Sharon Poppen (21 page)

“Wonder how old he is? Does he have any teeth?” Frank asked as he began searching through his saddlebags.

“I’d say nine or ten months old.” Liam’s pointer finger nudged the baby’s fist aside and checked for teeth. “Just a couple teeth here on the bottom.”

“Then there’s nothing here for him.”

Jackson had watched in silence as the brothers tended the child, but now offered some information. “When Caroline was a baby, even smaller than this one, Sarah used to mash things real fine and feed it to her.”

“Think it will work?” Frank asked. “There’s lots of dried apples here.”

“Let’s give it a try.” Liam rocked the baby. “Shush, little fellow, we’re trying to get something for your belly.” He rocked and walked, still the baby cried.

Once Frank had found a flat rock and pounded some apple slices into a million little pieces, he grabbed a tin coffee mug.

“Hurry, Frank. This little fellow needs food, fast.”

“I need some heat to mush up these pieces. Wait, I’ve an idea.” Frank asked Jackson to cup his hand. Frank put the apple pieces into his hand and poured a little water over them. “Mr. Jackson, fist your hand and squeeze the mixture.”

Jackson squished and squished. Some water dribbled out.

“Not working?” Frank asked.

“No, there’s still liquid in there, because the apples are feeling mushy.”

“Let’s see.” Frank looked closely at the lumpy, damp mess. “Liam, look. Might work.”

Liam brought the baby over to the men. He wet his pointer finger with his mouth and rolled it in the mixture. “Hope it doesn’t hurt him.”

The baby’s lips began a frantic sucking motion and the tip of Liam’s finger disappeared into the baby’s mouth. It sucked for all it was worth, and then pushed Liam’s finger out with its wiggling tongue. Liam dipped some more of the apples onto this finger and repeated the process. The baby’s crying was replaced by loud slurping sounds. Soon the food was gone and the baby cried for more. Three times, the men made more apple mixture, until finally the baby burped and its eyes drooped slowly into sleep.

Liam continued to hold the baby against his chest with the child’s head resting on his shoulder. “Well, this changes things.”

“Yeah, you might say so.”

“You and Jackson need to get this little fellow where he can get a woman’s care.”

“Hold on a minute,” Jackson protested. “Let’s get something straight. I’m not going back without my granddaughter.” He climbed up on his horse. “That baby can come with us or you can take him back. But understand me, young men, I’m going forward.” He kneed his horse gently and started moving east.

“God damn stubborn fool.”

“Liam, you aren’t one to be talking about someone being stubborn. Look, we’ve got some food for the little guy. We’re probably more likely to run into a town going forward then heading back to San Antonio. Besides, what if we find the mother?”

Liam stared off into the distance. “If she’s alive.”

Frank mounted up. “She’s alive and so is Hannah. Hand me the baby. We’ll switch off holding him, but let’s catch up with Jackson and go find them.”

Chapter 29

A Bloody Revenge

The hurt in her chest and belly was so intense that occasionally Hannah felt light headed. But the thought of falling off the horse kept her alert enough to crowd the back of the saddle. This helped her to balance herself as they trotted along. Somewhere along the way, the Mexican woman had stopped crying. Even her little boy was quiet.

Regret surfaced in Hannah’s thoughts about her foolishness in thinking she could solve things by going off on her own. Regret and guilt at how much additional pain that arrogance had cost the Mexican woman. Her only hope was that Liam was following her and that he’d found the baby, but her common sense kept eroding that possibility. She felt helpless and was about to give in to despair, when she felt the horse slow down and Stevenson’s voice call over to the Mexican.

“I’m hungry.” He made a gesture like he was feeding himself and dismounted. He took a sleeping Jessica from the woman’s arms and looked around for a spot to put her. The woman dismounted and lifted her son off and then began to search through the saddlebags for something to fix. Once one of the saddlebags was empty, Stevenson tucked his daughter into it papoose style.

Hannah watched him approach her. He pulled her hair and forced her to look up at him. “It’s time to play,” he leered and lifted her off the horse and dropped her onto the soft grassy earth.

