Tracie Peterson (6 page)

Seven

D
on’t try to move, Son,” a deep voice was saying.

Jim opened his eyes and squinted against the light of day. A white-haired, bearded stranger came into view overhead.

“Who are you?” Jim asked, putting a hand to the painful throbbing on the side of his head.

“The name’s Caleb Emerson,” the man replied with a warm smile. “Look’s like you’ve been bushwhacked. They robbed ya clean, took all your goods, and left ya for dead.”

Jim moaned and tried to roll onto his side. “I have to go after them.”

“Whoa there, Fella,” Caleb said, putting a strong arm out to restrain Jim’s movement. “You took a nasty hit to the head. I stopped the bleeding, and it’s not life threatening, but you’re gonna have to rest awhile.”

“I can’t,” Jim said. He lifted his eyes to the sky. “They’ve taken more than my goods.”

“Nothing worth your life,” the man offered.

“Yes, I’m afraid there was.” Jim remembered blue eyes and a face that was only beginning to smile in his presence. “I wasn’t traveling alone,” Jim finally said. “There was a woman with me.”

“Your wife?” Caleb asked in a concerned tone.

“No,” Jim said and fell back against the ground. “It’s a terribly long story, but I’m afraid I am responsible for the young woman, and now I have to find her.”

“Well, you ain’t going anywhere just yet,” Caleb said sympathetically. “Why don’t you just rest for a spell and eat some grub? After that, maybe you’d best tell me the whole story.”

Against his will, Jim ate a bit and slept a great deal. He didn’t awaken again until midmorning the following day, but his head hurt less and his vision was clearer.

“What time is it?” he asked, struggling to sit.

Caleb gave him a hand before glancing up at the sky. “ ’Pears to be about eleven.”

“What day is it?”

“Now that’s a little more difficult,” Caleb replied with a smile. “Best I can figure, it’s Thursday.”

“If that’s true, then I’ve only lost a day,” Jim said, thinking aloud and rubbing his head.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” Caleb asked.

Jim nodded. “I will if you’ll give me some more of that stew you fed me yesterday.”

Caleb chuckled and pulled out a tin plate from his saddlebag. “Sure thing.” He dished up the stew from where it warmed over a dying fire. “By the way, I’ve got some good news for you.”

“You found her?” Jim asked hopefully.

“Not your lady friend,” Caleb said, sorry to see the hope leave the young man’s face. “But, I did find your horse.”

“That is good news,” Jim admitted. He’d need a mount if he was going to find Pamela.

Caleb waited until Jim had eaten his fill of the stew, then curiosity got the better of the old drifter. “Who are you, Son? You and that young lady elopin’?”

Jim shook his head. “Nothing so honorable,” he replied. “The name’s Williams. Jim Williams.” Jim held out his hand to take the stranger’s. They shook firmly before Jim continued. “I made a big mistake. In fact, I made several. One mistake I acted out a long time ago, and the most recent came because I was trying to right that wrong.”

“I think you just got me more confused than I was to begin with,” Caleb said with a laugh.

Jim eased back against a small boulder and rested his head. “I thought a certain young lady, a friend of mine from the past, needed rescuing from a bad situation. I decided to sneak down to where she lived and take off with her. I thought I’d get her to safety and let her decide from there what she wanted to do. But, instead of the woman I planned to take, I ended up taking someone completely different. Someone I didn’t even know, until just a few days ago.”

“I see,” Caleb said without any emotion betraying how he felt on the matter.

Jim grimaced at the dull ache that haunted his thoughts. “She came willingly. Fact was, she thought I was someone else who’d come to rescue her.”

“So this young woman needed saving too?”

Jim laughed. “You could say that, I suppose. She thought she did.
Fancied herself in love with some city slicker. She thought he’d come to save
her in the dead of night and, because it was dark, she didn’t know that I was
n’t him. We rode through the night, and she fell asleep in my arms. I really thought I was doing a noble thing. When I stopped for a spell to rest the horse, I put her on the ground to sleep, then I built a fire. That was when I realized she wasn’t at all who I thought she was.”

