Sharon Poppen

by Hannah

  “Just a man who was also on the train. He’s looking for the killer.”

  “I don’t believe you. He’s on your trail, my trail.” He smacked her again with the stock.

  Blood erupted from her nose and mixed with the tears that could not be held back. “Hit me all you want,” she managed to say. “I’m alone. There’s no one following me.”

  He kicked her crotch area. “You better be telling the truth. Because if I see anyone on that horizon, one of these kids die for each person I see. And you don’t even want to know what I’m going to do to you.” He kicked her again.

  He walked over to the woman. “Don’t you dare defy me ever again!” He slapped her several times and pushed her to the ground. The boy began to cry, waking up the babies. Soon the sound of crying children threatened their very lives as Stevenson grabbed his daughter and shoved her at the woman. She quickly offered the baby her breast. The other baby continued to wail. Stevenson picked it up and walked it over to the grasses where he and Hannah had been sitting and dropped it to the ground.

  Stevenson began to move foodstuffs and canteens from the cart to the horses. While rooting through the cart, he’d found a lariat. He cut it in two and motioned for the woman to stand. He took his daughter and laid her in the cart. He pointed to Hannah and indicated that the woman was to tie her ankles together. Once that was done, he untied Hannah’s wrists from the cart and secured them behind her back. He picked her up and laid her belly down right behind the saddle of his horse. He told the woman to get aboard Hannah’s horse, and then settled the boy in front of her saddle and handed Jessica to her. Stevenson mounted up and kneed his horse close to the woman. He took her reins and as they began to move away from the cart, he put a bullet between the eyes of the burro.

  The woman looked frantically at the grassy area and began to scream for Stevenson to get her child. He pointed his pistol at the boy. She caught her breath and clutched the boy to her middle. “Por favor?” She wept.

  He ignored her and kept moving.

  Chapter 28

  Whose Blood?

  Liam’s eyes fluttered open just before dawn. Still more asleep than awake, his relaxed and well-rested mind and body had him back in South Carolina. He and his brothers had slept out under the Palmetto trees. Through the flittering leaves, he watched even the brightest stars bow out with a quick flash as the sun edged closer to breaching the horizon. Liam yawned and stretched leisurely coming fully awaken. No palmetto trees, just cottonwoods, but he smiled anyway, because like every morning for the past couple of months, thoughts of Hannah drifted into his mind. He turned toward her and had a fleeting moment of panic before common sense told him she was tending to nature.

  Liam closed his eyes and let pleasurable thoughts of the woman he loved start his day. Despite his good night’s sleep, he still wished she’d been in his arms all night. He was becoming addicted to her touch. The sound of the horses lapping water drew Liam’s attention and he smiled in anticipation of Hannah’s return to the campsite. He waited, and waited, and waited.

  The horses had calmed and the quiet dawn was starting to make Liam nervous. He got up and wandered over toward them.

  “Damn!” A quick count of the horses brought on a sureness that Hannah was gone. Liam stormed about the grasses, trees and creek yelling, “Hannah!” Arriving back at the campsite, he found Frank and Jackson on their feet.

  “What’s going on, Liam?” asked Frank.

  “Hannah’s gone.”

  “Gone? When? How?”

  “How the hell do I know? I just woke up and found her and her horse gone.”

  “Why would she leave without us?” Frank asked.

  Liam walked over and poked a finger in Jackson’s chest. “You!”

  Jackson backed up a few steps. “What about me? I was sleeping just like you. I didn’t know she was leaving.”

  “He’s right, Liam. You can’t blame him.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Liam ran his fingers through his hair. “I should have seen it coming. I knew she had something up her sleeve.”

  “Liam?” Frank gripped Liam’s shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

  Liam looked at Jackson. “While we were listening to your story last night, I could see how Hannah was struggling with the fact that Stevenson would recognize you. In fact, I asked her what she had up her sleeve, but she said we needed to decide what to do in the morning and that she needed some sleep.” He turned back to Frank. “I should have known. You know how stubborn and determined she can be.”

  Frank nodded. “She is one determined woman when she makes up her mind to something.”

  Liam headed for the horses.

