Sharon Poppen

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by Hannah


  Angry voices from the street below stalled further discussion about her future. Both women abandoned their tea and went to the window.

  A crowd of men, some mounted, had surrounded a hapless fellow. Multiple lassos held him like a doggie that had strayed from the herd. Yelling, “Hang ‘em,” “Shoot ‘em,” and “Lemme at ‘em,” the crowd headed for The Langtry.

  “Wonder what he did to get folks so riled? Ole Roy will have him tried, found guilty and hung within the hour. His Honor hates for dinner to be late,” said Ruby. Her voice carried a hint of anticipation that made Hannah wonder if she was thinking about Roy or her girls, who were healthy and ready for the surge in customers this was sure to bring.

  At first, Hannah caught only glimpses of the short, nearly bald man.

  “Come on, girl.” Ruby turned from the window to gather the remnants of their tea break. “Looks like a busy night.”

  “Ruby! It’s Benny!”

  Ruby caught her arm. “Benny? The one you talk about?”

  “Yes! I’m sure. Let go. I’ve got to talk to him.”

  Ruby held tight. “Wait. Think this through.”

  “There’s nothing to think about.” Hannah pried her arm loose. “I’ve got to get there before Judge Bean ...” Her response was absorbed into the rose-colored Persian rug hugging the stairs as she raced down them.

  Reaching the street, Hannah found that the crowd had entered The Langtry, the office and courtroom of Judge Roy Bean. Knowing his trials were short, biased toward townsfolk and usually resulted in a “hang ‘em high” verdict, she stepped up her pace.

  Pushing through the saloon doors, Hannah found the room crowded with boisterous men talking or yelling, loudly. Dust swirled amid cigar smoke adding a sense of heat to the mix of sights and sounds. She’d begun pushing her way through when a gunshot brought an uneasy silence.

  “Well, boys, now that I got some quiet maybe we can get on with the law and bring some order back into my courtroom.”

  Hannah used the lull to work her way forward.

  “Now, tell me what crime this rascal committed.” The judge pointed to the cowboy closest to Benny. “You, tell me what he did.”

  “He done stole three of my ...” A dry throat brought the accuser’s voice to a whisper.

  “Pour some whiskey for these fine constituents, bartender.” The Judge waited for the cowboy to down his drink. “Go on.”

  “He stole three of my best stallions, along with another dozen belongin’ to neighbors.”

  “That a fact?”

  A nervous smile crossed Benny’s face. “I’ll tell ya, Judge. They’s runnin’ loose. Was just fixin’ to return ‘em.” Denials and grumbles filled the air.

  Hannah stepped forward. “Where’s Drake?”

  Benny’s smile faded.

  Judge Bean turned to Hannah. “Ma’am, you have a complaint against this man?”

  Feeling the scrutiny of every eye in The Langtry, Hannah hesitated, but hate and determination won out. “Yes. He killed my husband and his brother. He ... They ...”

  The judge nodded his understanding and turned to Benny. “What about these charges?”

  “The woman’s crazy, she …” Benny winced. A look of recognition, and then fear sealed his fate.

  “I think you just pled guilty,” the Judge declared. The saloon echoed with hoots of agreement. “Hang ‘em, boys.”

  Hannah was pushed aside as Benny was dragged along, but she managed to come within inches of him for a brief moment. “Where’s Drake? Please,” she asked.

  The crowd surged ahead and Benny was gone. He’d spared her life and now Hannah had helped end his. Her only regret was that he’d been no help in her quest to find Drake.

  *****

  Hannah stared at the lifeless, hanging body silhouetted against the sunset. An arm circled her waist.

  “Honey, come home. You’ll learn nothing from him.” Getting no answer, Ruby continued. “Come. Don’t let this reopen the wounds that you’ve worked so hard to heal.”

  Finally, Hannah spoke. “If Benny’s here, then Drake and the others are probably nearby.” She turned to Ruby. “I’m not waiting anymore. I’m going to find them.”

  “Girl, you need to ...”

  Hannah touched Ruby’s arm. “It’s time. One down, at least one to go.” She took Ruby’s hand. “Come, help me pack.”

