by Kit Morgan
The other man grunted as he gripped Betsy much the same way. She stomped on his foot again. “Stop that you, or I’ll make you sorry!”
“No! What if that’s her?”
“This one can’t be. She’s too fat.”
Betsy screamed into his hand, then bit him.
“OW!” He quickly took his hand from her mouth and shook it out.
“Who you callin’ fat?! You sorry excuse for a … a…”
He clamped his hand over her mouth again. He’d pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket during her short rant, and now had it stuffed between his hand and her teeth. “Now what are we gonna do? We can’t deliver two women!”
“How old is this Winters girl supposed to be?”
Another man suddenly appeared. “Oh no, two? You got two?”
“We didn’t know which was which, so we took em both,” answered the thin man.
“You idiots!” groused the newcomer. “Mr. Van Cleet’s associate is waiting for us outside of town. We can’t bring him two women!”
“But we don’t know which is the right one! There was only one lantern lit in that house, and they were both wearing fancy dresses.”
The newcomer was a balding man of medium build. He let go a weary sigh. “I’m not getting paid enough for this …”
“What are we going to do?” asked Betsy’s captor.
The newcomer looked Bernice up and down. “This one’s better dressed. This must be her. In fact, I told you to grab the one in the blue dress!”
“But this one’s wearing blue too!” Betsy’s captor whined.
Betsy rolled her eyes. “Mhits purphhhl!” she argued through the handkerchief held against her mouth.
The newcomer reached into his pocket, pulled out a match, and struck it against the brick wall of the alley they were in. “Well I’ll be, it is purple!”
“Then we get rid of this one,” her captor stated.
“I dunno,” mused the balding man as he studied Betsy. “I kinda like this one.”
Her eyes narrowed and she bit her captor’s hand again. He yelled in pain as he drew it away, the handkerchief falling away as well. Betsy meanwhile drew in a deep breath …
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” hissed the balding man as he pointed a pistol at her mouth.
Betsy let go a squeak as she stared down the barrel of the gun. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she managed.
“That’s better,” he said then looked at his cohorts. “We’ll take em both.”
“Both?” complained the thin man. “But we only need one to get paid!”
“I said we’ll take em both. I’m keepin’ the one!” He eyed Betsy and smiled.
She eyed him right back. “Mm-hmm, like I’d let you lay a hand on me!”
“You won’t have a choice when the time comes,” he shot back.
“I’d like to see you try, Mister ‘I’m so tough with a pistol in my hand!’”
He glared at her. “I’d shut up if I were you!”
Betsy didn’t back down. “What you three doin’ grabbing innocent womenfolk like us any how?”
“Gag her, before she makes me do something stupid!”
Betsy’s captor quickly did, before anything else happened! He lashed her hands behind her back to boot, then looked at Bernice, who stood frozen against the man who held her, eyes round as saucers. Deciding she’d be no trouble, he shoved Betsy toward the end of the alley just as a wagon pulled up.
“What you do with the horses?” asked the balding man.
“Left them back in that farmer’s field in a grove of trees. I still say we should take the horses, not a wagon.”
“We’ll stick to the plan.”
“But Harry,” the thin man moaned. “Do we have to?”
“Yes you have to!” snapped the balding man. “Now get these two in the back of this wagon, then change your clothes!”
The thin man moaned again, then proceeded to do what he was told.
Eighteen
The rescue posse finally set out, as close to “armed to the teeth” as they could manage. Only a few of the men actually owned guns – the rest had to rely on whatever they could find around the Edmonsons’ barnyard. Thus, Morgan had an ax, Julian a shovel (fitting, given his occupation), Garrett a pickax, Cecil a pitchfork, Mr. Tindle a rake and Pastor Adams a sickle. Ralph Edmonson loaned his hunting rifle to another rescuer, taking along his bullwhip in its place. Professor Hamilton, being the resourceful sort, had gone into the house to find weapons, and had liberated a rolling pin for himself and a sturdy broom for Mayor Vander. The rest grabbed sticks, sharp rocks, and anything else they could find.
