Читать книгу The Rocking R Ranch - Tim Washburn - Страница 17

CHAPTER 12

Abigail Turner was getting worried. It wasn’t unusual for Emma to stay out after dark catching fireflies with her older cousins or whatever else they could find to do to occupy their time. But she couldn’t remember Emma ever staying out this late. Although she had been trying to allow Emma more freedom, staying out until eleven p.m. was going too far. She pulled a lantern off a peg near the door, lit it, and stepped out into the dark night.

Abby decided her first course of action was to check her mother’s house, hoping Emma had decided to stay over. When Abigail reached her parents’ house, she climbed the steps up to the porch that fronted the house and eased the front door open. Over the years, as the Ridgeway clan grew more prosperous, additions were made to the main house and it now contained six bedrooms, a parlor, the main living area fronted by a large fireplace, and a large kitchen. Hoping not to wake her mother, she shifted the lantern to her left hand so that her body would shield most of the light.

Stepping lightly across the yellow pine floors, she walked toward the rear of the house, where three of the bedrooms were, the others, upstairs. Despite her best attempt at being quiet, she heard her mother say, “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Ma, Abby,” she said as she walked toward her parents’ bedroom in the far back corner of the house.

There was a rustle, a squeak, then the sound of feet on the floor. “What in the world are you doin’ prowlin’ around the house in the middle of the night?” Frances asked, stepping out in the hall as she belted her robe.

“Lookin’ for Emma.”

“She’s not here, Abby. When’s the last time you saw her?”

“At supper. Have you seen her since then?”

Frances shook her head. “No. I saw her earlier in the day. Think she might have decided to spend the night with one of her cousins?”

“Not without asking. She knows better than that.”

“Check the barn?”

“Not yet. Thought I’d try here first.”

“Let me put on some shoes and I’ll help you look,” Frances said. She ducked back into her bedroom and returned a moment later, wearing a pair of moccasins an old Ponca woman had given her.

Abby followed her mother through the house as her mind spun with possible locations where Emma might be. The bunkhouse was off-limits to any and all children and there were several other shacks scattered across the ranch, but none close enough to walk to. That left the barn, or the other three houses owned by her brothers and sister. Abby’s mind returned to the present when her mother reached above the fireplace and took down the double-barrel, ten-gauge shotgun.

A tingle of dread raced down Abby’s spine. “What are you thinkin’, Ma?”

“I’m not,” Frances said. “And don’t you start thinkin’ about a bunch of bad things, either. The shotgun is in case we run into varmint while we’re lookin’.”

Abby started biting the nail on her right index finger, a nervous habit she’d had since childhood.

“Quit bitin’ your fingernails,” Frances scolded. “We’ll find Emma.” Frances didn’t need to check if the shotgun was loaded—it remained that way at all times. She walked over to a shelf by the front door and grabbed a few extra shells and slipped them into the pocket of her robe. “Think we need another lantern?” Frances asked.

With her apprehension about Emma’s welfare on the verge of spinning out of control, Abby said, “No, let’s just go.” She grabbed her lantern from the table and hurried toward the door. She stepped out into the darkness, and Frances followed behind. “I don’t even know where to start,” Abby said.

“We’ll start at the barn and work out from there,” Frances said in an even voice, trying to ease her daughter’s worry. “Emma has to be here somewhere. We’ll find her.”

“I’m goin’ to wring her neck when we do,” Abby said angrily.

After searching the barn and the surrounding area outside, they found no sign of Emma. Frances and Abby checked the smokehouse just in case and went house by house, inquiring about Emma’s whereabouts. They’d looked everywhere they could think to look and there was still no Emma.

After being awakened, Eli’s wife, Clara, and Rachel joined the search and they now had three lanterns burning.

“Let’s pause for a minute and think this through,” Frances said as she grabbed Abby’s arm and pulled her to a stop.

“We can’t stop,” Abby shouted as she yanked away from her mother’s grasp.

“We’re not stopping, Abby,” Frances said. “We’ll search all night if we have to, but we need to be smart about it.”

“We need more people,” Rachel said. She walked over to the bunkhouse and knocked on the door to roust the ranch hands and then walked back.

“Where haven’t you looked?” Clara asked.

“We’ve looked everywhere I can think of,” Frances said.

“Is it possible she fell asleep somewhere?” Clara asked.

That was a question they all pondered for a moment.

“Outside?” Abby asked.

Clara shrugged. “Maybe. It’s miserable inside. Maybe she found a cool place to lie down and fell asleep.”

While they were talking, Frances’s mind clicked through possible places Emma might be. The ranch was a big place and they’d have to wait until daylight to mount a full-scale search if she couldn’t come up with another idea. Then she hit upon something. “Emma said something this morning ’bout making a blackberry pie. Let’s check the blackberry patch down by the river.”

Abby turned to look at her mother. “You can’t pick blackberries in the dark.”

“I know, but maybe she’s hurt and can’t make it back to the house.”

Abby picked up her lantern and started walking. “Let’s go.”

“Wait, Abby. Just a moment, please.”

Abby stopped and began gnawing on her fingernail again.

Frances looked back over her shoulder and shouted instructions to the men now spilling out of the bunkhouse.

“Now we can go,” Frances said. “Everyone, spread out and form a line.”

Once everyone was situated, they began walking toward the river. They all shouted Emma’s name repeatedly and all they heard back was silence. Although the sun was long gone, the heat it created was still present and they were all sweating. And the lanterns didn’t help, their heat only adding to the misery. They walked all the way to the berry patch with no sightings of Emma.

Jesse “Stringbean” Simpson, ranch foreman, held his lantern close to the ground, looking for sign. “Everyone, take it slow and easy,” Jesse said. “We don’t want to clutter the ground up in case we find somethin’.”

