Hearts in Defiance (Romance in the Rockies Book 2) (33 page)

Fifty-Two

Naomi broke the fall with her shoulder, the impact jarring her
teeth in her head.
The Indian leaped down off
the horse and sat on her, using the full weight of his body to press her to the
ground. Horses dancing nervously about them, he grabbed her wrists and pinned
them above her head with one hand, squeezing the fragile bones to the point of
breaking. Amidst the raucous laughter of his braves, he used his free hand to
wipe blood trickling steadily from his nose down Naomi’s left cheek. Grimacing,
she rolled her head back and forth trying to avoid his touch. He wiped again,
and this time dragged his bloodied hand across the front of her pink calico,
lingering on her bosom.

She stopped rolling and looked up at him, surprised by the hate
boiling up within her. If she had so much as a butter knife, she would surely
use it to carve out his heart. She saw hate in his eyes, too, but a more
ancient kind and it chilled her. He carried a dark, malevolent evil in his soul
that she’d never come face-to-face with before, and fear gripped Naomi’s very
soul. This man was capable of unspeakable acts.

Oh, God, please protect us. Please send Charles.

“My name is One-Who-Cries,” he hissed, drawing nose to nose with
her. Blood dripped on to her lips and she had to fight the urge to vomit. “You
are alive because you are worth three rifles, but if you do that again,” he
pulled a knife from somewhere and pressed it to her throat, “you will watch me
hang one of them,” he inclined his head slightly toward the girls, “and I will
gut her like a deer.”

Naomi knew without a doubt that he was capable. As he jerked her
off the ground by her braid, a Scripture leaped to mind. Holding her hair so he
wouldn’t rip it from the nape of her neck, she began whispering, “He that
dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of
the Almighty.” One-Who-Cries stopped dragging her toward his horse and turned
on her. “I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God, in
Him I will trust.” As his eyes narrowed, a peace settled over Naomi. She spoke
louder, for Mollie and Hannah to hear. “Surely He shall deliver me from the
snare of the fowler and from the noisome pestilence.” She couldn’t help the
contempt that colored the last word.

With stunning force, One-Who-Cries backhanded Naomi. The force of
the slap almost lifted her off her feet. Pain rocketed through the bones in her
face. She cried out and staggered, but stayed on her feet. The coppery taste of
warm blood filled her mouth. Understanding the little tyrant’s game, she met
his steely gaze with her own, though the stinging slap and her fear had rattled
her.

She’d break before she ever bowed to someone like this.

The darkness within him lightened to unveiled admiration and he
smiled. “Perhaps I have picked the wrong woman.”

No, you’ve picked
three
wrong women.
This time, she had enough sense to keep her mouth shut.
Holding Naomi’s hands, One-Who-Cries retook his seat on the horse then dragged
her up into the saddle with him. Mollie and Hannah had watched all this unfold
with horror-stricken expressions. For their sakes, Naomi tried to purge herself
of her anger. She couldn’t think clearly if all she wanted to do was rip out
this man’s heart. Continuing to pray, she spit out blood as the group trotted
through a formation of huge rocks.

Gaining some peace and focus after a while, she decided to ask the
savage some questions. “You said your name like I should know it.”

“Know it? Maybe not. Fear it?” He moved his lips to her ear,
“yes.”

Quite the pompous peacock, but maybe that ego was a weakness.
Wincing from the pain still throbbing in her left cheek, she asked, “Why did
you attack us?”

“I trade you for guns.”

“Where? Where will you trade us for guns?” If they managed to get
away, this could be helpful information for getting their bearings.

“Cochetopa Pass. You whites call it Redemption Pass.”

“The person you’re trading us to, what will he do with us?”