“Okay, men!” Cecil cried. “Let’s go!” They set off, reached the road, and …
“Oh blast it!” Mr. Tindle groaned. “Which way do you think they went?”
“Good grief!” Cecil exclaimed. “We’d better split up. They could have gone in either direction!”
“Half of you come with us – we’ll head to town,” Garrett instructed. “The rest go with Mr. Tindle down the road that way.”
“You men with guns, split up,” Julian added. “Bernard, come with us, the rest go with Mr. Tindle.”
They divided up as ordered, each group now armed with something besides a few farm implements and household items. Cecil, the Professor and Mayor Vander followed Julian, Morgan, Garrett and Bernard in the professor’s buggy. Several other men brought up the rear, including Pastor Adams, who was riding one of the Edmonsons’ horses.
“Might I suggest we make a plan as to what to do once we find them?” the Professor suggested in a low voice when he realized they were almost to town.
“Shoot first, then get the women back!” Cecil hissed.
“Not a good idea,” Julian replied. He slowed his horse so he was riding alongside the buggy. “I know you’re upset about Betsy, but try not to let it cloud your thinking.”
“I’ll try not to, but it’s hard! Good maids are hard to come by!” lamented Mayor Vander.
“I was speaking to Cecil …”
“Oh, er … yes, of course.”
“You’re right son,” Cecil said. “I can’t think straight. If I wasn’t so in love with her, maybe I could.”
“What?!” barked Mayor Vander. “In love?!”
“Shhhhh!” everyone warned.
“What’s this you say?” Mayor Vander asked in a whisper. “What do you mean you’re in love with Betsy?”
“You haven’t noticed?” Garrett asked incredulously.
“Well, I … I suppose I have noticed Cecil and Betsy spending a lot of time together …”
“Never mind, Father – let’s just concentrate on getting Betsy and Bernice back safely.”
“When we find them, maybe we could distract them,” Morgan suggested.
“With what?” Garrett asked. “The Professor’s rolling pin?”
“I’ll have you know this will make a fine weapon at short range!” the Professor objected.
“Enough, all of you!” Julian said in a low voice. “Now quiet – I think I hear something.”
Morgan signaled them all to stop, and they stilled themselves and listened. Sure enough, they heard the distinct jangle of harness and what sounded like the clanging of pots as a wagon approached from up the road.
“Was anyone coming late to the dance?” hissed Garrett.
“I think most everyone was there,” Mayor Vander whispered back.
“Brace yourselves, men – this could be trouble,” Cecil warned.
The Professor gave a flick of the reins and started them forward again. There was a bend in the road up ahead, and they prepared to meet whoever was coming around it. Let them be surprised, was Cecil’s thinking.
They were surprised, all right. “Land sakes!” a woman croaked. “You scared the waddin’ outta me!”
The Professor stopped the buggy right in front of a covered wagon as Julian, Garrett and Morgan passed around it. “Good evening, Madame,” he said. “Lovely
weather for February, isn’t it?”
The woman glanced around. “What’s goin’ on?” she asked, her voice a rasp. “Why’re there so many of you out on the road?”
“I’d ask the same of you,” said Cecil. “Rather late to be out by yourself, Miss …”
“Mrs. Tompkins,” she finished, her voice deepening.
Cecil and the Professor exchanged a quick look. Mrs. Tompkins either had a frog in her throat, or wasn’t as “feminine” as she seemed. “Well, dear lady, you’d best be careful. There’s trouble.”
“Trouble?” she wheezed. “Then I’d better be on my way!” She gave a slap of the reins, but as the Professor’s buggy was blocking her path, they couldn’t move very well. One horse reared up, causing the Professor’s horse to do the same.
“Here now!” called the Professor. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Mrs. Tompkins glanced around in panic. “If there’s trouble I want no part of it!” Then, in a man’s voice: “Giddyap!”
“She” slapped the reins again, and “her” horses bumped into the Professor’s, trying to get past. His horse, wanting no part of such nonsense, jumped to the side, making the buggy lurch. Cecil grabbed the reins as the Professor dropped them while trying to keep himself upright. The Professor, in turn, picked up the rolling pin and threw it at Mrs. Tompkins as she sped past, hitting the impostor right on the noggin and toppling “her” off the seat.