  As they walked away from the large oak, a branch groaned causing Hannah to glance back. A vision of Drake and the others, hanging alongside Benny, flashed through her mind. It cleared and Hannah was left with the image of Benny’s corpse swaying like a heavy pendulum in the harsh desert wind.

  Chapter 6

  Hannah Moves South

  Hannah tugged at the cinch and tightened Sunrise’s saddle. The horse stomped a couple of times in a half-hearted protest, then settled down. Hannah had hoped that her preparations would keep her mind busy; would keep Ruby’s caution and advice at bay. It wasn’t working.

  “Don’t let your past take away your future.” Even in Hannah’s subconscious, Ruby’s genuine words of concern rang out loud and clear. Hannah was sure those words were permanently embedded in her mind, because Ruby had used them at least a dozen times in her effort to keep Hannah in Nacogdoches. Thoughts of that last day with Ruby brought on a melancholy smile as Hannah remembered how despite Ruby’s constant arguments, the woman had gone out of her way to make Hannah as prepared as possible to move on with her quest.

  Now, gathering up her sleeping roll, Hannah glanced at the horse Ruby had found, and then insisted on paying for it. The rancher had said she was a docile, but hardy animal that would be easy to handle, yet travel long hours under a heavy load. He’d been honest. Sunrise was all that and more. They shared many campfire conversations over the past few weeks and Hannah imagined great understanding in the big brown eyes. So much so, that if the horse had actually spoken it wouldn’t have surprised her.

  Despite the constant echo of Ruby’s words, the one-sided equine conversations and all the miles she’d traveled, Hannah’s hunger for revenge was still the driving force that demanded satisfaction before she could even consider a future. She missed Ruby and the girls, but the long, dusty days in the saddle, the failure to locate Drake or his men and the long lonely nights in her bedroll had actually fired her drive. The voices of her husband’s murderers, her rapists, were the last thing she heard at night and their evil faces greeted her each morning, even before her eyes opened.

  Hannah finished with the tack and secured her bedroll and saddlebags. She took a couple of canteens down to the river’s edge and filled them with the cool, swift Brazos water. Once the canteens were secured to the saddle, she glanced at her map. Since leaving Ruby’s place, she’d worked her way from Lufkin, to Trinity, and then Huntsville, Navasota and all the towns in between that harbored a saloon. She had high hopes for San Antonio, but that was days away.

  She mounted up, checked the location of the sun and kept heading south. She’d learned that the border towns were considered safe havens for the lawless with their quick and easy access to Mexico, beyond the law, such as it was in Texas. Still, she’d found no sign of Drake or his men. An hour into her ride, the sunlight faded. She turned to find the horizon looked like a battle scene. The sun was desperately struggling to dominate the skies, but a gray wall of clouds that extended from north to south for as far as the eye could see was stealing the morning light. Stray wild grasses were beginning to sway in a gentle breeze. Spurring Sunrise on, she hoped the storm would spend itself before reaching her.

  Hannah also hoped that concern for the storm would keep her mind on her travels and away from her usual mental exercises of making plans for extracting revenge on Drake and each and every member of his band of demons. She’d lost track of the number of ways she’d devised, only to discard them for something more painful or deadly. Every plan ended with death. The question of whether she could actually kill someone, no matter how evil, was debated as she rode, as sh
e ate and as she slept. She was angry with herself, because despite the fact that each debate ended with a resounding assurance that she could kill them, a tiny niggle of doubt in her Christian soul could not be dispelled.

  Ruby had talked about a future, but Hannah had long ago shut her mental door on that possibility. All her soft, caring emotions had died. Her scarred body existed only for revenge, and then it too would die. She rode on with a purpose, but no thoughts of a future.

  A couple of hours later, amid a forceful wind and darkening skies, she halted Sunrise. The cool canteen water slaked her dry throat. She poured some into her hat and held it under Sunrise’s mouth.

  “Guess the storm’s going to win.” The horse lapped up the water and bobbed her head as if in gratitude. Hannah shook the hat out vigorously, and then set it back on her head just as the first raindrops began to fall. “Reckon we better find us some shelter, girl.” A quick scan of the area revealed a rocky outcropping not too far ahead along the riverbed. The mist of the first drops developed into a real downpour as she spurred Sunrise on.