Abby and the rest of the group continued shouting for Emma as Jesse worked his way into and through the brush, studying the ground.

“Found something,” Jesse shouted.

Abby rushed over. “Where is she?”

Jesse stood and handed a basket to Abby. “Found that basket and a bunch of spilt blackberries.”

“This is my basket. Where’s Emma, Jesse?” Abby shouted, on the verge of hysteria.

“Don’t know that yet, Miss Abigail.” He picked up his lantern and slowly backed away. “Ya’ll stay there for a minute while I do some lookin’.” With the lantern held low and his eyes focused on the ground Jesse stopped, walked sideways for a bit, then turned and walked west for about a hundred yards before returning. When he looked up, his face was pinched with worry.

“What is it?” Abby asked.

“Looks like four ponies rode right through here,” Jesse said.

“Shod or unshod?” Frances asked.

Jesse looked at the ground for a moment then looked up and said, “Unshod, ma’am.”

Abby let loose a wail that pierced the night as she sank to her knees.

Rachel hurried to her side and knelt down, wrapping her arms around Abby as Frances took charge, telling Jesse to gather the men and saddle up the horses, praying they weren’t too late.

Abby shook out of Rachel’s arms and lurched to her feet. “I’m goin’,” she shouted as she bulled in between Frances and Jesse. She looked Jesse in the eye and said, “Saddle my horse, please.”

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ride hard and fast if we have any hopes of catchin’ them Injuns,” Jesse said.

Abby took a step closer to Jesse. “I can ride as good as anyone on this ranch. She’s my daughter and I’m going.”

Frances saw Jesse looking at her for help and she stepped forward, putting an arm around Abby, and, with a firm hold, steering her away. After a short distance, Frances stopped and turned to face her daughter. She reached up and gently placed her hands on either side of Abby’s face. “I know you’re hurting, but you have to let the men handle this. Jesse is right—they need to ride hard and fast and they can’t do that if they have to worry about protecting you, too.”

Tears rolled down Abby’s face, wetting her mother’s hands. “She’s needs her mother.”

“You’ve got two other children who also need their mother. You have to let the men do their jobs. When Cyrus and the others get back, they can take up the hunt, too. We’ll get her back if we have to move heaven and earth.”

Rachel stepped over to join her mother and sister. “We’re burning time and every second counts, sis. Let the men handle it.”

Abby wiped her nose with the back of her hand and offered the tiniest of nods.

Frances gently thumbed away Abby’s tears before letting her hands drop. She looked over at Jesse and the other men and said, “Saddle up. We’ll pack some provisions while you men get loaded up.”

Rachel took her sister by the hand and led Abby back to her house. Frances offered a few more instructions to the men and offered them bonus pay for their pursuit then she and Clara followed Rachel. Inside, Frances put on a pot of coffee then she and Clara began gathering supplies for the men.

A few minutes later the men, six in all with the others away, stopped by the house. Clara and Frances carried the supplies outside and the men divvied them up and stuffed them down their saddlebags. Frances stepped over, grabbed Jesse by the elbow, and steered him out of earshot. “Jesse, this is hard country and it takes hard men to get the job done.”

Jesse nodded and said, “Yes’m.”

Frances lowered her voice and said, “I have only one request.”

“What’s that, ma’am?”

“I want you to kill every one of those filthy savages who kidnapped Emma.”

Jesse looked off into the dark for a moment, then turned to look at Frances. “What if it be Comanches?”

“I don’t give a damn what they are,” Frances said.

“All of this is assumin’ we find them. Ain’t no guarantee of that,” Jesse said. “They could be thirty, forty miles away by now. We got no idea how long the girl’s been gone.”

Frances spent a moment considering Jesse’s suggestion. She wasn’t impractical, and Jesse had made some good points, but it was a helpless feeling standing around while her granddaughter was getting farther away. The horses snorted and stomped, impatient to get on with their duties now that they were saddled. Frances glanced up at the faces of the men that were just visible in the halo of light produced by the lantern. They looked determined, willing and able to take up the chase, but was that the right course of action? Her thoughts were interrupted when Jesse spoke again.

“And to tell the truth, ma’am,” Jesse said as he waved a hand at the other five riders, “none of us left here are worth a damn at reading sign. Wilcox would be who you’d want.”

“Wilcox isn’t here,” Frances said.

“No, ma’am, he ain’t. We’re mounted and ready to ride, ma’am. Just give the word.”

Frances was torn. Every minute that Emma was gone mattered. But she also knew making a hasty decision and sending the men off on a foolhardy mission could end up costing lives. She clasped and unclasped her hands, unsure of what the right decision was. Sending a telegraph to Fort Sill to alert Cyrus and the military about the kidnapping wasn’t an option because there were no telegraph lines running to the fort and even if there had been, the closest telegraph office was in Dallas, a hundred miles away. After a few more moments of thought Frances, as difficult as it was, made her decision. “Jesse, would you pick a man to ride with you, then head north to find Cyrus and the others and tell them what’s happened?”

Jesse mulled that over for a moment. “I will, ma’am.” He turned and looked at the men. “Clay, you’re with me. Everyone else, unsaddle your horses and get some shut-eye.”

The men dismounted, unloaded the supplies from their saddlebags, and Jesse and Clay Hendershot picked up some jerky and stuffed it into their bags. Both men mounted up and Jesse looked down at Frances and said, “Might be best to keep a close eye out in case them Injuns come back.”

“If they do,” Frances replied, “I’ll give them an up-close look at my ten-gauge.”

“I ’spect you will,” Jesse said before spurring his horse forward.