“What the blazes?” they heard a man cry from the back of the wagon as it careened past them down the road. Julian, Garrett and Morgan set off after it in hot pursuit.
Bernard jumped off his horse, grabbed the faker in the dress and bonnet and pulled him to his feet. The so-called Mrs. Tompkins could do with a good shave, he noted. “Where’s Bernice?” he demanded through clenched teeth.
“Bernard, she’s probably in the back of the wagon!” Cecil cried. “Get after it! You’ve got the only gun!”
Pastor Adams jumped off his horse, and grabbed the man in drag as Bernard let go. He yelled to the Professor and Cecil, “I’ll take care of this one! Get after that wagon!”
The Professor needed no further prompting – he turned the buggy around and set off, Bernard right behind him. Cecil and Mayor Vander prayed they could rescue the women before any harm came to them.
* * *
Julian, Garrett and Morgan raced after the wagon, its horses now running out of control. The road was only wide enough for two wagons, and even that would be a tight fit, but it still wasn’t easy to navigate at night on a galloping horse. Morgan did his best to ride alongside the team to slow it down, but it was going to take two of them to do that job. Finally Garrett appeared on the other side, and together they tried to grab the bridles of the two horses and slow them.
Julian, meanwhile, stayed behind the wagon, shovel in hand, wondering if he should try throwing the thing into the back of it like an overbalanced spear. He heard a series of shouts, then a clang, followed by another shout and another clang, coming from the back. What was going on in there?
Morgan and Garrett eventually brought the wagon to a stop. Julian stopped his own horse and jumped off. All was quiet now. He noticed Bernard right behind him, shotgun at the ready, and heard the Professor’s buggy fast approaching. Garrett silently strode up and pointed at the wagon flap, and Julian took hold of it.
Bernard raised the shotgun and aimed. Garrett nodded, and Julian threw back the flap.
“Don’t shoot!” a man whimpered. “Please don’t shoot! Just get her away from me!”
“Shut up, you!” Betsy yelled, then hit him over the head with a cast-iron skillet – again. Clangggg!
The man’s eyes rolled back and he toppled out of sight. Julian turned to look at the others, smiled and shrugged.
“Betsy!” Garrett cried after shaking himself. “Are you all right?”
“Mm-hmm. Ain’t no one, especially the likes of these sidewinders, gonna push me around! Scared poor Bernice here half to death, though.”
Julian looked past her to the shadowed figure of a trussed-up and weeping Bernice, tucked near the front of the wagon. He began to study the wagon more closely as the Professor’s buggy arrived.
“Betsy!” Cecil called out as he jumped down. “Betsy, did they hurt you? Can you talk?”
“Sure I can – ain’t no one gonna shut me up. You of all people should know that.”
Cecil sighed in relief, then held his arms up to help her down. “Thank the Lord! And Bernice?”
“She’s fine, she … oh, wait a second.” She hefted the skillet again as the man at her feet began to rise. Clang! He fell over again with a thud. “Where was I? Oh yeah, Bernice. She’s okay, just scared is all.”
“Yes,” Garrett laughed. “But is he okay?” He nodded toward the unconscious man at her feet.
“Ask me if I care. He did keep going on about Ammy and someone named Van Cleet.”
Cecil grimaced. “Never mind about any of that. Here, let me help you down.”
She let him help her out of the back of the wagon as Julian continued to study the interior. “Is this some sort of peddler’s wagon?”
“Don’t rightly know,” said Betsy. “It’s sure got a lot of knives in it.”
“Bernice!” Bernard called, climbing into the wagon bed as soon Betsy was on the ground.
“Good knives, too,” she continued. “Cut clean through the ropes them scoundrels tied me up with.”
“Tied you up?!” Cecil cried, and pulled her into his arms. “You poor dear …”
Mayor Vander approached. “I’ll see they get what’s coming to them, to the fullest extent of the law!”
“We’d better get them back to town and lock them up first,” Julian suggested.
