Calinda spent the afternoon moving into Lynx’s room. She took possession of drawers unused or nearly empty. She placed Lynx’s clothes in the drawers down the left side of his dresser, then placed hers in the drawers down the right side. Since there was little space available in his closet, she left most of her dresses and gowns in the other room. She hung her daily garments of shirts, vests, riding skirts, and pants in his room. If Salina dared to inspect the two rooms, she would find Calinda settled in with Lynx.
Cal was pleased with her accomplishments. But one small drawer near the top of the dresser kept attracting her attention. Since it was locked and she hadn’t found a key, she assumed he kept private possessions inside. Her curiosity chewed on her all afternoon. What did it contain? Why was it locked? Secrets about Lynx? She couldn’t break it open, so its secrets remained hidden.
For the next few days, Calinda and Salina were on their best behavior. They were polite around Rankin, but avoided each other when he wasn’t present. Calinda found things outside to occupy herself, trying to keep out of the path of Salina and her baleful tongue. Rankin foolishly believed things were going fine between them.
But Calinda was determined to reveal poise and confidence. If Salina got to her, she didn’t let it show. The same was true with Salina. If Calinda wanted to perform some household chore, she would cunningly wheedle in front of Rankin, compelling Salina to comply. Too, Calinda furtively observed everything, learning more and more about the house, watching Rankin and Salina.
Calinda would take advantage of Salina’s occasional absences. She would practice her cooking skills, but wisely give the food or treats to the working hands. Sometimes she would entertain the men with tales of England or the East, or read stories to them, or play games with them. The men came to appreciate and accept her company. She quickly realized she was winning them over with her kindness and charms. As she worked around the ranch, the hands noticed how her skills increased. She was always willing to take on or share in any chore, no matter how difficult or dirty, gaining her their respect and friendship.
A week had passed without even a note or telegram from Lynx. Calinda pretended not to notice, but it pained her deeply to be ignored or taken for granted this quickly. She had gradually learned to sleep peacefully alone in the new room.
When Lynx was mentioned, Calinda exposed her loneliness and disappointment to Rankin, but concealed her vexation. She didn’t challenge Rankin’s explanations or excuses, but Lynx wouldn’t have the same leniency when he came home! As the days passed, she came to realize that Rankin was caught in the middle of her dispute with Salina and her baffling husband. She couldn’t hold him responsible for either, so she gradually relented and pressed for a closer relationship. He had suffered greatly in the past and she didn’t want to cause him more pain.
Rankin instantly warmed to her overtures of friendship. As their bond tightened, Salina became more secretive with her hatred and picking at Calinda. The early days of July were dry and hot. Many times an afternoon swim became part of Calinda and Rankin’s schedule. When weather-confined to the house, they played billiards, talked, read, and played cards.
As Rankin relaxed and opened up his emotions to Calinda, a mellowing took place. As Calinda spent more time with him and observed him, she was disarmed by his warmth and admiration. She chided herself for past suspicions, not allowing any new ones to take hold in her mind. She was content, except for her husband’s absence. Clearly his father felt a loyalty to Lynx which he couldn’t break or betray. She finally accepted that facet of Rankin. It was apparent Rankin was extremely fond of her and enjoyed her companionship.
But each time Calinda dusted her room, the locked drawer fascinated her. To date, Lynx had been gone for nine days, nine days without contacting her, nine days of Salina pointing out that fact. Did the drawer contain some secret to Lynx’s work or character? He would be furious if she opened it. And she knew how.
During a stifling night when a violent thunderstorm prevented sleep, Calinda’s curiosity was overwhelming. She took a curved knitting needle and jimmied the lock. She slowly opened the drawer and peeked inside. She was surprised to find it contained boyhood treasures: a watch, a rabbit’s foot, two sets of snake rattles, a raccoon tail, the ear of a mountain lion, an Apache necklace, a rusty knife, a child’s toy, and other such objects. Why would he keep a drawer with such innocent souvenirs locked? Her gaze touched on two objects of interest, the watch and two jealousy-inspiring lacy handkerchiefs.
