Ransom (12 page)

“Let me know when we get close,” Hahn said.

Taylor nodded. “Count on it.”

With Taylor in the lead and the packhorses trailing, they turned off the barely visible path they had been following and scraped past the gnarled and jagged scrub oak in the direction Hahn's tracks suggested.

* * *

“Damn, but this is hard country to track in, and it doesn't help any that there's been somebody's cows using up here lately.”

“Using?” Hahn asked.

“Grazing,” Taylor said. “Somebody's cows've been grazing up around here.”

“If all you can see are a few scrapes on the ground and not an actual hoofprint, how can you tell it was left by a cow and not a horse?”

Taylor looked at him for a moment to see if the question was serious. It was. Hahn was indeed serious about that. Taylor shook his head, marveling at the man's ignorance, then laughed, then pointed off to the left. “Can't you see all the cow flops over there amongst them aspen? A cow is about the only critter on earth that craps like that. Well, cows and buffalo, but there's none o' them up this high. Most o' the animals you find up here leave pellets when they shit. Elk, deer, goats, sheep, they all do. Even the bears kinda do. What we seen along this trail is horse
apples.” He chuckled. “It ain't always tracks that you look for when you're trailing something, Hahn.”

Hahn, chagrined, fiddled with his saddle strings and pretended to adjust something that did not need adjusting. He was not fooling John Taylor.

* * *

Taylor pointed to the ground. “Y'see those horse apples, man? See how shiny they are? Know what that tells you?”

Hahn shook his head.

“It tells you they're fresh. Give 'em a while lying there in the air and that shine will be gone. The apple surfaces will turn dull. Remind me t' show you sometime.”

“You don't have to. Really. If there is anything that would fail to capture my interest, horse apples would be high on the list.”

Taylor shrugged. “Whatever you say.” Then his expression hardened as he thought about Jessica and he said, “About some things, that is.”

* * *

Taylor held his hand out to the side, palm toward Dick Hahn. “Stop!”

“What now? Do you see some shiny horse apples glistening in the sun?”

“Don't be a smart-ass,” Taylor snapped.

The little string of horses stood looking down into a lush valley with sunlight seeming to sparkle off the emerald-green grasses growing in the middle. It actually was shining on shallow water spreading out from a stream that flowed down the center of the valley.

They were at the edge of a stand of old aspen, some with trunks as big around as a man.

Taylor pointed. “Do you see them?”

Hahn stood in his stirrups and stared but after a moment shook his head and said, “I don't see anything.”

“There. Just below them pines. D'you see the gray rocks with a black streak down the left side?”

It took Hahn a while but finally he said, “Yes. I've got that.”

“To the right from that and up a ways. There's horsebackers moving through the pines. They're coming onto some quakies now. One, two . . . I see three of them, could be more. I ain't for sure about that.” Excitement brought him upright in his stirrups. The horse sensed the change in mood and began to fidget. Taylor dropped his butt onto the saddle and slapped the brown's neck with his rein ends. “Settle down, damn it.”

“I think . . . yes, I see them now.” Hahn pulled his shotgun from the saddle scabbard. This time Taylor did not tell him to put it away even though they were several miles behind the riders who seemed so close there on the other side of the valley.

 

Jessica Taylor

Her legs were shaky after all that time on a horse. They trembled so badly she thought she might fall. And yet he kept insisting that they climb this horribly steep path to . . . to God knew what.

Jessica had come to despise that man, so big and gruff and ugly. She turned and whispered to Loozy that he was like one of the trolls that lived under bridges.

Loozy held her hand over her mouth and giggled. Oh, it was good to hear that sound. There was nothing she would not do for her precious child. Nothing. Whatever else happened, Loozy had to survive. Even if Jessica herself did not.

They reached the ledge and saw the opening to a cave. Well, not an actual cave. Even Jessie could see that the dark opening in the face of the mountain was man-made. Shards of broken rock were piled untidily on the flat of the ledge to the other side of the opening, and sticks of burnable wood were piled in a much more orderly fashion on the near side.