“What happened then?”

Jim looked down at his booted feet. “I got mad. I got real mad, in fact. I couldn’t believe I’d grabbed the wrong woman. When she woke up, she was mad. Scared too, and who could blame her? Here she was, just a little bitty thing, and some big ol’ brute of a man had dragged her off in the night. She ranted and raved at me, and those blue eyes of her flashed brighter than any summer lightning storm you’ve ever seen.”

Caleb smiled at the reference. “My wife used to be the same way.”

“You’re married?” Jim asked, forgetting for a moment to continue with his story.

“Was,” Caleb said with a sadness to his voice. “She passed on a few years back. I know I’ll see her again someday, but I sure miss her now.”

Jim didn’t say a word.

“Now, what about your little bitty gal? What happened after her rantin’ and ravin’?”

“I’m afraid I stormed off and left her alone by the fire. I knew it was a mean thing to do. She was obviously not used to outdoor life, but I wanted to put her in her place. I had to think too, and I couldn’t do that with her yelling and screeching at me like a hoot owl on a wildcat’s back.”

Caleb laughed out loud at this. “Did your leavin’ settle her down?”

“Yeah, and then some,” Jim admitted. “She wouldn’t even talk to me when I got back. But, the next day things kind of mended themselves. I apologized and explained myself and promised I’d get her back home safely. Now it appears I’ve caused her harm once again.”

“Don’t fret about it, Son. You need to get well, then we’ll go out after her.”

“We?” Jim looked the older man in the eye.

“Sure,” Caleb said with a nod. “I can’t let you go out there all alone. Now, did you see who took your little bitty gal?”

“Her name’s Pamela,” Jim said, though he liked the nickname. “All I saw was a vague image of the man who ransacked my pockets. He had a hideous scar that ran over his nose and down to his lip.”

“That’d be Knifenose McCoy,” Caleb muttered under his breath.

“You know them?” Jim said, sitting up abruptly.

Caleb ran a hand through his rough white beard. “I’ve been drifting these here parts since my wife died. There’s a gang of outlaws that goes down into Dawson on a regular basis and wreaks havoc on everybody. It’s the Owens gang, headed up by the mother of two of the men. Old Knifenose McCoy has been riding with ’em for awhile now. If it’s them, then I’ve got a good idea where they’ve taken your gal.”

“Then let’s go!” Jim exclaimed and got unsteadily to his feet. His head pounded, but he was undaunted.

“Nah,” Caleb said and reached out to pull Jim back down. “That old mama of theirs ain’t gonna let anything happen to Little Bitty. She’s a real smart one, that woman. She’s cultured, and the real brains behind most of their activities. You just rest and get your feet back under you steadylike, and we’ll head over to their hideout tomorrow.”

“We can’t let her spend another night in their company,” Jim said in complete exasperation. “Those men might. . .well, they could. . . .” He couldn’t even bring himself to say what might happen.

“You gotta trust the good Lord to look over her, Jim. Christianfolk know that He’s got all the answers, and He’s the one looking out over those who can’t look out for themselves. That’d be your little bitty gal. We’ll just pray about it and ask Him to mosey on over to where she’s at and surround her with His angels. You know the Bible says in Psalm ninety-one, verse eleven that ‘He shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.’ ”

“You believe that, Caleb?” Jim asked wearily. He was giving in to the misery of his body and hated himself for doing so.

“You bet I believe it!” Caleb said enthusiastically. “Ain’t you a Christian, Jim?”

Jim put a hand to his head and stretched his legs back out in front of him. “My ma and pa were both God-fearing people. They brought me up to respect the Word of God and to go to church on Sunday. I listened to Ma tell me Bible stories and, one day, when I was just a tike, she asked me if I wanted to go to heaven when I died. I said sure. I mean, I figured it beat all out of going to the other place.”

Caleb chuckled, “That’s no lie.”

