Her Winding Path_Seeing Ranch series

by Florence Linnington

  Was he still going in the direction he’d seen the light in? Or had curving around those boulders thrown him off?

  Whipping off his hat, he raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. They were so close. He knew it.

  Who else but outlaws would be walking around in the foothills in the middle of the night?

  For all he knew, Ida Rose could be on the other side of the rock face he now touched.

  Feeling his way along the stone, he finally came to the end of it. Tree branches brushed at his face. Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted.

  And a man shouted.

  Tom halted, nearly stumbling over his own feet. Whatever the man had said, it hadn’t been clear, but his voice had been close. Real close.

  Someone—another man—said something, his voice muffled. There was an angry response, and then quiet once more.

  Tom’s breathing came quick, his pulse pounding away. The voices had come from straight ahead and from higher up, if his ears were doing their job right. Doing his best to keep calm, he turned around and guided Chestnut back to a spot near the boulders, then tied the horse up there.

  He couldn’t risk a snort alerting the bandits to his presence.

  With the horse secured to a sapling, Tom quietly made his way back along the cliff and into the thick swatch of trees.

  He kept each step mindful, careful not to snap any branches. His journey was taking him up, toward the crest of the hill. At several points, he lost his footing, having to grab onto tree branches to hold himself upright.

  There was no more yelling or talking, but it didn’t matter. He was close. He had found them.

  Now, he just needed to get a clear reading of the situation… and make a plan.

  As he stepped around a large tree, a horse neighed. Tom dropped down to a crouch, making himself even more conspicuous in the dark. The incline was levelling out, bringing him to a plateau. After taking a few more steps, figures began to emerge in the darkness. A row of horses, tied up one next to the other, and, beyond them, figures on the ground. People sleeping.

  Dropping to his belly, Tom crawled a few feet closer. Whoever had been talking had to still be awake, but he couldn’t see any movement.

  Licking his lips, he stayed where he was, waiting. A painful minute passed, then another.

  Finally, two men entered the clearing and settled down on the far side of it. Tom kept himself still as a rock, not moving an inch. One of the horses stomped a hoof, and a man began snoring.

  This was his chance. He needed to return to Shallow Springs. The bandits were all asleep, none of them suspecting they were being watched. If Tom and the posse were to make it back to the spot before dawn, it would be like shooting fish in a barrel. The crooks would be caught, Ida Rose and the other victims freed.

  But what if he didn’t make it back before dawn? From Shallow Springs to the base of the hills would be a quick ride, but once up in the hills, it would take the posse hours to get to where Tom was now.

  Daylight could have arrived by then.

  Digging his nails into the dirt, Tom searched his head for an answer. He was one man against he didn’t know how many, with nothing more than the revolver tucked at his hip. The odds weren’t good.

  Close by, a figure moved and sat up. Tom tensed. Could it be?

  Yes! With the moonlight shining on her hair, he knew for sure that he was looking at Ida Rose. She was alive. She was all right!

  For the time being, anyway.

  Now that Tom had gotten a good look at her, he couldn’t take the risk of leaving to get help. By the time he returned with a posse, Ida Rose could be long gone, dragged into the recesses of the mountains.

  No. He would leave those foothills that night, sure, but not without the woman he loved by his side.

  Edging closer, Tom got himself several feet away from Ida Rose. Softly as he could, he whistled at her. In an awkward manner, she turned, her loose braid slipping over her shoulder.

  Thanks to the moonlight, he could now see that her wrists were bound. Near her, three other people slept. Tom prayed they were the other captives, and not the bandits—who he hoped were all on the other side of the clearing.

  “It’s me,” he whispered.

  She gasped. “Tom.”

  “Shh.”

  She obeyed, staying absolutely quiet and still.

  “Is there a watch?” he whispered.

  She nodded, tilting her head to the left. Not more than five yards away, a figure sat up in the moonlight. Somehow Tom had failed to notice him before.

  He ground his teeth together, quick ideas running through his head. The only answer was to take the guard out, but how? A gunshot would alert the other bandits.

  “Call him over here,” Tom whispered, shimmying behind the tree Ida Rose sat against and standing up.

  “You. Sir,” Ida Rose said in a low voice.

  Tom braced himself against the bark, afraid her call might wake the other men up. But it wasn’t as if he had another plan. It was this route, or none at all.

  “What?” the man barked as he came over.

  “I need some water,” Ida Rose quietly said.

  “Well, you’re just gon’ have to wait,” the man quietly hissed.

  “Oh, but I really need it now.”

  “Look here, you-”

  Before he could say another word, Tom stepped out from behind the tree. The light was just enough so that he could make out the shape of the man’s face.

  If you need to knock a man out, hit him from under the jaw. It’ll black him out for a minute or two.

