawled. What felt like a boulder landed in his gut with a sickening whump.
“Kami, Marcus, Miss Cynthia!” he called out. No answer. That was odd. When he hollered again, a thumping sound came from Cynthia’s room.
“Miss Cynthia!” Gabe called out, but again received no response. He stepped into the hallway and was about to knock on her door when a loud crash echoed out into the corridor. Fear caused his breathing to hitch.
Forgetting propriety, he laid his shoulder against the door and burst into the woman’s room. Miss Cynthia was sprawled on the floor by the nightstand, tied up and bleeding from the head. A ceramic water pitcher lay in pieces next to her. Had she knocked it over to get his attention? Regardless, Gabe surmised it couldn’t have been the cause of all the blood that gushed from her forehead. Mrs. Tressmont lay on the floor as well, gagged and bound at the wrists and ankles, but thankfully not bleeding.
“Miss Cynthia!” He rushed to her side and pulled the gag from her mouth. He undid Mrs. Tressmont’s fetters. Mrs. Tressmont yanked the rag out of her mouth, coughed, and vented her anger at the men who had done this terrible deed.
Poor Cynthia gasped and croaked for water. Gabe rushed to the kitchen and found none. He hurried to Marcus’s room and drew some from the pitcher there. He sprinted back to Cynthia. Mrs. Tressmont fussed over her, but he managed to place the cup to Cynthia’s lips. She gulped it down.
“What happened? Where is everyone, and where’s Kimi?” A sick feeling curdled in Gabe’s stomach.
“I don’t know. I had been in my room all afternoon when these rough men dragged Miss Cynthia in here and bonked her on the head when she protested. Then they tied us up. In all my days, I’ve never been through such an ordeal.” Mrs. Tressmont looked ready to swoon.
A very pale Cynthia groaned. He pulled a bandanna from his pocket and held it to the gash on her forehead. She winced. Gabe was desperate to know if Kimi was safe.
“Marcus rode into town earlier. He probably stayed there because of the weather. That Montgomery fellow showed up. He took Kimi.” Cynthia pulled herself to a sitting position and leaned against the bed.
“Where did he take her, and why didn’t the hired hands come help you ladies?” Indignation burned in Gabe, but then he answered his own question. They had probably stayed in the bunkhouse due to the weather and hadn’t heard the commotion, if there had been one. The skunk could very well have taken them by surprise. Gabe shook his head. He didn’t want to imagine.
Anger heated his skin by several degrees as he lifted the shivering woman from the floor and laid her on the bed. “Don’t you fret now.” He reached for a blanket to cover her.
Cynthia gazed up at him; her eyes swam with tears. “He said you’d better meet him at a shack three miles north of town, by the river.”
Gabe knew the place. One didn’t ride all over creation and beyond without knowing the lay of the land. He hoped the storm would make enough noise so he could sneak up on them without getting caught. A plan began to come together in his mind, and then his gaze rested on the injured woman before him.
“Don’t you worry, ma’am, I’m getting my pistols and all the hired hands I can find. I even know a few bounty hunters in town who’d love to capture Rayford Montgomery and his gang. We’re going after her.”
Cynthia’s eyes widened and what sounded like a whimper escaped from her lips. “That scoundrel said to come alone, or he’d kill her.”
Chapter Seven
Pieces of aged lumber held together with rusty nails comprised the shack where Kimimela was held prisoner. Large gaps between the boards made it possible for her to peer outside and allowed the frigid night air to seep into the structure. At least the rain had stopped, and the night grew quiet.
Crouched in the corner on the dirt floor, she tried to wiggle free from the ropes that tied her wrists tightly behind her back. Another length of rope secured her ankles together. She twisted her legs in an effort to break them free, too. Pain coursed through her at the exertion. She rested her head against the wall. Dare she hope someone might rescue her?
A cold wind cut into the flimsy dwelling with a haunting whistle. The fire in the rickety stove danced an eerie waltz to the melancholy tune. Kimimela’s thin cotton work dress did little to warm her, and the savage temperatures chilled her bones. Shivers shook her body. If she didn’t have a smelly rag pressed into her mouth, she would have given Rayford Montgomery an earful he wouldn’t soon forget.
The
mangy Rayford sat next to the stove. He gnawed two bites from some sort of meat and then passed it to his men.