“Move right in. Make yourselves to home,” the man said. He sounded quite pleased with himself. Almost jovial.

“Are there . . . catamounts or . . . bats or anything?” Jess did not want to speak to the foul creature who held them captive but could not help herself. The cave thing looked so menacing.

“No!” The man snapped the word at her, his mood
suddenly changing from happy to horrid once again. “Now get your asses in there. Put those supplies against the wall beside that box. Fine. Now you two go on to the back. No, don't stop there. All the way back. It ain't far. A few feet is all. You can do it.” He scowled. “You better do it.”

Jess and Loozy scurried to comply. They pressed against the back wall, back where whatever miner dug this place had given up and gone away.

Walls, floor, and ceiling were all solid stone, uneven where pick and powder had gouged them out of the living mountain. There were two candleholders, sharply pointed bits of iron, that had been driven into the walls, one on either side. At the far back there was a pile of old burlap sacking. Something, coal or foods or something, must have been carried in those.

“Lie down,” the man ordered.

Jessica felt a momentary pang of fear for the man's lewd intentions, but it was not that he wanted from them. Not now anyway. She had little hope that this would remain. She had seen the way he looked at her today and there was nothing gentlemanly about it.

“Do it!” he snapped.

“Where?”

“On them croaker sacks, damn it, and be quick about it.”

Loozy led the way. She spread the meager few sacks on the hard floor, still littered with chips and tiny shards. She made only one pile and lay on it, placing herself tight against the back wall and motioning for her mother to join her.

Jess, trembling still, lay beside Loozy.

“Roll over. Facedown. And don't dawdle. I'm in no humor to put up with any crap from you.” The menace so
plain in his voice kept them from wanting to learn what he would do if they displeased him now.

They did as they were ordered.

“Hands behind your backs.” His voice was harsh.

Again they complied. Quickly.

“Now hold still. Real still.”

The man produced lengths of rope and deftly bound their hands and then their feet, tying them at wrist and ankle.

Then he stood. “Now I know you's bitches can lie with your backs together and untie each other easy as apple pie. Don't! If I come back here an' find either one of you loose, you'll pay for it in blood. You understand me? In blood. Now lie still. I'll be back directly.”

He was going to leave them there? Alone? Oh, God in heaven. What if a catamount or a bear or something came along while he was gone? What could they do then? They could not run away or fight back or . . . or anything.

Jess turned her face away so Loozy would not see and began very quietly to cry.

She heard the man's footsteps grating on the bits of rock on the floor and then he was gone, she did not know where.

That should have been a relief. Under the circumstances it was not. What if he just got on his horse and rode away? What if he did not come back? Her tears flowed all the faster at the thought.

“Mama.”

“Yes, baby?”

“Don't cry, Mama. We'll be all right.”

Jessica wiggled over closer so that she could feel Loozy warm against her. Her baby. Her darling. Loozy had to survive whatever happened here. She had to.

Chapter 12

“No noise now,” Taylor cautioned as he brought the brown to a halt and stepped down from the saddle. He took a cotton lead rope from his saddlebags and clipped it to the brown's bit, then tied the rope head high around the trunk of an aspen.

“Should I—”

“Get down,” Taylor told him before Hahn could finish his question. While Hahn dismounted, Taylor slid his borrowed shotgun out of the saddle scabbard, broke the action, and checked that two unfired shells were in the breech. He already knew the gun was loaded. The action was mere nervousness. He had never shot a man before, nor wanted to. But for a man who would harm Jessica or his Loozy . . . for that man he would make an exception.

He moved over close to Hahn, who was busy tying the paint. In a soft voice he said, “They're about a quarter mile over there. Settin' up for the night it looks like.” While he spoke he untied Hahn's rope from low on an aspen trunk and retied it higher.

“Why—”

“So's the horse don't step over the rope and hurt itself,” he answered before Hahn could finish his sentence.

“Oh.”

