Chapter 33
33
G ideon watched from behind a cedar as Walters disappeared into the opening. Should he follow? Most of the smaller mines only had one entrance, but did Walters know of another way out? The grass and remnants of snow in the area didn’t show enough activity for this to be an active mine with workers coming and going daily. Must be abandoned.
Then why had Walters gone in? If he was involved in something unscrupulous with Jenson, which seemed likely, could this be their headquarters?
Or maybe he was on the wrong track altogether. Maybe they had nothing to do with Leah, and Jenson really was searching for his crazy wife. Gideon had never felt so unsure of how to handle a situation. Always before, he’d been able to trust his instincts and watch the signs to make the right decision.
But nothing was clear here. This cave could be only a drunk’s hideaway.
A sound from the road pulled his attention. He moved behind a large rock just before a wagon pulled down the little trail. The man driving wore a straw hat pulled low, so Gideon could only make out an eye patch and an unkempt beard. The driver reined the horses to a stop in front of the mine entrance, set the brake, jumped down, and strode into the black hole.
Who was he? Possibly the other man the bartender had mentioned? Avery or Anson…or maybe Ashe? Yes, Ashe. Gideon hadn’t gotten a clear view of the back of the wagon, but he’d seen a few odds and ends—a coil of rope, a couple of bottles, and some other things he couldn’t see clearly.
Now he needed to find out what the men were up to in the abandoned mine. Was it merely free lodging? Surely the nights were too cold for that to be the case. He would wait a little while and see if anyone came or went. As long as he could see the wagon, they wouldn’t be leaving without his notice.
The wait nearly drove him mad. But about ten minutes later, his heartbeat kicked up a notch when Walters appeared at the opening carrying two wood crates, which he loaded into the back of the wagon. The other man wasn’t far behind, lugging another two boxes. The containers weren’t identical in size, but all were the kind used to package canned goods and other supplies.
Both men went back in the cave, and Gideon crept closer to get a look in the crates. He’d only moved about ten feet, when voices sounded from the opening. Walters appeared again carrying a wooden barrel. The man he assumed was Ashe came right behind with another crate. Again they placed the items in the wagon and disappeared back in the cave.
Were they packing up their hideout to leave? Or did the containers have stolen objects? He needed to get a look in them, but with all the activity around the wagon, it was going to be hard to get close without being seen.
Then Jenson emerged from the mine carrying a woman over his shoulder. Gideon’s blood ran cold. He’d recognize that elegant body anywhere, even hanging almost upside down from an oaf like Jenson.
The man tossed her into the wagon like a bag of sugar. Anger coursed through his veins.
Leah wiggled around until she sat upright. She was gagged and her arms bound. Likely her feet, too, since Jenson had been carrying her. The dirty dogs thought they had to tie up a woman like a calf at branding. Her hair was wild and had mostly fallen from its tie, and she looked worn out. What had they done to her?
Every muscle in him wanted to attack. Shoot every one of ’em and ride with Leah straight back to the ranch.
He took a breath and released it. He had to be smart about this. He carried his six-shooter on his hip, his hunting knife, and a smaller knife in his boot. Too bad he’d not thought to bring his rifle, or a horse, for that matter.
If only he weren’t alone. An ache hit his chest like he hadn’t experienced in months. If Abel were here, they could take on the men together. With his sidekick, he could handle anything. Why, God? Why did you take him away?
Jenson’s sharp command pulled Gideon’s focus back to the scene in front of him, but he was too far away to understand the words. Walter climbed in the back of the wagon next to Leah, and the other men took seats in the front.
Jenson sat with a Sharps Carbine in his lap, and was a much more imposing figure than the smaller Ashe who held the reins. The little man snapped the leather hard, though, and the horses lurched forward.
Gideon’s heart galloped through his chest. The men were leaving and he still didn’t have a plan.
He moved from rock to tree to bush, staying inside the line of foliage. The wagon followed the driveway, then turned left on the road toward Helena. Away from Butte City.
They were headed in the direction of Fort Benton. Then on to Richmond? Panic pulled his muscles tighter than a deer hide on a stretcher. They had to be taking her back to that louse. The man who planned to kill her.
Through the trees, he saw Jenson turn in the wagon seat and speak. Then Walters reached up to jerk the gag from Leah’s mouth. Were they setting her free?
