by AJ Powers
Clay lowered the gun as he approached the desk again. Having obtained the information he needed, he opened the gun, revealing the empty chamber inside.
Watson’s eyes got big; he knew he had just been conned.
“Jake, if I was going to murder you, I would have done it the other night when I looked at you through my rifle scope.”
Watson’s muscles tightened up as anger surged through his body. “You son of—”
Clay threw another punch which quickly silenced the old man. Watson’s head dropped to the desk with a loud thud. Clay hoped that he and the girls would be long gone by the time Watson woke up.
Picking up his shotgun that had fallen to the ground when he punched Watson the first time, Clay made his way to the front door. The storm had picked up while he was inside making the small settlement a sloshy ghost town.
After jogging the few hundred yards to the infirmary, Clay did a quick check for any activity. All quiet. He slowly climbed the few steps onto the front stoop and knocked on the door. After a few seconds, the door cracked open. A voice spoke. “Who’s there? Are you hurt?”
Clay threw his shoulder into the door, sending the small bodied doctor back several feet before he fell to the ground. Clay shouldered the shotgun and pointed it at the man. “I don’t want to hurt you, Doc. Just take me to Kelsey, and I’ll be on my way.”
Doc grabbed onto a nearby chair and pulled himself up from the ground. He started to walk towards Clay when a shout came from the back. “Doc? What’s going on up there?”
Doc put his finger up to his lips. “Quiet,” he whispered to Clay as he looked towards the back door. “Yeah!” he yelled. “Just tripped over my chair and dropped some files.”
The man in the back didn’t respond, and they heard the sound of a door slamming shut.
Clay looked at Doc quizzically.
“Look, I don’t really know what’s going on right now, but I know if she doesn’t get out of here soon, Watson will kill her,” Doc said. “The door to the jail is locked, but I can get the guard to open up.”
Clay didn’t want to trust him, but the look in his eyes was sincere. He didn’t have much choice in the matter anyhow.
“Okay,” Clay agreed.
“Follow me,” Doc said and led him through a door into a mostly empty storage room. On the far side of that room was a heavy steel door. Even if Clay had tried to break through, it would have taken a very long time and a lot of loud noises.
Doc walked up to the door and turned to Clay who was leaning up against the wall next to the door, his shotgun at the ready. He rapped on the door a few times. “Hey, Hutchins, open up! I need to take a look at the prisoner, Watson’s orders.”
A loud clank sounded from the door, and then it opened up. The guard stepped back from the door and motioned for Doc to come in. “How come no one told me about this?” the guard asked.
“I’m telling you now,” Doc replied.
Doc walked in, and the guard turned to follow. Clay came around the doorway and snuck up behind the guard. The man had no idea what was coming.
Clay swung his arm around the guard’s neck, immediately applying pressure. The man began to flail his arms, pawing at Clay in a desperate attempt to ward off his attacker. As Clay reinforced his hold with his other arm, the guard’s resistance lessened. Finally, his body went limp, and Clay eased him to the ground.
Clay!” Kelsey tried to scream but only got out a whisper.
Clay ran over to the makeshift cell and tried to open it. Locked. He went back to the unconscious guard and returned to the cell with a key that opened the door. He swung the door open, and Kelsey immediately buried herself into his chest, unable to hug him with her hands cuffed behind her back.
He embraced Kelsey and held her close while she bawled. Moments before, she had prepared herself for the worst, but now she was being held by the man she loved.
He eased his hug and stepped back. A mixture of sorrow and anger flooded his mind as he looked upon her battered face. He managed to shrug off those thoughts and smile at her before giving her a brief but passionate kiss.
“We need to go get Dakota and get out of here,” Clay said with urgency.
She eagerly agreed.
He had Kelsey turn around, and he examined the cuffs. The key ring he took off of the guard did not contain the key for the cuffs. Clay darted over to the guard and searched again.
“He doesn’t have them,” Kelsey said. “Only Watson and Silas have keys.”
“Doc, do you have some paperclips, or something?” Clay asked.
