Jake smiled at her. “Sorry as in you think it may have offended me? Or sorry as in you wish you hadn’t done it at all.”
Kay returned the smile. “Come to think of it, I’m not sorry. Come on. We need to get the horses saddled and get out of here before Hawken comes.”
“Don’t you think you should get dressed first?”
“Oh!” Kay gasped as if just realizing she was naked.
Just over fifteen minutes later, with only a dim glow over Tomahawk Mountain in the west, both horses were saddled.
“Tell me how to ride on this thing,” Jake said.
“You see this little stub coming up from the saddle here? That’s how you hold yourself on to the horse . . . by hooking your knee around it. You can get your legs open far enough to do that, can’t you?”
“Yes, I can bend and open my knees all right. But the question is, how am I going to get in the saddle?”
“You grab hold of that stub and pull yourself up. I’ll wrap my arms around your legs and lift at the same time.”
Following Kay’s instructions, and with her help, Jake managed to pull himself into the saddle. Kay mounted Butrum’s horse a few seconds later.
“Which way now?” Jake asked.
Kay pointed. “This way, away from town. I don’t want to take a chance of running into Hawken.”
* * *
“Butrum!” Hawken called when he reached the line cabin about half an hour later. “Butrum, as you can see I’m here on time, so don’t you be late in the morning!” He dismounted and tied his horse off at the porch rail. “How come you ain’t got your horse out here ’n ready?” He stepped up onto the porch. “Hell, I figured you’d be ready to go by now.”
When Hawken went inside, he gasped. Butrum was lying on the floor, his head in a puddle of blood.
“Damn, what happened to you?”
Chapter Thirty-two
Jake and Kay had ridden for at least two hours.
“Let’s spend the night here,” Kay said.
“I’m sorry. I’ll bet you are tired. Of course we’ll spend the night here if you want to.”
“It’s not just that I’m tired. It’s also that I don’t know exactly where we are, and I don’t want to wander around in the dark getting us even more lost.
Jake chuckled. “That sounds like a good idea.”
“You need help getting down?” Kay asked as she dismounted.
“Not too much help, but I would feel better if you stand there and sort of guide me down.”
“All right.”
Jake slid down without any difficulty, then they tethered their mounts where the horses would have access to some grass. That done, they found a tree with a rather large trunk and sat down, using the tree trunk as a backrest.
“Ahh, this feels good,” Jake said.
“Damn,” Kay said. “We were so anxious to get out of there that we made a huge, stupid, mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“We should have grabbed the bacon and beans.”
“To tell the truth, I’m damn sick of the bacon and beans. I do wish we had brought some of the coffee, though.”
“We’ll look for some chicory tomorrow,” Kay said.
“Chicory?”
“During the war, the Yankee navy blockaded all the Southern ports so that we couldn’t get any coffee. I don’t remember because I was too young, but mama said that everyone in the South began drinking chicory instead of coffee, and some of the folks developed such a taste for it that they still drink it. I’ve drunk it, and it does taste a lot like coffee, though it is a little bitterer. If we find any tomorrow, I’ll brew us some chicory coffee. That is, if you’re willing to try it.”
“Oh, I’m willing all right.” Jake slapped at a mosquito.
The night was filled with noise from the chirping sounds of crickets, to the hooting of owls, to the howling of coyotes.
“Is that a wolf?” Jake asked apprehensively, when he heard the first howl.
Kay laughed. “No, it’s just a little old coyote. And they’re too afraid of humans to come around us. The biggest thing we’ll have to worry about tonight is mosquitoes.
As if on cue, another one bit Jake. He slapped it and at yet another mosquito. “I see what you mean about the mosquitoes. They don’t seem to be bothering you as much.”
“That’s because they know you are new out here and they want some new blood,” Kay teased.
“I’m sure that’s right,” he said with a little laugh. “Kay, may I ask you a question?”
“Sure, ask me anything you want. I have no secrets from you.” She laughed sheepishly. “Boy, is that an understatement. I really have no secrets from you.”
“Don’t worry. I kept my eyes closed the whole time.”
“Sure you did,” Kay replied, and they both laughed. “What is your question?”
“Where did you learn to shoot a gun?”
“Why, from the same place any Southern girl learns. My daddy was a colonel in the Twelfth Mississippi Cavalry. He was teaching me to shoot almost as soon as I could walk.”
“I couldn’t have done what you did back at the cabin.”
“I’m sure, if you were put in position to save your own life, or that of another, you would be able to kill someone,” Kay replied defensively.
“No, no, don’t get me wrong,” Jake said, reaching out to put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m not talking about killing him. I certainly would have killed him in self-defense or to protect you. But I would have had to bash the snake’s head in with that piece of firewood or something. When I said I couldn’t have done what you did, what I meant was, I couldn’t have done it because I don’t know how to shoot a gun.”
Kay smiled in relief that Jake wasn’t condemning her for killing Butrum, but also out of amusement to think he didn’t know how to shoot a gun. “Jake Poindexter, have you never shot a gun in your life?”
“I’ve never had any call to.”
