Pearl

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Pa’s done it this time. He’s going to kill Miss Jewel, isn’t he?” Daniel’s tears rolled down his cheeks, mixing with the dirt and grime to form muddy little rivers.

  Gilbert watched as the wagon disappeared over a ridge. His hands were balled into impotent fists at his sides. He wanted to cry, too, but figured he was too big for such things. Besides, it would only add to his little brother’s woes.

  He should have known, he thought, berating himself. All that talk of Pa’s this morning about taking his sons to school and proving they were as good as the other kids. It was all a lie, so Pa could get even with Cal McCabe for that beating.

  The worst part of it was, he’d wanted to believe his father. Even though Rollie Ingram had never once kept a promise, or treated his sons with a scrap of kindness, Gilbert had hoped and prayed that this time would be different. When would he learn?

  “If you think people hated us before,” he muttered, “just think how they’re going to treat us after this. We won’t be able to show our faces in town ever again. As soon as Pa gets back, we’ll have to go up into the hills to hide, and start over in some other place.”

  “It’s not our fault,” Daniel whispered, the tears falling faster.

  “It’s never been our fault. But that didn’t stop people from hating us just ’cause we’re Ingrams.”

  “What are we going to do, Gilbert?” his little brother asked between sobs.

  The older boy shrugged. “If we do as Pa said, Mr. McCabe will walk right into Pa’s trap and get himself killed. But if we disobey, Pa will surely fly into a rage and kill Miss Jewel.” Not to mention what Rollie Ingram would do to his son if he dared to disobey him.

  In his young life, Gilbert had been forced to make many decisions. In order to survive, he’d shouldered far more responsibilities than most boys his age. But this time he felt completely lost. No matter what course he chose, someone would suffer. Maybe the best course of action would be to do nothing. To run and hide and prepare for the inevitable.

  “We’d better get started,” he said.

  “We’re just going home?” Daniel asked through his tears.

  “What else can we do?” Gilbert passed a hand over his face, more scared than he cared to admit.

  As he made ready to close the cabin door, his gaze fell on the Bible on his desk. For almost a minute, he’d actually thought about taking it home and reading it aloud to his father. What a joke.

  And then he thought about the word that had won him the prize.

  Honor.

  He could still see Miss Jewel’s pretty face as she’d lectured the class on the meaning of the word. There had been a light in her eyes. The kind of light he used to see in his ma’s eyes sometimes, when his pa was gone, and the tension in their little cabin had been replaced by a few moments of peace. Then she would talk about her life before. Before she’d recklessly pulled up stakes in St. Louis and agreed to be Rollie Ingram’s bride. Before their love had somehow become buried beneath a mountain of lying and cheating and cruelty. There had been love and laughter in her childhood home, she’d told her eldest son. And music and religion and books and poetry.

  And dignity.

  Her eyes had fairly glowed when she talked about her very proper, churchgoing father, and the delight he took in his lovely wife and only daughter. That life had seemed, to Gilbert, as much a fairy tale as the stories she’d spun for the younger children, stones about kings and castles. Especially when she’d talked about her hopes and dreams for their future. A future far different from the life she’d settled for with Rollie Ingram.

  “You’ll build your own life one day,” she had told him. “ A life of goodness and honor.”

  There was that word again. Honor.

  “Come on,” Gilbert said, catching hold of his little brother’s hand. “We’ve got a long walk ahead of us. It’ll be dark before we get even halfway to the Jewel ranch.”

  “The . . . Jewel ranch? We’re not going home?” Daniel asked. When his older brother shook his head, he whispered, “You know you’ll have to face Pa’s fists when he comes back.”

  “Won’t be anything new,” Gilbert said matter-of-factly. “And at least I’ll know, while I’m taking a beating, that it’s for doing something right.”

  Pearl gripped the hard seat of the rickety wagon and struggled to calm her pounding heart.

