Читать книгу The Rocking R Ranch - Tim Washburn - Страница 20

CHAPTER 15

Seth was unable to sit a horse with his blistered bottom so the three of them—Seth, Eli, and Win—were making slow yet steady progress heading back to the ranch afoot. Leading their horses, the three started around daybreak and were now in sight of the Red River. There had been no discussion about who the three men Win and Eli had killed were or where they might have been from. Dead was dead, and the rest of that stuff didn’t matter. Eli thought they were lucky they came along when they did because he had no doubt the three men had other devious deeds in mind. And if they’d tried to do whatever it was to Seth, how many other children had endured the same? Not anymore, Eli thought.

The water level in the river was up slightly from yesterday’s brief shower, but it was little more than ankle deep in most places with a few deeper pools thrown into the mix. Eli didn’t know who’d given the stream its name but whoever it was had nailed it—the water was muddy and brackish, and so salty it was unusable most of the year. What the riverbed lacked in water, it more than made up for it in the amount of quicksand which littered the entire Red River basin. It would suck a cow or horse in so deep the only way to get them out was to put a rope on them and pull them out. Luckily, the three avoided any quicksand and a couple of water moccasins sunning on the sand and crossed safely.

As they were climbing up the far bank and back onto ranch land, Eli’s heart stuttered when the roar of gunfire shattered the silence. The quick tat, tat, tat, tat could be only one thing—the Gatling gun. The three turned their horses loose to find their own way back to the barn and quickened their pace, weaving through a thick stand of blackjacks, not knowing if the ranch was under attack by a swarm of warring Indians or a roving pack of ruthless raiders. When the weapon didn’t sound again, Eli and Win glanced at each other, confused. They paused at the tree line and scanned the surrounding area. A large swath of land around the ranch buildings had been cleared of all trees and brush to allow for a wider field of fire and the only thing Eli could see were the heat waves shimmering in the distance. There were no clouds of dust indicating a group of invaders and the gun hadn’t sounded again. Hoping younger eyes might be sharper, Eli leaned in close to Seth and whispered, “See anything?”

Seth shook his head. “I reckon they’re just horsin’ around.”

“I hope you reckon right,” Eli said. He led the other two out of the woods. Hugging the tree line just in case, the three worked their way around to the side of the barn and saw Percy bent over the Gatling gun.

“What the hell, Percy?” Eli asked as they walked over to the wagon and stopped.

Percy stood and said, “Makin’ sure the gun’s workin’. I see you found Seth, proving miracles can still happen.”

“Funny,” Eli said. “Are you anticipating an all-out assault on the ranch?”

When Percy didn’t immediately answer, Eli asked the question again.

Percy shot his brother a glare and climbed out of the wagon. Percy winced when he saw Seth’s bruised face, but he’d wait to get the story from Eli. He ruffled Seth’s hair and said, “Why don’t you go tell your ma you’re back so she’ll stop worryin’.”

“Are you goin’ to shoot the gun again?” Seth asked, his eyes alight with excitement.

“Shootin’s over. Now, go on, your ma’s worried sick,” Percy said.

Seth hung his head and limped toward home. Once he was out of earshot, Percy looked at Eli and Win and said, “Indians took Emma sometime last night. We’re headed out to look for her.”

“Which Injuns?” Win asked, his mustache and beard so thick you couldn’t see his mouth move.

Percy stared off in the distance for a moment, then refocused his gaze on the two men. “Comanche or Kiowa.”

“Not a hair’s difference between them,” Eli said. He looked down and nudged the dirt with the toe of his boot for a moment then looked up at his brother. “You’ve heard the horror stories of what they do to their captives.”

Percy sighed. “I know. Only hope is to find her quick.”

“Wagon’s gonna slow us down,” Win said.

“Can’t be helped,” Percy said.

“Want me to accompany you on the search?” Eli asked.

“No,” Percy replied. “Best you stay and keep an eye on the place.” He nodded toward Jesse and Hendershot who were busy with the wagon and said, “Them two are stayin’ back.”

“What do ya need me to do?” Win asked.

Percy pondered the question for a moment. Win was a hell of a tracker, much better than he was, but the two Mexicans could cut sign almost as good as Win could. However, Win had fought in his share of Indian scrapes and was deadly with a rifle in his hand. “Probably be best if you went along, Win,” Percy said. “The more eyes lookin’, the better. Accordin’ to Colonel Davidson the Comanche are gettin’ mighty frisky.”

“Why doesn’t Davidson do something to address the problem?” Eli asked.

“Army’s goin’ to but he didn’t know when,” Percy said. “I reckon he’s got his hands full keepin’ what Indians he does have corralled.”

“Ought to take their damn horses away,” Win said. “That’d keep ’em from ridin’ off.”

“That’s his problem to worry about,” Percy said. “We got our own problems.” He looked at Eli and asked, “What happened to Seth?”

Eli told Percy what had happened, including Seth’s branding.

“Jeezus,” Percy said under his breath. “Where are those three bastards now?”

“They remain right where we found them,” Eli said. “You can rest assured they will never abduct another child.”

Percy nodded. “Good. Any idea of who they were?”

“No, nor do I particularly care,” Eli said. “When are you leaving?”

“As soon as I can get things squared away,” Percy said.

“What are the odds of quickly finding Emma?” Eli asked.