“Uhh, yeah, I think so. Let me go check up front.”
Before Doc reached the door, they heard the front door slam shut. “Hey Doc! Where are ya?” someone yelled.
Doc looked at his watch, “Shift change. He’s early!” he said with a hushed voice as he shut the door to the room, careful not to latch it.
Clay had Kelsey and Doc move to the corner of the room while he stood a few feet behind the door. He raised the shotgun up and pressed the stock firmly into his shoulder. The footsteps drew closer but stopped just outside the slightly ajar door. Clay knew why the hesitation, and it worried him. Any guard worth his salt would see that the door was open, even just a little bit, and know something wasn’t right. Clay expected him to knock, to try and communicate with the guard inside. He didn’t.
Instead, the guard waited on the other side, listening intently to try and hear anything happening on the inside. Several minutes went by; the anticipation was palpable. Clay just hoped the man hadn’t snuck back out to get backup. Suddenly, the man kicked the door open and immediately met Clay’s eyes. He slung his sawed off, double barrel up, but before he could put his finger on the trigger, Clay fired.
The explosive sound from the buckshot reverberated off the walls of the small room, giving everyone a terrible ringing in their ears. Better than being dead, though, Clay thought.
The guard had fallen straight back and was dead before he hit the ground. Double-ought buck to the chest from a few feet away wreaks a sort of havoc on the human body that Clay wished he could erase from his memory. The scene was gruesome, but unfortunately, necessary.
Clay racked the pump and chambered the next round. Anyone nearby would have heard that shot, even with the storm outside. They had to leave; no time to pick the cuffs.
“Kelsey, go sit on the bunk,” he said pointing to the cot in the cell. She obeyed without question, and Clay followed her in. “You think you can get your arms out in front of you?”
“Yeah, I think so,” she replied.
She lay down on the bed and lifted her knees to her chest. She grunted and grimaced as she tried to maneuver her arms down her back. The cuffs were putting a lot of pressure on her broken wrist, and it took everything in her not to scream in agony. Clay helped wherever he could, and, in just a few seconds, her arms were in front of her. It wasn’t ideal, but it would make traveling a lot easier.
“Okay, let’s go,” Clay said, helping her off the bed.
As they were leaving, Clay offered his hand to Doc. “Thanks for the help,” he said. Doc took his hand and gave him a firm shake. “You should get out of here, if Silas or Watson shows up here…” Clay trailed off as he gestured to the bodies on the floor, though only one had expired.
“I’ll be okay,” Doc said. “You two be careful.”
As the couple left the infirmary, they were relieved to see no one rushing them with guns drawn. Cautiously, they began their trek to the southern border of the property to retrieve Dakota and escape the ranch.
Chapter 33
The ground had quickly turned to slop, making it difficult to walk, especially for Kelsey. Clay reached out and put his arm around her waist, helping her keep balance and catching her when she slipped. If it weren’t for the dire circumstances they were facing, the whole thing might have been romantic.
Time seemed to crawl as they traversed the slick, uneven terrain. Kelsey’s angst grew with each step. Was
Dakota safe? How were they going to get her out of Silas’s place? Even if they were able to escape, where would they go after that? The questions, however, distracted her mind from the pain.
Neither of them spoke during the hike. The last thing they needed was someone hearing them before they reached Silas’s camp, removing any chance of a silent infiltration and putting Dakota at even greater risk.
Leaving a trail of destruction wasn’t in Clay’s game plan. Killing the guard at Doc’s was ill-fated, but compulsory. Fortunately, the damage was contained as it seemed no one heard the blast. They might not get so lucky with another surprise like that, so Clay needed to make every action intentional and precise.
As they walked up a slight hill, Clay suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. “What is it?” Kelsey asked with a whisper.
Clay remained silent as he stood motionless. Watching. Listening. Then Kelsey heard it, too. Voices.
“Get down,” Clay said as he dropped to one knee, Kelsey did the same.