  If she were Diamond, she thought, she would have a gun tucked away in her boot. If she were Jade, it would be a jewel-handled knife. If she were Ruby, she would have all the guile, all the cleverness, of a born scoundrel. But, as usual, she berated herself, she had none of their survival instincts. Instead, she was useless. Helpless.

  Oh, Daddy, she thought. There have been so many times in my life when I’ve felt alone and afraid. But never like this. This time, I’m to be the cause of Cal’s death, as well. And, oh, it weighs heavily on my heart. Help me, Daddy. Help me to at least face my fate without being a coward.

  The mere thought of her strong, brave father brought a rush of feelings. Hadn’t she just speculated on the harshness of his early days in this very place? Surely he’d faced far more desperate situations than this. What would he have done? she asked herself. What would he have advised her to do?

  At once the answer came to her. She could hear her father’s voice. You have a fine mind, Pearl. The good Lord means for us to use all the gifts we’re given.

  She wasn’t completely helpless. She would use her mind to fight Rollie Ingram.

  First, she needed to mark the route they were taking, so that, if she managed to escape, she would be able to make her way to safety.

  She began to note unusual rock formations, small pools, distant buttes. She reminded herself that, though they were putting miles between themselves and the schoolhouse, they were still on Jewel land. She was not alone. Somewhere nearby were wranglers tending the herds. On the far perimeters of the ranch were line camps, with men patrolling them to keep out intruders and to round up stray cattle.

  The thought brought her a measure of comfort.

  If she could get Rollie Ingram to fire his gun while still on Jewel land, someone might hear and investigate. But how to pull it off?

  She had to incur his anger. And force his hand.

  She felt the panic begin to rise within her as she plotted and schemed. Did she dare risk the broken bones she might incur by jumping from the speeding wagon, in order to tempt Rollie to fire his gun? And if she succeeded, would she also survive the gunshot? Or would he kill her here, and then use her dead body as bait to lure Cal to his death?

  Oh, why did she have to be cursed with a mind that insisted upon looking at a problem from all angles? For once, she would simply do what she had to, and forget the consequences.

  Clutching her hands together tightly, she gritted her teeth, shut her eyes, and leaped from the wagon.

  The ground was hard, and she hit it with such force that for a moment she saw stars flashing through her brain as she bounced, rolled, then came to an abrupt halt in the midst of prickly bushes. With a little moan, she opened her eyes. As her vision cleared, she saw Rollie struggling to halt the lathered, snorting horse, which had been running at a full gallop.

  Scrambling to her feet, she lifted her skirts and started to run, all the while expecting to hear the sound of a gunshot rumbling across the hills. She wondered what it would feel like to be shot. Bracing herself for the pain, she kept her eyes on the goal. Up ahead was a small gully. If she could make it there, she would at least have a chance.

  Her dainty kid boots hadn’t been made for running over hard-packed earth and slippery rocks. Several times she had to struggle to remain upright. But, though she lost her balance, she continued running, until a body suddenly hurtled through space, tackling her and dragging her to the ground.

  “Thought you could git away from old Rollie, did you?”

  He straddled her, pulling her hands roughly behind her, pressing her face into
the dirt. She was breathing hard, but had the satisfaction of hearing him suck in several wheezing breaths as he tied her hands behind her. Dragging her to her feet, he shoved her ahead of him, toward the wagon.

  “Haven’t figured out if you’re just plain stupid, or if you thought you were bein’ clever,” he muttered. “Either way, you just sealed your fate.”

  He tossed her into the back of the wagon and shocked her by shoving up her skirts and tying her ankles. When he was finished, he gave her an insulting leer. “Sorry there isn’t more time, teacher. I’d like to see what else you’re hidin’ under these skirts.”

  She fixed him with a look of disgust. “You’ll have to kill me first.”

  “That can be arranged,” he said with a harsh cackle.

  Still laughing, he climbed up on the seat of the wagon and cracked the whip. The horse took off at a run.

  In the back of the wagon, Pearl gave in to feelings of self-loathing. She had hoped to force a gunshot that would alert someone to her plight. Instead, all she’d done was to make things worse. She couldn’t even see the landmarks they were passing. Now she could only stare at the sky. And pray that Cal wouldn’t fall into this evil man’s trap.