“Anyway, I repeated a prayer she told me. When I was done, she explained how all a body had to do to get saved and go to heaven was to accept Jesus as their Savior. She told me that when I accepted Jesus and asked Him to forgive my sins, I became a new person.”

“That’s for sure too!” Caleb agreed.

“Well, I figured she wasn’t lying,” Jim continued, “but, in truth, I never felt any different. I mean, I didn’t go out of my way to do wrong, but I didn’t feel exactly called to preach, either. I guess over the years I figured being a Christian and all just didn’t take.”

“Sinful critters have a hard way of looking at life,” Caleb said softly. “They see the things they’ve done, and they know they’re no good. God sees the things they’ve done and knows there’s a chance for them to do different. Satan comes along, though, and tells them that there isn’t any other way, and that they’re the most miserable excuses for human bein’s that ever existed. Satan makes sure he stands planted between those struggling folks and God, just to block out the view. But it don’t work that way for long.”

“It don’t?” Jim questioned.

“Nope,” Caleb replied and leaned back. “God sends them angels to surround you. They beat back old Satan and tell him to mosey on out, ’cause this property has God’s mark on it.”

“And does he?” Jim asked. “Does Satan back off?”

“You bet he does. God looks after His own, I told you that, Son.”

“But what if I’m not His own? What if Pamela’s not?”

“Everything is God’s, Jim. The world and all that’s in it. The people, the
animals, the trees—it all belongs to Him. It’s just that some folks don’t reck
on God is theirs.”

Jim felt the need to lie down and stretched out beside the glowing embers. “So you think I belong to God too?”

“I think you need to answer that one for yourself, Son,” Caleb replied. “Give God a chance. He’s not likely to hold a grudge for your lack of understandin’. Just seek Him out and ask His forgiveness. It’s never too late to change the path you’re on.”

Jim closed his eyes, and a bit of peace began to trickle into his heart. “Sounds like good words to think on,” he muttered before dozing off into a deep sleep.

Eight

P
amela stared fearfully into the gray-blue eyes of an older woman. The woman was taller than Pamela by half a foot and had an athletic youth to her that led Pamela to believe she was perfectly able to hold her own in any situation.

“What’s your name?” the woman demanded.

“I might ask you the same,” Pamela said, lifting her chin defiantly.

The woman studied her for a moment, then gave a brief laugh. “You’re a spunky one, just like the boys said.” She paused, eyes narrowing. “But you’ll learn that cooperating with me will get you a lot less aggravation. My name is Esther Owens. I run this group of ruffians, and I’m no dawdling fool to be taken advantage of. I’m Eastern-educated, and I know well the ways of this world, so it would be best if you got it into your head now that I’m fully capable of running this show.”

Pamela stared openly at the woman. Her reddish brown hair had been carefully pulled back and neatly knotted at the nape of her neck. Her dark brown riding skirt and snug matching jacket showed off a still youthful figure. But it was Esther’s eyes that held Pamela’s attention. They were purposeful and firm, and, just as Esther had stated, they betrayed a look of intelligence that Pamela couldn’t deny.

“My boys tell me they killed your man,” Esther began again. “Do you have other family?”

Pamela still refused to speak. In truth, she wasn’t sure she could after Esther’s reference to Jim’s death. Pamela felt her hands trembling and clutched them tightly together to avoid giving herself away.

Esther shook her head. “I’ll leave you to yourself for a time. Maybe staying in this hole will give you reason to talk to me.” Without any other word on the matter, Esther pulled the heavy wood door closed, and Pamela heard the unmistakable sound of her barring it from the outside.

Now Pamela was truly scared. She’d been livid at the way Esther’s “boys” had treated her. They seemed inclined to speak suggestively, reminding Pamela that she was under their complete control. But it was Esther’s words about Jim that left Pamela void of hope. Jim was taking her home. He alone knew where and why she’d been removed from Dawson in the first place, and now he was gone.

