‘Time’s wasting,’ the leader of the men said suddenly.
‘We’ve got to get about doing what we came for.’
He said this a little too loudly and as he did the three of them lunged forward in a body, driving K. John to the floor of the barn. He started to fight, but there was to be no fight. The man sitting on top of him clubbed him over the ear with the barrel of his pistol and the lights went out in K. John’s skull.
~*~
‘K. John!’ someone was shouting from the open barn doorway. There was sunshine shafting into K. John’s eyes and he winced at the saber-like shards of light. His head was throbbing and he found himself sprawled uncomfortably on the hard-packed floor of the barn.
‘K. John!’ was shouted again, and he knew that it could only be Flower.
‘Right here!’ he called back, his tongue thick in his mouth.
‘Well, get over here!’ she replied a little officiously.
Determining that he had no broken parts, K. John scraped himself off the floor and, after leaning for a minute against the side of a stall, he walked in the direction of Flower’s voice, his head pounding.
Flower had changed into a pair of blue jeans and a white shirt. She tapped her foot impatiently as she watched him stagger toward her. He leaned against the door-frame and watched her. There was obvious concern on her face.
‘This is a disaster!’ Flower said, breathlessly. Despite his injuries, K. John couldn’t help noticing how fine she looked. Her hair was worn loose this morning, dark and glossy in the fresh sunlight. Her dark-green eyes were not amused as she looked him over. ‘A disaster!’ she repeated.
K. John was fingering the lump on his skull carefully. ‘It’s not that bad,’ he replied.
‘It’s not that bad?’ Flower leaned slightly toward him, her breathing coming in short puffs. ‘Justine Masters is spirited away in the dead of night and you don’t think it’s serious?’
‘I didn’t understand,’ K. John said, rubbing his forehead. His brain was still a little foggy. He had assumed that Flower was concerned about the attack on him. ‘What happened?’
‘What happened? Nobody knows.’ Flower looked temporarily abashed. ‘I was sound asleep, and you know that Olive and I are the only two in the house besides Justine. There was a note on the kitchen table to her father ... I opened it.’
‘What did it say?’ K. John asked, heavily.
‘That she was leaving home; that she’d had enough of his controlling ways and needed to find a new life of freedom.’
‘That’s all?’
‘Well,’ Flower answered, ‘there was something about us, about Emerson Masters wasting his money to hire two incompetents as watchdogs.’
‘I see. Well, we seem to have lived up to her impression of us,’ K. John said. ‘Was there a man involved, a boyfriend? That’s usually the first thing you’d consider.’
‘I don’t know,’ Flower said unhappily.
‘What about Olive? What did she have to say?’
‘Very little outside of “Oh, my! Oh, my!”’ Flower pulled a face. ‘But she did say that she was awakened after midnight by what she thought was the sound of Justine’s buggy being driven out of the yard. I didn’t see how that could be possible—how could she have slipped out here, hitched her horse to the buggy and driven off under your nose? It’s not possible!’
‘It’s possible,’ K. John confirmed, dully.
‘How? What are you talking about, K. John? You’re hard to understand this morning.’
‘I know. That’s the way it is with some of us “incompetents”.’
‘What are you saying? Let’s make an agreement to speak English to each other.’ A smile flickered briefly over Flower’s lips and then fell away completely to be replaced by worry. ‘K. John—what has happened to you? You’d better sit down somewhere.’
There was a chipped and oily wooden bench just inside of the barn and they sat there, K. John holding his head, as he told her about the three visitors the night before.
‘I couldn’t guess what they were up to,’ he said. ‘Now I guess we know.’
‘No, you couldn’t have guessed. I’m sorry, K. John, I should have noticed that you were injured.’ She placed her hand briefly on K. John’s. ‘Do you think those three men ... maybe it was the boyfriend and a couple of his friends or relatives?’
‘I don’t think so,’ he answered. ‘From what I saw of them they were older and hardly the ideal of any young girl’s dream, especially a girl like Justine Masters.’
