Mouth of Hell (The Law Wranglers Book 2)

by Ron Schwab

  27

  The four Rivers brothers and their father, Levi, sat at a rectangular pine table in The Exchange Hotel's dining area. The elder Rivers, by virtue of ingrained habit, was seated at the head of the table. It was the morning of Cal's wedding, which was to occur mid-afternoon, and the males had been pushed out of the way while the ladies finished wedding preparations, not that there were any protests at this table.

  As the men launched their attack on breakfast, Levi, a barrel-chested man in his mid-sixties, whose face was sun-bronzed with sharp crow's feet lines carved in the flesh about his eyes, lamented, "I wish your little sister would have made it back for this occasion. She's always off to hell and gone someplace. Never thinks of her family."

  "Pop," Josh said, "Tabby didn't even know about the wedding. This came up pretty fast. And she's like everybody in the family . . . she's got work to take care of."

  "Work. Writing stories. Hell, what kind of work is that?"

  Hamilton, the banker son, defended his sister, "Important work, Pop. Her stories for The Santa Fe New Mexican are being reprinted all over the country. I doubt if she's making more than a pittance now, but when she gets back, she'll have some leverage and probably even be in demand on the speaker's circuit. I've read her stories. I promise she's better than good."

  "Yeah, I know, she writes okay, but she's going to get herself killed or end up some buck's squaw. She ought to have a husband by now . . . with a baby on the way. But never mind, you boys always stood up for your little sister no matter what she done. I'm not going to get anyplace with this bunch."

  Josh conceded his father was right on that point. Tabby had been spoiled rotten by the brothers, and she'd always tagged along as part of the gang. But she learned a lot of skills and acquired a lot of toughness along the way that he hoped would help her now out on the Staked Plains.

  "I'm getting married, too," Levi blurted out.

  Heads turned, and uplifted coffee cups and forks froze in place at the words.

  "What's everybody looking at? I just thought you might want to know."

  "Dawn?" Josh asked.

  "Who the hell else do you think it would be? We've been keeping company for a year now."

  Dawn Rutledge was Erin McKenna's aunt, who had been living with Erin at the time of her capture by the Comanche. Dawn had employed Danna Sinclair and, ultimately Josh, to abort the lawsuit by Erin's uncle, Oliver McKenna, to have Erin declared dead and Oliver adjudged as the sole surviving heir to her father's vast ranch holdings. In the course of the trial and search for Erin, Dawn Rutledge had been invited as a guest at the Slash R, and Josh had no doubt she was sharing his father's bedroom by now. This was fine as far as he was concerned. She was a quiet, thoughtful woman, who seemed to have a calming effect on his father, who leaned toward the excitable.

  "Congratulations, Pop," Josh said, standing and reaching across the table to shake his father's hand. The other brothers followed suit.

  "She's a fine woman," the soft-spoken Nate said. His blessing counted most, Josh thought. Nate, physically a younger version of his father, and the eldest Rivers son, lived with his wife and three children in another house on the Slash R. He was a shy, quiet man who knew cattle and ranching and pretty much ran the spread. He never fought with Levi like some of the others had. He had a knack for knowing when to take good advice and when to let Levi's words go in one ear and out the other.

  Ham said, "And when's the big day?"

  "This afternoon."

  This got Cal's attention. "But I'm getting married this afternoon."

  "Well, the good preacher's going to tie the knot for Dawn and me after you're all hitched."

  "I never heard of such a thing," Cal said.

  Josh and his other brothers looked on with amusement. Ham asked, "Pop, does that mean Cal calls you 'uncle' now?"

  Cal's eyes shot sparks at Ham. "Now, what in the hell do you mean by that?"

  "Dawn is Erin's aunt. So, as I've got it figured, when Dawn marries Pop, he becomes Erin's uncle as well as her father-in law. It seems to me, then, that Pop's sort of your uncle, too."

  "Can't be. Shit. Pop, you've got to re-think this. This seems like some kind of sick stuff."

  "I've done my thinking. The deal's all but sealed."

