unclear.
"So he may want me to ride away with him, to go to visit Uncle Martin ..."
"Mother always said he was a devil," Dulcie insisted.
"At least he's our devil, or I hope he is. What other chance do we have? The boys may be able to help us, but they are so few, and what can they do?"
"When will you go?"
"I've no idea. He may decide not to go, and we might go at once. There's something he does not like about the ship that is coming in. Perhaps he doesn't trust those on the ship."
"I wish Mac and Dal would come," Gretchen said. "I'm so tired of all this! I want to go home!"
"We all do, but there's no help for it now."
"But why did it happen to us?" Gretchen was near tears.
"We were in the way, there's no other answer. I doubt they had any such plans, but then riding south they decided to raid your ranch, and there we were. They may be thinking of selling us into slavery, but they may change their minds and do whatever they wish to do right here. We have to be prepared for that. But remember - the boys are out there in the woods, and some one of them is watching, you can be sure of that. If the worst comes they would come in shooting, you can be sure of it."
"They'd be killed!"
"I think they are prepared to run that risk. We will just have to wait."
Under the glaring sun the beach was hot and white, the sky overhead a misty blue, misty with rising heat. Turning from where they were seated on the sand they could look back at the wagons, stark and still against the skyline.
Kate knew she must keep cool, she must think, think, think! Somewhere there was an answer. There had to be.
"I wonder where the boys are?" Dulcie said. "I wonder where they are right now?"
Mac lay on his belly on a low sand-hill covered with stunted brush. It was an unlikely place for a man to hide, but good for that very reason. What he needed was a good view of Ashford's camp, such as it was.
They had simply drawn up their wagons on the sand and corralled the horses close by. The oxen had been led out on the grass no more than sixty yards from where Mac lay.
There were seven girls and women down there, Mac thought, Kate, Dulcie, Gretchen, Mrs. Atherton, and three whom he did not know. They had walked down to the edge of the water now and were bathing their hands and feet and faces. Several were making an effort to comb their hair, which had become tangled and messy. Kate was sitting with the Atherton woman. At least, he guessed it was she. The age was about right.
There were two guards on the beach about thirty yards from the girls. There were several other men gathered around a blanket, playing cards. A couple who were probably cooks were preparing food. He counted fifteen men ... there should be more.
Had some eluded him? Were they out in the woods now, trying to track down the Travens? There had been times, of course, when their observation of the Ashford group had been less than perfect. Occasionally during the storm they had been hiding out or seeking shelter, and they had to prepare food from time to time.
Well, Mac reflected, until something happened, that chore would bother them no longer. Their limited supplies were gone except for a smidgeon of coffee.
The nearest town was probably Refugio, but whatever happened here would happen soon, and they dared not risk letting one man ride into town and back, which could take the better part of a day.
Mac, watching the men before him, trying to get a count, had reached his position too late to see Sam Hall go into the brush.
Sam was a big, burly man, and he was collecting wood for the cooking fires. He had gathered an armful of dry wood and was walking back, following a game trail toward the shore, when he saw a boot-track, and it was fresh.
The track was obviously made since the rain, and a blade of grass was just rising from where it had been crushed down. Sam knew that might take minutes, but not much longer. Probably less than an hour, more likely less than half that time. Sam
"So he may want me to ride away with him, to go to visit Uncle Martin ..."
"Mother always said he was a devil," Dulcie insisted.
"At least he's our devil, or I hope he is. What other chance do we have? The boys may be able to help us, but they are so few, and what can they do?"
"When will you go?"
"I've no idea. He may decide not to go, and we might go at once. There's something he does not like about the ship that is coming in. Perhaps he doesn't trust those on the ship."
"I wish Mac and Dal would come," Gretchen said. "I'm so tired of all this! I want to go home!"
"We all do, but there's no help for it now."
"But why did it happen to us?" Gretchen was near tears.
"We were in the way, there's no other answer. I doubt they had any such plans, but then riding south they decided to raid your ranch, and there we were. They may be thinking of selling us into slavery, but they may change their minds and do whatever they wish to do right here. We have to be prepared for that. But remember - the boys are out there in the woods, and some one of them is watching, you can be sure of that. If the worst comes they would come in shooting, you can be sure of it."
"They'd be killed!"
"I think they are prepared to run that risk. We will just have to wait."
Under the glaring sun the beach was hot and white, the sky overhead a misty blue, misty with rising heat. Turning from where they were seated on the sand they could look back at the wagons, stark and still against the skyline.
Kate knew she must keep cool, she must think, think, think! Somewhere there was an answer. There had to be.
"I wonder where the boys are?" Dulcie said. "I wonder where they are right now?"
Mac lay on his belly on a low sand-hill covered with stunted brush. It was an unlikely place for a man to hide, but good for that very reason. What he needed was a good view of Ashford's camp, such as it was.
They had simply drawn up their wagons on the sand and corralled the horses close by. The oxen had been led out on the grass no more than sixty yards from where Mac lay.
There were seven girls and women down there, Mac thought, Kate, Dulcie, Gretchen, Mrs. Atherton, and three whom he did not know. They had walked down to the edge of the water now and were bathing their hands and feet and faces. Several were making an effort to comb their hair, which had become tangled and messy. Kate was sitting with the Atherton woman. At least, he guessed it was she. The age was about right.
There were two guards on the beach about thirty yards from the girls. There were several other men gathered around a blanket, playing cards. A couple who were probably cooks were preparing food. He counted fifteen men ... there should be more.
Had some eluded him? Were they out in the woods now, trying to track down the Travens? There had been times, of course, when their observation of the Ashford group had been less than perfect. Occasionally during the storm they had been hiding out or seeking shelter, and they had to prepare food from time to time.
Well, Mac reflected, until something happened, that chore would bother them no longer. Their limited supplies were gone except for a smidgeon of coffee.
The nearest town was probably Refugio, but whatever happened here would happen soon, and they dared not risk letting one man ride into town and back, which could take the better part of a day.
Mac, watching the men before him, trying to get a count, had reached his position too late to see Sam Hall go into the brush.
Sam was a big, burly man, and he was collecting wood for the cooking fires. He had gathered an armful of dry wood and was walking back, following a game trail toward the shore, when he saw a boot-track, and it was fresh.
The track was obviously made since the rain, and a blade of grass was just rising from where it had been crushed down. Sam knew that might take minutes, but not much longer. Probably less than an hour, more likely less than half that time. Sam
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