Behind His Blue Eyes

by Kaki Warner

  Ethan would come. God wouldn’t let her die like this.

  After several more twists and turns, he stopped and yanked her onto her feet.

  She struggled to stay upright, hugging her aching arm to her side.

  “In there.” Weems pointed to a narrow opening in the stone.

  She saw only darkness. A bottomless pit? A living grave?

  Courage deserted her as a lifelong fear of dark, closed spaces flooded her mind. “No . . . please. I’ll do whatever—”

  He shoved her through the opening. She fell against a rocky wall, then blundered into another, so disoriented by the darkness she didn’t know where to step next. “I c-can’t see.”

  He stepped in behind her, holding the lantern as high as he could in the low-ceilinged cavern. “Home again, home again, jiggety jig.”

  Home? Here? In growing horror, she looked around.

  It was a space barely ten feet square, hewn from solid rock. A chain hung from a bolt drilled into the rocky wall. On the loose end was a collar with a lock—too big for her ankle or wrist, too small for her waist. Perfect for her neck. A pallet of dirty blankets lay against the wall beside it, and on the floor nearby, a bucket, a pitcher, and a plate of dried meat over which scurried a dozen flat-backed beetles. There were no candles, no lamps other than the one he had brought, and nothing that could be used as a weapon . . . except for the piece of metal and two stones in her pocket.

  He set the lamp on a high rock jutting from the wall and picked up the chain. “Come here.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked, struggling not to cry.

  He jiggled the chain. “Now.”

  “You won’t get away with this. They’ll come searching for me.”

  “They won’t find you.”

  Fury engulfed her. “What have I ever done to you?” she burst out, her voice ricocheting off the walls. She hated that she couldn’t stop the tears, that her voice wobbled. She hated letting him see her fear and weakness. “If you intend to kill me, why don’t you just do it?” Maybe if she lured him closer, she could use the piece of metal. Go for an eye, the vein in his neck.

  “In time. Come here.”

  When she still didn’t move, he grabbed her arm and threw her facedown on the pallet. Before she could roll over or strike him, he had a knee in her back and the collar around her neck. He snapped the lock closed, rose, and stepped back.

  She jumped up and lunged after him, hands raised to claw out his eyes, but was jerked violently backward when she reached the end of the chain. Choking and coughing, she fell in a sprawl on the pallet, while his laughter boomed off the walls.

  “You’re a fighter. I like that.” He picked up the lantern. “There’s water in that pitcher by your bed, and if the bugs left you some, there’s dried buffalo strips on the plate. Best look around and see where everything is. Don’t want you mistaking the water pitcher for the waste bucket in the dark. Sweet dreams.”

  Laughing, he slipped into the corridor, taking the lantern with him.

  “You bastard,” she screamed, pounding the covers with her fists. By the time her voice faded, all light was gone. She closed her eyes. Opened them. There was no change. The blackness was total, the silence so complete she could hear the beetles tearing at her dinner.

  Dimly, she heard a high-pitched whimper—a terrible, animal sound—then realized it came from her own throat. With a sob, she clasped her hands over her mouth and began to rock back and forth, driven to needless motion to assure herself she was still alive.

  She had descended into hell.

  Thirty

  By the time Ethan and the sheriff arrived back at the hotel, Yancey, Billy, and the other three men had returned.

  “Get Thomas,” Brodie told the bellboy when he walked into the lobby. “Have him bring the children here. Yancey, get someone to help carry Bonet’s body to Doc’s clinic.”

  “Bonet’s body?” Tait looked at him in surprise. “He’s dead?”

  “And Audra’s gone.”

  Ash dragged a hand through his graying hair. “Bluidy hell.”

  After assuring the women they would keep them apprised of any changes, Brodie took the men back to his office so they could organize the search for Audra without them hovering nearby.

  They now knew the killer was Ezra Weems. Ash reported he was the only person to cross the sentry line that afternoon. “They let him pass because he’s a regular traveler in and out of town. They dinna see anything suspicious.”

