Sharon Poppen

by Hannah

  “Two of them.”

  “Men.”

  “Looks like it,” agreed Liam.

  “We’ve a few minutes. Should we be doing anything?”

  “I am,” Liam said with a sly grin.

  She looked up at him. “What?”

  “Calming a part of my body, so I can walk again.”

  “What’s the matter?” She looked down at his legs and saw his problem. “It was your fault. You didn’t button up.” She looked up into eyes filled with love.

  “Yes, it’s my fault.” He nodded. The screech of a bird grabbed his attention and he turned to watch the approaching riders.

  Their hats were pulled down against the sun and their body language spoke of exhaustion. Just before reaching the tall grasses they dismounted and walked between their horses. Once the parched steeds had dropped their heads and were lapping furiously, the men moved up stream. Both pulled off their hats and dipped them into the creek.

  “Jesus! It can’t be!” Liam rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

  “Frank?” Hannah called out as she walked out of the brush toward Liam’s brother.

  “Hannah?” Frank waved and smiled. “Where’s Liam?”

  “Here.” Liam came out into the open. “What are you doing here and who’s your friend?”

  Frank sloshed across the creek, nodded at Hannah and gave Liam a quick hug. “Sure good to see you in one piece. From what we heard in town, sounds like this Stevenson is a dangerous hombre.”

  “So we’re told. But, again, who’s your friend and why are you here?”

  “Oh, sorry.” Frank turned and nodded toward the stranger. “Meet Bill Jackson, the baby’s grandfather.” He called over to Bill. “This is my brother, Liam, and this is Hannah.”

  “Have you found Stevenson yet?” Jackson asked.

  “No,” answered Hannah. “Not yet, but I believe we’re close. You two need to go back. Especially you, Mr. Jackson. Stevenson’s sure to recognize you.”

  “Well, if he don’t, I intend to tell him who I am right before I shoot the hell out of his God damn privates and then put a bullet hole into his fucking brain.”

  “Whoa, now. Let’s watch the language,” Liam warned.

  “Sorry, ma’am. I just get riled when I think of what this man has cost my family.”

  Hannah had crossed the creek and stood near Jackson. “I understand why you hate him.” She touched his arm. “I’ve been in your shoes. I’ve experienced the hate that consumes you when a loved one has been murdered.” She turned to the brothers. “Come, let’s have some water and hope it cools our tempers so we can make good decisions as to getting the baby back.”

  “Good idea, Hannah,” said Frank. “But I think we could all use some food. It’s getting late and we haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

  “We don’t have any food, just some jerky,” said Liam.

  Frank smiled. “You don’t know Aunt Emiliana. There is no way you can ride out from her place without traveling food.” He pulled some bread and a jar of jam from his saddlebag and held it out to Hannah. “Also have some dried apples, flour, dried pork strips and coffee.

  “You Canady men seem obsessed by food.” Hannah suppressed a giggle. “But, I think you’re right. Frank, please get the coffee and Liam, Mr. Jackson, could you look around for some kindling. We’ll sup on bread, jam and coffee.”

  Chapter 27

  A Bad Decision

  Having quieted their hunger pangs, they sat around the fire and sipped at the coffee. The sun had set and countless stars dotted the sky as the moonless evening darkened.

  Jackson was fidgety. He downed the last of his coffee and stood up. “We need to get moving. Stevenson is getting further away.”

  Hannah looked up at him. “Mr. Jackson, please sit back down. The truth is we have to stop for the night. We can’t follow the cart tracks in the dark and we need to discuss who needs to go on.”

  “What do you mean who goes on?” Jackson demanded. “We all go on.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Well, young lady, I think it is.” He turned to Liam. “Surely you agree that you need our help.”

  “I think Hannah knows what she’s talking about. You need to sit down and listen to her.”

  “Mr. Jackson, please?” Hannah smiled. “We really do need to talk.” When he reluctantly complied, Hannah asked about Sara. “Where is your wife? When she left the Canady Ranch, she was terribly worried about your temper and what you’d do when you found out about Caroline. Then your ranch hand showed up and told the sheriff he was worried. Said you and Sara had disappeared without a trace.”