But no, Walters raised a pistol from his lap so Leah—and Gideon—had a clear view of it. So help him, if any one of them hurt a hair on her head…
The horses pulling the wagon settled into a steady gait, and the landmarks became more familiar as they went. This was the main trail between Butte and Helena, the Mullan Road they called it. At one point it traveled through the edge of a property that neighbored the Bryant Ranch.
Should he take the time to find his old friend John Stands-alone and recruit help? With only himself against three men, he could deal with but one person at a time, while the others would have ample opportunity to hurt Leah. He couldn’t risk attacking without more manpower or a smart strategy.
But it could take an hour to hike up to John’s cabin, then the time to ride back. And what if Jenson and his men didn’t stay on the road? What if they had another hideout somewhere close?
Or what if they did something to Leah while he was gone? He swore under his breath. He would never forgive himself.
Through the trees ahead, a wooden structure appeared. Another wagon? But that wasn’t the road. Gideon crept through the woods toward it, still keeping the wagon in sight between the trees.
The structure was an old cabin, not more than a shack, really. And no sign of inhabitants. Should he ignore it to keep the wagon in his sights? But what if there was something or someone inside who could help him? He couldn’t risk the chance for reinforcements, and he could easily make up ground after a quick search.
The old wood door stuck at first, then the hinges released a shrill complaint as he tugged it open. There was no movement inside, just a dank odor and a mostly barren room.
He stepped in, scanning the space. A pile of furs lay in a corner near the fireplace. A table, bowl, and pipe sat against the opposite wall. But his gaze zeroed in on what hung on the wall beside the door—a bow and quiver of arrows. It must be Sioux, from the decorative paint on the bow and the beadwork on the quiver. Matching feathers hung from the ends of both pieces.
And then his eyes drifted to something he hadn’t noticed before. A rattlesnake skin, complete with the head and rattles. Not the almost translucent kind a snake sheds naturally, but the kind of hide that was killed, skinned, and cured.
Urgency gripped him again, and he tore his eyes from the hide. He grabbed the bow and arrows and headed out the door. Hopefully, they hadn’t rotted with age. They needed to be strong and sharp enough to find their mark—quickly and silently.
He now had a plan, and he sprinted through the woods to catch up to the wagon. All those days he’d spent as a boy with John Stands-alone came back to him in an exhilarating rush. With the native weapons slung over his shoulder, he melted into the land, each step landing on the balls of his feet so his boots were silent against the damp ground.
Soon, he found his target—the wagon—and crept past it until he found a thick tree with a fork in the branches at eye-level. He touched his Colt revolver to make sure it was loose in the holster. Good.
After examining the arrows, he selected the straightest. Placing it against the string, he drew it back and forced his mind to filter through long-ago memories. String between thumb and forefinger, chin tucked, nose almost touching the string. He closed his eye farthest from the string, and focused on the wagon in front of him.
For a moment, he followed the wagon with the bow, gauging its speed and how far ahead of his target he would need to aim. Then he chose a point of aim where the wide flint tip of the arrow should strike Walter’s chest. Without allowing the bow to move even a fraction, he released the arrow.
He didn’t have time to watch the arrow fly to its mark, but drew his Colt and dodged to a closer tree. As he took aim on Jenson, Walters doubled over in the wagon. Looked like the arrow hit its target. A surge of pride washed through him, but he didn’t have time to glory.
He refocused his aim on the big man in the front of the wagon and squeezed the trigger.
Time slowed before him. The boom of the pistol sounded, the acrid smoke filled the air. Jenson jerked, then reached for his left shoulder and turned Gideon’s direction.
Time regained its speed in a fury as Jenson and Ashe both fired at him. He used his shots sparingly, only when he had clear aim. He just had five bullets left.
A scream pierced the gun fire and his heart lept, but he couldn’t shift his focus from the three men. They had ducked low in the wagon now, using the wood as cover. Did Jenson jerk after Gideon’s next shot? Maybe, but the man kept sending fire toward him.
They seemed to have an unlimited supply of bullets, unlike his situation. He was down to one shot, if he’d counted correctly, and still had three ruthless men to deal with. Surely he’d wounded Walters and Jenson, but the men continued to open fire on him.
What else could he do? Where could he turn? God, I need some help here! His gaze moved to where Leah had been sitting, but she’d ducked low in the wagon, too, and he could only see the top of her brown hair. God, please!
He sank back out of sight, fully covered by the tree. Panic choked out his breath, but he was powerless to stop it. What now?