  They were words his Father had told him long ago, when he was twelve and his pa had taught him how to fight. Since he’d never been in a real fight as an adult, he’d never heeded the advice—never needed to.

  Now, though, he put every ounce of strength behind his fist and sent it barreling into the man’s jaw. A crack shot through the air. The man’s head snapped back and he crumpled—but Tom caught him before he could hit the ground and made any more noise.

  Setting the man carefully on the ground, he jumped back over to Ida Rose and began frantically working at the knot around her wrist. They’d already made enough noise as it was. It was a miracle they hadn’t been any louder, a miracle the punch had knocked the bandit out.

  But they could be running out of miracles. It was time they got their legs running instead.

  Tom fumbled at the rope around her wrist, each desperate second ticking by. “How many prisoners?” he whispered.

  “Three more.”

  Finally, the knot loosened. “Untie them,” he instructed.

  Taking the rope that had been around Ida Rose’s wrists, he tied up unconscious man’s arms behind his back. Shucking his vest, Tom balled it up and stuffed it into the man’s mouth. He wasn’t sure if it would really muffle a shout when the man woke up, but it was worth a try. Feeling around the man’s holster, he located two revolvers, which he took and stuffed into his own belt.

  Ida Rose had woken and untied the other prisoners and they all shuffled toward him now. One of them—a woman—stumbled against a branch and made a pitiful noise. Tom quickly pressed his palm against his mouth.

  “Move real slow,” he whispered. “Quiet is better than fast.”

  She nodded against his hand, and the group of five set off down the hill.

  “Straight down, to the left along the cliff,” he whispered. “My horse is there. Here.” He passed the bandit’s revolvers he had taken off to the two men, never halting his slow pace.

  They kept on, the descent somehow taking longer than the ascent had. The hair on the back of Tom’s neck stood up straight. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were only a second away from being caught.

  Just down the hill… They’d be at Chestnut.

  A horse who couldn’t carry five people.

  Even once they made it out of the foothills, they’d have the long walk back to town. By then, the unconscious man would have come to and the bandi
ts would be after their escaped prisoners.

  Hide out. That’s what they needed to do. He could set the group up somewhere—they at least had two revolvers between them—and take off to town. With only one person on Chestnut, no matter how long it took, he would at least be back with a posse sooner than the five of them would be able to walk to Shallow Springs.

  “Tom.”

  It was Ida Rose, walking so close to him that her breath grazed across his cheek.

  “What are we going to do? We can’t outrun them.”

  “I know,” he admitted. “We’re going to have to find somewhere to hide. One of us will ride into town and fetch the sheriff.”

  They’d reached the bottom of the slope. A rush of air came around the side of the cliff, brushing Tom’s face and bringing a taste of freedom. The other three had pulled ahead and were somewhere close to the horse.

  “You’ll go,” Tom decided.

  She was lighter than him, meaning she’d get to Shallow Springs faster. Plus, he knew how to shoot. If the bandits discovered the escaped group, bullets would be flying. There could be death.

  But at least he would die knowing Ida Rose had made it to safety.

  “Come on.” He gently pushed her forward. “Take Chestnut and go. There’s a creek near here. If you follow it down it should take you into the valley.”

  “Tom...”

  He stopped walking, and turned to face her. Though he could barely see her face, he knew what was in her heart. “Go now, Ida Rose.”

  “Thank you.”

  His throat grew tight. “Go. We’ll talk soon.”

  With a squeeze of his hand, she hurried in front of him, the night swallowing her up.

  Tom took a step after her, but no sooner had he than there was a noise behind him. Quick as a flash, he reached for his gun. Before his fingers could so much as graze the handle, the cold end of a barrel pressed into the back of his skull.

  “You thought you could get away,” a callous sneered. “Well, you don’t know Rocky that well.”

  27

  27. Ida Rose

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ida Rose felt for Chestnut’s reins, taking the familiar leather into her hands. Their touch was comfort. Safety. Freedom.

  “I am going to ride for help,” she whispered to the three people clustered about the horse. “Tom is going to...”

  She turned, allowing Tom to explain the plan himself, but he wasn’t there.

  “Where is he?” she gasped.

  “It doesn’t matter,” one of the men—she wasn’t even sure who—said. “We need to get out of here. Which way to the road?”

  “We can’t leave him.”

  “Oh, but we can’t stay,” Mrs. Scotts fearfully cried.

  Ida Rose didn’t answer. Something was wrong. She felt it in her very bones. Leaving Chestnut’s side, she snuck back toward the cliff, her breath caught in her throat. Halfway there, she heard the footsteps. They seemed to be heading away from her, and, if she had this right, there were two pairs.

  Tom had been caught.

  Think, Ida Rose. Think!