  “Liam, wait. We’ll gather our things and go after her with you.”

  “No! Take Mr. Jackson and go back to the ranch.”

  “Damn it,” Frank grabbed the reins of Liam’s horse. “Wait. You may not think so, but you need help.” Frank paused and touched his brother’s knee, “What if something …, what if you find Hannah …, ah …oh Christ, what if she gets herself killed?”

  Liam jerked the reins from his brother and galloped off.

  “Damn!” Frank hurried back to the fire pit and grabbed their food supplies and his bedroll. “Grab your stuff. We can’t let him get too far ahead of us.”

  Fast as he tried to go, Liam couldn’t shake his brother and Jackson. He raced along the cart tracks while watching the horizon for signs of anyone and occasionally looking back to see if his followers were still trailing him and if they were gaining on him.

  After riding for a couple of hours, Liam thought he saw a cart or wagon. His horse was foaming at the mouth and he knew she needed some rest. He also knew that, if he stopped, Hannah would get further away from him. He denied the horse both water and rest.

  Liam nearly cheered when he clearly identified a cart of some kind just up ahead. His eyes raked the area looking for life. His hand went to his gun and he slowed to a trot. When he was alongside the cart, he jumped down and cautiously began to sort through the deserted items. He found no sign of Hannah, nor any human. As he circled the cart, he noticed dried blood on some of the slats. He shivered. “God, please don’t let it be Hannah’s blood.”

  He noticed that the ground under the bloody slats was pretty churned up with scuffling made by something more than the large boot prints visible amid and around the area. “Damn, damn, damn!”

  “Liam!” Frank called from a distance.

  “There’s blood, but no Hannah,” he yelled to his brother.

  Frank and Jackson neared the cart and dismounted.

  “Looks like a scuffle here.” Liam pointed to the blood and the disturbed earth.

  “It does at that.” Frank shaded his eyes and looked toward the horizon. “Looks like someone decided they’d make better time without the cart.”

  “But who? Stevenson? Hannah? The Mexican woman? And, where are the babies?” While talking, Liam had been walking in a larger and larger circle around the cart looking for clues. He noticed some trod down grass leading to a tree and started to follow the trail.

  “Look,” said Mr. Jackson. “I appreciate the fact that you’re worried about your woman, but what about my granddaughter. Why are we wasting time here while they’re still on the move. After all, your woman knew what she was doing; my granddaughter is the innocent victim here.”

  Liam turned and began a determined walk toward Jackson. As he walked, his fists doubled. “First of all, she’s not MY woman. Her name is Hannah. And the only reason we’re here, this close to finding your granddaughter, is because of Hannah’s promise to your daughter’s soul and her drive to fulfill that promise.”

  Frank hurried to stand between Liam and Jackson. “Not now, Liam. Let’s settle this after we find Hannah.”

  Liam shoved his brother aside and grabbed Jackson’s shirt. His fist zeroed in on the man’s face.

  Liam’s fist froze mid-air at the unmistakable wail of a human baby. It came from the area
of grass where Liam had been heading. Jackson had ducked to avoid Liam’s attack and now cranked his neck toward the grassy area.

  “What the hell?” Frank was already headed toward the sound. The other two were alongside of him when they spotted the red-faced and ant covered baby. “It’s not Jessica,” Frank said as he lifted the child up and held it at arm’s length. “Liam, strip its clothes off so we can get rid of the ants.”

  “It’s a boy,” Liam said as he pulled the gown and diaper off the child.

  “Whose, I wonder?” Frank and Liam brushed at the few remaining ants. Through all their efforts, the baby had continued to cry loudly. “We need to wash him.”

  Noticing that the little guy was gnawing on his fist, Liam said, “And get him something to eat.”

  Once the child was washed and re-clad in the now antless gown, its crying was intermittent, but the gnawing was continual.

  “He needs to eat. Frank, check your food supplies.” Liam held the child.

  “Wonder how old he is? Does he have any teeth?” Frank asked as he began searching through his saddlebags.

  “I’d say nine or ten months old.” Liam’s pointer finger nudged the baby’s fist aside and checked for teeth. “Just a couple teeth here on the bottom.”