  "Why didn't somebody tell me about this? It's my wedding."

  "Dawn talked to Erin, and she thought this was a great idea. Erin wanted it to be a surprise."

  "Well, it sure as hell is that. I like Dawn just fine, but--"

  Josh interrupted. "Cal, don't worry about it. This is all legal and moral, and we can make you and Pop both honest men in one sweep."

  Cal seemed mollified but pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head and mumbling to himself.

  Josh turned serious. "There's one other thing I'd like to bring up while we're all together. I just felt you should know there have been some developments concerning Michael."

  Josh had their attention. He told them about Clayborne Pierce's efforts to ransom Michael and the frustrating outcome. "It's almost certain Michael's with Quanah's band. Cal is aware I have spoken with Quanah and have contacts there, but it appears they have outright lied when I've inquired about Michael. We know with near certainty where he's at. And after this wedding I intend to bring him home."

  Levi spoke with tears glazing his eyes. "Son, I'm overwhelmed at the prospect of Michael coming home. That's been my dream for some four years now, but you ain't just going to amble in there and tell Quanah to turn over that boy. Not if you want to walk away with your scalp."

  "No, I'm working on some legal matters that are important to Quanah, and I'm not without leverage to broker a deal."

  Ham said, "If you need money for ransom, it can be arranged."

  Nate spoke. "I'll say what Pop might say if it wasn't for worrying about what I'd think. The Slash R's never got cash, but we're good to borrow whatever we need to get your little boy home. This is family, and we stick together." Those words constituted a major speech for Nate, who was inclined to three to five word dialogue.

  "I appreciate that you've offered to help, and I won't hesitate to come with my hat out if I need that kind of support. I can't put my finger on what it is yet, but I think this is about something other than money."

  Cal had remained silent while Josh related what he had learned about Michael's captivity but now spoke. "When are you leaving?"

  "In a few days. I have a few things to take care of at the office first."

  "I'll be riding with you."

  "Don't be ridiculous."

  "I've scouted that country. That's what I did before I got domesticated."

  "In a few hours you'll have a wife. Willow's as much your child as Erin's, and in a month you'll have another. You've got responsibilities."

  "Yes, I do. And you and Michael are included."

  "What the hell will Erin say about this? You get married and then you're off to Comanche country."

  "I'll talk to her, but she won't fight it. I'm marrying her because I know the kind of woman she is."

  Josh said, "Talk to her. Then decide."

  28

  After the double wedding the Rivers clan gathered at The Exchange again. There was no ballroom, but a section of the dining room had been cordoned off for the wedding guests, which consisted mostly of family, Josh's law partners, Jessica, and a few of Levi's old friends who lived in Santa Fe. Cal had always been a loner and his few good friends were fellow scouts who were out on the plains with duties connected with the Red River War.

  The exchange of vows by Levi and Dawn Rutledge had been a mere footnote to the wedding and had not overshadowed the main event by any means. After the minister had completed the ceremony for Cal and Erin, and their recessional was concluded, he simply asked the attendees to remain seated and called the older couple to the front. In a few minutes another married pair emerged from the church.

  A mix of Mexican and American foods were spread out on the tabl
es, and the guests grazed at their leisure. Josh, as best man for Cal, offered a toast to a "happy and enduring marriage and patience for the bride." He wondered if Cal had told her yet. Her flame-red hair glowed against a fashionable emerald gown. She had dismissed traditional white as an option. Her enormous belly and the beautiful half-Comanche toddler belied any notion she might be a virgin. She was a stunning young woman, Josh thought, and tough and smart--a good match for Cal.

  Levi and Dawn sat at a table with Nate and Julia and their kids. They seemed quietly happy. He guessed Dawn was probably ten years younger than his father, and she was certainly an attractive woman. He was pleased for his dad. It was time to move on--for Levi. He was surprised at how much Nate's children had grown, but Eli, the older of the two boys was probably twelve now. That would make Levi II nine and Katherine about five, nearly the same age as Michael. Julia, with her honey-colored hair and full figure was aging well, he thought, and then he remembered she was likely not yet thirty-two. She probably would not have appreciated his thought.

