Ransom (10 page)

“Isn't giving whiskey to Indians against the law?”

Taylor shrugged. “Sure it is, but who in his right mind would pay attention to the fed'ral government?”

“And you think this man might know something about where Jessica and Louise have been taken?”

“I'm sure as hell hoping he does.” Taylor leaned out of his saddle, laid one finger against his nose, and loudly blew the other nostril. “One way to find out.” He nudged his horse into motion again, leading their little procession toward the cabin at the head of the valley.

* * *

“Shit,” Taylor grumbled.

“What's the matter?” Hahn asked.

“Loosen that cinch,” Taylor said. “We'll be here long enough that you oughta let those horses blow.”

“I asked you a question,” Hahn returned. But he did lift his stirrup and begin loosening the cinch on his saddle.

“Don't forget the packhorse.”

“I said—”

“I heard you,” Taylor snapped. “Reason I cussed was that they ain't here.”

“How would you know that?”

Taylor nodded toward the lean-to shelter at the head of the little corral hidden in a copse of pine. “Only horses there are Nate's . . . I seen them before . . . and that one scrawny-ass pinto. That would belong to some Injun, I'd guess. Here to drink an' maybe to trade.”

“These Indian, um, girls,” Hahn said. “You said you've had one?”

Taylor finished taking care of the cinches on his saddle horse and the pack animal he had been leading. He cocked his head and gave Hahn a sideways glance. “Want t' try one, do you?”

“No, I . . . I'm just curious,” Hahn answered, perhaps a little too quickly and too defensively to be credible.

“Look, if you want t' take one for a romp it wouldn't be no big deal. It's not like you're married or anything.”

“I said I do not. Excuse me for being curious.”

Taylor grinned. “Heard they're wild, did you? Well, believe it. They ain't like white women. Biggest difference is they admit to liking it just the same as a man does. Now, take Jessie—”

“Taylor!” Hahn barked. “Shut your damned mouth. I'll not have you talk about Jessica that way.”

John Taylor's grin became even wider. “It's all right, little man. I was just prodding you.”

“Well, don't.”

“Ain't you done with those cinches yet?”

* * *

The trading post was built to withstand the heavy mountain snows. The logs were thick and the roof slanted at a steep angle. Taylor had to bend to get inside while Richard Hahn ducked his head when he followed the larger man indoors.

“John Taylor. How the hell are you? Haven't seen you in a spell.” The man who was speaking had gray hair hanging to his shoulders. He had powerful shoulders and thick arms with muscles corded like rope. He looked like he could whip his weight in grizzly bears, and scars on his arms and his face suggested that he might well have done just that a time or two in the past. “Who's the city fella with you, John?”

“How did he know that?” Hahn quickly said.

Taylor ignored him. “This is the wife-stealing son of a bitch I told you about, Nate.”

The trader nodded and asked, “Bring him up here so's you could kill him and bury the body where he wouldn't be found, did you?” He made that sound like an entirely reasonable thing for a man to do.

“No, we're looking for my wife an' daughter, Nate. Somebody has gone and kidnapped the two of them. That's what we came here for. We're wondering, have you seen some riders with a white woman and a girl with them?”

Nate shook his head. “Wish I could help you, John.
You know I sure as hell would if I knew anything, but I don't.”

“It was worth asking,” Taylor said. “Tell you what, though. Since we're already here, we might as well have a drink before we go. And some jerky. Maybe a bushel. Elk if you got it. If you don't have enough elk, fill the bushel out with mule or moose, but I don't want no damn sheep nor mountain goat.”

“Oh, I got plenty elk on hand. Dollar a peck.”

“That's all right. The wife stealer is paying. He'll pay for the drinks too.”

Hahn gave Taylor a dirty look, but he pulled out his purse and opened it ready to pay.

* * *

“I want to tell you two things,” Hahn announced firmly once they were back outside pulling their cinches snug.

“What's them?”

“Firstly, I resent you talking about me that way.”

Taylor looked at him and snorted. “Mister, you oughta hear the way I usually talk about you. It'd make your ears turn red an' your balls shrivel up.”