She felt his chest puff up behind her, as if he was quite
gratified by the answer. “He will take you all to brothels in Mexico.”

~~~

Fifty-Three

Billy hugged his son one last time and savored the moment.
Refusing to think of the danger that might lie ahead, he handed
the child back to Sarah. “The next time you see me, Little Man, I’ll have Mama
with me.” He ruffled his son’s hair then quickly turned away before his boy,
Sarah, or Rebecca could see his tears.

Ian had brought Rebecca with him, thinking she might be of some
help to Sarah. Since the hotel was smoldering ashes, she had insisted she could
do more good here than in town. Sarah could handle herself and a baby. Rebecca,
owl-eyed and frightened looking, her hair a dark, tangled mess, was the one who
needed the company. She needed her sisters. Clearing his throat, Billy remounted
and trotted up to where the others waited.

He
needed Hannah. And he
would
get her out of the clutches of that crazy Indian.

One reason was right in front of him. Emilio had his sore foot
propped on the horse’s neck while he studied the ground with grim determination.
He had done this before with amazing skill, according to McIntyre. Seven horses
running across a pasture left a trail a blind man could follow. But up in the
mountains, when the renegades tried to lose the posse by following a stream or
crossing over rocky ground, Emilio would sniff them out. In part because he was
clearly gifted, but mainly because he was in love with Hannah, too.

Still wearing torn and bloodied clothes, Billy glanced down at his
bandaged leg. It ached ferociously. He assumed Emilio didn’t feel much better.
But those Indians had picked the wrong girls to kidnap. Billy reckoned he and
Emilio would ride through Hell covered in kerosene to get them back. Judging by
the hard expression on McIntyre’s face, so would he.

They rode hard for two hours before Emilio raised his hand and
pulled them to a stop near a stream. He dismounted and limped along the water’s
edge for several minutes, first downstream then he crossed the water and went
back up. The group dismounted and let their horses drink while he continued his
hunt.

Ten minutes later and a hundred feet upstream, Emilio knelt and
plucked something from the stream’s edge. Billy watched closely as his friend
examined the item. When Emilio hurried back to the group, Billy mounted his
horse.

“They went upstream,” Emilio said, grabbing Cochise’s reins. “This
is where they got out, up there at those rocks. I found a feather.” He held it
up, a broken, rather innocuous brown section of plumage.

“Birds drop feathers all the time,” Beckwith pointed out.

“Not with marks on them from a rawhide string.”

Emilio dropped the feather and the rest of the group remounted.
Over the next few hours, the trail turned hard to the south and the going
slowed. Emilio meticulously searched the rocky, shale-covered ground every few
yards to make sure he was following the right path. Finally, in the midst of an
aspen forest, he stopped abruptly. Here, even Billy could make out the trampled
grass and trail of dirt clods thrown by shoeless horses.

Emilio turned his horse around so he could face Beckwith and
McIntyre. “I think I know where they are going and I know a shortcut. But the
trail, it is very rough.” He removed his hat and swiped his wrist across his
forehead. “It is an old trail, a secret one the Spanish missionaries cut. They
walked or rode small donkeys so there are many low trees.”

“First, where do you think they’re going?” Beckwith asked, leaning
forward.

“Redemption Pass, there is an abandoned toll gate and shack
there.”

“That’s most likely where they’re trading.”

McIntyre traced the stitching in his saddle horn, thinking.
“They’re meeting someone who will be armed to the teeth, maybe several
someones.” He swung his gaze up at Emilio. “There’s high ground in that pass.
It’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel for whoever gets to it first.”

“Si.”

Billy inched his horse forward. “Can we get there first?”

Emilio sighed. “It will be close, but I think we can make it.” The
body of men turned to Beckwith and McIntyre for a decision. The marshal stared
off into the woods. McIntyre swished his reins back and forth and studied the
ground. “For what it’s worth, if it was up to me,” Emilio raised his chin, “I
would take the shortcut.”

~~~

McIntyre exhaled as he and Emilio dismounted again. The boy
shrugged apologetically. The trail was so overgrown it was almost invisible.
Everything from chokecherries to junipers had laid a claim to the path. And
every time they had to dismount so they could shoulder their way through thick,
evergreen branches or side-step a briar patch, they lost more time.

Two hours into this mess, his temper flared. “Emilio, this isn’t a
trail, it’s barely a rabbit path–”

The boy whirled on McIntyre with a finger pressed to his lips. He
didn’t say a word, but wrapped his horse’s reins around a bush and slipped off
into the brush. McIntyre turned and passed the hand signal back. They all
waited in tense silence, interrupted occasionally by the swish of a tale or the
stomp of a hoof.

How close were they to One-Who-Cries? McIntyre realized his hands
were sweating and he wiped them on his trousers. His throat was dry, too. He
knew he should move on from the hate, put it behind him like a good,
church-going man, but he wanted revenge so badly he could taste it. Justice for
three of his best friends, redress for Naomi. Today, maybe the scales would
finally balance.

But he had made a promise and it stirred uneasily in his soul.

I’ll do anything, give You anything … 

Then give Me your hate.

He pushed the request to the shadows of his heart, to be dealt
with later, when he found Naomi.

A good half hour passed. McIntyre had resolved to go retrieve
Emilio when the boy soundlessly slipped back among them. “I found
One-Who-Cries. I …” His voice wavered, “They had a guard watching the trail. I
killed him.”

McIntyre saw that Emilio doubted his course of action and felt for
him. “You did the right thing, son. They’ve got three women down there.”