“Anyway, we'll let them settle in while we sneak over there on foot. We go any closer with these horses, theirs will know it an' talk to ours. That would alert them. So we—”

“Talk? What's this shit about horses talking?”

“I don't mean with words, you asshole. I mean they'd whinny or whicker or whatever you might want t' call it. The thing is, they'd make noise. They'd let the kidnappers know something was up. We don't want that.”

“No. No, of course not,” Hahn said.

“Check your gun before we set out.”

“I know how to handle a shotgun, damn it. Better than you, I'm sure.” But he checked the gun anyway.

“You got more shells on you?”

Hahn patted his coat pockets, then nodded. “Right here.”

“All right, then. Let's go kill us some kidnappers.”

* * *

Taylor tugged on Hahn's coat sleeve to stop him and pull him close. He whispered into Hahn's ear, “Damn you, man, you're making too much noise.”

“I can't see where I'm going.”

“Feel your way with your feet. Jeez, haven't you ever snuck up on anything in the woods before?”

“No, of course not.”

“Well, you'd better learn how real quick. If they hear us coming, it could go hard on Jess and Loozy.” He let go of Hahn's sleeve and took a deep breath, hoping to calm his nerves. This experience was just as new to him as it was to Dick Hahn.

“Do you think they're in that camp?” Hahn whispered.

“I don't know, but it ain't something I'll take a chance on,” Taylor said.

“John, I . . . I want to ask you something.”

It struck Taylor that that was probably the first time
Richard Hahn ever called him by his first name. He whispered back, “All right, go ahead.”

“Are you scared? I have to tell you, I'm frightened. I'm shaking.”

“Sure, but I'm a lot more scared for my girls than I'm scared of the kidnappers,” Taylor said. “That's how I think about it anyhow.”

“All right, I . . . thanks.”

Taylor gave Hahn a pat on the shoulder, almost a friendly one, and they crept on as silently as they could.

* * *

Taylor took Hahn by the coat sleeve and again leaned close to his ear. “I count three of 'em setting by the fire, jawing and drinking coffee. What d'you see?”

Hahn hesitated for a moment, his head bobbing left to right as he counted. Finally he nodded and said, “Yes. Three.”

“Here's what we'll do, then. I'll sneak around to the left. You circle right a little way. When I think we've both had time t' get ready, I'll step out of the woods and confront them. We should have plenty of time to get them under the gun. They're all looking into the fire, so their night vision will be gone all to shit. You'll be able to see me plain. Should be so, all right? Just watch for me to clear them trees there.” He pointed.

Hahn tried to speak but could not force words out of a fear-constricted throat. All he could do was to nod again.

“Right. Go on now. I'll give you plenty o' time to get ready.” Taylor gave Hahn an encouraging push to send him on his way.

Taylor stood for some time, listening to Hahn's progress
through the woods. It was just a damn good thing those three men out there were so busy talking, otherwise they would most certainly have heard Hahn's approach.

The man was not experienced in the woods. But, Lordy, that was hardly an excuse when Jessica's and Louise's lives could be at stake. Surely he could be quieter than that. Hell, a boar hog treading on dry acorn husks wouldn't make that much noise. Taylor could follow Hahn's progress practically every step of the way.

At least, he thought, he would know when the asshole was properly in position. He supposed that might be considered a good thing.

When he thought enough time had elapsed, Taylor moved off to his left, slipping silently through the darkness, feeling his way with each foot before he set it down firmly on the ground.

This was going well, he thought.

Then it was not.

* * *

Dick Hahn was so nervous he was crying. His hands and his lips trembled and he felt sick to his stomach.

Jess. Loozy. He had to save them. He had to be strong. For them.

He took baby steps forward. He was trying to do everything Taylor said he should. He looked across the fire to the opposite side where he expected Taylor to materialize out of the gloom to confront the kidnappers.

It was important for Dick to be there. The kidnappers had to know that they were facing more than just the two shells in John's gun. They had to know that Richard Alton Hahn had come to rescue his lady and her beautiful child.