“Here you go, little brother. I don’t feel much like eating.” Rayford coughed and spit. By the smell of him, she wondered if he’d ever heard of soap.
The man named Brent took the meat, and the rest of the ruffians shared in the meal but didn’t offer her so much as a mouthful. Not that she could eat anything anyway. Her stomach twisted with anxiety.
Much as she wanted away from this notorious gang, she worried about Gabe showing up and initiating a shoot-out. She would never forgive herself if Gabe got shot again or, worse yet, got killed trying to save her. She loved him, and she now believed that God had brought her to Utah Territory so she could meet Cynthia and heal the broken places in her heart. A muffled prayer for their well-being made its way past the gag meant to keep her quiet.
“Hush up, woman!” Rayford turned and glared at her. She narrowed her eyes and scowled at him. She hoped the gesture told him she wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“A little spitfire, this one is.” Another one of the men laughed and then took a long pull from a whiskey bottle.
“We should have our hands on them guns here soon,” Rayford said. The man held a bandanna to his mouth as he coughed again.
“Yeah, not only are we going to avenge our family killed in Kansas, but we’re going to let those meddling politicians in Washington know we mean business.”
The gooseflesh on the back of Kimimela’s neck tingled. She hoped they weren’t referring to Mr. Webster and the men who recently passed by on the stage. They should be in San Francisco by now, but she said a silent prayer for their safety anyway.
“We Southerners have a right to our way of life, and we won’t abide by any of them blasted abolitionists stripping us of those rights and telling us how to live.”
The conversation turned to slavery, and Kimimela wished the ground would swallow her up. If these men held no respect for the lives of those poor souls in chains, they surely wouldn’t have any for an Indian girl, either.
“I had me this fine-looking gal…” Rayford went on to describe the woman in horrid graphic detail. His sinister laughter filled her ears with so much evil she thought her head might explode. Heat flooded through her in such a manner that the cold wind no longer chilled her. She shuddered, thinking of the liberties four drunken criminals could take with her.
No! She would fight them as long as she had breath in her body. Prayers for mercy, strength, and courage filled her thoughts. She tried to remember the few scriptures Cynthia had mentioned. They seemed to bring her a little peace.
The whiskey bottle made its rounds and was soon emptied of its contents. Kimimela scooted tighter into the corner until her back rubbed the splintery walls of the shack. A sharp rock on the hard-packed dirt floor cut into her leg. She winced from the pain but managed to clamp her jaw to keep from groaning. If she knew which direction home was, she’d gladly scoot all the way there, sharp rocks or not.
One of the men pulled a Jew’s harp from his pocket and played the instrument rather well. They sang songs with words so obscene they made her shudder.
While three of them danced a jig around the room, Rayford paused to stare at her. A lopsided grin exposed yellow teeth. In disgust Kimimela watched him pull a slobbery wad of chew from his mouth and toss it to the dirt floor.
“I’m gonna get me a kiss,” he slurred and stepped toward her.
Twisting her hands, Kimimela tried to wrench herself free. Rayford pulled the cloth from her mouth and licked his chew-covered lips. He reached for her neck. In spite of him trying to choke her, she screamed with every scrap of strength she had.
Gabe spotted the shack. Its thin boards did nothing to drown out the racy tunes the men sang. Four bounty hunters that he had met earlier—the father, Mr. McCray, and his three trigger-happy sons—had come with him to rescue Kimi. They were in it for the reward money, but he loved Kimi and ached to tell her so. First, he needed to ensure her safety.
The men had slunk around the tiny cabin twice with enough stealth to make an army general proud. They managed to assess the situation. There was a McCray boy poised at each corner of the dwelling, and Gabe and Old Man McCray watched the fourth.
Gabe had told them that as soon as he gave the signal, a shrill whistle, they would move in. With God’s grace they would catch the criminals by surprise and gain control before anyone was hurt.
He asked God for strength and speed and then prayed for a successful rescue. It wouldn’t be long now.
His body pressed against the rocky ground. His hands wrapped around the pearly handle of his pistol. His breath left wisps of steam floating through the cold air.
Mr. McCray crept closer to Gabe and whispered, “Each of my sons is assigned one crook to shoot, one target, one man to take down. That way we’re not all shooting willy-nilly in the dark.”
“Just be careful not to hit Kimi. I’ll go after her. You guys get Rayford and his gang.”