  “Driscoll said he saw him earlier,” Rafe Jessup added, “leading his mule down the back road behind the hotel. Could have been headed to the newspaper office.”

  “Then let’s go after him,” Ethan said, impatiently. “The longer we wait, the more danger she’s in.”

  “Better to wait for Thomas,” Brodie advised. “He knows exactly where Weems’s camp is, and how best to approach it unseen. If we go barging in, no telling how he’ll react.”

  “Aye. A surprise attack would be best, lad.”

  It made sense, but the thought of sitting and doing nothing while Audra was out there . . .

  Ash rested a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “Ten minutes, lad. That’ll give Thomas time to get here, and time for us to come up with a battle plan. If Weems stays true to form, she’ll be safe until the full moon.”

  If . . .

  Ethan let out an explosive breath. “Then I’m going to the Arlan place for my heavy jacket and rifle and bedroll. I’ll be staying out until I find her, no matter how long it takes.”

  “Good idea.” Tait followed him to the door. “I’ll tell Lucinda to have Cook pack food to take with us.”

  A few minutes later, Ethan walked into the kitchen at the Arlan house. A lamp sat on the table, but the main room was empty except for Phe, who came to greet him with a wagging tail. Ethan gathered what he would need, and was rolling up his bedding when Curtis came out of the downstairs bedroom.

  Winnie came behind him, tightening the belt on her robe. “You find her?”

  “No.” He finished tying the bedroll then turned to the old couple. “He’s got her.” Admitting that aloud for the second time sucked the strength from his legs. He sagged onto the couch, suddenly dizzy. “He killed Bonet and took her. I don’t know why. It makes no sense.”

  “The killer got our Audra?”

  “Laws a ’mercy, my poor baby.”

  Ethan looked up, his eyes burning. “We’ll find her. We’ll bring her back.”

  At a sound, he looked over to see Mr. Pearsall standing on the stair in his nightclothes. Seeing how the old man’s hand shook as he clutched at the handrail, Ethan rose to go help him.

  Palsied fingers gripped his arm. Faded brown eyes bore into Ethan’s with fierce intensity. “My Audie is in trouble?”

  Ethan nodded.

  The fingers tightened, dug into his arm with surprising strength. “Then you find her, boy. You find my girl and bring her home.”

  “I will, sir.”

  * * *

  The other men were mounting up when he returned to the sheriff’s office. Thomas was there, sitting calmly on his spotted horse, weapons strung all over him; a sheathed knife, a rifle, a bow and quiver of arrows strapped across his back, and a long-handled war ax hanging from a low belt over his leather tunic. Every inch the Cheyenne warrior.

  “You’re not bringing your dog?” Ethan asked the Scotsman when he reined in beside him.

  “I wouldna want Tricks killing the bluidy bastard before we learned the lass’s whereabouts. He’s an impatient sort, so he is.”

  “There will only be the six of us,” Brodie said as he swung up on his leggy sorrel. “We’ll move faster and quieter that way. Hold up your right hands.”

  The sheriff rattled off the deputy oath so fast Ethan scarcely made sense of the words, but he said, “I do,” with the o
thers at the appropriate time.

  “Thomas says Weems’s camp is on a high, open ledge about seven miles up the left fork.” The sheriff explained that since they wouldn’t be able to approach unannounced, they would have to split up. He and Tait would ride into the camp like they were doing a general sweep and Weems wasn’t their target, while the other four moved into hidden positions.

  “Thomas and Ethan will go north and watch the camp from the top of the slope above his camp. Ash will be watching from the west, and Rafe from the east. On the south is a hundred-foot drop, so we don’t have to worry about that. Since we’re boxing him in, if there’s shooting, be careful where you aim so we don’t get each other in a cross fire.”

  “He’ll want to keep her hidden until the full moon,” Tait added, “so be patient. After the sheriff and I talk to him, we’ll ride out while you four remain to see what he does. Eventually, if he feels he’s safe, he’ll go to wherever he has her hidden. Then we’ll have him.”