  “That was wrong of us to not tell Pacco. But, after Sara came back from your ranch, she tried to convince me that we needed to wait until you folks found Stevenson and got the baby back. Just didn’t sit right with me. Finally, I decided that she was wrong and I needed to track down the son-of-a-bitch that put my daughter in harm’s way, and then stole her child. I saddled up, but Sara wouldn’t stop trying to change my mind. She saddled up and begged me to go talk with the folks who’d taken care of Jessica.”

  “You went to the ranch?” asked Hannah.

  “Yes. We left in the middle of the night. When we got to the ranch, Frank and Daniel explained what happened and that you two were chasing the baby down. I felt like a fool. It was my daughter; it’s my grandchild. I ought to be the one making Stevenson pay.”

  Frank took over telling what happened next. “When we couldn’t talk him out of it, Daniel and I decided one of us needed to go with him. We drew straws and here I am.”

  “Where’s Sara?” asked Hannah.

  “She stayed at the ranch with your aunt.”

  “She must be frantic with worry,” said Hannah.

  Frank nodded.

  As each person sorted out the situation and how it could change their pursuit efforts, a nervous tension permeated the mood around the campfire. Hannah watched Jackson’s eyes move from person to person as if challenging his right to be there. She recognized the anger and determination of his body language and knew that he was not going to be deterred from avenging the hurt to his family. She knew what had to be done.

  “Well,” she said as she got to her feet. “Dawn comes early. We better get some sleep. With any luck, this will all be over by tomorrow night and we’ll have Jessica back in your arms.”

  The men got up, secured their horses and spread their bedrolls out. Frank and Jackson wandered away to relieve themselves leaving Hannah and Liam alone. He pulled her into his arms.

  “So, Miss Hannah, what do you have up your sleeve?”

  “Nothing.”

  He kissed her forehead. “I know you better than that. I could see the wheels turning in your head. And, when you didn’t argue your point, I knew you’d figured something out.”

  “Honest. I haven’t. I just feel so sorry for him.” To avoid Liam’s eyes, she buried her head in his chest. “Don’t you?”

  “Yes. But, that doesn’t make taking him along the right thing to do.”

  “I know.”

  “Then …”

  She stepped back. “Let’s talk about it in the morning. Right now, I need to find some privacy and take care of –

  “Me, too.” Liam took her hand and led her into the darkness.

  Hannah listened to the light snoring from Frank and Jackson. They had settled themselves across from Hannah and Liam. Their bodies shimmered mirage-like through the heat waves rising from the campfire’s burning embers. She looked over at Liam who was on his back a mere three feet from her. His firm jaw line told her that even in his sleep; he was still annoyed at her for refusing to cuddle. She told him it wasn’t proper now that they had camp mates. She smiled remembering how much she had wanted to spend another night nestled between his legs as he leaned back against a tree with his arms holding her close. But tonight, she needed some space between them. She watched his chest slowly rise and fall in what she hoped was a gentle, re
laxed, deep sleep. With Liam, it was hard to tell and he woke so easily.

  She began to inch her body away from him and the fire pit. No one stirred. When she felt it was safe, she got to her feet. Liam hadn’t moved. She slipped quietly toward the horses and untied her mount. Gently patting its nose she guided it away from the others and walked out into the darkness. Eventually, she pulled herself up into the saddle and slowly increased her pace until she was in a cautious canter. The darkness made both her and the horse uneasy, but as they traveled, their eyes adjusted to the brilliant starlight and they moved east.

  Several times during the night, she knew she’d dosed in the saddle, but the horse kept moving in what she hoped was a straight line east. As soon as the black began to fade to gray, she jumped from the horse and looked for wheel tracks. In no time, she found them. The cart was moving along a natural path across the land and her horse had done the same. She patted its neck in thanks and wished she could offer her a sugar cube reward.