‘Stranger things have happened.’
‘Not this strange. One thing is for sure,’ K. John said, rising, ‘Justine had this all planned out. She would make her escape while her father was off to Albuquerque. Emerson Masters must have had an inkling of what was up. That’s what he hired us to do—keep watch over the girl.’
‘And we’ve already failed! Not a day into the job.’
‘It would have helped if he’d taken the time to tell us what the job was,’ K. John commented, ‘but with the rush he was in, there wasn’t time.’ As K. John turned toward the door and the bright sunlight outside, Flower also came to her feet.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asked, for his forehead was furrowed with thought.
‘That we can’t just give up. I won’t admit that we’ve already failed at this job, Flower.’
‘You’re going to go after her?’ she asked.
‘That’s it. I’ll borrow a horse—after all, we are Oxhead employees—and get on her trail.’
‘I’m going with you,’ Flower said with determination.
‘You can’t.’
‘Can I not! Besides, what else am I to do—stay here and help Olive with the cooking?’
‘No, I guess not. I just wish someone had told us what the situation was because I still don’t know. It’s likely as he had informed the couple that was supposed to arrive from Clovis what was up.’ K. John paused. ‘Well,’ he shrugged, ‘I suppose it’s our problem now. I should be able to cut the sign of four horses and a buggy—or would be if I knew which direction they had gone.’
‘I think I already know,’ Flower said, and K. John turned to stare down at her.
‘What are you talking about? Did you overhear something in the house?’
‘No, I didn’t. But, K. John, will you believe that I know what is going on around here better than you do?’
‘If you say so.’ K. John removed his hat to scratch at his head. ‘Where is it that you think Justine is going?’
‘Why, to Crossroads, of course! Now, shall we saddle a couple of horses and get going?’
Crossroads made sense. K. John couldn’t see a young woman in a buggy heading out into the wild country. Flower’s guess was a good one, but it seemed to be more than a guess to her. What did she know? He thought that over as he saddled two horses. A long-legged, sleek red roan which might have been Emerson Masters’ own, and an alert little paint pony, which seemed eager to leave the barn and go adventuring.
Flower waited impatiently, though why she would be eager to go back to Crossroads he could not guess—the town hadn’t treated her well up to now. He asked her once as he finished drawing the cinches on the paint pony but her response was curt.
‘I’ll tell you along the trail.’
He waited, expecting her to return to the kitchen and come back with some food—K. John was getting downright lean—but she made no such offer. One thing he insisted on: they took four canteens off the barn wall and filled them. The chase might lead them to Crossroads, but it could take a sudden turn, and he would not be left on the desert without water.
He liked little of this, but Flower seemed sure and she was already impatient, dressed for riding, and so K. John swung aboard the roan, feeling slightly like a thief who was abusing Masters’ hospitality, but there was little choice and, as the low sun still lit only the tips of the huge oak trees in the yard, they rode away, taking the fork for Crossroads. Glancing back once, K. John
saw the stout woman, Olive, watching from the doorway. What was she thinking? What would she tell Emerson Masters when he returned?
Riding away from the ranch, their crooked shadows stretching out long before them, K. John began immediately looking for sign of the escapee’s passage. Flower shot him urgent glances. In her mind he was wasting time: she was sure of where they had gone.
‘Have to be certain,’ K. John grumbled once. ‘We can’t be riding miles in the wrong direction.’
‘No, we can’t. Trust me, K. John, this is the way they went.’
About half a mile on where the soil grew sandy, looser, she was proven correct. The tracks of a single horse and buggy along with those of three outriders were evident in the softer soil. When K. John commented on them. Flower nearly smirked and said, ‘Maybe you’ll trust me next time.’
‘I trusted you this time, but we had to be sure, not ride on hunches. We’ve already made a mess out of our job.’
‘You’re grouchy. I suppose you’re just hungry,’ Flower said.
‘You suppose right,’ K. John said with little humor. Then, ‘You said you would tell me why you were so sure it was Crossroads they were riding to once we were on the trail—well, we’re on the trail.’