  She glanced all over the area, but it was so, so dark. The only thing she could make out was a pile of rocks, all too big for her to lift. But then, next to them… some brush!

  Ida Rose bent down and felt along the pieces of wood. Finding a solid one, she seized it and crept toward the footsteps. She had no plan, only knew that Tom had saved her. He had risked his life for hers, and now, it was time for her to do the same.

  The footsteps were getting farther away. She had to hurry. With the wood tight in one hand, she tiptoed after the footsteps.

  They were heading up the hill, the same one that Tom had led the group down. Ida Rose breathed as softly as she could, stepping like a lamb. She was getting closer, closer…

  She could see them now. There were two men, the one in front Tom and the one behind him. It was someone else, one of the bandits that she could not identify. His arm was up, though, pointing a gun at the back of Tom’s head.

  This was it. There was no other chance. Not allowing herself the opportunity to second-guess, Ida Rose leaped forward and thwacked the bandit across the side of his head. He stumbled, spinning around as he did so, and she hit him again for good measure.

  He was down, Tom on top of him. Grunts exploded. A punch.

  “Don’t move,” Tom rasped, coming to standing. He had a gun in his hand, and was pointing it down at the bandit. Ida Rose could see now that it was Rocky on the ground, dirtied up and blinking in confusion at them.

  “Make a sound and you’re done,” Tom hissed. “Put your hands above your head and stand.”

  Rocky obeyed, lifting his arms up.

  “Walk,” Tom commanded.

  They headed back along the cliff’s side, Ida Rose glancing over her shoulder every other step. The other bandits could show up any moment. Why hadn’t they done so yet? Was the man Tom had knocked out still unconscious?

  Mrs. Scotts, the driver, and the newspaper man were still with Chestnut. For a slight moment, the realization that she still didn’t know the mens’ names humored her. They had almost died together.

  They still could.

  That last thought wiped the grin right off her face. They were not out of the woods yet—far from it. Shallow Springs was miles away. If she were to take Chestnut and ride for town before the others were put in more danger, she would have to make the horse run faster than any beast ever had.

  Together, they all descended the hill, going as fast as they could. Dirt and pebbles slid under their feet, making them lose their balance. Once or twice, Mrs. Scotts collapsed on her knees. Ida Rose pulled her up, towing the other woman along, the fear and excitement in her heart keeping her going.

  She had hit a man. Never had she thought she would do such a thing. When she had seen that gun pointed at Tom, though, there had been no doubt in her mind. She’d needed to do whatever she could to help him out, no matter how terrified she was.

  Finally, finally, the crests became less and less. They were emerging into the valley, leaving the foothills behind. Ida Rose was faintly aware of a throbbing in her feet, but it seemed so far away, so unimportant. All that mattered was that they press on as fast as they could. The bandits could be right behind them, for all they knew.

  “What now?” she asked Tom, rushing to walk alongside him. Rocky was still in front of him, his arms raised above his head.

  “You take Chestnut. Ride for town as fast as you can.”

  “But where will you be?”

  The words came out as a cry, pitiful and sad. She couldn’t leave Tom and the others behind. It was too risky of a move.

  “Watch him,” Tom told the stagecoach driver, who pointed his own revolver at Rocky’s back.

  “Move and you’ll be taking your last breath,” the driver told the bandit.

  Placing his hands on Ida Rose’s shoulders, Tom turned her to face him straight-on. “There’s a cave not a quarter mile from here. My father and I camped out there a few times when I was young. We’ll stake out there and wait for Sheriff Mayes to approach. Don’t worry. We’ll be all right. It’s right near the tree line, but hidden well. I’ll be listening for the horses. I’ll know when the sheriff arrives.” He touched her cheek with the back of his hand, an action that made Ida Rose jerk in confusion.

  Why was he being so tender? When they had parted, he’d hardly been able to look at her. Had it been the close call with death that changed things?

  No. The way he was touching her… his hand still on her face… It didn’t make sense.

  “Listen.” Mrs. Scotts’ voice shook. “Someone is coming.”

  Tom dropped his hand from Ida Rose and she could practicality feel how rigid he became. “Everyone be calm. Stay together.”

  Lifting his revolver, he pushed Ida Rose behind him. Mrs. Scotts clutched at Ida Rose’s skirt and she was vaguely aware of the others pressing in close.

  Her every instinct told her
to run, to bolt for the hills they had just left behind and not look back. They were fish in a barrel, standing out in the open field. The bandits would be able to pick them off within a minute. But that did not matter: she could not leave the others behind.

  Ida Rose pressed closer to Tom. If this was how her life would end, so be it. In the last month alone, she had had more encounters with death than many people did in their whole lives. At this point, she was almost no longer afraid.