Cal lifted the gold watch and studied it. It was rather large for a boy and clearly expensive. She pressed the button to flip open the cover. Her gaze widened as she read the incredible inscription:
“To Lynx, a son I never had. Brax. 8/17/72”
Her hand trembled as she stared at the portentous wording and the date. It didn’t make sense. If her father had loved Lynx that much, how could he leave soon after that date? When and how had such affection turned to bitterness and hate? Why did Lynx despise and resent Brax so much, when Brax had clearly adored him? An irrepressible and unbidden pang of envy assailed her. A parting memento?
Cal returned the tormenting watch to the drawer, then reached for the lacy kerchiefs, monogrammed with lovely “LC.” As she lifted them in her quavering grip, another object caught her eye. “No, it can’t be,” she murmured. She threw the kerchiefs aside to pick up the mesmerizing item. She examined it closely, then opened it. Tears slipped down her cheeks; her heart drummed wildly. How could this be possible? Why would he keep it from her? How had he gotten it?
Her mind was spinning with confusion and anguish. Cal stared at the tiny golden circle: her precious locket, the one stolen during the stage hold-up, the one which had cost the guard his life…
Chapter Twelve
Calinda mindlessly walked to the bed and sat down, her brain too stunned to think about anything or anyone, too dazed to ponder this monumental discovery and its meaning. She didn’t want to think about this devastating mystery; it was too painful.
She blankly stared at the locket for a lengthy span. Her finger traced the delicate artwork; her misty eyes roamed the smiling couple—her parents—who stared unseeingly back at her. When she could no longer shut out her accusatory questions, she asked herself why Lynx would do this cruel thing to her. She had told him about the stolen locket; she had related its precious meaning, her anguish at its theft. Even if he had come upon it accidentally, he must have known it was hers; he must have recognized her father’s picture inside. Why had he hidden it from her? Why hadn’t he returned it?
Why? Why? Why? the words echoed across her warring mind, as loudly and ominously as the rolling thunder outside. How could he possibly explain this foul deed? Did she mean so little to him? Why had he married her, if he was going to treat her so vilely? Where was he? What was he doing? With whom? The mystery surrounding Lynx grew larger and darker. Calinda realized how very little she knew about her husband. Who and what was the man who held her soul in his grasp? His secrecy and reputation stormed her tortured mind. Surely he was not an outlaw?
Cal wept until exhaustion claimed her, to free her from her agony and doubts. By the time the sun rose, Calinda was plagued by relentless suspicions. Lynx had been gone two weeks. This demanding enigma was rapidly becoming a cruel maze. Each time she pursued a liberating path, she found herself facing an obscuring hedge, more lost and confused than before. When would she escape and what solution would greet her senses?
Calinda felt she must get away from the ranch for a while, away from Rankin and away from Salina and away from her torment. She dressed in a tawny pantsskirt, a dark blue shirt with colorful designs in sunny yellow, and western boots. She snatched her felt hat off the rack and headed downstairs. Salina had better watch her step and tongue today; Calinda was ready to explode from tension and fatigue.
Fortunately, Salina was busy in the water-shed with the laundry. Calinda walked to Rankin’s office and knocked. Rankin opened the door and smiled. Calinda o
nly faintly returned it, her thoughts vividly somewhere else. She told Rankin she was riding into town to shop for the day. She requested that Charlie go along as her driver and escort. Naturally Rankin agreed.
Calinda left immediately, without breakfast or coffee. She would eat in town while she settled her nerves. Charlie hitched up the carriage and helped her up into it. They headed off toward town. An unseen rider quickly mounted up and rode off swiftly behind them.
Charlie tried to make conversation with Calinda, but she was quiet and distracted. As they rounded a bend in the road, Charlie hastily reined in the horse. He grumbled at the fallen tree which was blocking the road. It would be impossible to go around it. He told Calinda he would move it aside, then jumped down to do so.
