Jasper grasped her jaw so hard she feared he’d break it. “I’ll be safe enough when we get to the top of Hole-In-The-Wall. The men who go there are the worst of the lot, so don’t be expectin’ help from them. And some might take a shine to you, little lady. A lot of them ain’t been with a woman in a while, let alone one as little and perty as you. Once this is over, I’ll get you cleaned up and offer you up like a Christmas present.” He looked at Jimmy. “Go talk to them men up ahead, and see if you can trade for some fresh horses. I’ll stay behind with the woman this time.”
Jimmy rode off, and Maggie watched. Help me! she screamed on the inside, but out here in this vast valley, she knew a scream would be lost in the wind. The men up ahead would never hear it.
Thirty-six
Sage stared at the flickering fire as he leaned against a rock, quietly smoking. He was bone tired, yet he couldn’t sleep for worrying what kind of hell Maggie was suffering. He knew it was the same for Newell, who sat on his bedroll nearby. Both of them felt sick at Kate’s condition. When they left Lander, she was barely clinging to life, and the doctor feared she might be paralyzed or have permanent mental problems if she lived.
They had ridden so hard to get this far that Storm went lame. Sage hated abusing horses, especially a good steed like Storm, but time was of the essence. He’d left the horse with a rancher several miles back, and he and Newell bought three more horses from the man, who told them that someone who fit Jasper’s description had bought horses the day before.
Didn’t have no woman with him, but looked like a fella way in the distance was standin’ with a woman—thought I could make out a dress. I figured it was just a companion, probably a whore.
Sage felt crazy with the need to find Maggie. At least he knew she was still alive… although she was probably wishing she were dead. Realizing that Jasper and Jimmy were still ahead only meant that they, too, were riding harder and for longer hours than they should, which would be miserable for Maggie, especially if they were abusing her in other ways.
“They’re scared as shit, Sage,” Newell spoke up, as though to read Sage’s mind. He took a slug of whiskey from a small flask. “They know we’re right behind them.”
“And every time they stop for horses or any other reason, they risk being found out,” Sage answered. “That’s why they kept Maggie at a distance when they bought those horses. They didn’t want that rancher to see her up close.”
Newell rolled himself a cigarette. “We know there’s a lot of no-goods out here, but this here is a case of attempted murder on a woman some of those no-goods knew well. Kate was popular. The men in these parts ain’t gonna like knowin’ somebody bashed her head in. And they ain’t gonna’ like knowin’ they stole a man’s wife—least ways, that’s what we’ll let them believe.”
Sage finished his own cigarette and tossed what was left into the fire. “Which means we might be able to rustle up some help.”
“Could be. Most men in these parts figure a man’s fight is personal—none of their business. But them men brought Kate Bassett into this. The mood I’m in, I probably don’t need no help, cuz I’m lookin’ to cut their balls off and stuff ’em down their throats.”
Sage felt sick with rage. “That would be a start. You do that, and then I’ll finish the job… Indian style.”
Both took pleasure at the thought of torturing the men who’d battered Kate.
“Do you think Kate will make it?” Sage asked.
Newell sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I’m fearful that if she does, she won’t never be the same.” He took a drag on his cigarette. “I love that woman, Sage, and I ain’t never loved nobody my whole life. Didn’t even love my own ma. She was mean to me, ran off when I was six or seven. My pa weren’t no better—taught me to steal, so he could have drinkin’ money. I met Kate when she was still runnin’ a whorehouse, but even then, she seemed like the most decent person I ever knew. Oh, I know there’s good people who live in that world, outside of drinkin’ and smokin’ and gamblin’ and leadin’ the life of an outlaw and hangin’ with no-goods, but my kind would never fit in with good, Christian folks. Kate, she’s my kind, and if she needs takin’ care of the rest of her life, I’ll do it. She’s as good and decent as them other kind of folks, if you know what I mean.”
Sage watched an ember float upward into the darkness. “I know what you mean.” He thought how Maggie was one of those outsiders Newell talked about, but she’d been molded into a woman who fit both worlds he’d known. She’d experienced enough of the rough side of life to understand him and put up with him.
