by Clay, Verna
"Yes, sir," said Mr. Gunther. His voice cracked. "She saved my Sadie." Beside him Sadie and her toddler cried and were joined by the baby's squall, which made Rush's head hurt worse.
Rush asked, "Has anyone started walking for help?"
The old man spoke again, "My son and another fella left about a half hour ago following the tracks. The engineer and fireman are just now comin' round and the conductor and two other workers are still unconscious."
Rush nodded and the movement sent pain shooting from his eyes to the top of his head. "Help me into a seat," he said gruffly.
"Sure thing."
Rush heard movement as passengers shuffled around. He ground his jaw against the throbbing ache when a couple of men grabbed him under the arms and hoisted him up. He forced his breathing to even out and focused on all the painful ways he was going to kill the bastard who'd knocked him silly. He kept those thoughts churning because if he thought about Lilah and what those outlaws could do to her, he wanted to beat the crap out of the men around him for not saving her. The only comfort he had was knowing that Brutus was probably strapped somewhere to her body; most likely her thigh.
* * *
The saddle Lilah had been tossed onto rubbed mercilessly against her inner legs, the thin fabric of her pantaloons chaffing tender skin. Behind her, the cowboy who had struck her with his gun had a firm grip around her waist. Thankfully, their horse-pounding getaway kept him distracted. If he placed his hands anywhere inappropriately on her body she had every intention of making his life painful. She'd die before she'd let the likes of these men touch her, and she'd take one or two of them with her. She almost smiled when she imagined pulling Brutus from her thigh holster and surprising the hell out of her tormentor before pulling the trigger.
The pounding getaway continued as afternoon shadows deepened. Lilah rubbed the goose egg on top of her head and could only imagine the one Rush had sustained. Her captor suddenly pulled back on the reins and she jerked to alertness. The bandits in front of them had halted their horses. One of them shouted, "We've got to rest the horses or we'll be walking."
The man holding Lilah said, "Okay. We'll stop here for a short time." He dismounted and reached for Lilah, jerking her off the horse. A miserable moan escaped when pain shot from her legs upward and she stumbled, almost falling flat on her face. The skinny thief only laughed and smirked, "If ya think yer sore now, wait 'til Boss Man is finished wid cha."
Even through her pain, Lilah shot him a look of such hatred, he actually glanced away.
The outlaws had removed their bandanas and she now had a clear look at their faces. They must have been related, because every one of them had hook noses, thin lips, pock-marked faces, and narrow chins.
Her saddle companion pushed her backwards and this time she did fall to the ground. She almost reached for Brutus, but losing her temper would not help her situation. She needed to plan her strategy and wait for the right timing. Besides, if Rush was still alive, he'd be fuming mad and on the trail of these varmints; she'd bet her life on that. However, panic clutched her heart when she remembered the blow he'd taken trying to protect her. "He's alive," she whispered to herself. "He's alive."
Moving slowly, she pulled her knees to her chest and circled her arms around them while watching the movement of the men and listening to their conversation.
"Hankster, you and Jethro better keep yer paws off this woman. She's a looker and ya know how Boss Man insists on first dibs. After he's done with her, we'll get our turns."
"Yeah, we know Cecil. We ain't stupid."
Cecil looked like he doubted that statement.
Jethro said, "She sure is a purdy one. I bet Boss Man gives us a bonus fer her."
"Yeah, Hankster agreed. He's gonna be right happy with us."
Cecil grunted. "We gotta git there first. You seen the way her husband looked at me. When he wakes up he'll be on us faster'n a scalded dog."
"Ya should'a shot him, Cecil."
Cecil made an exasperated sound. "How many times do I gots to tell ya, killin' gits all the lawmen after yer tail. Stealin' only gits 'em for a time 'cause they gotta give up and chase killers. That's why I don't kill anyone on these jobs."
Hankster lifted his hat and swiped his sweaty brow. "Yeah, you're right. How'd ya git so smart?"
"Don't know. Just come by it natural like."
Jethro said, "Not to change the subject, but now we need to start headin' south to reach the Rio."