“I don't for a moment doubt that,” Hahn snapped.

“So what's the second thing?” Taylor pulled his stirrup down and let it dangle ready for use. He reached forward and untied the lead rope from the corral rail.

“The second thing is a question. Why did you buy a bushel of that jerky?”

“Easy. About half the crap you bought back in town will spoil if we're out for very long. Jerky won't.” Taylor reached forward and smoothed the brown's forelock and scratched the animal in the hollow under its jaw.

“Do you really think it will take that long to find them?”

Taylor shrugged. “No way I can know that, but what I can tell you is that I don't figure to go back without them. I intend to stay out as long as it takes. All the way down into Mexico or any other damn place. Wherever my wife and little girl are, that's where I'll follow.”

Hahn said nothing. He gathered his reins and climbed awkwardly into the saddle of the paint horse while Taylor stepped easily onto the brown.

 

Jessica Taylor

It was a very good thing the Trent Street Auxiliary could not see her now. None of them would ever speak to her again if they did. She did not need a mirror to know that much.

She had not bathed in two days and had not washed in nearly that long. Her dress was stained with soot from the fire. It had tiny holes burned into it by embers flying up on the night breezes. Holes! In her wonderful dress. The thought made her ill.

And her hair. It must look a sight, all wild and straggly. Much like Loozy's hair did.

Oh, she had tried to keep her precious girl's hair under control, smoothing and combing it as best she could with only her fingers to work with, but it was an impossible task.

“All right. Get up,” their tormentor snapped. “You've set around long enough.”

“We are tired,” Jessica snapped back at him. “We need to rest longer.”

“What you need, bitch, is to do what I damn well tell you, that's what you need.”

Jessica lifted her chin and glared at the mean, miserable man. “I shall not,” she declared.

“Kid, go get on your horse,” Ederle commanded.

Loozy looked at her mother and when Jessica did not respond, neither did Loozy.

Ederle bent down with his face close to Loozy's and said again, “Get on your horse. It's time we move.”

Louise gave her mother a fearful glance but again refused to respond to the gruff outlaw's commands.

Ederle shifted his attention to Jessica. He stepped over to her, bent down, and said, “Get up. Get on your horse.”

Jessica silently defied the order, her chin high and her will steeled, her heart caught high in her throat.

“Suit yourself,” Ederle said.

A sense of relief flooded through Jessica. She could defeat this awful man if only she—

The left side of her face suddenly felt on fire and her whole body rocked sideways, immediately followed by every bit as much pain on the right side of her face as the man slapped her—hard—with his whole hand and then backhanded her in the other direction.

Jessica could feel a trickle of blood across her chin and onto her neck.

She screamed. And screamed again the louder when she saw the man take Loozy by the hair and drag her to her feet.

“All right. Please. Whatever you want,” she pleaded, scrambling to her feet and tugging at Ederle's arm as she begged him to leave Louise alone. “Don't hurt her. I'll . . . I'll do whatever you say. Please.”

Ederle gave her a look of triumph and an appraising stare that she could feel clear through to the bone. It would not do, she realized, to tempt this man into doing more than he intended.

“Please.” She took a deep breath and with a foul taste in her mouth because of it added, “Sir.”

Ederle snorted. But he released his grip on Loozy's
hair. He motioned toward the horses browsing nearby. “Get on. We'll go now.”

“Yes, sir.” Jessica beckoned Loozy with her as she hurried to gather up their horses and prepare to leave.

Chapter 9

“They didn't go past Nate's place,” Taylor said, disappointment heavy in his voice.

“Right. That's what the man said,” Hahn responded.

“Yeah, but you don't understand what that means.”

Hahn did not speak but his eyebrows rose in inquiry.

“You see this slope over to the north? That's the best an' easiest way up top. It's the way we generally take cows up and down come the spring an' then the fall. Real easy travel. It's the direction that string o' horses was going the last time we seen actual tracks. I figured to pick them up again right over yonder,” he said, pointing. “Now . . .” He shrugged.

“We've lost them?” Hahn asked.