He left her trussed up as he walked a few steps away and relieved himself. While he waited for the woman to ready some coffee and jerky, he squatted down next to Hannah. “Guess you were telling the truth. Don’t look like anyone is following us.”

“I told you, I just promised the baby’s mother.”

“Stupid woman. Wouldn’t have no part of selling the baby. Couldn’t take a man. Only wanted her mama and papa.” He cupped one of Hannah’s breasts. “You able to take a real man?”

“Maybe, if there was one here to try me.” Hannah knew begging would not help. She decided she’d have a better chance using temptation-laced arrogance.

Stevenson pinched one of her breasts so hard it made her gasp in pain and before she recovered, he rolled her onto her back and straddled her hips. “Here’s a real man.” He bounced lewdly as if still riding his horse. Eventually, he laughed and climbed off her. Still on his knees, he ripped her blouse open. “Jesus, what the hell happened to these? Are those teeth marks?”

“Yes,” she hissed without flinching. “There’s nothing you can do to me that hasn’t already been done.”

“We’ll see about that.” He gave each nipple a quick brush with his teeth and smiled. “We’ll finish this after I eat.” She spit at him. He wiped his forehead, and then slapped her across the cheek. “You’ll pay for that.”

Hannah watched him take a cup of coffee and a handful of jerky from the Mexican. The woman pointed down at her son with a piece of the jerky. Stevenson shrugged and then nodded that it was okay. He strolled over to a large rock and sat down to eat and drink. He kept an eye on the horizon.

Hannah knew he didn’t believe her story about Liam and that he was watching for him. But, this worked for Hannah. During all the movement from the horse to the ground, followed by his disgusting assaults at her body, she’d felt the tethers to her hands and especially her feet begin to lose tension. She took a chance and wiggled her feet against the knot hoping to enlarge the loop, all the while trying to curl her hand small enough to pull through the tether at her wrist. The lariat’s rope was loosely woven making it quite pliable. She nearly cried in triumph when one hand and then the other finally slipped through the loop and she was free. She kept still, waiting for the moment when she could catch him off guard.

Stevenson stood up and motioned for the woman to come over to the horses with him. He took the reins and used them to secure the woman’s hands behind her. The terror in her eyes satisfied Stevenson that she realized what would happen if she stirred the horses in anyway. The little boy clung to the woman’s skirts dangerously near the hooves. He gave his daughter a quick glance and fortunately she was still sleeping.

He sneered at the woman and gripped her arm. “That ought to hold you nice and quiet while I deal with our new friend.”

As Hannah watched him approach, she wiggled her fingers hidden behind her back, working life into the strained joints. Finally, he stood above her. She watched him move the toe of his boot to her face and rubbed the tip across her lips. Moving down he pressed his instep into her throat muscles until she began to gasp for breath. On down he moved putting some weight first on one breast and then the other. His toe moved down and over her pants buckle. When he reached her crotch, he probed it with the toe of his boot for a few moments and laughed.

“Need to get those britches off you.” He undid his belt and opened his fly. From a sheath on his belt, he got a Bowie knife and dropped to his knees in a straddle position over Hannah’s upper thighs. He pursed his lips in an exaggerated kiss and then dropped his eyes to focus on cutting her pants away.

Hannah formed her hands into fists and brought them from behind her back to smash into both sides of his neck. The impact stunned Stevenson into dropping his knife to the ground as he fell on top of her. Her feet were free enough to allow her to bring her knees up and jam them into his groin. He screamed and rolled off her doubled in pain. She sat up, pulled the rope from her feet, grabbed the knife and kicked at his back and buttocks, even managing to land another kick to his groin. She pulled one of his arms behind his back and hog-tied it to his foot. As a measure of insurance, she buried the Bowie knife into the palm of his free hand securing him to the ground.