Cecil grunted his agreement and then reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a canteen. After greedily gulping, he recapped it and tossed it to the ground in front of Lilah. The last thing she wanted to do was drink after the foul man, but wisdom told her she wouldn't escape far if she was hungry and thirsty.
Cecil snarled, "Swig some. Boss Man don't like his women half dead."
Lilah lifted the canteen, unscrewed the cap, and dripped some water into her mouth without letting her lips touch the rim. Repulsed, she screwed the cap back on and threw the canteen back at Cecil. He caught it and laughed.
After less than an hour's rest, Lilah was hauled onto Jethro's horse so as to spare Cecil's steed. With a shout, Cecil led the pack.
* * *
By evening, the engineer and fireman, recovering slowly from their head injuries, directed the repair of the train enough to get it gradually chugging toward civilization, and about midnight, it was met by a sheriff and two deputies. Rush had encountered Sheriff Connor a few years back while on the hunt for his latest bounty and the sheriff had loaned him the use of a couple of deputies. They'd captured the villain and Rush had been generous with the reward.
Sheriff Connor said, "Howdy, Mr. Garrett, didn't think to find you here. Looks like you took a good whack."
"That I did, and those sorry suckers are gonna pay for it."
Someone behind Rush said, "Yeah, and they got off with his woman."
The sheriff lifted a bushy gray brow. "Didn't know you'd finally settled down. I guess you're chompin' at the bit to get trackin' them devils."
Rather than explain his affiliation with Lilah, he said, "Yeah, soon as it's daylight. You brought extra horses, I presume."
"Yep. Got four." He glanced around the coach disregarding those trying to sleep, and said loudly, "I'll be deputizin' volunteers in the mornin' for a posse and I want strong, strappin' men, not old codgers. If you're strong and don't volunteer, everyone will know you're a coward. Think 'bout that." He looked back at Rush. "You get some sleep and I'll do the same. See ya afore daylight."
Rush nodded and was glad when the movement caused less pain than before.
Chapter 9: Fightin' Mad
At the first peek of sun over the horizon Rush was leading the posse on the strongest gelding brought by Sheriff Connor. The tracks left by the thieves were easy to follow and Rush prayed it wouldn't rain anytime soon. His head hurt like hell and he had a goose egg, but at least the nausea was gone and he could sit straight. He set his horse at a moderate but steady pace. More than likely the beast would be called upon to travel a long distance. The posse followed him with the sheriff bringing up the rear. Seven men had volunteered to join them, two old cowboys and five strapping young men. Even though the sheriff had said no old codgers, Rush had selected one of the old-timers because he'd been right smart in his answers to tracking questions. Seems he'd traveled Texas extensively and Rush decided his knowledge could be valuable.
As for the young men, one of those volunteering had been Mr. Gunther, and although Sheriff Connor accepted him, Rush vetoed it. The man's family needed him and if something happened to him, Lilah's selfless act would have been for naught. Mr. Gunther had argued, but Rush remained firm in his resolve. The two men selected were brothers headed to central Texas to herd cattle to the rails in Kansas. Neither had wives or children, so Rush nodded to Sheriff Connor to deputize them and the seasoned cowboy.
A few hours into the chase they paused when they lost the trail. The old cowboy scratched his head,
told the others to wait a few minutes, and rode off. About fifteen minutes later he galloped back, grinned, and said, "They did some fancy cover up, but I had a hunch that paid off. Their trail continues over there." He jerked his head in the direction he'd come from. Rush nodded and said, "Lead the way."
Two hours later, Rush signaled everyone to halt. Sheriff Connor sidled his horse up next to Rush's. "Whatcha think?"
"Since they stopped and rested their horses a ways back, they've slowed down. Looks like they've overtaxed their beasts and now they're trying to rest them."
"Yep. That's what I thought."
Rush asked, "Have you had trouble with train robberies lately?"
"Not for about six months. From the descriptions, it may be the same gang. We followed them as far as the Rio Grande after the last holdup. Lost 'em there. Too many hiding places."
"Damn. I hate doing it, but I think we need to push our horses a little harder."
"I agree."
Rush only stopped two more times during the remainder of the day and didn't break for camp until almost dark. Even so, none of the men grumbled and for that he was grateful. It was a good group of men.