“Not good,” Percy replied. “It’s wide open country out west and finding anything will be a damn chore, much less a bunch of sneaky Injuns on the run.” He pushed his hat back and wiped his sweaty brow with his shirtsleeve. “I need to go do a few things before leaving.” Percy issued instructions about what he wanted done and turned for his house. He walked by the corral to see if either of his two sons, Chauncey or Franklin, were around but he saw no sign of them. Probably out fishing, he thought. Walking up the stairs to the front porch, Percy paused, took a deep breath, and pushed through the door.

“You’re back,” his sixteen-year-old daughter, Amanda, said. Tall and willowy with long dark hair and blue eyes, she was the spitting image of her mother when she had been young.

“Not for long,” he said, leaning down to kiss Amanda on the cheek.

“Goin’ out to look for Emma?”

Percy nodded. “How you holdin’ up?”

“I’m scared, Papa. That coulda been me out there.”

“Can’t live your life running scared all the time. How’s your ma?”

“She ain’t gettin’ any better.”

“She isn’t.”

“You say ain’t all the time,” Amanda said.

“Doesn’t mean I want my kids sayin’ it.”

Amanda rolled her eyes and Percy smiled before shuffling toward the bedroom they’d added on three or four years ago when things got too tight. The curtains were drawn, the room dark. Percy had met Mary Blalock in San Antonio at the tail end of his time with the Rangers. And she had been a beauty with long dark hair, blue eyes, and a wicked sense of humor. But the person now lying in the bed in front of him bore little resemblance to the woman he’d met those many years ago. Percy inhaled a deep breath and released it before stepping into the room.

“Mary, you asleep?” Percy asked.

“You back already?” Mary asked, her voice slow and slurred by laudanum, a powerful drug derived from dissolving opium powder in alcohol.

“Yeah, but I have to head back out.” Percy stepped over to the window and cracked the curtain open a tad so that he could see.

“Emma?” Mary asked.

“Yes,” Percy replied as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. He reached out and covered Mary’s hand with his own. “How are you feelin’?”

“Poorly. Can’t use my left arm at all.”

Percy had brought in doctors from all over, but none could say with any specificity what was ailing his wife. The most common response was that Mary might get better or her condition could continue to worsen. Thanks very much, Percy had thought at the time. “Want to try and get out of bed to walk around a bit?”

“I can’t, Percy. My eyes . . . are so blurry . . . can’t hardly see and . . . can’t feel . . . my left leg at all.”

The two sat in silence for several moments and Percy’s mind drifted to the task ahead. The odds of finding Emma were long, but knowing his father, they would ride to the ends of the earth before even thinking about riding home.

“Percy?” Mary said, drawing Percy away from his thoughts.

“Yes?”

Mary withdrew her right hand from under his and reached out, placing a hand on Percy’s gun belt.

“You have . . . your pistol?”

Percy had a pretty good idea where this was going. “Yes.”

“Please . . . I beg you . . . please . . . shoot me. I can’t stand this . . . misery,” she said, with a feeble tug of his gun belt.

It was a request Mary had made before and Percy knew she was in agony, but he couldn’t bring it upon himself to kill his wife and the mother of his children. “I can’t do it, Mary.”

“Then leave me . . . your pistol and I’ll . . . do it myself.”

Percy stood and leaned over and kissed his wife on the forehead. “I can’t do that, neither.” Percy turned and walked out of the bedroom and then out the front door, tears streaming down his cheeks. He’d debated the issue a thousand times in his mind and, if it had been just the two of them, he might have done it. But Amanda had been the one caring for her mother and the thought of asking her to help clean up the aftermath of a bloody suicide by gun was more than Percy could tolerate.

Percy stopped, dried his eyes, and returned to the house. He stuck his head in the door and asked Amanda to step outside for a moment and she did. “Mandy,” Percy said, “your ma’s in terrible shape.”

“I know that,” Amanda snapped. “I’m the one takin’ care of her.”

“I know, and I appreciate it mightily.” Percy paused, trying to frame the next few statements in his head. After a moment or two he said, “Where do you keep the bottle of laudanum you’ve been givin’ her?”

“On a shelf in the kitchen.”

“I want you to leave the bottle on her bedside table,” Percy said. “And when that one runs out, put a new bottle out and just keep doin’ it.”

“Until when?” Amanda asked.

Percy took a deep breath and released it. “Until it’s over.” Expecting anger, tears, or outright hysteria, Percy was astonished when Amanda simply said, “Thank you.”

Father and daughter hugged and that was when the dam broke, Amanda’s tears wetting his shirt. Percy rubbed her back and talked to her. The last two years had been a hellish nightmare as Mary’s health declined gradually enough that hope for a recovery lingered, stretching on for months. There was no such hope now.

“How long are you . . . goin’ to be gone?” Amanda asked between sobs.

“A couple of weeks. Could be longer. I ain’t got any idea how long it’s going to take.”

Amanda lifted her head and looked at her father. “You said ‘ain’t.’”

Percy smiled a small smile. He rubbed her back and said, “I gotta go.”

With one final squeeze, she broke the embrace and stepped back, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Find Emma, Papa.”

“We will, however long it takes. If I don’t make it back in time, you tell your uncle to put your ma up on the hill with your brother and sister.”

Amanda nodded.

With a heavy heart, Percy turned and headed for the wagon.