  Just as the sun, peeked over the horizon, Hannah spotted travelers a few miles ahead of her and she nearly cheered to see a cart among the figures. Then, the thought of what she must look like crossed her mind. She opened her canteen and splashed some water on her face. She slipped her hat down her back and finger-combed her hair. She was surprised at how few tangles knotted her silken mane and could only hope her efforts made her presentable. She kept moving forward all through her grooming and could now make out a male rider trotting alongside a woman and a cart.

  Within minutes she was within hailing distance. “Hello!” she called out.

  The man turned in saddle, but kept the horse and the cart moving forward. Hannah saw his hand move to his hip. “Hello, yourself. You all alone out here?”

  Hannah was now alongside him. “Sometimes, when you have to leave in a hurry, it’s better to travel alone. Know what I mean?” She hoped her slight smile created an expression of caution touched with a bit of a tease.

  She almost sighed with relief that her ruse was working when his lips curled and he nodded. “Been there.” He kept his hand on his holstered gun.

  She eyed him up and down, ran her tongue over her lips and said, “I’ll bet you have.” She nodded toward the cart. “Your woman?”

  “No. Just a cow for my daughter.”

  Bile threatened, but Hannah managed. “Looks like you’ve a passel of little ones. Three? You’ve been a busy man.”

  He laughed. “Only one’s mine. The cute one. The brown ones are hers.”

  Through this whole conversation, they’d moved forward. The woman kept her head down as she walked, but Hannah could still see various bruises on her cheek and arms. One of the babies packed in the cart began to cry. The woman looked over at Stevenson who reined his horse and nodded. She pulled the neck of her embroidered white blouse down to expose her breasts. Hannah felt like she was watching a dead person who no longer cared about pride, decency, or hope.

  The woman reached into the cart and it was Jessica that she pressed to her nipple. A small boy began to squish his hands to indicate he was also hungry. The woman stood close to the cart and let him latch onto her other nipple.

  “She feeds all of them?” asked Hannah.

  “Yeah, she’s a real producer. Keeps the brats from crying.” Hannah noticed that Stevenson pretty much ignored the woman and focused on her. He never relaxed his grip on his gun. “So, where’re you headed,” he asked.

  “Don’t know. Just needed to move on, fast like.”

  “Don’t look like you packed much? Got any food?”

  “No. And I’m sure hungry.”

  “Tell you what. You give me your gun and I’ll have the cow fix us some breakfast.” He held out his hand.

  Ignoring common sense and against her gut warning, she eased her gun out of its holster and handed it over. “I want it back.” She held it a moment or two longer than necessary and added, “Soon.”

  He smiled as he tucked it into his waist. “Of course.” He dismounted and tied his horse to the cart. Hannah followed suit. The woman had finished with the baby and set it back into the cart. She urged the boy from her nipple, lifted him out of the cart and he clung to her skirt.

  “Get busy. We’re hungry.”

  “Should we get some wood for a fire?” Hannah asked.

  “She’ll do it.” He took a whiskey bottle from the cart and motioned for Hannah to follow him to a shady spot under a nearby tree.

  With his back to her, Hannah followed. She took a chance and gently brushed the woman’s arm. The woman kept her head down, but Hannah saw her questioning look from the corner of her eye. Hannah nodded slightly and hurried on to join Stevenson.

  Once they were seated, he took a swig from the bottle and handed it to Hannah. “So, what do they call you?”

  She put the bottle to her lips, but allowed little to trickle into her mouth. “What name do you think fits me?” she teased.

  He laughed, took the bottle back and drank some more. He leaned forward and touched her hair. “I think you look like Trouble.” He twisted her hair around his fist and pulled her to him. “Where’s your friend?”

  “What friend? I told you, I’m alone.”

  “I remember you from that livery stable in San Antonio. I was leaving and you and your friend were coming in.”

  “You’re mistaken. I’ve never seen you before. Please, you’re hurting me. Let go.”

  “I’m not mistaken. I never forget a beautiful woman.” He twisted her hair tighter, which crimped her neck. With his other hand, he cupped her breast. “Now, what are you doing here?”