Although humid, it was not as unbearable as it would become in a couple of months. So far their tracking had led them alternately across flat grasslands and rolling hills covered with loblolly and other pines and various oak trees. Since rainfall was common in the area, Rush prayed again for a drought.
The next morning he woke fightin' mad after a restless night of nightmares. He wasn't normally a praying man, but he lifted another prayer for Lilah's safety.
* * *
There wasn't an inch of Lilah's body that didn't ache and her face felt burned from the sun and wind. Even so, she was grateful the wretched men hadn't approached her with lascivious intent. The first man who tried to rape her would find himself flat out dead in the dirt.
"Get up, woman," Cecil yelled after a visit behind some bushes.
Lilah sent him a scathing look that only made him laugh. He tossed his saddle bag in front of her. "Pull out some jerky and hardtack fer me and the boys and some fer yerself. And don't try nothin' stupid."
Hankster said, "You sure we can't start a fire and make some coffee?"
Cecil shook his head. "Now that would be right dumb, Hankster. We prob'ly got a posse after us just like last time. Startin' a fire would be like liftin' a flag and sayin' 'hey, here we are boys'."
Hankster shrugged. "Course you're right, Cecil."
Lilah's stomach growled and hunger made her weak. Following her resolve to stay healthy, she ate some of the disgusting food and laid out portions for the outlaws, the same as she had done the night before. When she'd finished, Cecil pulled out his canteen, sipped, and tossed it at her. Swallowing bile in the back of her throat, she drank a little water.
Cecil cocked his head sideways and gave her a questioning look. Snidely, he asked, "You gotta go?"
Lilah straightened her shoulders, "I do. But I demand privacy."
Cecil grinned, "Oh, you do, do you?"
She refused to respond.
He called to Jethro, "Hey, Jeth, toss me that rope." With the rope in hand, he fastened a loop and started toward Lilah. She stepped backwards and almost cowered, but his smirk made her stand tall again. None too gently, he placed the loop over her head until it reached her waist and then pulled it tight. "There now, Miz High-n-Mighty, you go take care o' yer bizness while I got ya hogtied."
Lilah almost spit in his face, but thought better of it. She desperately needed to relieve herself and didn't think antagonizing the brute would be wise. Stepping as far as the rope extended, she hid behind some bushes and quickly took care of nature's call. Cecil jerked on the rope a couple of times and laughed uproariously.
Chapter 10: Brutus Evens the Odds
Over the next ten days, Lilah did her damndest to keep her spirits up and her personage healthy. By the eleventh day, it was obvious that she wouldn't last much longer under her current conditions, and even the outlaws commented on how sickly she looked. She made a decision to attempt her escape that night.
The bandits were evidently skirting all townships and habitations. Once, she had seen what must have been a squatter's cabin, but children played in the yard. Even if she made it to the cabin, she would never forgive herself if anything bad happened to the family.
Several days previous they had left the shelter of trees and traveled into flat, sun drenched territory scattered with grasses, mesquite, and occasional oaks. Lifting a shaky hand to her sunburned and peeling face, she winced at the thinness of her arm. Her jerky and hardtack diet had removed any excess pounds and many more.
Later that day they came to a river.
Cecil halted his horse and pushed her to the ground. "You look like hell. Clean up at the river. Don't want Boss Man seein' ya like this. He might get the wrong idea and think we been tastin' the goods afore him."
Jethro trotted his horse over. "Hey Cecil, we gonna cross tonight or wait 'til mornin'?"
"The river's kinda high here. In the mornin' we'll follow it north and hope the crossin' gets better." He shifted his gaze to Lilah and grinned. "Yep, we should be in Nuevo Laredo before tomorrow night."
Hankster joined them on his horse. "Ya mean ya don't wanna have fun in Laredo first, jus' cross over to the Mexican side?" He whined, "Come on Cecil, there's this cute li'l gal at the saloon–"
Cecil interrupted, "Damnit Hankster, don't cross me. Ya know I only do what's best fer ya and we already been gone longer'n we should'a. Boss Man won't like that."
