Harper had nearly fallen from his own horse a couple of times.
Hobbling their captive’s ankles, making sure he was bound tightly enough so he couldn’t escape, Elliott and one of his men hit their bedrolls while the third man kept guard.
Harper lay on the ground without the benefit of a blanket and stared up at the ceiling of the cave in which they’d taken refuge. His bonds were so tight his fingers were losing feeling, but he didn’t think they’d accommodate him by loosing the rawhide thongs. The only compassion--if you could call it by so gentle a name--they showed him was when he had to piss. It was difficult to relieve himself with his wrists tied, but he’d gotten fairly good at it. He hoped the late morning meal of beans and tortillas they’d shoved at him wouldn’t start working on him any time soon.
He closed his eyes, wondering what Peyton and Snake were doing. He knew they’d try to follow him, thinking--as he had--that it had been Rangers who’d taken him, hoping to somehow free him. By now, he was sure Snake would have reasoned it wasn’t a lawman, but Dalton who had had him snatched. That the old woman would attempt a rescue, he had no doubt and that worried him. He drifted off to a restless sleep thinking of Peyton riding hell bent for leather toward him, her face filled with terror.
* * * *
Peyton took aim at the rattlesnake and blew its head off, easing Harper’s gun back into the holster before turning to Starnes. “Didn’t you hear it whistling at you, Jack?” she asked.
Starnes peeled off his hat and armed the sweat from his brow. “Yes, ma’am, I heard it. You beat me to the draw.”
“Lucky shot,” Snake guffawed.
Once more Peyton took the gun from the holster, pointed it at the arm of a cactus and blew away the top of the spiny appendage. She holstered the gun and kicked her mount into motion. “Lucky shot my foot,” she commented.
Snake gave an unladylike snort and drummed her heels into the sides of her own mare. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that, girl?” she shouted, but Peyton was already too far ahead to hear.
Starnes let the women get a bit ahead of him before nudging his gelding to catch up to them. He glanced at the path that led to Swift Albert Hancock’s hideout and hoped the women didn’t notice it. There was no way he’d ride into that den of thieves and murderers with two females in tow though Al was a nodding acquaintance. The trail they’d been following most likely led that way, but he was fairly sure the men and their captive were long gone before now. The rain that had caught him and the women would have stopped the men holding Harper as well and washed out tracks Starnes no longer needed to see. Like Harper’s wife said, they knew where the men were headed.
They stopped at night fall of the fourth day on the trail and had a plate of beans and a few bites of jerky. The coffee was so strong you could have dissolved a knife blade in it, but it helped to revive them as they sat around their campfire. Pushing their horses as they were was beginning to worry Starnes and he had it in his mind to get fresh mounts in the next village they came to. Glancing across at Peyton, he smiled slightly. The woman had started off at Tampico as a concern to him for it was obvious she was not a horsewoman, but now, she rode the little roan as though she’d been born and bred in the saddle. He wondered how she’d do with a sturdier, bigger animal.
“What you thinking, Jack?” Snake asked him.
“I been considering that we need to change up on our horses,” he replied and saw Peyton look around at him. “We can’t keep up this pace without harming the beasts.”
“I was considering that, too,” Snake said. “Seems like a wise decision to me.”
“You gonna be all right with that, Miss Peyton?” Starnes asked.
“I’ll have to be, don’t you think?” Peyton countered.
“Good woman,” Snake complimented then stretched out on her bedroll and
Hobbling their captive’s ankles, making sure he was bound tightly enough so he couldn’t escape, Elliott and one of his men hit their bedrolls while the third man kept guard.
Harper lay on the ground without the benefit of a blanket and stared up at the ceiling of the cave in which they’d taken refuge. His bonds were so tight his fingers were losing feeling, but he didn’t think they’d accommodate him by loosing the rawhide thongs. The only compassion--if you could call it by so gentle a name--they showed him was when he had to piss. It was difficult to relieve himself with his wrists tied, but he’d gotten fairly good at it. He hoped the late morning meal of beans and tortillas they’d shoved at him wouldn’t start working on him any time soon.
He closed his eyes, wondering what Peyton and Snake were doing. He knew they’d try to follow him, thinking--as he had--that it had been Rangers who’d taken him, hoping to somehow free him. By now, he was sure Snake would have reasoned it wasn’t a lawman, but Dalton who had had him snatched. That the old woman would attempt a rescue, he had no doubt and that worried him. He drifted off to a restless sleep thinking of Peyton riding hell bent for leather toward him, her face filled with terror.
* * * *
Peyton took aim at the rattlesnake and blew its head off, easing Harper’s gun back into the holster before turning to Starnes. “Didn’t you hear it whistling at you, Jack?” she asked.
Starnes peeled off his hat and armed the sweat from his brow. “Yes, ma’am, I heard it. You beat me to the draw.”
“Lucky shot,” Snake guffawed.
Once more Peyton took the gun from the holster, pointed it at the arm of a cactus and blew away the top of the spiny appendage. She holstered the gun and kicked her mount into motion. “Lucky shot my foot,” she commented.
Snake gave an unladylike snort and drummed her heels into the sides of her own mare. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that, girl?” she shouted, but Peyton was already too far ahead to hear.
Starnes let the women get a bit ahead of him before nudging his gelding to catch up to them. He glanced at the path that led to Swift Albert Hancock’s hideout and hoped the women didn’t notice it. There was no way he’d ride into that den of thieves and murderers with two females in tow though Al was a nodding acquaintance. The trail they’d been following most likely led that way, but he was fairly sure the men and their captive were long gone before now. The rain that had caught him and the women would have stopped the men holding Harper as well and washed out tracks Starnes no longer needed to see. Like Harper’s wife said, they knew where the men were headed.
They stopped at night fall of the fourth day on the trail and had a plate of beans and a few bites of jerky. The coffee was so strong you could have dissolved a knife blade in it, but it helped to revive them as they sat around their campfire. Pushing their horses as they were was beginning to worry Starnes and he had it in his mind to get fresh mounts in the next village they came to. Glancing across at Peyton, he smiled slightly. The woman had started off at Tampico as a concern to him for it was obvious she was not a horsewoman, but now, she rode the little roan as though she’d been born and bred in the saddle. He wondered how she’d do with a sturdier, bigger animal.
“What you thinking, Jack?” Snake asked him.
“I been considering that we need to change up on our horses,” he replied and saw Peyton look around at him. “We can’t keep up this pace without harming the beasts.”
“I was considering that, too,” Snake said. “Seems like a wise decision to me.”
“You gonna be all right with that, Miss Peyton?” Starnes asked.
“I’ll have to be, don’t you think?” Peyton countered.
“Good woman,” Snake complimented then stretched out on her bedroll and
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