“Four.” He nodded at the surprised looks. “
Si
, another
girl, but I’ve never seen her before.”

“The peddler’s daughter,” Beckwith said.

“How many braves, lad?” Ian asked, checking his revolver.

“I counted six braves, and then four
banditos
with a wagon
rode up. They are all at the old tollgate.”

The men exchanged knowing glances.
Time for the fat to hit the
fire
, McIntyre thought, and started to offer a plan. “If we can get to that
high ground—”

“No good,” Emilio shook his head. “There was a rock slide. The
whole pass is different.”

All right
, McIntyre breathed.
Think of something else.
God, help me think of something else.
“Are they
keeping the girls in the cabin or out in the open?”

“In the cabin. I saw them take them in. One Indian stands at the
door. The other five, they are … ” Emilio struggled for the right words and
drew circles in the air, “in different places around the …”

Matthew shouldered into the group. “He’s trying to say they’ve
established a perimeter, but they don’t know their main guard is down.”

“Which should allow us to get closer than they’ll expect,”
Beckwith reasoned.

“Aye, but ye’re forgetting about the four new men. We have to
assume they are armed and we can’t make a plan till we know where they are.”

Frustrated, McIntyre removed his hat and scratched his scalp
through dirty hair wet with sweat. If he had just married Naomi the other
night, maybe none of them would be here now. They could be doing something
mundane and safe, like drinking lemonade down by the stream. If this all fell
apart, the guilt would consume him.

“All right,” he replaced his hat. “Emilio, do you think you and
Billy could sneak up to the cabin, maybe slip the girls out if we cause a
diversion? Is there any cover for you at all, brush or a woodshed, something?”

“
Si
, there is scrub brush and junipers that come close to
the cabin.”

“What kind of a diversion?” Billy asked.

“Well, I’ve got three sticks of dynamite in my saddle bags.”

Every head twisted toward Wade, whom McIntyre had all but
forgotten.

“What are you doing with dynamite?” Beckwith asked irritably.

“I thought it might come in handy.”

~~~

Fifty-Four

Hannah shuffled into the cabin behind the girls and grimaced.
A one-room structure, it was barely bigger than a small bedroom,
one that had been abandoned for years. It only had two small windows, both
missing their glass, and a warped door in the back wall that, judging by the
dust, had not been opened this decade. Cobwebs reached floor to ceiling and
covered the rusty, dilapidated stove. One splintered chair forlornly occupied a
dark corner and the rest of the room was bare. Dust, an inch thick on the floor,
swirled around the hem of her skirt. The lean Indian shoved Hannah hard between
the shoulder blades and sent her crashing into Naomi.

Both girls turned, fists balled, daggers in their eyes, but held
their peace and watched him leave. As the door closed, Naomi groaned, rotated
her right shoulder and sank to the floor. Hannah thought her sister would die
if she could see herself, left cheek red and puffy, blood smeared on her face
and dress. But the beating the Indian had given her could have been so much
worse. Grateful it wasn’t, she dropped down beside her sister and took over
gently rubbing her shoulder. “Sore?”

“Uhmm. It was kind enough to break my fall.”

Beside them, the new girl sat down and took a deep breath. “I’m
scared.” It was the first sound she’d uttered.

“Oh, sweetie,” Mollie sank to the floor beside her and leaned in,
raising her tied hands to show her she’d hug her if she could. “It’ll be all
right.”

The poor thing looked terrified, the way she hunkered down into
herself. Hannah wanted to ask how long she’d been a captive, but thought the
question could wait. She needed something more positive on which to focus.
“What’s your name?”

“Terri.”

“Where are you from, Terri?” The question from Naomi drew the
girl’s gaze. She took one look at her blood-covered face and burst into tears.

As Mollie tried to comfort her, Naomi leaned into Hannah. “What?
What did I say?”

“Nothing. Nothing. She’s just exhausted.”
There wasn’t a thing
they could do about Naomi’s appearance right now, so why mention it?

Conversation effectively snuffed for the time being, Naomi stared
up at the ceiling. After a long while, a tear rolled down her cheek, cruising
right across the dried blood. “I overreacted again, Hannah.” She shook her
head, clearly disgusted with herself. “I should have given him a chance to
explain. Now I may never know—”

“Don’t think like that. Charles is on his way. So is Billy. We’re
going to get out of here.”

Hannah smiled with pride as Naomi squared her shoulders and shook
off her moment of self-pity. “You’re right. We’re not giving up.”

Terri’s crying dried up and she wiped away the tears. “I’m sorry.
It’s been hard. They killed my family.”

Mollie took the girl’s hand. “We are going to get out of here.
You’ll see.”

A picture of hopelessness, the girl rested her head on Mollie’s
shoulder, and Mollie did the best she could to pat her on the knee. Hannah’s
own hope wavered because of the fear and hopelessness Terri exuded. She
whispered to Naomi, “Truth be told, I am a little afraid too.”

“I wasn’t, until I saw his eyes.”

Hannah turned inward and waited. God would give her something to
strengthen them. A moment later, she had a verse. “Blessed be the Lord, my
Strength, which teacheth my hands to war,” the other girls bowed their heads,
“and my fingers to fight. My goodness …” She spoke the list slowly so they
could savor the promises, “and my fortress, my high tower, and my deliverer, my
shield, and He in Whom I trust, who subdueth my people under me. Heavenly
Father, we give You glory and honor. We know no weapon formed against us shall
prosper. No enemy shall have victory over us today. Please, God, I ask that You
would deliver us from these evil men and send Your angels to protect our loved
ones who even now draw near. Thank You, Lord. We pray this in Jesus’ name.”

She looked up and Naomi was staring at her. “Why did you say
they’re near?”

Had she said that? Yes, and she knew it to be true. “Because they
are.”

Naomi’s gaze shifted suddenly from Hannah to something behind her.
She sucked in a little breath and Hannah turned to see what had her sister’s
rapt attention.

“See? In the dust there.”

Hannah slid closer to the wall. At first she didn’t see it then
she recognized the potential tool all but hidden in the dust. She picked up the
rectangular piece of glass, about two inches long and one inch wide, one end
broken into a sharp point. Breathless, she held the piece of glass up for them
to see.

Smiling, Naomi raised her bound hands. “And the truth shall make
you free.”