  “Then there’s nothing here for him.”

  Jackson had watched in silence as the brothers tended the child, but now offered some information. “When Caroline was a baby, even smaller than this one, Sarah used to mash things real fine and feed it to her.”

  “Think it will work?” Frank asked. “There’s lots of dried apples here.”

  “Let’s give it a try.” Liam rocked the baby. “Shush, little fellow, we’re trying to get something for your belly.” He rocked and walked, still the baby cried.

  Once Frank had found a flat rock and pounded some apple slices into a million little pieces, he grabbed a tin coffee mug.

  “Hurry, Frank. This little fellow needs food, fast.”

  “I need some heat to mush up these pieces. Wait, I’ve an idea.” Frank asked Jackson to cup his hand. Frank put the apple pieces into his hand and poured a little water over them. “Mr. Jackson, fist your hand and squeeze the mixture.”

  Jackson squished and squished. Some water dribbled out.

  “Not working?” Frank asked.

  “No, there’s still liquid in there, because the apples are feeling mushy.”

  “Let’s see.” Frank looked closely at the lumpy, damp mess. “Liam, look. Might work.”

  Liam brought the baby over to the men. He wet his pointer finger with his mouth and rolled it in the mixture. “Hope it doesn’t hurt him.”

  The baby’s lips began a frantic sucking motion and the tip of Liam’s finger disappeared into the baby’s mouth. It sucked for all it was worth, and then pushed Liam’s finger out with its wiggling tongue. Liam dipped some more of the apples onto this finger and repeated the process. The baby’s crying was replaced by loud slurping sounds. Soon the food was gone and the baby cried for more. Three times, the men made more apple mixture, until finally the baby burped and its eyes drooped slowly into sleep.

  Liam continued to hold the baby against his chest with the child’s head resting on his shoulder. “Well, this changes things.”

  “Yeah, you might say so.”

  “You and Jackson need to get this little fellow where he can get a woman’s care.”

  “Hold on a minute,” Jackson protested. “Let’s get something straight. I’m not going back without my granddaughter.” He climbed up on his horse. “That baby can come with us or you can take him back. But understand me, young men, I’m going forward.” He kneed his horse gently and started moving east.

  “God damn stubborn fool.”

  “Liam, you aren’t one to be talking about someone being stubborn. Look, we’ve got some food for the little guy. We’re probably more likely to run into a town going forward then heading back to San Antonio. Besides, what if we find the mother?”

  Liam stared off into the distance. “If she’s alive.”

  Frank mounted up. “She’s alive and so is Hannah. Hand me the baby. We’ll switch off holding him, but let’s catch up with Jackson and go find them.”

  Chapter 29

  A Bloody Revenge

  The hurt in her chest and belly was so intense that occasionally Hannah felt light headed. But the thought of falling off the horse kept her alert enough to crowd the back of the saddle. This helped her to balance herself as they trotted along. Somewhere along the way, the Mexican woman had stopped crying. Even her little boy was quiet.

  Regret surfaced in Hannah’s thoughts about her foolishness in thinking she could solve things by going off on her own. Regret and guilt at how much additional pain that arrogance had cost the Mexican woman. Her only hope was that Liam was following her and that he’d found the baby, but her common sense kept eroding that possibility. She felt helpless and was about to give in to despair, when she felt the horse slow down and Stevenson’s voice call over to the Mexican.

  “I’m hungry.” He made a gesture like he was feeding himself and dismounted. He took a sleeping Jessica from the woman’s arms and looked around for a spot to put her. The woman dismounted and lifted her son off and then began to search through the saddlebags for something to fix. Once one of the saddlebags was empty, Stevenson tucked his daughter into it papoose style.

  Hannah watched him approach her. He pulled her hair and forced her to look up at him. “It’s time to play,” he leered and lifted her off the horse and dropped her onto the soft grassy earth.

  He left her trussed up as he walked a few steps away and relieved himself. While he waited for the woman to ready some coffee and jerky, he squatted down next to Hannah. “Guess you were telling the truth. Don’t look like anyone is following us.”