From the nearby rocks and trees, masked riders surged forth and surrounded them, their guns pointing at Charlie and Calinda. Charlie wisely didn’t go for his weapon, seeing they were out-numbered. “Take our money and ride off,” he suggested to the outlaws. “If Mrs. Cardone is injured, you’ll be chased to hell and back,” he warned.
“We know who she is,” one desperado announced. “Take her,” he gave the order to a mounted outlaw near her side of the carriage. “The Cardones will pay plenty to get her back safely.”
A kidnapping? Her, for ransom? Leave with these vicious men? As the man reached for Calinda, she carelessly pulled her gun from its holster to defend herself. Taken off-guard, the outlaw responded with a blow from his pistol to her forehead. She screamed and lost consciousness, falling sideways on the padded seat.
Charlie moved to aid her, but the leader warned, “Move one muscle and you’ll die. Take Cardone a message. Tell him I want $50,000 for her return. I’ll give him three days to come up with the money. Monday, I’ll send him a message where to deliver the money. If he comes after us, we’ll put a neat little bullet hole through her head.”
“But Lynx isn’t home. We don’t expect him back for another few weeks,” Charlie fearfully told him.
“Then old man Cardone can handle it for him,” the leader snarled.
“But that’s a lot of money to gather in three days,” Charlie argued, dreading the coldness in these men.
“Then I suggest he get his ass to town before the bank closes today,” the leader responded casually. “Take her,” he shouted again.
Charlie watched the gang ride off with Calinda. He jumped into the carriage and raced wildly for the ranch to inform Rankin. He jumped off the carriage and ran into the house, yelling for his boss.
Rankin hurried out of his office to see what the commotion was. Charlie babbled almost incoherently. Rankin hushed him, then told him to slow down and speak clearly. His eyes widened and his face paled as the daring tale came forth. “Get the sheriff! They won’t get away with this outrage! The posse will hunt them down and shoot ’em!”
“That won’t do no good, boss. They could be anywhere by now. You’d best try to get the money before they contact you. They mean business, boss. They’ll kill her for sure,” Charlie wailed anxiously.
Before Salina could come inside and learn the truth, Charlie and Rankin were heading for town at breakneck speed. Rankin went to the bank first, to arrange for the money. He told the banker he would return shortly, after he sent Lynx a telegram in care of Jones.
Three hours later, Rankin was sitting in his office, worrying and praying. He had the money, and the telegram was on its way to Lynx, if Jones could locate him. All he could no now was wait and hope.
Calinda gradually struggled to seek freedom from the tormenting black void which had imprisoned her for an hour as the outlaws galloped toward their hideout. Nearing it, on rugged terrain, the men had slowed their pace to a leisurely ride. Her head was throbbing, her body was being shaken to pieces. She had just enough wit about her to remain still and silent until she could clear her dazed head. She comprehended her dangerous situation and uncomfortable position: she was lying on her stomach across a man’s thighs, the man who had kidnapped her. The rocking motion came from the steady walking of his horse. Her injured head and bruised ribs aggravated this humiliating and painful position. She dared not attempt any struggle until she could think of a promising escape plan. Cal was not amused by the thought which flashed across her mind; during the last robbery and knock on the head, the bandits had stolen her possessions, not her. She endured this agony and listened as they talked freely, assuming her still out to the world and their words.
“You know Cardone’s gonna come after us. Taking his woman and demanding $50,000 won’t sit well. You think it was smart to strike on him? He ain’t one to tangle with,” one man remarked.
“Don’t matter. He’ll never find us in here. Farley’s been covering our trail. After we get the money, we’ll lay low for a while,” the leader replied. “After we split the money equally, we’ll have ten thousand dollars apiece,” he added, telling Calinda there were five of them to defeat. Impossible.
“What about that payroll stage to Abilene? We still gonna take it Friday? Oggie said it leaves Fort Worth about ten.”
“Yep. We’ll strike right after she slows to cross Big Sandy Creek. That ought to give us plenty of money for a long rest.”
“Sandy Creek?” the man shrieked. “Ain’t that too close to Rangers? They’ll be madder’n a dogie caught in a barbed fence!”