Hankster still whined, "But we got her to make him 'appy and–"
Cecil interrupted again, "Hell, Hankster, look at her. She don't look like the same woman. Boss Man didn't see what we saw. He might not believe us."
Hankster hung his head. "Yeah, you're right."
Cecil jerked his neck toward an outcropping of rocks. "We'll camp there. I think any posse would'a caught up by now, but just in case, we'll have cover there."
Lilah, who had slumped onto a rock, watched and listened to the men with detached awareness. When Cecil shouted, "Git down to the river and clean up," she gazed at him with glazed eyes, and when he stomped over, grabbed her hair and pulled her toward the water, she whimpered, but felt only minimal discomfort. I'm dying, she reasoned.
At the river, however, when Cecil dunked her, she gasped and suddenly became intensely aware of her surroundings. Sitting in the water, dress and all, she splashed its coolness over her body and then lay back into it.
"Damn Cecil, she's gone plum loco. Ya knows that happens to people not 'customed to the sun," Jethro reasoned.
Cecil replied, "Yeah, too bad."
Hankster said, "Maybe we aught'a kill her. There ain't nobody to find her out here. We sure don't wanna make Boss Man unhappy."
Cecil sighed. "Let's see if the water brings her 'round first. Seems a shame to kill her. She was a right pretty woman."
Lilah had turned over onto her stomach so the outlaws couldn't see her expression. At the moment, her mind was as clear as the cloudless day and she planned her escape. She tried to make sense of the cowboys' conversation.
There's a town on the Mexican side called New… New—something—Laredo, and another on the U.S. side just called Laredo.
She grinned, placed her mouth in the river, and drank deeply.
If I can make it to Laredo, I can find the sheriff and be safe.
* * *
From atop the ridge, Rush peered at the scene below with his spyglass. When he'd seen Lilah sitting on the horse of the leader, and then jerked roughly to the ground, he'd had to control his rage. He'd wanted to shoot the man in both legs and arms before taking aim at his heart, and he was a good enough shot to do so, but that wouldn't take care of the other two. And when the outlaw dragged Lilah by her hair and tossed her into the water, he'd had to close his eyes for a second to keep from losing it. The bastard was going to pay, that was for sure. He'd kill the other men sw
iftly, but this one would suffer. He adjusted the spyglass back to Lilah's face, and even though he hadn't cried since the death of his wife, he wanted to break down in tears. She wouldn't last much longer in this harsh climate.
Within the hour dusk painted the landscape and the men made camp about twenty feet from the river's edge near some boulders. Through his spyglass in the waning light, Rush could see that Lilah had revived somewhat as she made coffee over their small fire and served food to the men. Earlier, the skinny one had left and shot a rabbit. They were getting careless thinking they were safe. Rush grinned without humor. Mistakes got people killed.
The way he figured it, they were either headed for Laredo on this side of the river or Nuevo Laredo on the other; possibly to meet up with more outlaws. Seeing as how he was the only one left of his posse; he knew he needed to make a move before they met up with other bad men.
About a hundred miles back, one of the brothers' horses had stumbled and broken a leg and they'd had to shoot the poor beast, which meant the strappin' young man had had to double up with another rider. Because the old timer was the lightest, he'd been chosen. Everyone knew his poor horse wouldn't last long carrying two men, so the sheriff and Rush had decided the best thing was to send them back. After another twenty miles, the other brother had started pukin' his guts up, followed by the two deputies. They were about as useful as a dried up milk cow. Ten miles later, the sheriff had twisted his ankle, possibly breaking it, when his horse tumbled in a freak accident. Rush wasn't overly sorry the other men were gone, but the sheriff was experienced and smart. Together they could have made quick work of the outlaws.
* * *
Lilah reached into her pocket for the Indian arrowhead she'd come across a few days earlier. She wasn't fooled by her captors' snores. They slept light and often jumped up whenever there was the slightest noise. From the position of the moon, she figured it was about midnight. Slowly, she moved her hand with the arrowhead against the rope cinched around her waist and leading back to Cecil. With a pounding heart, she began sawing the edge of the arrowhead against the rope. Carefully, quietly, slowly, she moved her hand back and forth, back and forth, feeling the twines release, one by one. She wanted to sob when the last one was cut through.