A few seconds later, the flashlights became visible. There were four of them dancing around as the men holding them slogged through the elements, traveling the opposite direction. With the group barely 10 yards away, Clay and Kelsey had to stay perfectly still. Even though the visibility was poor, the strong beams from the flashlights were piercing through the dark rain with ease. All it would take was for one of them to shine the light in Clay’s direction, and this rescue mission would turn into an execution. Clay’s heart was thumping aggressively in his chest. He prayed the men would not spot them.
“I swear, if Hutchins doesn’t have a really good excuse for not reporting back, I am going to kill him myself!” one of the men barked.
“Get in line behind me,” another said, followed by laughter amongst the group.
Clay remembered Doc calling the guard Hutchins. The men were probably wondering why he had not returned from his prisoner detail. Clay was rife with worry. As soon as those men reached the infirmary, they were going to figure out what had happened and make a mad dash back to camp on high alert. Time was running out.
Clay and Kelsey allowed the men 30 yards or so before they continued their journey to Silas’s settlement. Normally, Clay would have waited a little longer, but given the circumstances—increasing rain and a limited timeline—he opted to move. As they reached the top of the hill, Clay noticed a strong smell of burning wood and a faint light in the distance. They were getting close.
When the settlement became visible, Clay could distinguish three separate cabins and a couple of outhouses. Two of the cottages were dark, but the third shone with flickering firelight and rang drunken laughter.
“I am going to go in for a closer look. Stay here,” Clay said to Kelsey.
“All right,” Kelsey replied. Even though there was nothing to hide behind, the darkness of the night, combined with the heavy downpour made her as good as invisible to anyone in those cabins. She crouched down, however, and kept low to reduce visibility even further.
Clay readied his shotgun, ensuring the gun was feeding from the buckshot magazine tube—he had loaded the other side with wax slugs he had made himself. Before leaving Kelsey, Clay handed her a pistol. It was Megan’s FN9. He felt the additional magazine capacity might come in handy. “Only use it if you absolutely must,” he told her while handing her a spare magazine.
He squeezed her hand briefly before he took off for the illuminated cabin up ahead. As he advanced to the building, he slowed his jog to a walk. Keeping the shotgun shouldered but tilted downward, he was ready for combat at a moment’s notice. About 10 feet out, Clay transitioned to a crouch and moved more stealthily. The sounds of clanking glass and laughter became clearer, more pronounced.
He finally reached the side of the cabin and put his back up against the wall. Staying crouched, he awkwardly side-stepped towards a nearby window. The noises grew louder with each stride. He heard some men joking around, accusing one another of cheating and other typical banter. It sounded like they were playing a game.
He reached the window and carefully peeked through the lower corner. He didn’t see much. He ducked down and moved beneath the window to get a look from the other side. He saw three men sitting at a poker table. There were four empty chairs around them—probably for the four men that passed moments ago. He got a good look around the cabin; it was just one large room. No sign of Silas or Dakota.
Clay made his way down to the other side of the cabin and peered out from around the corner, making sure the path was clear. He ran over to the second cabin and quickly determined it was vacant. Dakota must be in the third. When Clay reached the cabin, he caught a quick glance through the window, but it was too dark to make anything out. There was no real evidence that Dakota or Silas were inside, but his gut was telling him otherwise.
The front door was the only viable way inside. The windows were too small for Clay to fit through—quietly anyway—and there was no back entrance either. Clay was getting ready to walk into the unknown. He had no idea who might be waiting for him on the inside. He didn’t know the layout of the interior, and worst of all, he didn’t know if Dakota was even in the cabin. The dwindling time wasn’t helping his anxiety, either.
As Clay moved to the front door, he looked over in the general direction of where he had left Kelsey. He couldn’t see her, and he wasn’t sure if she could see him. Between his nerves being wrecked and the frigid rain, Clay had trouble steadying his hands. He took a deep breath to calm down. He thought about Kelsey—safely in Northfield, free from Watson’s oppressive reign. The exultant thought of her face was calming to Clay—he was ready.