Still, a woman could take only so much. If Jimmy and Jasper raped her again… or if they handed her off to other men for the same reason… it could break her spirit. And if he and Newell couldn’t reach them in time, or if they were killed while trying, God help Maggie Tucker.
“We’ll be at the base of Hole-In-The-Wall by the day after tomorrow,” he said aloud to Newell. “If we try to make it any faster than that, we’ll lose these horses too, and that will cost us even more time. We can’t be sure we’ll come across another rancher with horses to sell.” He had to think positive now. They were close. They would find Maggie.
“I expect we’ll find more men who’ve seen Jasper,” Newell put in. “A face like that sticks in a man’s mind, you know? I mean, I ain’t never seen him, but the way you described him, I’m just figurin’ he’ll be easily spotted and remembered, what with that scar over his eye and all.”
Sage lay back on his bedroll, resting his head on his saddle. He had to at least try to sleep. “I’m figuring the same. And I’m thinking there are men out here who’ll help us get to the top of the cliffs without Jimmy and Jasper knowing it.”
“Won’t be easy.” Newell also stretched out on his bedroll. “How clever is that woman of yours?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, in this country, if a woman is clever enough, she can find ways of gettin’ out of the fixes she’s in.”
Sage ached to hold her. “I’d say she’s more strong and stubborn than clever. Takes a lot to break a woman like Maggie.”
The air hung silent for several minutes before Newell pulled a blanket over himself and settled in for the night.
“She’ll be all right, Sage,” he spoke up. “From what little I seen of her, she’ll be all right, long as she knows you’re comin’ for her… and she damn well knows that.”
Sage closed his eyes. “Yeah. All we have to do is ride into a trap at Hole-In-The-Wall and take on two well-armed men who can pick us off like jackrabbits, and who by now, probably have even more help—and do it all without taking any lead in our guts and without Maggie getting hurt.”
Newell chuckled. “That’s right encouragin’, Sage. Should help me sleep real good.”
“Glad to help out.” Coyotes yipped and howled somewhere in the distant red cliffs. Sage thought about the night Maggie helped him stave off wolves back at Wolf Canyon… a lifetime ago… how she’d saved him from being mauled to death by that grizzly—what a strong, uncomplaining woman she’d been during all these weeks of hard riding through rugged country. She didn’t deserve to have it end like this.
With a deep sigh, he pulled a blanket over himself and closed his eyes.
Hang on, Maggie.
For the life of him, he couldn’t remember coming so close to crying—not when his father ran off, not when his mother was slaughtered by soldiers, not when his adoptive parents kicked him out—not even when Joanna left. But the thought of losing Maggie… that brought tears to his eyes.
Thirty-seven
Maggie’s hope of Sage being able to get to her and live through it was dwindling. Two more men rode with them now. Jasper came across their camp last night and soon figured them to be the type of men who’d do anything for money… and they were. He promised to pay them well… and throw Maggie in on the bargain… if they helped him and Jimmy kill Sage Lightfoot.
One man, named Walt Sl
oan, was tall, and actually could be considered handsome, if he weren’t so mean-spirited. He wore two guns, one on each hip, and he didn’t care about anything but getting paid to kill a man. Jasper asked Walt straight out if he knew Kate Bassett.
“Slept with the bitch once, a year or so ago,” the man had replied with a shrug. It didn’t bother him that Jasper and Jimmy had left Kate for dead. He needed money for drinking, whoring, and gambling.
Walt’s partner, Arny Clay, was an ornery little man with long, dirty blond hair. Arny didn’t talk much. Mostly, he catered to Walt and obeyed anything the man told him to do. It was obvious that these two men were the “worst of the worst” Sage had told Maggie about, and Maggie feared she’d soon see Sage shot down in cold blood.
Jasper roused her early, giving her one swallow of coffee and one bite of dried beef, then let her relieve herself before he plopped her on his horse again. Every bone and muscle in her body hurt, and her lips were cracked from lack of water.