‘I meant to tell you—as soon as you were satisfied by your tracking that I was right.’
‘I see.’ K. John rubbed thoughtfully at his bristled chin. He had hoped to grab a shave at the Oxhead. He felt obligated to warn her. ‘You know, Flower, I don’t really like the idea of you riding along. It could turn out to be pretty dangerous.’
‘I know that,’ she replied, and added quite seriously, ‘I don’t think you have any idea yet of how dangerous this might be.’
Chapter Four
The road straightened and leveled; the breeze was light, the morning bright. As they were passing the cottonwood grove where they had stopped to rest the day before, K. John broke the silence.
‘All right, you had something to tell me. Why don’t you begin now?’
Flower shook her head, thoughtfully. ‘It’s not a pretty tale, K. John.’
‘I didn’t ask for pretty,’ he said.
‘All right,’ she agreed with a sigh. ‘You see, it involves me, too.’
‘You? What do you mean? You can’t have known Justine Masters before.’
‘No, nothing like that.’ She frowned. They were riding close together; her eyes briefly took on a faraway look. ‘It concerns Clyde Willit and his doings,’ she told him.
‘You mean the man who owns the Double O Saloon?’
‘Yes. Well, K. John, you see, Willit is up to other shady business that doesn’t include drinking and gambling.’
‘You would know, seeing as you worked for him. What kind of thing did you have in mind that specifically might concern Justine Masters?’
‘Clyde Willit deals in women,’ Flower said, turning her eyes away from his. ‘That’s how I came to be there in the first place.’
There was a small ringing in K. John’s ears that he didn’t think was a result of last night’s beating. ‘I don’t know as I understand you,’ he said.
‘I suppose you wouldn’t,’ Flower said, returning his gaze. ‘You see, K. John, there are a lot of poor families trying to make a living in the basin.’ She waved an arm, indicating the entire desert distances. ‘Some of them don’t even have milk and bread for their babies. It is a desperate land out there.’
K. John nodded his understanding: the Red Desert was cruel, but what did this have to do with Justine? Or with Flower? She went on:
‘My father was one of the dirt-poor farm squatters out here. We had nothing. My mother had died on the land years ago—the heat, loneliness and poverty had driven her to an early grave.’
‘I see,’ K. John nodded. He had seen more than one such case. A man coming west to look for a place of his own across the barren wastes, not realizing that there was a reason why the land was barren. People shriveled up and died out here, having spent a lifetime of labor to gain nothing.
‘Father always believed that if we only had water, our farm would be an Eden.’
‘That’s what everyone thinks, but no one has water. What has this to do with Clyde Willit, you, or Justine? What has the man got?’
‘Money, K. John. Willit has a lot of money. Sleazy money, which he is willing to lend at exorbitant rates. Father went to him and begged for a loan to have a deep well dug on his property. Clyde agreed to lend it. Of course … ’ Flower hesitated, ‘he wanted some sort of collateral.’
‘Of course,’ K. John said. ‘What did he want? A share of the property?’
‘What use would that be to him? He needed something a lot more useful.’ Her expression tightened and she looked away again. K. John came to a realization, a shocking, cold realization.
‘You mean you?’ he blurted out, unable to control his anger and the sickness he felt. Flower only nodded her answer.
‘As Clyde explained it to Father, he would take me in to work for him for three months, at the end of which time he expected Father to repay the loan. Father told me that it was fair enough—I’d at least have food to eat and Mr. Willit was doing us a favor by taking me in. Anyway,’ Flower shrugged, ‘he fully expected to have Willit’s money back by the end of the three months.’
‘But he didn’t have it.’
‘He never came back,’ Flower said in a voice near a sob. ‘He never even came by once to visit me. Never!’ She dabbed at her eyes. ‘I don’t know if he is dead, alive, a victim of the desert.’
‘You said that Willit was to hold you for three months as chattel—a guarantee of his loan. What was supposed to happen to you after that?’