“Butrum had two boxes of cartridges in his saddlebags, so if nothing else comes from this, I at least intend to teach you how to shoot a gun. There is also a rifle in his saddle holster, so part of teaching you to shoot will have a more practical application. We will shoot some game. And I assure you that any game we kill will be better than bacon and beans.”
Jake began rubbing the redness under his leg irons.
“I wish we could get those things off of you,” Kay said. “But Butrum didn’t have a key.”
“I doubt Hawken would have had a key, either. I’m quite sure that the key is in Collins’s hands.”
“We’ll find a blacksmith somewhere. He’ll be able to get that off.”
C&FL office, Chugwater
“Gone?” Collins shouted explosively. “What do you mean they’re gone?”
“I mean they ain’t there, neither one of ’em. Poindexter’s gone ’n so is the girl,” Hawken said, clarifying his statement.
“Why didn’t you stop them?”
“I couldn’ta stopped ’em on account of I warn’t there yet when it happened.”
“That means they got away while Butrum was watching them. Where is Butrum? He has some explaining to do.”
“Butrum won’t be explaining nothin’ on account of Butrum is dead. He’s lyin’ out there in the line shack now, deader ’n a doornail.”
“Damn!” Collins said. “Am I surrounded by incompetents? I sent Streeter out to take care of MacCallister, Gleason, and that woman, and he failed. And now you tell me Butrum got himself killed by a bar girl and a man in leg irons.”
“You want me to go see if I can find Poindexter ’n the whore?” Hawken asked.
“They won’t be able to get far in the dark, and you wouldn’t be able to find them. You can go in the morning. I’ll send Flannigan with you.”
“All right. We’ll find ’em.”
* * *
Just down the street from the C&FL office, Biff Johnson was visiting with Marshal Bill Ferrell. He was sharin
g his concern over Kay’s extended absence. “Sometimes the girls will take a day or two off. I don’t ever say anything about it because I like to give them free rein. But this will be the fourth night Kay hasn’t shown up, and to be honest, I’m getting a little worried about her. I asked the other girls, and she didn’t say anything to them about taking off.”
“Four nights you say. That would be Tuesday?”
“Yes. Well, Tuesday night. She was in earlier Tuesday.”
“That’s the day she came to see me. But to be honest with you, I didn’t really give it any further thought. I should have.”
“Kay came to see you? What about? Was she in danger?”
“No, at least she didn’t say or act in any way that would make me think she was in danger.”
“Well, what did she come to see you about?”
“She said she overheard some of the C and FL men talking about keeping a watch on someone, but as we talked we decided it might be one of the railroad men who was being held for some internal disciplinary problem. Since she had no specifics as to who was being held, or even where they might be holding him, there wasn’t much I could do about it.”
“Bill, would you do me a favor and sort of ask around? Kay isn’t like most of the girls I get. She’s smart, and though she’s never said anything about it, I get the feeling that she has a better-than-average education. I’m worried about her, and the other girls are worried, as well.”
“You know that I have no authority outside the city limits, but I’ll check around town and see if anyone knows anything.”
“Thanks. I’d feel a lot better about this if you would.”
* * *
The prairie chicken raised its head and looked around.
“He feels that we are here,” Kay said quietly. “If you want breakfast, don’t miss. Now, line up the rifle this way. Look through this rear sight at the front sight, and put the front sight on the chicken. Tell me when you have that done.”
Jake raised the rifle to his shoulder and lined up the sights just as Kay had explained. “I’ve got it all lined up.”
“All right. Now, take the slack out of the trigger, but don’t pull it all the way back yet. Hold your breath, and sort of squeeze, rather than pull, the trigger.”
Jake squeezed off the shot. The chicken fell over and went into a death-convulsion flapping of its wings.
“You did it!” Kay said with a happy smile.
“I hate to be negative, but how are we going to cook him?” Jake asked. “We don’t have a skillet or anything.”
Kay chuckled. “We don’t need a skillet. All we need is a fire and a green twig. And thanks to Butrum’s saddlebags, we have matches to start a fire.”
* * *
An hour later, Jake sucked the last piece of meat off a bone. “I’ve eaten at Empire House and Del Monaco’s, but I’ve never enjoyed a meal more.” He reached down to massage his ankles.
“Let me do it,” Kay said, and taking off his shoes, she sat with Jake’s feet in her lap, gently, very gently, rubbing the rawness caused by the ankle cuffs.
“That feels good,” Jake said.
“We’ve got to get these things off of you. We need to find a blacksmith.”
“Do you have any idea where we are?”
“I know we’re west of Chugwater,” Kay said. “But I’m a little frightened to go back that way. I’m sure that Collins’s men will be out looking for us. We should be fairly close to Bordeaux.”
“Bordeaux?”
“Yes, I’ve heard some of the men talk about it, but I’ve never been there. I know they said that it’s slightly northwest of Chugwater.”
“Well, then we shall ride northwest,” Jake said.
“I’m not sure where northwest is.”
Jake smiled. “Your father taught you how to shoot. My father taught me how to navigate. We don’t have a compass, but we do have the sun.”
Jake stood up and nodded toward the sun, which was halfway up in its morning transit. He turned his back to the sun and with his right hand, pointed straight ahead.