  Unless it’s already too late.

  Ethan blocked the thought and fought to bring the panic back down. He took a deep breath and let it out, then saw Thomas studying him. No expression showed on the Indian’s swarthy face, but he gave a single, curt nod, and Ethan saw the resolve in those hard, black eyes.

  Somehow, Audra had made it onto the warrior’s protected list. Thank God.

  It was full dark when they rode single-file into the canyon. Since the south side of Weems’s camp was a sheer drop, the only way Ash could get to his position on the west was to loop north, so he followed Thomas and Ethan up the right fork along the sluice. The other three would ride past Audra’s burned cabin, then Brodie and Tait would leave Rafe to cover their backs, and ride in alone.

  After following the sluice for a couple of miles, Thomas angled off onto a higher trail. They rode through tall pines that soon dwindled into the stunted growth of alpine firs, and finally broke into the open above the timberline. The moon was still high enough to cast enough light for them to see a long way in the treeless terrain.

  Ethan was glad he had gone back for his shearling jacket; the wind was sharp and steady, sweeping through the low scrub with a keening moan. The silvery light leached the world of color, and the black-and-white landscape seemed alien and barren.

  After about two miles of picking their way over rocky trails and broad open stretches, Thomas reined in. When Ethan and Ash stopped beside him, he pointed down to a stand of wind-bent firs. “Ethan and I will leave our horses there and go the rest of the way on foot. Scotsman, you continue to that outcrop ahead, then cut south. The wind is against us, so that will help hide the sound of our passage. Go now, nesene, my friend.”

  As Ash rode off, the Cheyenne glanced down at Ethan’s sturdy boots. “If you make noise, ve’ho’e, you will take those off. From now on, we do not speak.” Without waiting for a response, he rode down toward the trees.

  Ethan followed.

  Minutes later, they were moving on foot through the stunted trees. Ethan tested every step so he wouldn’t tread on a downed branch or kick up loose stones. When he caught the scent of wood smoke, it was a struggle to keep from racing ahead to see if Audra was there. The deeper they went into the trees, the less wind there was, and by the time Thomas signaled for him to stop, Ethan was sweating under his heavy jacket.

  “Hatahaoe,” the Cheyenne whispered and pointed down the slope. “There.”

  Ethan crept to the edge and peered down.

  Thirty yards below was a wide ledge that was bordered by trees on the east and west, the slope where Thomas and Ethan waited on the north, and a sheer drop on the south. At the edge of the camp, a mule stood under a line stretched between two stunted trees. Nearby sat a sagging tent with a stovepipe sticking out the top, and behind it, in a group of boulders at the base of the bluff, a small spring dribbled water into a rocky pool. In the center of the clearing, a fading campfire sent up lazy tendrils of smoke, and on a rock beside it, scraping a hide by the light of a sooty lantern, sat Ezra Weems.

  But no Audra.

  Ethan looked at Thomas.

  The Cheyenne shook his head.

  Hell.

  Looking back at the moonlit camp, Ethan searched for any sign of movement other than Weems working by the fire, or the mule moving restlessly on his tether. He saw nothing. The night was so still, he could hear the prospector muttering and singing. It sounded like “Buffalo Gals.”

  Where was she? Was she even down there?

  Frustration drumming through him, he stretched out beside Thomas to watch for Brodie and Tait, careful not to send loose pebbles bouncing down the slope. If she was being held nearby, at least Weems was sitting outside alone, rather than off hurting her in his tent or somewhere else. Ethan strained to listen, but heard only the singing and mumbling of the man by the fire.

  A few minutes later, the mule snorted and lifted its head. Ethan froze, hoping the animal hadn’t caught their scent, but it was looking off to the east.

  Weems dropped the hide and rose. Picking up the rifle leaning against the rock he had used as a seat, he scanned the edge of the clearing, then hurried over to duck behind a big boulder near the spring directly below Ethan and Thomas.