~~~

Billy’s heart pounded so loudly in his chest, he was afraid the
sound might give him and Emilio away
.
Slowly, silently, rifles in hand,
they crawled on all fours through tall grass and short, twisted junipers toward
the back of the cabin. The tollgate and house sat in a wide, long ravine, a
high pass between two colliding mountain ridges. The floor of the ravine and
the lower part of the mountainside was spattered with these clusters of dense
scrub. A broad, lazy stream cut through the pass, leaving one side just wide
enough for the road, the tollgate, a small corral holding the Indian’s horses,
and a one-room dilapidated cabin. Across the water, a hundred feet or so from
the gate, a large rock formation, like a whale’s back, tore itself free from
the mountain. It trailed the creek for a good four hundred yards, forming a
cliff along one shore twenty to thirty feet high.

Where the cabin sat, a finger of scrub grass and junipers came
down off the mountain and reached almost all the way to the back door. Billy
guessed the gap they had to cross in the open was maybe forty feet or so. He
wished it was less. Aware that there was a guard on the cliff, as well as one
somewhere farther up on the mountain, they kept low and took their time moving.

They had not had a chance to scout the area and were clueless as
to where the other Indians or Mexicans might be. They were trusting that their
friends did. Stiff and sore from their previous skirmish with the renegades,
not to mention the fight with each other, their goal was to avoid
confrontation, if at all possible, and quietly slip the girls out the back
door. McIntyre, Beckwith, and the others would attempt to draw the Indians’
fire if it became necessary.

That was the plan anyway.

Crawling on their bellies, the boys slithered to the edge of the
brush. A low, twisted juniper gave them the chance to rise up on their knees
and study the back of the cabin. It didn’t have a window on the back wall, but
there was a door. “I don’t know.” Emilio sounded hesitant. “That door, who
knows how long since it was opened.”

“I doubt it’ll open easy as a church door on Sunday morning.”

Emilio stared at him through the evergreen’s needles. “We’ll have
to use the dynamite to cover the sound.”

This meant they had to use their one stick for getting
to
the girls, rather than for getting them out of there. Billy didn’t see an
alternative. They needed a diversion now, something to cover the noise, and
there was no way to signal Wade.

Unexpectedly, he felt a cold wind blow through his soul, a wind
that threatened to break him with panic. Empty and afraid, he peered at Emilio
through the needles. His friend lowered his head and quickly mouthed a silent
prayer.

Billy pondered his part in all this, everything that had happened
to bring him to this moment, and wondered why he was here. Initially, he’d
believed he’d made a grand mistake coming west. After all, he’d been covered in
blood and bruises practically since he’d left home. And, he’d made only the
slightest headway with Hannah.

Yet, if he hadn’t come, would Emilio be making this stand alone?

At that instant, he knew he had been placed here by
design,
and the revelation terrified him because nothing felt certain to him except
that. He had no idea how things were about to unfold but he knew beyond the
shadow of a doubt his presence here was planned.