“That is west.” He moved his right hand to a position forty-five degrees to the right of his right hand. “Therefore, this is north.” He moved his hand to an angle about forty-five degrees to the left.
“And that, my dear lady, would be northwest, or a heading of about three hundred and fifteen degrees. Now, you said slightly northwest, so we’ll split the difference between three hundred and sixty degrees, and two hundred and seventy degrees, which would be three hundred fifteen degrees, or, this way,” he said with a final point.
“Oh, my, I am impressed!” Kay said.
“Well, I didn’t want to be someone wearing leg irons who was doing nothing more than tagging along for the company.” Jake smiled. “Though, I must say that I am finding the company most agreeable.”
“I think we should be going,” Kay suggested.
“You’ll have to help me get mounted.”
After both horses were saddled, Jake stood beside his mount as Kay approached to help him into the saddle.
“Are you ready?” Kay asked.
“Not quite.”
“What do you need?”
“This,” Jake said, putting his arms around Kay and pulling her to him. He kissed her, not hard and demanding, but as soft as the brush of a butterfly’s wing. It was but a brief moment, then he pulled away continuing to stare at her.
She could feel the heat of them burning on her skin.
Kay was surprised by the kiss, but she was even more shocked by her own reaction to it. She felt a tingling in her lips that spread throughout her body and warmed her blood. Reaching up, she touched her lips and held her fingers there for a long moment.
“I’m sorry,” Jake said. “I didn’t mean to presume.”
“I don’t consider it a presumption,” she said with a smile. “But, if we are going to get those leg irons off, we’re going to have to find a blacksmith, so we need to get going.”
As before, Kay wrapped her arms around Jake’s legs as he grabbed the stub on the saddle to pull himself up.
“You’d better let me set the heading,” Jake said, once they were both mounted.
“I’d better let you do what?”
“Let me lead,” Jake said.
“Oh, yes, I think that would be a good idea.”
Chapter Thirty-three
Chugwater in the morning was alive with activity. Conveyances of every kind, from personal buggies to large freight wagons, rolled up and down the street. Businesses were beginning to open for the day’s business, and the boardwalks were filling with pedestrians.
Bo Hawken and Pogue Flannigan were in the C&FL office, talking with Ed Collins.
“Do you think you can find them?” Collins asked.
“Hell yes, I can find them,” Hawken said. “I mean, how hard can it be, what with him a-wearin’ them leg irons? They sure as hell can’t have gotten far last night. ’N seein’ as they didn’t come back to town, that means they’re still wanderin’ around somewhere between here ’n Tomahawk Mountain. I figure we can find ’em before this day is over.”
“All right. Find them,” Collins ordered.
“You’d better give us the key to Poindexter’s leg irons,” Hawken said.
“Why should I do that?”
“Well, think about it, Collins,” Flannigan said. “If he’s in leg irons, how are we supposed to get him back to the cabin? He can’t ride, ’n he can barely walk.”
“You won’t be bringing him back,” Collins said. “You won’t be bringing either one of them back. I want you to kill them.”
“What do we do with ’em after we kill ’em?”
“No need to worry about that. Wolves and buzzards will take care of them.”
“Hey, Collins,” Flannigan said with an evil smiled. “What about the woman. Is it all right if we . . . uh . . .”
“Do anything you want with her, before or after you kill her. All I care about i
s that both of them are dead.”
“Ha! I been waitin’ for this,” Hawken said. “Come on, Pogue, let’s go find ’em.”
Shortly after Hawken and Flannigan left, Collins walked from his office down to the Western Union office.
“Good morning, Mr. Poindexter,” Hodge Deckert said with a warm greeting. “Another telegram?”
“Yes.”
“I must say you have certainly given me a lot of business since you arrived. Another one to New York?”
“Yes. May I have the pad and pencil, please?”
Deckert provided the items, and Collins began to write. Our guest is gone. I have made plans to avoid an unexpected visit from him, but I feel it best to relocate C&FL.
Collins handed his message to Deckert. “Please send this right away and notify me the moment you receive a reply.”
Deckert read the message. “Oh, my, you are leaving Chugwater?”
“Just send the message,” Collins said. “Same address as before.”
* * *
When Collins returned to his office, he saw the banker, Bob Dempster, waiting for him. “Mr. Dempster, can I help you?”
“Mr. Poindexter, I have just been informed that a rather substantial amount of money is being transferred to your account.”
“How much is a substantial amount?”
“It is one hundred thousand dollars.”
“Yes, I’ve been expecting it,” Collins replied in a calm voice. “How soon will the money get here?”
“Well, the total amount won’t get here, of course. Only about twenty-five thousand dollars in actual cash will be transferred,” Dempster said. “For a transfer that large, it is actually all paperwork and calculations. You see, what we do is credit your account with the sum without actually having to make an actual cash transfer. You may withdraw it as you need it, and we’ll make adjustments to the balance.”
“Where is the actual cash now?”
“That’s what I’m trying to explain to you. There is no cash now. There is only a telegraphic accounting of the money. The cash, of course, is still in the bank of origin, which, if the last transfers are indicative, would be the New York Bank for Savings.”
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