  Cookie scrubbed the last of his pots and pans and tucked them away in the chuck wagon. Tomorrow he planned to take supper to the wranglers handling the big herd up on the north range. Though he enjoyed cooking for the hands in the bunkhouse, his greatest pleasure was cooking on the trail.

  He idly rubbed his sore leg. The knee was stiffening up, giving him more trouble than he cared to admit. That always meant a change in the weather. He’d have to hide his pain from the Jewel sisters, or they’d start fussing over him and start talking about hiring someone to replace him. So’s he could “start enjoying the life of leisure he’d earned.” Ha! He bit down on the stem of his pipe. They just didn’t understand. This was the only life he wanted. And he intended to die cooking for the wranglers. Hopefully somewhere out on the trail. With his boots on, and his stew simmered to perfection.

  He pulled a flaming stick from the fire and held it to the bowl of his pipe, puffing until the fragrance of tobacco stung the night air and a rich cloud of smoke encircled his head.

  Just as he dropped the stick back into the fire, he saw two unfamiliar figures emerge from the gathering darkness. He reached for his rifle and took aim.

  “Who’s there?” he demanded.

  The figures halted, and then the taller one stepped forward.

  “My name’s Gilbert Ingram.”

  “Rollie Ingram’s boy?”

  “Yes, sir.” He drew the smaller figure into the circle of light. “And this is my little brother, Daniel.”

  “You boys are a far piece from home.” Cookie’s hands tightened on the barrel of the rifle. He’d heard rumors about the Ingrams. Not a decent one in the bunch. And though the little one looked scared, and not a bit dangerous, the bigger one was already a head taller than Cookie, and the look in his eye wasn’t exactly peaceable.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “We’re looking for Mr. McCabe,” Gilbert said.

  “He ain’t here.”

  Both boys looked crestfallen.

  “Where is he?” Gilbert’s hand tightened on his brother’s shoulder.

  “Up on the north range.”

  “When will he be back?”

  Cookie shrugged. “Didn’t say. Just said he’d be gone for a while.” And when he saw the murderous look in Cal’s eye, Cookie hadn’t pressed. The bloody clothes and battered face had told him enough. Cal had been in a fight. And from the looks of him, Cookie would have hated to see his opponent. Cal McCabe was just about the toughest brawler the old man had ever seen in his lifetime. There weren’t many who could best him in a fight, fair or otherwise.

  “We have to find him.”

  Cookie heard the note of urgency in the boy’s voice. “Why, son?”

  Gilbert shrugged. “It’s...real important. In fact, it’s a matter of life and death.”

  “Whose death?”

  “Our teacher. Miss Jewel.”

  Cookie nearly bit off the stem of his pipe. Setting down the rifle, he pulled the pipe from his mouth and shook the burning tobacco into the fire, then dropped the pipe into his shirt pocket. Having used those precious moments to compose himself, he turned to the intruders.

  “Now, boys, maybe you’d better start at the beginning, and tell me everything.”

  Daniel and Gilbert exchanged looks. Gilbert took a deep breath. And started talking.

  When he was through, Cookie raced to the bunkhouse, shouting orders as he burst through the door. Within minutes, a dozen wranglers were dressed and saddling their horses.

  “One of you will ride to the north range and alert Cal to what’s happened. Another will head to town and find the marshal. The rest of you will fan out in search of Miss Pearl,” Cookie called.

  “I’d like to ride with the wranglers,” Gilbert said.

  Cookie gave a vehement shake of his head. “Don’t need no kids getting in the way. You’d best go on home now.”

  “But I know the hills around here. And I know how my pa thinks.”

  Cookie considered for a moment, then shook his head. “Nobody knows these hills better’n Cal McCabe. Besides, son,” he added, trying to soften his words, “I don’t think Cal will take kindly to an Ingram riding along, once he hears what happened.”