For such a time as this,
a voice
whispered to him.

God
, he prayed with everything
in him,
I know–I KNOW–You have Your hand on this situation. I don’t know if
I’m supposed to live or die today, but please don’t let this be the end. Let it
be a beginning for Hannah and me. Please. I’ll give You anything You want, do
anything You want, just, please, help me, use me to get us all home safe.

Before his prayer had finished, an explosion on the other side of
the cabin shook the ground, bringing a trickle of rocks down from the mountain
behind them. Stumped as to why Wade was already throwing dynamite, the two boys
took advantage of the ensuing chaos, overrode the pain warring in their bodies,
and charged for the cabin.

~~~

McIntyre almost cursed when he saw Wade light the dynamite and
toss it … until he realized the deputy was trying to stop four riders who had
come up from the south side of the pass, men wearing sombreros like the four
down there gathered at the wagon. Beckwith, Ian, Matthew and McIntyre had
positioned themselves in rocks almost roof level with the cabin, but on the
opposite side of the rock-outcropping, where Wade was, across the stream. Not
the high ground they had wanted, but they could see most of the yard, and the
front and one side of the cabin.

Wade had ridden far to the north over rough terrain so he could
circle back and come in on the rock escarpment. His vantage point had allowed
him to see the four new riders cross the stream and trot toward the gate. The
deadly throw had eliminated the new threat before they’d gotten off a single
shot, but all hell had broken loose. The brave on the look-out in the rocks
spun and fired at Wade. From somewhere above McIntyre and his group, another
rifle fired.

The four Indians below had been chattering and gesticulating
wildly at the Mexicans, striking the wagon with their hands. A sign the negotiations
weren’t going well. They heard the explosion and started shooting wildly as if
they were at Custer’s Last Stand.

After a few indiscriminate rounds, they located Wade’s position
and opened fire, screaming their bone-chilling war cries. The deputy leapt
behind some rocks for safety and McIntyre, Ian, Beckwith, and Matthew brought
their guns into the fray with a deadly, thunderous barrage. Instantly, the men
below whirled on them. The brave atop the rocks went down with a screech, the
rifle flying out of his hands and bouncing over the cliff into the water.
Rifles and revolvers fired in deafening chaos. Gun smoke and expelled
cartridges filled the air. McIntyre tasted sulfur. A shot came from behind him,
up the mountain, shattering rocks beside his group. “Ian, there’s someone in
the woods above us!” he shouted over the cacophony of gunfire.

His friend spun and scanned the tree line, waiting for the man to
give away his position.

Returning fire in frenzied confusion, the sombrero-wearing men
below and one Indian lunged for cover behind the wagon. The other three braves
dove to the side of the cabin McIntyre couldn’t see.
He
couldn’t see
them, but Wade should be able to, if he could raise his head long enough to
fire.

Looking down his rifle sight, he saw Billy and Emilio charge for
the cabin’s back wall, but lost sight of them as well. He realized the two boys
had no idea the explosion had driven the guard at the front door of the cabin
back inside with the girls, or that there were now three other braves using the
cabin’s exterior for cover. Wade had the high ground on that side of the cabin
and it would only be minutes, if not seconds, before the three renegades
realized they also needed to take cover in the cabin.

McIntyre knew they had to keep the Indians and bandits pinned
down. Otherwise, Billy and Emilio were in a real hornet’s nest. Shots zinged
back and forth in the pass. Lead bounced off the rocks behind McIntyre. Pieces
of slate shattered next to his head and he hunkered lower, recalling the bullet
hole in his Stetson. Ian fired and they heard a muffled grunt in the woods
above them. Below them, screams erupted from the cabin.

Billy and Emilio were fighting for their lives.

“We’ve got to get down there!” McIntyre shoved his hat down
tighter. “Ian, did you get the one above us?”

He watched the tree line for a moment more then nodded. “I believe
so.”

“All right, you and Beckwith try to work your way around to the
corral and draw the fire from those men at the wagon.” He leapt to his feet,
kept his head down and hollered over his shoulder, “Matthew, come with me!”
Matthew cocked his rifle and followed.

Bullets whizzed past McIntyre’s head, ricocheting off the rocks
and pines as he ran. He heard gunshots, screams, and a piercing war cry from
inside the cabin. Then, the screeching, splintering sound of wood as a big,
heavy warrior crashed through the front door. He flailed wildly for two steps
but momentum carried him off the porch and he fell backwards into the dirt, a
red stain spreading on his chest. That left four Indians and their four trading
partners. The boys still apparently had no idea there were three renegades
holed up against the exterior wall.