  "Good evening, counsellor." He turned at the sound of the familiar voice,

  "Danna. I'm glad you could join us."

  "You seemed very preoccupied."

  "Just looking over the family. It's been a long time since this many of us have been together at the same time."

  "It's got to be special."

  He remembered that Danna had no family remaining, and he suspected she and Cal had once been lovers. This night was probably not that uplifting for her, but you would never know it by the happy mask she wore on her face.

  "Can we talk a little business?"

  "I'm heading out to look for Quanah's village day after tomorrow."

  "I assumed it would be soon."

  "I want you to tell George Hatter I'll be leaving in a week."

  A look of puzzlement crossed her face. "I don't understand."

  "I suspect someone in our office is the source of information about my travels and the fact we've been representing Quanah. Linda? No. I'd bet my life on it. Marty is new here. But let's keep this between you and me. Watch George and try to tell if he has any reaction to my leaving early. Maybe the suspicion isn't warranted."

  "But why?"

  "Money. There's an old saying that 'government is where the money is.' Government policies concerning the Indians affect some businesses and certain bureaucrats whose interests are either harmed by peace or the type of peace that is negotiated. Just keep an eye on George."

  "I will, but it's difficult to believe he would be involved in anything like that."

  Their conversation was interrupted by a breathless towheaded boy of about fourteen. "Mr. Rivers?"

  Josh turned to the boy. "I'm Josh Rivers."

  "I'm Danny Hicks. My father's the news editor at The Santa Fe New Mexican. He said I should deliver this to you right away." He thrust an envelope in Josh's hand and disappeared.

  "What could this be about?" Josh muttered as he opened the envelope and plucked out a single sheet of paper. He read it with disbelief. "Oh shit," he whispered as he passed the note to Danna.

  "Oh my God." Danna read aloud. "Josh Rivers. I regret to inform you that we have received a missive stating that your sister, Tabitha Rivers, is missing following a Ninth Cavalry engagement with hostile Comanche. We will notify you immediately if we receive further information. I trust you will notify appropriate family members. Regards, Elmer Hicks."

  Danna returned the note. "What are you going to do?"

  "Find her. And I'm afraid I'm going to throw a big bucket of water on this wedding party."

  29

  When White Wolf returned from his scouting assignment, Major Clinton Garden, Colonel Miles's second-in-command, informed him of the Comanche ambush of the buffalo soldiers and that Tabitha Rivers had either accompanied the troopers or been on her way to joining up with them. Miles added meaningfully, "She left without authorization, and as a result the shit is going to fly. She's become very popular in the public eye. Many people see the war through her words, and when news gets out she's been killed or captured, there will be a public outcry. Frankly, she's a foolhardy little bitch as far as I'm concerned."

  White Wolf subdued his initial instinct to flatten the pompous weasel's turned-up nose. Instead, he asked, "How many casualties?"

  "Eight dead, seven wounded. Three are missing, including Sergeant Ezekiel Hooper, and not counting Miss Rivers. Hooper was in charge, and I'll have his black balls for allowing that female correspondent to go with him."

  If the Comanche haven't already taken them, White Wolf thought. "Where was the attack?" he asked.

  Garden pointed to the southwest. "See those chimney-like rock formations in the distance? Just a bit beyond that. Near enough that we could hear the gunfire. Colonel Miles sent reinforcements, but it was a quick hit and they were gone. Like goddamn ghosts."

  "I would like to take a look."

  "Go ahead. I can't see that it would do any harm. If you find that woman, drag her ass back here."

  White Wolf did not mention that he did not plan to return without Tabitha. He made a quick stop at the quartermaster's tent for a few supplies and then swiftly rode out of camp.