Pamela looked around the dimly lit room. The place was hardly wider than her arm span and only about half again as long. The rough, plank walls had never seen a coat of paint and the floor was dirt. There was nothing but a filthy cot for furniture, and a six-inch slit in the wall overhead offered the only light.

“What do I do?”

❧

Esther Owens looked down the table at her gang and shook her head. Two of those present were her own sons, the rest were drifters and renegades who’d learned of her business dealings and sought to join up.

The men argued among themselves over one thing or another while Esther waited for a heavyset woman to serve their lunch. The sound of several riders approaching brought instant quiet to the table. Esther got up quickly and crossed to the window.

“It’s just the rest of the boys,” she said, coming back to the men.

Several grunts confirmed they’d heard her speak before they launched into a new set of arguments. Esther tapped her fingers on the table, waiting for the new arrivals to join them. They would be bringing her supplies from Denver. Hopefully, they’d bring a newspaper or two, maybe even a book.

Several men burst through the door, two of them carrying wooden crates.

“Take those to my room,” Esther instructed and got up to follow the men from the room. “The rest of you men finish your eating and get back to work. We’ve got a big job to pull tomorrow, and I don’t want anything to go wrong,” she called over her shoulder.

Silence fell across the table. Although she was just a woman, these men knew her mind to be the keenest they’d encountered. There wasn’t a man, young or old, sitting there who didn’t know just how much they needed Esther Owens.

Esther directed the men to place the crates on her bed. “Now get yourselves some food. I’ll need to talk to you when you’re finished.” The men nodded and left the room, closing the door behind them.

Esther began sorting through the boxes. She smiled broadly as her hand came to the newspaper that lined the bottom of one of the crates. Pulling it out, she took herself over to her rocking chair and began to read.

The price of silver was climbing, as were railroad stocks. The Atchison, Topeka, & Santa Fe Railroad was advertising tracts of land to entice immigrants to come west and settle along the train routes. There was some speculation that the Santa Fe desired to place a route across the southern U.S. territories, all the way to the coast, but no one was taking that venture very seriously.

Esther read on, drinking in the news and realizing, as she did every time a newspaper came her way, that she missed big-city life and knowing what was happening as it happened. She was about to put the paper aside when a photograph caught her eye. Staring at it hard, Esther began to smile.

The story below the photograph told of a young woman who’d disappeared from Dawson, Colorado. The picture was unmistakably that of the woman who was now captive in her shed out back. Esther wanted to shout when she read that Pamela Charbonneau was a wealthy socialite from Kansas City. There was good money to be made in this, and Esther was already putting together the ransom note in her mind. Tossing the paper onto the bed, Esther made her way back to the shed. She would confront Pamela with her news and decide from there how they would address the issue of a ransom.

❧

Pamela had tried every way possible to escape her prison. She’d pulled and pushed at the door, only to realize that it was a hopeless case. She’d checked the walls for any hint of weakness but, finding none, could only pace out her frustrations.

She remembered something Zandy had once told her about God. She’d said that God would never leave her and that, no matter what happened in her life, He would always hear her when she prayed. Glancing up at the sagging ceiling, Pamela wondered if it were true. Would God really hear her if she prayed?

“I guess it’s worth trying,” Pamela muttered, seeking to convince herself. She tried to remember just how Zandy started her prayers. “Father,” she whispered, “Zandy told me I could pray and You would hear me. Well, I’m in quite a fix right now, and I could certainly stand to be heard. Fact is, I need a great deal of help, and I don’t know where it might come from. God, nobody but You and these outlaws even know I’m here. Please help me to get away from these people. Help me to escape to safety. I promise I’ll never be difficult again, if You will just answer this prayer. Amen.

“There,” Pamela stated in complete resolve, “that’s done.” She waited a few minutes, not moving a muscle, as if to see how God would answer her request. The silence washed over her in waves, but nothing seemed changed or the slightest bit different.

“I wish I knew more about this Christian stuff,” Pamela sighed aloud. “Does it happen right away? How do you know if God hears you?” Just then the sound of someone outside the door startled Pamela.