“I snuck up close to the cabin just a minute ago. I could see that they were all standing up, and she’s huddled close to the ground. If we aim our guns high, we should hit the criminals but miss her. You be ready with your gun, just in case any one of us misses.”
“Yeah, what could possibly go wrong?” Gabe’s words were drenched in sarcasm. His finger gripped the trigger of his gun. Another prayer.
The lead bounty hunter cocked the barrel of his weapons. All he had to do now was give the signal to proceed. Gabe placed two fingers in his mouth and inhaled deep so he could whistle real loud. Before he could, a terror-filled scream ripped through the air like a hot bolt of lightning.
Chapter Eight
Kimimela gagged at the thought of Rayford’s mouth on hers. She screamed again and twisted to get away from him. He let go of her neck long enough to grab hold of the hair at the base of her neck and wrenched her head around so she looked into his eyes.
“I told you to shut up, woman!” The soulless creature glared at her. The stench of his breath caused vomit to rise from her gut, but she choked it down. A second thought darted into her mind—maybe she should puke on him.
“God help me,” she whispered.
“God’s not here to save you. Neither is your friend,” Rayford growled.
“Guess again.” A loud voice resounded from the back of the shack.
“Gabe!” Kimimela shrieked.
As shots were fired, two of Rayford’s men dropped to the ground with pitiful yelps. Four husky men burst into the shack. Two of them dragged the wounded criminals outside. The other two began fistfights with Rayford and his younger brother. Fear enveloped her, and she shrieked again.
“Let’s get out of here.” Gabe helped Kimimela to her feet. She took comfort that he shielded her from the brawl while they moved outside.
“How did you find me? And who are these men?” Kimimela asked while he held her close.
“Cynthia told me where to find you. These men are bounty hunters, Old Man McCray and his three sons. I tipped them off to Rayford and his hiding place, and they were only too eager to help me capture them. I guess these men have quite a price on their heads.”
Soon the McCray boys had wrestled Rayford and his gang of outlaws outside. They aimed their guns at the crooks’ heads and then lined them up against the wall.
“If they make any move to escape, shoot them,” the oldest-looking bounty hunter, presumably the father, ordered.
One of the older McCray boys drove up with a wagon. Kimimela watched as the bounty hunters loaded the wounded criminals into the back. Several sets of iron chains clanked shut around their wrists and ankles.
“We need medical attention,” one of the wounded men whined.
“You’ll get it after the sheriff books you into the county jail,” the youngest-looking McCray son said.
As Rayford was led past Kimimela, he coughed violently on her and then said, “You two are gonna pay for what you did here ton
ight. We won’t rest until the South is free from those dictating busybodies up north.”
Kimimela scooted close to Gabe. Mr. McCray told Rayford to shut up. Then he and his sons climbed into the wagon and drove toward town. Kimimela took a step back. She wanted to go home.
Gabe led her to his horse. He climbed into the saddle and then helped her mount up behind him. The bright moon moved across the cloudless sky. The stars shimmered in the heavens like rare jewels. In spite of the beautiful night, it was cold. She snuggled close to Gabe and laid her head on his shoulder as they rode back to the way station.
“Gabe, are Cynthia and Mrs. Tressmont okay? I hope those rough men didn’t harm them.” Kimimela ducked her head. How could she have forgotten about her friend?
“Cynthia is fine, just a bump on the head. Mrs. Tressmont looked ready to faint when I left, but she’ll be fine.”
When they arrived back at the way station, she helped Gabe brush down his horse. They gave the animal feed and water. Then Gabe led Kimimela on a walk beside the barn. He looked strangely at her.
“Are you okay, Gabe?” she finally asked.
Gabe cleared his throat a few times before answering.
“When I found out Montgomery had you, well, I knew I cared for you, but…I was afraid something really awful would happen.”
“Oh, Gabe.” Dare she tell him how much she cared for him? That she loved him? What if he didn’t feel the same way about her? “I care about you, too, Gabe.”
A sudden spell of dizziness swept over Kimimela. She pressed a hand to her forehead and swayed as the world spun before her.
“Kimi.” Gabe placed a hand at the small of her back, which steadied her.
“I think we need to get some rest. Good night, Gabe.” Kimimela took another moment to steady herself and then went into the house. She had barely made it into her room before a coughing fit seized her. She had hoped that some sleep would set her body to rights, but throughout the night the coughing continued.
The Pony Express Romance Collection Page 36