  An hour later he was at the site of the attack. He could tell the Comanche strategy had been simple--the element of surprise, primarily. No attack had been anticipated this close to the main encampment, and the Comanche, evidently with as many as fifty warriors, had split their numbers, with about half remaining hidden as the troopers passed by and the others mounting a frontal attack. After that, like pincers, the Comanche closed in from behind, and they had the soldiers trapped in between. If not for the proximity of the main force, the entire squadron would have been dead and scalped. White Wolf guessed this was Quanah thumbing his nose at the white eyes.

  He made a wide circle of the area and confirmed there were no other bodies left behind. He also determined that the body of warriors had split into three groups and moved out in different directions. Which should he track? He decided it didn't matter. They would probably join up at an appointed rendezvous or the same village anyway, so he picked the middle trail.

  It quickly became evident the Comanche were making no effort to hide or cover their trail, and they were moving at a leisurely pace, evidently unworried about pursuit--or welcoming it. The latter was more likely, he figured. Chances were an unpleasant greeting lay ahead if the army took up the chase. It puzzled White Wolf they had not. If Mackenzie had been there, the troops would not have been frozen by command indecision and would have taken to the field.

  He had to assume he was already being watched, so he was not going to surprise the war party. And what would it accomplish if he did, but his own death or worse? With that thought he angled away from the trail. He knew the general direction the Comanche were heading. There was no particular urgency. Either Tabitha was dead or she was a captive. If the latter, his first task was to locate her.

  30

  When Tabitha awakened, she found herself staring at the dry earth, rolling like a flowing river. Or it seemed it was moving anyway. In fact, she soon realized, she was slung over the saddle on Smokey's back like a sack of grain, her wrists anchored to her ankles by braided rawhide strips passing under the horse's belly. She felt like tiny spikes were being driven into her skull, and now she caught a glimpse of her own blood dripping intermittently on the ground beneath her. Turning her head, she saw that her gelding was being led by a mounted Indian--Comanche, she assumed.

  It was nearing dusk, so she decided she must have been unconscious for some hours. She remembered racing to catch up with Sergeant Hooper's soldiers, but she could not recall anything beyond those moments and had no idea how she ended up face down over her horse's back. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of a narrow ribbon of water winding its way through naked prairie that was turning more rugged as the terrain inched steeper now. The horses slowed and then came to a halt. She could hear her captors, obviously debating somethi
ng in guttural voices, and then one voice rose above the others and uttered what she took as a command.

  A warrior with a heavily painted face and a sleeveless, buckskin war shirt walked up to her, clutched her short-cropped hair and raised her head. Her gaze met his glaring obsidian eyes, and he let her head drop. He untied her wrists, and then grabbed her arm and pulled, flinging her harshly onto the ground. She landed on her shoulder and felt the shock jolt up her neck to her aching skull. She lay there motionless, taking in the scene, while the Comanche seemed to be tending to the tasks of setting up a night camp, ignoring her for the moment. She calculated there must be fifteen warriors, more or less. She lifted herself upon one elbow and scrutinized the site more thoroughly before her eyes fastened on the three blue-clad soldiers huddled together some forty feet from her and away from the bustle of camp activity. She could see they were bloodied, and it was easy to make out the bulky form of Sergeant Ezekiel Hooper. Though he was a fellow captive in a seemingly hopeless circumstance, his presence gave her a certain irrational comfort.

  The warrior who had yanked her off the horse walked over and stood above her and glared. He said something unintelligible, but, from the tone, she knew it was not a friendly greeting. He kicked her sharply in the ribs, and she groaned as the blow sucked out her breath. Sour Face, as she thought of the scowling warrior, commenced waving his arms and growling at her, and she got the message she was to get on her feet. Slowly, she raised herself from the ground as a sharp pain ripped through her side, and she fought off dizziness that would sweep in and abate and then strike again. Finally, as she stood for a few moments, her head began to clear.

  Sour Face grabbed her arm and dragged her away heading outside the edge of the campsite, and she followed, stumbling as she tried to keep up. He stopped abruptly and faced her. He signed clearly that Tabitha should remove her boots and britches. She felt the briefest wave of panic before resolve took over. She backed away, shaking her head from side to side defiantly. "No," she said. "No. Never."