Esther Owens opened the door and with her came a flood of daylight. Pamela squinted her eyes and stepped back a pace.

“Well,” Esther began with a strange smile, “I’ve just come upon a bit of news from Denver. It was rather fascinating, and I thought perhaps you would enjoy hearing about it. Would you?”

Pamela lowered her head and said nothing.

“I asked you a question, Miss Charbonneau.”

Pamela’s head snapped up at the name. Esther laughed heartily and leaned back against the wall.

“So, you are Pamela Charbonneau of Kansas City and lately of Dawson?”

“Yes,” Pamela finally admitted.

“The article in the Denver paper stated that it was unknown as to whether you had been taken or had simply disappeared on your own. Which was it?” Esther questioned curiously.

“It’s none of your concern,” Pamela retorted in a defiant tone. “What do you plan to do with me?”

“Well, the article also said that you are from a very wealthy family. Don’t you imagine your poor folks would pay well to see you returned safely?”

Pamela realized the woman meant business. “I suppose they might. However, we are rather estranged at the moment. I came to Dawson with friends and, in truth, those friends would probably pay a hefty reward to have me returned. After all, I was in their care.” Pamela’s mind was moving way ahead of her mouth. Returning to her parents would put her in Kansas City, but they’d no doubt just ship her off again. No, perhaps it would be better to go home to Zandy and Riley. Then maybe Zandy could make a plea to her parents for her return to Kansas City and her marriage to Bradley.

Pamela was still lost in selfish thought when Esther spoke again. “Who are these friends in Dawson?”

“Riley and Alexandra Dawson,” Pamela stated matter-of-factly.

Esther’s eyes widened a bit before she resumed her mask of sober indifference. “
The
Riley Dawson? The one who owns the town?”

“The very same,” Pamela admitted and folded her arms across her dirty blouse. “I was staying with them. Mrs. Dawson is my dearest friend.”

“Umm,” Esther said, letting the information soak in.

“This bears consideration,” Esther muttered. “It also means taking a little more care with you. I’m moving you up to the house. I’ll keep you there and maybe even let you clean up. You’ll cooperate with me, though, or I’ll move you right back here. Is that understood?”

Pamela nodded her head. She wasn’t about to pass up the chance to move from the shack. Wherever she was going would surely present a better chance at escape than this place.

“Good,” Esther said and took hold of Pamela’s arm. “Don’t think to try anything. We’re located in a box canyon so there’s basically only one way out. The walls around us are jagged granite, more than one hundred feet straight up. Beyond those are the harshest mountain wastelands you would ever want to
contend with. The nearest civilization is far enough away that we don’t consid
er ourselves civilized.” She pulled Pamela with her into the yard.

“This is our hideout. No one but us knows the way in and out, and no one leaves here without an escort because my men are trained to shoot first and ask questions later. Do you understand what I’m saying, Miss Charbonneau?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, just in case there’s any question left in your mind, I’m warning you good and hard right now. Don’t try to leave or you will die.”

“But what of your ransom?” Pamela questioned, almost smugly.

“I don’t need a warm body to convince people to pay a ransom note. I can forward them a corpse easier than I can worry about running you down every time you get it in your head to try and escape.”

Pamela blanched at the easy way Esther spoke of killing her.

“Now,” Esther said, coming to a full stop. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, I believe I do,” Pamela replied, giving the woman her full attention. “My life is obviously in a precarious state of balance, and you are the one who will decide my fate.”

Esther smiled. “It’s such a pleasure to listen to another intelligent soul speak. I shall enjoy having your company while we decide this matter. Now give me your word that you won’t try to leave.”

Pamela grimaced. “I promise.”

“Good enough.”

With that, Esther pulled Pamela toward the rough looking log house. Pamela tried to take in everything. She considered where each building lay in relation to the house, without looking obvious, and tried to commit it to memory for later use. The Owens gang would no doubt kill her anyway, so therefore her promise meant nothing. She would seek a means of escape—the sooner the better.