  Sheets of rain turned the sand into slush. Rocky areas became slippery and treacherous. Through bolts of lightning, Hannah could see that she was almost to the rock formation and could only hope for a cave or at least an overhang to hunker under. Sunrise began to lose footing on the rocks. Hannah dismounted and walked beside the horse. A flash of light showed them to be about twenty feet above the river, which had swollen by half and was raging southward.

  The darkness after a lightning flash blinded Hannah and Sunrise lost her footing. Despite Hannah’s attempt to help the horse back up, they both tumbled down into the river. The water enveloped Hannah. The force of the fall tugged her down until her bottom touched the smooth rocks of the riverbed. Instinct to survive kicked in and she fought her way to the surface. The roiling water seemed intent on pulling her back down and only the trunk of a wildly churning tree kept her afloat. She threw her arms around a limb and desperately clung to it. The river made an abrupt turn at the rock formation and the tree became wedged in some crevasses. Hannah inched her way from the limb to the trunk and tried to move onto the rocks. Finding her boots too slippery, she tore at them. Once barefoot, she managed to access a ledge, and then another and another until she was high above the river. Her strength waned as she found an overhang that afforded some shelter from the storm.

  The sanctuary of the shelter allowed her the time to think about more than her immediate survival. Glancing out into the storm, she realized Sunrise was gone, probably dead. Her bedroll and saddlebags containing food and clothing were gone. Her gun was gone. Even her shoes and socks were gone. Fear inched its way into her thoughts and she began to wonder. Will I die here?

  Fatigue became her salvation and Hannah’s eyes began to close. The storm continued to rage, but Hannah gratefully slipped into an exhausted sleep.

  Chapter 7

  Hannah’s Hunger

  A silky sensation across the sole of her foot nudged Hannah’s subconscious. Her eyes fluttered open to such brightness that they quickly closed again. Slowly, she managed to open her eyes in a squint. Trying to ground her whereabouts, she looked off into the barren landscape she’d been traveling right before the terrible storm.

  Her eyes drifted to the rock wall to her left and then down to the surface where she lay. Movement to her right drew her attention. She nearly screamed. A large snake slithered alongside her body toward a crevasse not three feet from her head. After what seemed hours, the rattled tail disappeared down into the hole. Hannah allowed herself a sigh.

  With the snake gone, Hannah could now see that she was just inches away from the rocky ledge. The river slapped against the rocks about fifteen feet below her. After a quick debate with herself about the pros and cons of moving and a concerted effort to work her bruised and sore body, she began to ease back to a spot where she could stand. The side of the river she was on continued rocky for as far as she could see. Across the river, the ground was more level and looked to be sandy. Moving down to the lowest ledge, she gauged the temper of the river.

  It had calmed. The current was swift, but it wasn’t wide at this location. Before she had time to decide whether it was a good or bad idea, or if she had the strength to make it across, she dove into the icy water. Her arms and legs protested and threatened to cramp, but carried her across to the distant bank.

  Hannah rewarded herself with a leisurely stretch. With her back flatten against the ground, she extended her arms and legs, and relaxed into the sand to soak up the sun. She dozed.

  A guttural growl woke her and instinctively she huddled into a fetal position. A quick look around revealed no menacing critters. Again, the growl. This time, she smiled and rubbed at her belly. She was hungry.

  Struggling to her feet, the hunger made Hannah think of Sunrise. The poor animal had probably suffered and she could only hope the gentle mare had survived. Then, it came to her what the loss of the horse meant to her own survival. Sunrise had taken Hannah’s meager possessions and food with her. Looking south, Hannah decided to continue on. There was always the slight chance that the horse would be found and, if not, maybe she’d find some of her possessions along the riverbank.

  While the river flowed south in a rain swollen pace, Hannah began to walk alongside it. Without the storm to worry about, Hannah found herself drifting into a melancholy mood of self-pity and doubt. Why me? Why Caleb? What did we do to deserve this? How can I go on? Even Ruby thinks I’m foolish. Tears threatened to blind her. A sharp rock pricked her foot bringing her out of her pity and she cursed.