“You’re quite right, my boy! Er, would anyone happen to know if our dear sheriff left the jail unlocked?”
Cecil ignored him and held onto Betsy. “I had the most horrible things running through my mind! Don’t ever let yourself get kidnapped like that again!”
She looked at him. “No harm done to me. Just be glad they took me along with Bernice – she froze like a scared rabbit. She’s the one you’d best worry about. I’ve dealt with worse than these.”
Cecil looked at her in shock. “You have?”
“Mm-hmm. Remind me to tell you about it someday.”
He looked her over more carefully. She seemed perfectly calm. “Well, I’ll be.”
“Yeah, but it don’t mean you cain’t fuss over me,” she added with a smile.
Cecil smiled, drew her close again and kissed her.
Bernard brought a newly-freed Bernice to the back of the wagon and jumped down with her in his arms. She was still whimpering, hanging onto him for dear life. “She’s plumb scared out of her wits,” he told Julian. “I’m gonna take her back.”
“You can’t let her ride with you on your horse,” Julian protested.
“Watch me,” Bernard replied, heading for his mount.
Julian glanced at Morgan and Garrett, then smiled. “Looks like Bernice may have found her man.”
Garrett slapped him on the back. “And as I recall, you have a little unfinished business back at the dance, hmmm?”
Julian’s eyes widened. “Ellie! Gads, I forgot I was proposing!”
“Better get yourself back there and finish what you started,” Morgan urged.
Julian didn’t have to be told twice. He raced for his horse, leapt onto it and galloped all the way back to the Edmonson farm.
* * *
“What was that?” Mrs. Caulder screeched. “Was that a gunshot?”
“No, ma’am,” young Gabe told her. “It’s just little Ella. Sometimes she eats somethin’ that don’t agree with her.”
Mrs. Caulder eyed the baby in his arms. The baby cooed, scrunched up her face and passed gas again.
Mrs. Caulder rolled her eyes in annoyance and turned away.
“What could be keeping them? Do you think one of us should go find help?” asked M
ercy.
“Almost all the men went after them. Who would we get?” Maude replied.
“Maybe the rest of us should be out looking too,” Mercy suggested.
“Now, Mercy, we know how you love Betsy, and I’m sure she and Bernice are just fine,” Martha consoled.
“How can you say that?” Mrs. Caulder snapped. “What are you, some sort of prophet? Who knows what … what atrocities are being done to them right now!”
“Eunice, why don’t you shut up?” Mahulda Brock told her.
Eunice’s eyes narrowed. “What did you tell me?”
“I said …” But she never finished – the sound of a wagon rolling into the barnyard caught everyone’s attention.
“Good heavens,” said Mercy. “Who is that?”
Mahulda and Maude both peered into the darkness. The wagon hadn’t yet reached the light of the lanterns placed around the barn’s exterior. “I don’t know,” Mahulda mumbled. “Wait … why it’s … oh my goodness, Eva?!”
“Eva?” asked Ellie as Mrs. Brock shoved past her to the wagon.
Mercy’s brow furrowed. “That’s odd. What’s Eva Brock … sorry. What’s Eva Mullaney doing here?”
Ellie almost choked. “Eva MULLANEY?” she squeaked.
Mercy turned, puzzled. “Why, yes, dear. Mahulda’s daughter Eva married Finn Mullaney from Oregon City a few months ago.”
“Oh my goodness … I had no idea,” Ellie whispered.
“What’s wrong, dear?” Mercy asked.
Ellie ignored her, her attention riveted on the wagon that was pulling into the barnyard. Sure enough, there was Finn Mullaney driving it, his wife Eva sitting beside him. And huddled between them was …
“Mama!”
Ellie stifled a sob as she ran for the wagon. “Davey!”
Mrs. Caulder narrowed her eyes at the scene. “Davey?”
Finn brought the wagon to a stop and set the brake. “Pardon us for interrupting, but we heard ye were having a party and thought we’d come join the fun.”
Ellie looked at him. “Mr. Mullaney! What are you doing here?”
“Delivering your son, as promised.”
“B-b-but you’re early! And I thought your parents were bringing him on the stage!”