  Ethan heard them then, the clatter of shod hooves on rock announcing two riders making no effort to hide their progress. A moment later, the sheriff and Rylander rode out of the trees and into the clearing.

  “Hallo the camp,” Brodie called as they reined in.

  Ethan brought up his rifle in case the prospector came out shooting.

  “That you, Sheriff?” Weems shouted from behind the boulder.

  “It is,” Brodie called back. “And Tait Rylander from the hotel.”

  The prospector stepped into view, his rifle ready but not at his shoulder.

  Ethan relaxed. Flattening on the ground beside Thomas, he watched the men below.

  Weems walked down toward the fire. “Out kinda late, ain’t you, Sheriff?”

  “We’re looking for somebody. A woman.”

  Weems snickered. “Then you come to the right place. Got a whole passel of them yonder in the tent. Take yer pick. Damn whores won’t leave me alone.” Pleased with his wit, he broke into a belly laugh that ended in a coughing and spitting fit.

  Ethan’s fingers itched to close around his neck.

  “We’re looking for the woman who works in the newspaper office,” Brodie went on once Weems caught his breath. “Miss Pearsall. Somebody carried her off. You see anyone ride by here this evening?”

  “Nobody rides by here, Sheriff. I’m so far off the beaten path, not even the badgers visit. She the one marrying the railroader?”

  “How’d you hear about that?”

  “I get to town now and again. Today, in fact.”

  “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary while you were there?”

  “Like a woman getting carried off?” Another laugh. Another cough. More spit. “Can’t say’s I did,” he said, wiping a jacket sleeve over his mouth. “’Spect I mighta noticed that.”

  “Anybody else farther up the canyon?”

  The prospector shook his head. “Trail ends here. Too steep beyond. Until the railroad blasts it out, I suppose.” He made a show of looking around. “And speaking of railroads, why ain’t her fi-an-say here looking for her?”

  “He is. Over on the other side of the ravine.”

  Tait shifted in the saddle, one hand reaching down to rub his bad knee. “The man who owns the newspaper was found dead in the office. Last she was seen, Miss Pearsall was headed that way.”

  “Maybe she killed him and run off.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Then maybe the railroader killed him.”

  “He was with us all afternoon,” Brodie said.

  “Then I guess you wasted your day.”

  “Probably.” B
rodie swung down and handed his reins to Tait. “But just to be sure, I’ll take a look in your tent before we head back to town.”

  Weems waved him to it, and settled again on his rock, the rifle across his bent knees. “Tell the ladies I’ll be in shortly,” he called and laughed.

  Ten minutes later, Brodie and Tait rode out.

  Weems continued to sit by the fire until the sound of their progress back down the trail faded, then he laughed, put the rifle away, and dug out the fixings for supper. While it cooked, he puttered around camp, turning the hides on the drying rack, throwing hay to his mule, carting buckets of water from the pool in the rocks. Then he sat on his seat by the fire and ate his meal straight from the pan.

  Apparently, he wasn’t saving anything for Audra—if she was even there. Once he licked the pan clean, he dropped it on a stack of firewood by the fire, picked up his lantern, and started up the slope where Thomas and Ethan waited.

  Expecting to be discovered, Ethan grabbed his rifle again. But before he could work the lever, Thomas put out a hand to stop him.

  “Not yet,” he whispered.

  Weems continued up the slope, humming softly to himself. Halfway up, he stepped off the trail and disappeared behind several big boulders. Not even the glow from his lantern showed in the darkness.

  Ethan looked at Thomas. “What’s he doing?”

  Thomas shrugged.

  “I’m going down.” Ethan started to rise.

  “Patience,” Thomas said, and pulled him back down. “If he does not show himself soon, we will both go down.”

  “‘Soon’ better not be more than a few minutes.”

  Thirty-one

  Audra didn’t know how long she sat in the dark. Minutes? Hours? Without light, she had no way to mark the passage of time. As if to compensate, her other senses seemed to grow stronger, adding fuel to her overworked imagination.