Taylor nodded. “Looks as if we have.”

“Then where . . . ?”

“You want an easy answer, I don't have none.” His arm swept across the jagged, peak studded horizon. “They're out there, Hahn. Someplace out there.”

“What do we do now?”

“Why, we find 'em, of course.” Taylor wheeled the brown horse back the way they had just come.

* * *

“Big man! The great tracker. Outdoorsman. Idiot is what I say. You've gone and taken us out of town to no purpose. If we had stayed where we belong, we could have . . . I don't
know. Could have identified one of the spies perhaps. Caught him and made him talk. Or reasoned with him. Bribed him. Something! Now we're miles away from where we need to be. We have no idea where the gang is or where they've taken Jessica and Louise. And you, you are no help at all, just running us around in circles to no purpose.” Dick Hahn lowered his voice and cursed under his breath.

“Is complaining all you're good for?” Taylor snarled.

“I may complain, but unlike you I get things done,” Hahn snapped back at him.

“All right, so tell me. How would you have gone about finding the spy? What would you have done to him if you did find him? If there's an idiot here, Hahn, you're him. Bribe the spy? You think you can buy people. Is that the way you lured Jessie away from home? Did you buy her off with fancy clothes and fancier promises? You get things done? Just what d'you think you've gotten done? Jessie and Loozy are missing, they're in danger, maybe even dead by now, and all you can do is whine. I just wish you'd shut your damn mouth while I try an' work out this trail.”

“You haven't done so well at it so far, damn you. And don't you ever say they might be dead. Don't you ever say that.”

“Unlike you, Hahn, I'll say whatever is true and I'll say it any time I please. Now if you think you can do better at taking us to them, go ahead and try.”

“You know I can't track anyth—”

“Then shut the hell up so's I can pay attention.” Taylor bumped the brown forward, anger clouding his concentration. “Shut the hell up,” he threw back over his shoulder.

Hahn hurried to catch up.

* * *

“Can't we go a little farther this evening?” Hahn asked.

“No,” Taylor said, his tone curt and unfriendly. He unfastened his cinch strap and dragged his saddle off the brown horse, dropped it onto the ground, and went back to pull the pack from the led horse.

Hahn stepped down and stood for a few minutes as if expecting John Taylor to help him unburden his animals, then realized that was not going to happen. Awkwardly and in silence he set about taking care of them himself. By the time he was done, Taylor had a small fire burning, coffee set on it waiting to boil, and a thick chunk of bacon beginning to sizzle.

Dick Hahn chose a spot across the fire from Taylor and sat, the earth hard and uncomfortable beneath him. “God, I hope they're all right.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Taylor said in a tight, almost inaudible voice.

* * *

Taylor craned his neck, searching the sky from horizon to horizon. He had been doing it off and on since sunrise.

“What is it that you keep looking for up there? If the gang left any tracks, they'd be on the ground,” Hahn said. “I may not know much but at least I know that.”

“Rain,” Taylor told him, bringing his attention back to earth. “I'm looking for rain.”

“God forbid,” Hahn said. “It's bad enough the way the temperatures are so cold up here in the hills. We don't need rain too.”

“Matter o' fact we do need rain. That would soften the ground enough that I might see some proper tracks. As
it is the ground's so hard the best I can hope to find is a scrape here an' there, an overturned rock or trampled brush, all the sort o' thing that could be done by an elk or a deer as easy as a horse. Rain might could muss your hair, city boy, an' get your britches wet, but it'd sure help me look for the bastards as has my wife an' little girl.”

“My woman, not yours, Taylor.”

“Don't push your luck with me, Hahn. You're the one as needs me up here. Only reason you're along with me is the money. You have the money to buy them off with when we find them. But I'm the one as can maybe find them. Don't you be forgetting that.”

Hahn turned his face away and pretended to be examining the gravel underfoot.

 

Ervin Ederle

He was in a very good mood. Things were going well. The woman and her kid were acting right. He smiled to himself thinking how he had put the fear in them. They were pretty thoroughly cowed, all right. And they should be. He meant a good bit of the crap he had told them.