The door was unlocked, something that surprised Clay. He opened it, taking great care to not make a sound. He stepped inside and closed it most of the way but leaving it unlatched. He quickly became chilled from his sopping wet clothes clinging to his body. Somehow he felt warmer outside where the sting of the pelting rain made him much less aware of the wetness of his clothes.
The room was dark—just a subtle glow from the dying embers in the stove—too dark to see. Clay had a flashlight but did not want to use it lest it draw attention to his presence. He waited just inside the door until a bright flash of lightning illuminated the room. It was brief, but it lasted long enough for Clay to take a mental snapshot of the room’s layout. The last thing he needed was to smash his knee into a table and cause whoever might be inside to wake up.
Like Hawthorne’s place, there were two doors on the back wall. Clay assumed each led to a bedroom, but he couldn’t know for sure. There was only one way to find out. Carefully, he navigated around the furnishings from memory, using the sporadic flash of lightning to keep his bearings. He was able to stay quiet, only managing to bump into a single chair; it hardly made a sound.
With a small step towards the left door, the pounding in Clay’s heart grew exponentially. The thought of Silas being asleep inside instilled an array of emotions, and not knowing how he would react when facing Charlie’s killer, Clay worked to suppress them. He had to keep his cool. Even if he were to shoot Silas, Clay knew he’d then have to deal with the three men playing cards in the cabin just 50 feet away.
Clay quietly opened the door on the left. With his shotgun leading the way, he moved into the room and turned the flashlight on just long enough to see a small body asleep in the bed. Relief washed over him at the sight of Dakota. He didn’t think Watson was the kind of guy who would harm a child, but he had his doubts about Silas having that kind of compassion. Not after Charlie.
Though seeing her brought respite, he knew they were still in danger. He had to manage to wake her without startling her, then leave the cabin, get Kelsey, and escape the ranch without anyone noticing—all before Watson woke up. A daunting task to say the least, but finding her without being detected was a good start.
Kneeling next to the bed, Clay whispered in a barely audible hum, “Pssst! Dakota.” He gently rubbed her back in an effort to ease her out of her slumber. Dakota jolted her
body and went rigid. Then her muscles eased, and she turned her head to look at Clay.
“Dakota, it’s me. Clay.”
She rubbed her eyes but could see him no better than before. “Clay?” she said with a groggy voice. She wasn’t loud, but she wasn’t quiet, either.
Clay put his finger up to his mouth. “Shhhhhh. We need to be very quiet right now, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered, matching Clay’s voice.
“Your mama’s just outside. I am going to carry you out of here and we’re going to leave, but I need you to be as quiet as a mouse, okay? Can you do that for me?”
“Okay” she whispered.
Clay put his shotgun down on the bed as he picked up Dakota. Holding her in his left arm, he reached down and grabbed the shotgun with his right. “You ready?” he asked.
“Mmmm hmmm” she said, still not fully awake yet.
Clay opened the door all the way and inched out of the room. He slowly made his away across the floor, trying to reverse the image in his head of the living room layout. About halfway across, he heard the sound of a revolver hammer being pulled back.
“That’s far enough,” a voice from behind said.
Clay froze. His mind riddled with the various outcomes the present situation could have. None of them seemed very appealing.
The man turned on a lamp, and the entire room lit up. Clay was even closer to the door than he had realized. So close.
“Drop it,” the man demanded.
Clay sighed as he released his grip on the KSG. Dakota jumped as the shotgun impacted the wooden floor.
“Now, turn around. Slowly.”
Clay complied.
“I’m glad we finally got a chance to meet. I’m Silas,” he paused and stared Clay down. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and assume you are Clay. Am I right?” he said with a grin.
Silas was just a few feet away, aiming a heavy-duty revolver at them. The large bore suggested it was a .44 magnum. A burst of anger shot through Clay’s body as he realized it looked like the same gun Silas was carrying when Charlie had been shot. Silas’s grip on the revolver was firm, his hand as steady as a surgeon’s. His finger hovered just in front of the hair trigger, ready to complete the transaction.