  As the boy turned away, Cookie dropped a hand on his shoulder. “I hope you understand, son. Miss Pearl is a very special lady.” Especially to Cal McCabe, thought Cookie. Though the old man hadn’t said a word to anyone else, he had his suspicions about Cal’s black moods lately. He’d be willing to bet money that Pearl Jewel was the reason. If what he suspected was true, the last person Cal would want to see was the son of the man who’d just kidnapped the woman he loved.

  For the next few minutes, the corral was alive with the sounds of men’s voices, cursing and grumbling as they pulled themselves into saddles and took off with a thunder of hoofbeats.

  As the dust settled, the old man began limping toward the ranch house, to break the news to the women. Miss Jade and Miss Ruby would be devastated. But at least they’d have each other. Miss Pearl, on the other hand, was being forced to face her terrors alone.

  Shivering in the chill of the night, Gilbert watched the old man limp away, then glanced at his little brother. Seeing the way his eyes were closing, he urged him to climb onto his back.

  “You can’t carry me all that way,” Daniel protested.

  “It’s the only way you’ll make it. Come on,” Gilbert commanded.

  The little boy did as he was told, locking his thin arms around his brother’s neck.

  As Gilbert turned away from the bunkhouse, he gave a last hungry look toward the empty beds inside. The lingering odor of Cookie’s stew, and the warmth of the lantern’s glow, made an inviting picture.

  The boy turned resolutely away and started out on foot toward the lonely, distant cabin. It would be midnight before the journey was complete. And though their only meal had been the food shared by Pearl at lunchtime, they would be too exhausted to do anything more than tumble into their blankets, hungry and cold. And desperately afraid.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Darkness had fallen, and still the horse and wagon continued across the hills. Pearl had long ago lost all sense of direction as Rollie Ingram followed a trail that twisted and turned, at times tumbling down rockstrewn gorges, other times splashing through swollen streams. But this much she knew—they had been climbing steadily for some time now.

  At last the horse came to a halt. She could hear the scrape of Rollie’s boots as he made his way to the back of the wagon. But instead of helping her out, he fumbled around in the darkness until he located a lantern.

  He struck the match and held it to the wick, then walked some distance away. The sound of his footsteps grew faint, then gradually grew louder as he returned.

  He
began removing the provisions from the back of the wagon – some filthy blankets, an empty bucket, several half-filled sacks, an armload of rifles.

  Once more he disappeared, then reappeared, this time to cut the ropes binding her ankles before hauling her roughly to her feet.

  “Well, now, teacher, let’s see how you like your new classroom,” he drawled as he shoved her ahead of him.

  She blinked in the light of the lantern. They appeared to be in a large cavern, tall enough for both man and horse to stand comfortably. Here and there were rocky outcroppings, and the sounds of creatures slithering away from the light.

  With her hands still bound, she glanced around nervously.

  Seeing the fear in her eyes, Rollie taunted her. “There’s a big black she bear makes her home in the back of the cave. But if yer nice and quiet, she’ll probably leave you alone.” Enjoying her terrified reaction, he gave a negligent shrug of his shoulders. “And if she should decide to have you for lunch, it’ll be no loss. I just need you around long enough to lure McCabe up here. After that, you’re no good to me. As soon as I’ve finished with him, you’ll be dead anyway, so I don’t care how you meet your death.”

  He lifted the lantern high and threw back his head in a cackle of shrill laughter. She had a sudden impression of his cruel face in the blaze of light. His yellow teeth glinted in a wide, dangerous smile. His eyes gleamed like the very devil’s.

  “Had you going there, didn’t I, teacher? Bet you got all weak in the knees, just thinkin’ about that old bear.” He ambled toward the mouth of the cave, and for a moment, Pearl was terrified that he was going to leave her all alone in the darkness.

  He came back leading the horse and wagon, then set the lantern on a shelf of rock and hung a hide at the mouth of the cave to prevent the light being seen by passing riders.

  That done, he returned to her side and tossed down a dirty blanket, commanding tersely, “Sit.”