“That’s why it’ll work; who would suspect a robbery in that area?” the leader boasted, chuckling with pride in himself.
“Did Little Red scout it out good?” a third man asked.
“Yep. Won’t be no problem,” he smugly stated.
“Little Red know about that bundle in your lap?” he teased.
Cole Stevens glanced down at Calinda, eyes slipping over her shapely figure and striking hair. “Little Red suggested it. But Red didn’t want her harmed, unless we can’t avoid it.” He winked at his men.
“Harmed, or touched?” the second outlaw teased, then burst into lecherous laughter, the others quickly joining in with amusement.
“Neither,” Cole sneered, as if Little Red had anything to say about his gang or plans. But Little Red did offer certain advantages.
“The way Little Red handles that six-shooter and fiery temper, I wouldn’t challenge either. I wonder if all redheads are hot-blooded.”
Little Red’s britches are getting a mite too big. It’s time for the boss to cut ’em down to size, he mused to himself, growing weary of Red’s bossy air and his men’s tauntings. Red could never be a leader!
Calinda almost sighed in relief. Whoever this Little Red was, she prayed he held the power to control these crude men. For certain, it wouldn’t do for her to antagonize them, especially Little Red.
As the outlaws began joking about their daring attack and the hopeful results of the kidnapping, the whole story unfolded for Calinda. Could Rankin get his hands on that much money? Would they truly release her afterwards? Where was her husband? If he had been home, this danger wouldn’t have befallen her!
Calinda couldn’t ride in this position any longer. She felt it best to alert them to her arousal. She began to moan softly and move gingerly. The leader halted his animal to lift her into a sitting position before him. Her hand went to her temple and she winced with pain. She opened her eyes and looked around. “Where am I? What happened?”
Cal pretended to be too weak and fuzzy headed to struggle for escape. She glanced around, observing four men with masks. “Who are you? Why did you kidnap me? And hurt me?” she asked sluggishly.
Cole Stevens related the facts she needed to know, prompting her to act stunned and alarmed. She gave the same arguments Charlie had given to them; Cole laughingly debated each one. “Just be a good girl, and you won’t get hurt. Before you know it, you’ll be at home.”
“Surely you wouldn’t kill an innocent woman for money?”
“Nope. But we will if we don’t get it,” Cole said to frighten her.
They rode on for another thirty minutes, weaving around tall boulders and s
cattered trees until a wooden shack came into view. Cole reined in and dismounted, then lifted her down. To carry off her part, Calinda swayed precariously and grabbed his right arm to steady herself.
To her amazement, the leader said, “Sorry about that, you shouldn’t have gone for a gun. You’ve got a nasty cut and bruise.”
“What did you expect me to do when you attacked us? How was I to know you didn’t plan to rob and murder us? My head aches. May I have some water?” she asked politely, drawing on her manners to disarm him and force him to realize she was a lady. He was a confusing, complex man. He was cruel and cold; yet, his eyes and voice could wax warm and gentle at times. Could this man murder her? Was he second in command to this absent Little Red?
“Let’s get you inside. I’ll see if I can round up a bandage. I’ll warn you now, Calinda Cardone; don’t try anything foolish. If you do—” He halted dramatically to imply a deadly warning, then left the ominous threat hanging in mid-air.
Calinda was taken inside, through a large room, and into a smaller one. After she was given water, she thanked the carefree leader. He smeared something on her wound, saying it was an Indian remedy, then bound her head with a bandanna. He tied her wrists securely, then told her to lie down and rest.
When she asked his name, he laughed merrily and stated, “You don’t want to know that, little lady. If you learn who we are, then we can’t free you later. Don’t get up or leave this room. Savvy?”
Cal nodded and thanked him for his assistance, inwardly wanting to spew forth threats and curses on his sable head. She knew it was best to play the delicate and gentle-minded beauty to inspire any hope of escape. She couldn’t say how Rankin would respond to this danger. Had he contacted Lynx? Even so, Lynx could never find her. She could only pray for the Cardones’ cooperation, or a daring escape.
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