  “Damn you, Drake.” With the back of her hand, she wiped away the tears. “Damn you! You had no right to do this to us!” She screamed her curses over and over again at the top of her lungs. “Damn you!” The last two words came out as a horrible rasp. She closed her mouth and swallowed trying to create moisture in her dry throat. She turned toward the river, grateful that it was rolling along beside her in an area devoid of large rocks or cliffs.

  Cupping her hands, she gulped the cool water. When she had satisfied her thirst, she continued to walk. Refusing to dwell on the past, she forced herself to think about Drake and what she’d do when she found him. The gun was gone with Sunrise and Hannah thought that was probably a good thing. Ruby had insisted she take it and had even shown her how to use it, but Hannah was afraid of it. She didn’t mind the thought that she’d shoot herself; it was the thought that she’d end up dead before getting her revenge on Drake.

  Ideas popped into her head that included bolstering the courage to shoot him, or seeing his blood ooze from the knife slash across his throat or seeing his bloated face inside a noose and hanging from a tree. Sometimes she included the law in her plans, but more often it was just she and Drake. As she walked, she planned and every time a rock cut into her foot, she vowed to add another bullet, another slash or a tighter noose into her plan.

  *****

  Hannah glanced at the sun. She estimated that she’d been walking for four or five hours. Bloody pinpricks were beginning to leave a trail that marked her agony. After only an hour into her walk, she’d torn the sleeves from her denim shirt and tied them around the soles of her feet. It helped, a little. As bad as it was, she counted her blessings that it was autumn. The rocky soil cut into her feet, but at least the sun wasn’t baking the pebbles into a blistering bed of fire. She’d found neither horse, nor belongings. Despite an occasional drink from the river, she’d had nothing to eat. Stopping to rest, she soaked her feet, coverings and all, in the river. Stretching back, her hand settled in some wild grasses. The cool blades tickled, inducing her to run her palm across them in a leisurely caress.

  A thought crossed her mind and she looked down at the grass. She ate all sorts of greens, in fact she loved green vegetables. She pulled out a handful and dipped them into the river. Shaking loose all the grit, she filled her mouth. She chewed quickly, finding them sour to the taste and swallowed. A handful of river water chased th
em into her stomach. She ate two more handfuls before she began to dry heave. Holding her head just above the river, she lapped as much water as she could.

  “Ma’am, what’re you doing?” The soft southern drawl came as such a shock that Hannah rolled over and lay sprawled with her head in the water.

  “Ma’am!”

  From the corner of her eye, Hannah watched a dark haired man jump from his horse and rush toward her.

  Hannah curled into a fetal position with her eyes downcast and said nothing.

  “Frank, Daniel, give me a hand here.”

  She watched two additional men dismount and start towards her. Hannah jumped to her feet and tried to run. Her legs and bloody feet protested by stiffening up. She fell on her face. By the time she rolled over, the three men stood above her.

  Chapter 8

  Hannah’s Payback

  “Go away,” Hannah screamed to the three men standing over her.

  “You need help,” offered the man with the southern drawl who’d come upon her, as she lay spent from vomiting up the bitter grasses.

  “No. I can take care of myself.” Her desperate ballet in attempting to get to her feet brought a smile to the man.

  “Well, I can see that.”

  Hannah rolled over and began to crawl.

  The man squatted down in front of her blocking her way. “Ma’am, name’s Liam Canady. My brothers and I mean you no harm. Let us help.”

  Hannah realized what she must look like. She looked into his eyes and detected only concern. She listened to her common sense. I’m many things, but not a fool. I do need help. She managed to come to a sitting position and then nodded to Liam. “Name’s Hannah and I’ve had a run of bad luck.”

  *****

  Hannah stared into the fire to avoid watching the men set up a campsite. Truth be known, she had no choice. Her blistered and bloody feet had reached their limit. Feeling a need to protect herself, she began a covert surveillance from the corner of her eye, head still down. The trio of brothers had happened along and offered help at the precise moment her body had succumbed to paralyzing cramps that screamed, “no more.”

 

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