  “I told you, I just promised the baby’s mother.”

  “Stupid woman. Wouldn’t have no part of selling the baby. Couldn’t take a man. Only wanted her mama and papa.” He cupped one of Hannah’s breasts. “You able to take a real man?”

  “Maybe, if there was one here to try me.” Hannah knew begging would not help. She decided she’d have a better chance using temptation-laced arrogance.

  Stevenson pinched one of her breasts so hard it made her gasp in pain and before she recovered, he rolled her onto her back and straddled her hips. “Here’s a real man.” He bounced lewdly as if still riding his horse. Eventually, he laughed and climbed off her. Still on his knees, he ripped her blouse open. “Jesus, what the hell happened to these? Are those teeth marks?”

  “Yes,” she hissed without flinching. “There’s nothing you can do to me that hasn’t already been done.”

  “We’ll see about that.” He gave each nipple a quick brush with his teeth and smiled. “We’ll finish this after I eat.” She spit at him. He wiped his forehead, and then slapped her across the cheek. “You’ll pay for that.”

  Hannah watched him take a cup of coffee and a handful of jerky from the Mexican. The woman pointed down at her son with a piece of the jerky. Stevenson shrugged and then nodded that it was okay. He strolled over to a large rock and sat down to eat and drink. He kept an eye on the horizon.

  Hannah knew he didn’t believe her story about Liam and that he was watching for him. But, this worked for Hannah. During all the movement from the horse to the ground, followed by his disgusting assaults at her body, she’d felt the tethers to her hands and especially her feet begin to lose tension. She took a chance and wiggled her feet against the knot hoping to enlarge the loop, all the while trying to curl her hand small enough to pull through the tether at her wrist. The lariat’s rope was loosely woven making it quite pliable. She nearly cried in triumph when one hand and then the other finally slipped through the loop and she was free. She kept still, waiting for the moment when she could catch him off guard.

  Stevenson stood up and motioned for the woman to come over to the horses with him. He took the reins and used them to secure t
he woman’s hands behind her. The terror in her eyes satisfied Stevenson that she realized what would happen if she stirred the horses in anyway. The little boy clung to the woman’s skirts dangerously near the hooves. He gave his daughter a quick glance and fortunately she was still sleeping.

  He sneered at the woman and gripped her arm. “That ought to hold you nice and quiet while I deal with our new friend.”

  As Hannah watched him approach, she wiggled her fingers hidden behind her back, working life into the strained joints. Finally, he stood above her. She watched him move the toe of his boot to her face and rubbed the tip across her lips. Moving down he pressed his instep into her throat muscles until she began to gasp for breath. On down he moved putting some weight first on one breast and then the other. His toe moved down and over her pants buckle. When he reached her crotch, he probed it with the toe of his boot for a few moments and laughed.

  “Need to get those britches off you.” He undid his belt and opened his fly. From a sheath on his belt, he got a Bowie knife and dropped to his knees in a straddle position over Hannah’s upper thighs. He pursed his lips in an exaggerated kiss and then dropped his eyes to focus on cutting her pants away.

  Hannah formed her hands into fists and brought them from behind her back to smash into both sides of his neck. The impact stunned Stevenson into dropping his knife to the ground as he fell on top of her. Her feet were free enough to allow her to bring her knees up and jam them into his groin. He screamed and rolled off her doubled in pain. She sat up, pulled the rope from her feet, grabbed the knife and kicked at his back and buttocks, even managing to land another kick to his groin. She pulled one of his arms behind his back and hog-tied it to his foot. As a measure of insurance, she buried the Bowie knife into the palm of his free hand securing him to the ground.

  With Stevenson’s howls of agony and garbled curses ringing in her ears, Hannah ran to the Mexican woman and untied her. Hannah tried to help her mount one of the horses, but the woman began to keen and pushed her away. She lifted the boy, put him on one of the horses, then took Hannah’s hand. She touched her heart, pointed to the child, and then pointed to Hannah. She turned toward Stevenson, who was squirming in pain while moaning, cursing and crying. Hannah watched the woman square her shoulders and her jaw, as an expression of hate replaced the air of submission she’d lived with for days.