With Stevenson’s howls of agony and garbled curses ringing in her ears, Hannah ran to the Mexican woman and untied her. Hannah tried to help her mount one of the horses, but the woman began to keen and pushed her away. She lifted the boy, put him on one of the horses, then took Hannah’s hand. She touched her heart, pointed to the child, and then pointed to Hannah. She turned toward Stevenson, who was squirming in pain while moaning, cursing and crying. Hannah watched the woman square her shoulders and her jaw, as an expression of hate replaced the air of submission she’d lived with for days.

Slowly, she walked toward Stevenson. Using the heel of her foot, the woman kicked him in the face several times before pulling the knife from his hand. Before she could use it, Stevenson managed to reach his gun with the bloody mess of his freed hand. He fired.

Stevenson’s gun was aimed at the Mexican woman’s belly when he fired.

At first Hannah thought he’d missed, so rigid was the woman, and then the bloodstain appeared. The woman clutched her middle and fell onto Stevenson’s trussed up body with the knife clutched tightly in her hand. The knife embedded itself in Stevenson’s throat and with her dwindling strength; she managed to gouge it round and round. Stevenson’s choking gasps of agony ended with a final twist of the knife that severed his vocal chords. Her dying act ended the life of the man who had taken her husband, her infant, her dignity, and had she not killed him, she knew he would eventually kill her son and herself. The eerie silence to the bloody scene was broken only by Stevenson’s final gurgle of life.

Hannah had no idea how long she stood watching the death scene, when the sound of her name reached her consciousness.

“Hannah! Hannah!”

She turned to see Liam galloping towards her. Tears erupted as she ran to meet him. Her exposed breasts jiggled unbound as she ran. Liam jumped from his horse to catch her as she fell into his arms and sobbed into his chest.

“I’m here. I’m here. Oh God, what did he do to you? I’ll kill the son of a bitch. Oh, Hannah.” He held her tight.

Frank and Jackson jumped from their horses. Jackson headed for the bodies, while Frank hurried toward the boy sitting astride one of the horses. He was crying, “Mama, Mama,” and had his arm stretched out toward his mother. Frank had the Mexican baby in one arm, but managed to lift the boy from the saddle. He carried them over near the bodies.

“Mama! Mama!” The boy wiggled to get down and the baby began to cry.

“Must be the boy’s mother.” Frank nodded toward the lifeless woman.

“That’s Stevenson,” Jackson growled. He leaned down and felt for a pulse. “He’s dead. The bastard is dead.” Jackson kicked Stevenson body. “Damn, damn! I wanted to kill him.”

“Mr. Jackson, check the woman. I don’t want to put the boy down if …”

Jackson shook his head. “She’s dead.” His eyes darted about frantically. “Where’s my granddaughter? What did he do with her?” He kicked Stevenson again.

“Mr. Jackson,” called Hannah. She’d pulled her blouse together and led Liam to the horses. She lifted Jessica out of the saddlebag and held her out to her grandfather.

Jackson took her into his arms. He didn’t even bother to hide his tears. “She looks like Caroline. I have my baby back.” Jessica looked up and smiled at Jackson as if she’d known him all her short life.

“Hannah, you’re all right? He hurt you?” Frank still held both the baby and the little boy.

“I’m fine, Frank.” She smiled. “But it looks like you could use some help.” She took the baby and smiled up at Liam. “You found him.” She glanced over at the dead woman. “I wish she knew he’s all right.”

Liam slipped an arm about her waist. “She does.”

Jessica had decided she was hungry, so it was now a trio of crying children.

Frank handed the boy to Liam. “I’ll get them some food.”

*****

Within a couple of hours, decisions had been made and the small party was headed back to San Antonio. Jackson had wanted to leave Stevenson’s body where it lay, but Frank and Liam had untrussed him and piled rocks over his body.

The woman was wrapped in a blanket and secured to the back of Frank’s saddle. They were taking her back to bury her next to her husband.

Frank fed all the children and now Jessica rode in her grandfather’s arms. The boy rode in front of Hannah, while Frank and Liam switched off carrying the Mexican baby. The needs of the children made travel slower than any of the adults would have wanted, but it was a fact. It took almost two full days of traveling to get back to the Mexican’s grave.