“We’re headin’ up today,” Jasper told her.
Maggie soon learned what “headin’ up” meant. Within an hour they were climbing over accumulated talus at the base of a searing cliff, on to a steeper incline riddled with loose rock and shale, making the trek so slippery and dangerous that the men dismounted to lead their horses by the bridle. Jasper tied Maggie’s wrists to his horse’s tail, leaving about three feet of leeway, then took the roan gelding and continued the climb.
In her weak condition, it was close to impossible for Maggie to stay on her feet, let alone keep her balance with so much loose rock. The horse balked several times, and she realized that if the horse slipped, it would land on her and take her all the way down the slope. Every move sent rocks and gravel tumbling past her, creating dust that stung her eyes.
She wondered how in God’s name Sage would make it up here without getting shot. She knew now why desperate men came here to hide from the law. What lawman in his right mind would come to this place where he would have to climb this miserable pathway to get to the top, then face murderers and thieves once he got there, if he even made it that far without being shot?
A piece of shale gave way under her foot, and she went down. Jasper kept going, letting the horse drag her for several yards, before he and his men finally stopped long enough for Jasper to walk back and jerk her to her feet. “Keep up, or I’ll let this nag drag you all the way to the top,” he snarled.
Maggie wanted to spit on him, but her mouth was so dry she couldn’t. Her arms stung from bleeding scrapes that were coated with dust. She looked down to see that the front of her dress was filthy and in shreds. She grunted when the horse jerked to a start again, and she determined she’d keep up just to spite Jasper, who would probably enjoy seeing her fall again.
She glanced behind her at the sweeping panorama below. Sage was right. A man could see half of Wyoming up here. It would be an indescribably beautiful view, if not for her current situation. Far across the endless sea of yellow grass below, she spotted a lone rider moving at an unhurried gate. She daydreamed it might be Sage, riding easy, so as not to draw attention.
She looked ahead again, seeing that they were headed into a pathway so narrow that they had to go through single file. Red walls on both sides made it impossible to go anywhere but up.
So, this was Hole-In-The-Wall. They climbed and climbed. The air cooled—Maggie’s only relief. Still, the struggle of climbing and fighting to stay on her feet made Maggie sweat. She couldn’t imagine what she must look like by now—let alone what she must smell like. She knew instinctively that the men didn’t care. Once they reached the top and could finally rest, all eyes would turn to her as the only woman. She would no longer be able to depend on their own haste and weariness to keep them at bay.
After a good hour of climbing, they reached a mesa, where at last the ground flattened out. Jasper came back and untied the rope from the horse’s tail, then plopped Maggie on the mare and climbed behind her. “We’re home, honey,” he said sarcastically.
Maggie studied her surroundings. This place was something from another world. People in cities, even on farms and ranches elsewhere, surely had no idea anything like this existed. She vaguely remembered someone saying that she’d not seen “big” country, until she traveled through the valley to Hole-In-The-Wall and ascended the towering cliff that bordered it.
Who’d said it? Sage? Kate? Newell? She couldn’t remember, but now, she knew what they meant. It seemed impossible she could get help or survive, even if she managed to escape. Flashes of her incredibly changed life since the night these men killed James left her feeling removed from her weary body. She remembered the ugly terror of men groping her, the hopelessness, the crimson welts on her hands from digging James’s grave. She remembered the first time she saw Sage Lightfoot, sitting tall on his horse, offering to help. She remembered shooting the grizzly, remembered Sage’s wonderfully warm, solid home at Paradise Valley… thought about how nice it would be to live there, sleep in Sage’s arms every night. She thought about that old cabin where she and Sage first made love.
He would come for her. She had to think positive and not allow herself to give in to lost hope. Jasper moved a hand over her stomach and breasts, rousing her anger and her desire to fight these men in any way possible. She saw one rather large and two smaller cabins ahead, which surprised her. She couldn’t imagine anyone living here, but then she chided herself for forgetting how different life was here. Anyone who came here to avoid the law would, of course, need shelter.