  “I told you.” Hannah’s voice cracked from the strain to her throat. “I’m alone. I bedded that cowboy and stole his money when he went to sleep. I’ve been running ever since.”

  “Well, let’s just see.” He relaxed his grip slightly as he got to his feet and pulled Hannah to her knees. He yanked her hair forward until her face was buried in his crotch. “Now, let’s see if you’re what you say you are.”

  Hannah’s nose was crushed against Stevenson’s denim clad crotch. She gagged as she breathed in the smell of filth and tried to pull her head away. He twisted her hair again, pushed her deeper into him, and pulled her head back a few inches.

  “Unbutton me, whore.”

  Hannah drew her hands slowly up and touched his top button with one hand. She formed the other hand into a fist and with all the strength she could muster in her twisted position, she slammed it into his penis and testicles. Stevenson screamed, let go of her hair and fell into a fetal position. His curses and groans continued as he cupped his privates and rocked from side to side.

  Hannah grabbed his guns, stuffed them into her waistband and ran to the horses looking for rope to tie him into submission. Finding none, she ran to the cart and began to thrash through the variety of foodstuffs, clothes and bedding. She was grateful that Stevenson’s cries had not woken the babies. Finding no rope, she turned to the woman who was setting out some fry bread, dried fruit and jerky. Her head was down as if she hadn’t seen what had happened. The boy was still hanging onto her skirt.

  “Rope?” Hannah asked.

  The woman kept her head down and acted like she didn’t hear her.

  Hannah grabbed her by the shoulders.

  “Help me.”

  The woman kept her head down, but glanced at the suffering Stevenson and then turned slightly toward Hannah. “Diablo,” she whispered, and nodded her head toward Stevenson.

  “Yes,” Hannah agreed. She made a motion of tying something and pointed at Stevenson.

  The woman looked down at the boy, and then turned her bruised and battered face to Hannah. “Si.” She frantically began to toss the contents of the cart around and finally came up with a couple of rope strands that looked as if they’d served as belts. Just as she put them in Hannah’s hands, the sound of a rifle being cocked drew the women to look in the direction of the sound.

  His face a grimace of pain, Stevenson stood next to
his horse. The barrel of his gun was aimed at the little boy. “Hold perfectly still or the kid dies.”

  The woman froze.

  Hannah gripped the ropes and locked eyes with Stevenson. “Don’t hurt them. They didn’t do anything. Take your anger out on me.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry. You’ll pay. You’ll pay. For now, carefully toss those guns over here. And, if I even feel like you’re up to something, the boy dies.”

  “Oh, Madre!” the woman moaned.

  Hannah pulled the guns from her waist and threw them toward Stevenson’s feet.

  The minute they hit the ground, he growled at the woman. “Tie the bitch up.”

  “No comprende,” she begged.

  Hannah watched Stevenson shoulder the rifle and move his finger along the trigger.

  “No,” Hannah cried. “I’ll get her to do it.” She turned to the woman and held out the ropes.

  The woman looked at Stevenson and he nodded. She took the ropes. Hannah held her wrist against the cart and motioned for the woman to do what Stevenson wanted.

  “Wait. I want those legs where they can’t do any harm. Kneel down,” demanded Stevenson.

  Once Hannah was on her knees, with her back tight against the slats of the cart, Stevenson took a couple of steps nearer and looked at the knots. “Try to free yourself.’

  Hannah struggled.

  “Try harder.” His voice grew stronger and he walked straighter as he came closer.

  Again she struggled in vain. Satisfied that Hannah was no threat, he moved to within inches of her and put the shotgun barrel under her chin. Hannah’s eyes filled with tears, but she said nothing as she waited for the punishment he was going to give her.

  “Who are you?” He nudged her chin with the gun.

  “Name’s Hannah. I was on the train when your wife was killed. I promised her dead spirit that I’d see that no harm came to her child.”

  He sneered. “Looks like you failed.” He flipped the barrel around and smacked Hannah across the face with the stock.

  The pain brought stars and she thought she was going to faint.

  “That’s just the beginning bitch. Now, who’s that man that was with you in the livery?”