‘The other girls at the saloon told me. There were a lot of them who were in a situation like mine. After three months, Clyde Willit would just sell them to the highest bidder.’
‘What do you mean sell them?’ K. John demanded. ‘He can’t do that; there are laws against it!’
‘I know, but who is there to enforce them?’ Flower said. ‘It wasn’t that long ago that bondswomen, indentured servants, were common, and no one thought anything of a man having one. And, K. John, do you know how scarce women are in this country? Cooks are in demand, nurses, housekeepers ... wives,’ she added lastly, stumbling over the word.
‘You can’t buy a wife,’ K. John argued.
‘Can you not? That too was once a common practice all around the world, wasn’t it?’
‘I know, but … what do the girls do when they’re told of this?’
‘Some cry, some rant; some are eager to go—to leave the saloon work for their own home on a prosperous ranch. With their background of poverty and uncertainty, it seems like a great stride forward in their lives.’
They rode on in silence. Ahead, K. John could already make out the squat forms of the buildings of Crossroads. ‘You say there’s no one to regulate what Willit does. I wonder what he would do if confronted by the law.’
‘I can tell you that,’ Flower said. ‘He’d say that he took in some poor unfortunate young women and gave them work in his saloon. While they were staying there, he would look around for a good situation for them outside of the Double O. It sounds sort of noble, doesn’t it?’
‘I suppose so, told it that way. The papers the borrowers signed probably had some sort of an agreement to leave the girls with Willit as temporary guardian, so the law couldn’t touch him for that. So, your three months are ended?’
‘Last week. I told Clyde that I had to stay on to wait for my father; that I’d rather work for the Double O than be sold at auction like an animal.’
‘He refused?’
‘Yes. Apparently he had some attractive bids for my services.’
‘You know,’ K. John said, ‘I don’t really know where Willit would stand legally if this all came out, but I can think of a lot of ugly names for what he’s doing.’
Again there was a lengthy silence as they neared the dumpy little town of Crossroads.
There was one thing that made no sense to K. John: how had any of this come to involve Justine, who did not fit the pattern of the others? Her father was wealthy and provided her with a decent home. He asked Flower for her thoughts.
‘Well, she’s going willingly, we know that. She’s neat and good-looking enough so that Clyde Willit’s interest would be immediately piqued. Maybe Justine is looking for adventure. She may have even heard that the Double O ran a sort of matrimonial agency and that she could find a suitable young man, who are few and far between out here.
‘Clyde may be trying to swindle him. Masters is a wealthy man and from what he told us has plans to be wealthier still, soon,’ Flower suggested.
‘You mean hold Justine for ransom?’
‘Not ransom—more like a reward, maybe. I don’t see how you could call it kidnapping if she went to him of her own volition.’
‘I guess not. This Clyde Willit is one devious man, Flower. I deeply dislike him even though I’ve never met him.’
‘One thing, K. John, if you don’t already realize it, I’ve never seen the man bully or hurt a woman: they are too valuable. But he has no compunctions about shooting any man foolish enough to try to rescue one of the girls. I’ve seen it happen.’
‘Well, I guess I’m already guilty of that—I’ve got you.’
‘That’s the way he’ll see it. You’ve stolen some of his property.’
‘I understand.’ K. John nodded. They were near enough to the town to smell somebody’s wood smoke. ‘What I don’t understand, Flower, is why you’re going back there. You could care nothing for Justine.’
‘No more than you—I suppose it’s because she is a part of our job. Besides, Justine may be older than I am, better-looking, even smarter ... but the poor dumb boob is riding into a situation she can’t possibly understand. We’re the only ones who can pull her out of this—for her sake and her father’s.’
‘And to earn our pay,’ added K. John.
‘Yes, to earn our pay.’
‘You could just ride out, head for home, where your father might be waiting.’
‘You could just ride out, too!’ she countered, but K. John shook his head.
Crossroads (A Piccadilly Publishing Western Book 8) Page 3