Walt Sloan and Jimmy Hart dug spurs into their horses’ sides and charged toward the cabins, whooping and hollering. They were finally “home,” as Jasper had put it. Maggie knew it was no home at all. For her, it would be hell.
Thirty-eight
Sage and Newell cautiously approached a cabin nestled amid boulders and wildflowers, surrounded by outbuildings, all located a half-mile from the gravelly escarpment that led to Hole-In-The-Wall.
“Stay alert,” he told Newell.
“You bet. The men we’re after, or even Maggie, could be here, for all we know.”
More than ever, Sage hoped to find Maggie without traveling to the top of the grand mesa in the distance. It would be a lot easier here, but he doubted they would get that lucky.
The sun was settling behind the western mountain range as they came closer to the structures, after spotting them from miles away. For the last hour, they’d watched the buildings turn from dark dots on the horizon to a well-kept ranch, that for all a tenderfoot would think, was a peaceful, picturesque home for a law-abiding family.
Several men were gathered around a campfire. He counted six, but knew there were likely more in the outbuildings, or in the cabin.
“Recognize any of them?” he asked Newell.
“No, but it’s gettin’ pretty dark. The sun will be set pretty quick.”
The men turned at their approach, two of them stepping closer with rifles in hand. Sage and Newell halted their horses.
“Speak your names,” one demanded.
“Sage Lightfoot,” Sage answered. “This here is Newell McCabe, good friend of Kate Bassett back in Lander. Any of you know her?”
The man instantly relaxed. He looked at Newell and grinned. “How’s Kate?”
“Not good,” Newell answered. “She might even be dead by now. We’re after the men who beat her head in and stole this man’s wife.”
The man frowned, turning his attention to Sage again. “That a fact?”
“It’s a fact,” Sage answered. Several others came closer, concerned looks on their faces. “We’re heading up the wall tomorrow,” Sage told them. “We’re pretty sure that’s where they are. We need fresh horses for the trip—hoping you can oblige—maybe help us find a way to the top without getting our heads blown off.”
“Well, hell, if this is because of Kate, we’ll see what we can do,” the first man told Sage. He shoved his hat more tightly onto his head to keep it from blowing off in the wi
nd as he walked around Sage’s horse, studying the sturdy gelding. “Looks like a good piece of horseflesh.”
“He is, but he’s worn out. He’s a good strong gelding, and he’ll be fine in a day or two. If you don’t want to trade permanent, I can bring your horse back when we’re through. We just need fresh mounts for the climb.”
The man stepped back. “My name is Bob Yates.”
Sage nodded. Yates was perhaps thirty-five, built solid. Sage saw honesty in his eyes as Yates studied him a moment longer before he spoke again. “Seems like I’ve heard your name.”
“I’ve ridden this area and camped here more than once. That was a few years ago. I have my own ranch now, south of here—Paradise Valley.”
Yates nodded. “I think I’ve heard talk of you a time or two.” He folded his arms in front of him, while the men around the campfire watched and listened. “Who was it that hurt Kate and took your wife?”
“One is a fat, filthy man with a scar over his left eye. He’s called Jasper. He’s riding with a younger man called Jimmy Hart. There was a third man, but I killed him back in Atlantic City. The other two might have picked up more men by now, figuring they’ll need help when I come for them.”
“The bastards doubled back on us at Lander,” Newell added, “took this man’s wife, and left Kate for dead. Lightfoot’s been trackin’ ’em for weeks on account of they killed one of his ranch hands, raped the man’s wife, and stole money from Lightfoot.”
Yates scratched the stubble on his chin. “Nobody like what you described stopped by here, but in a valley this big, you can ride for days—see men in the distance, but never meet them. You know how it is out here.”
“I know all too well,” Sage answered.
Yates looked at the surrounding cliffs. “When we see men riding off in the distance, we don’t pay much attention, unless they head our way. Out here everybody minds his own business. I did see some men head up the cliffs late yesterday—far enough away that it’s impossible to say who they was, or even if there was a woman along. That area down there where we spotted them is where the narrow trail through the wall leads to the top.”
Rosanne Bittner Page 20