Black Ransom (23 page)

TWENTY-TWO

“WHAT DO YOU
think they're going to do with us?” Evaline apprehensively asked Janette.

It was a question she had asked before—many times—seeking an answer that Janette was unable to provide.

The days leading up to the payoff of the “ransom” passed quietly at the cabin. Janette Watson and Evaline Harrison spent most of their time in the one bedroom, checked on occasionally by Cora, whose actions were carefully watched by Ehron Lee and Ward. Ehron Lee still didn't have total trust in Cora and his doubt had become shared by Ward. The bedroom was a small enclosure, and secure; there was no window or opening through which the women could attempt an escape, only the door leading out into the hallway. There was just the one entrance and exit from the cabin itself: the main door between the kitchen and front room. During the day, at least one of the men kept watch, and the men slept in shifts throughout the night so that one was always awake. Never was Cora permitted to watch the two women alone. No reason was given to her, but none was necessary. She understood that she was not trusted.

As the older of the two hostages, Janette Watson comforted Evaline as best she could, offering vague words of encouragement though she shared the girl's uncertainty, reassuring Evaline that everything would be all right and even boldly demanding the confirmation of that assurance from Cora when she would come into the room with some food and the pitcher of water that was brought to them daily, drawn from the clear-water stream just beyond the property.

Cora knew that whatever words she might have spoken would not be convincing, and each time she would leave the room as she'd entered it, silently, without acknowledging Janette's entreaties. Then, through the closed door she would hear Evaline start to weep and would feel helpless and fight back her own tears.

She just wanted this terrible experience to be over as, day by day, she dealt with the overwhelming guilt of her own part in the ordeal these women were going through.

The men mainly sat out their wait by playing cards. Boredom and the anticipation of what was to come soon began to weigh heavily on Ehron Lee and Ward, though both managed to deal with it, a patience nurtured from their years of imprisonment. Jess Colfax, on the other hand, had neither experienced prison nor possessed the same sense of purpose as his companions, and his restlessness was more pronounced. He would have much preferred to be planning for another bank score, where at least he could see some reward for his trouble. Growing impatient and frustrated, he was drinking heavily to pass the hours and had started to complain that he was putting his neck out for no payback.

On this day his face had a flushed, fevered look and it was evident that his tolerance had been exhausted.

“Yuh coulda rode off with Randy, Jess,” Ward reminded his companion, eyeing him coldly. “It was your decision to stay.”

“Yeah, and maybe I shoulda thought it out more,” Jess grumbled. He sloshed back more whiskey from the jug on the table. “Don't know what the hell I was thinkin'.”

“Don't care if'n yuh wanta have a drink, just go careful with it,” Ward advised.

Jess gave him a blank stare.

He growled, “Yuh tryin' to reform me?” then defiantly pulled back another good swallow.

“You'd be smart to find some other way to blow off steam,” Ehron Lee said to him.

Jess veered his eyes toward the closed bedroom door and wore a wet, wicked smile. “Could blow off more'n that . . . with what's in the next room.”

Sitting in the front room, within earshot, Cora heard him utter those words, noticed his shifting expression, and felt herself stiffen anxiously.

Ehron Lee moved to break the tension.

“Don't start gettin' none of them thoughts,” he told Jess sternly.

Jess responded with a tightening of his features, then he lowered his head and mumbled drunkenly, “Tired of just sittin' 'round this stinkin' place. Tired of eatin' the same stinkin' canned grub. Tired of the same stinkin' company.”

Jess slapped his cards down on the table without finishing his hand and stood up. He staggered the few feet over to the counter and leaned against its surface to steady himself. Both Ehron Lee and Ward watched him carefully. Cora, too, eyed him warily. Jess was agitated, and in such a state, mixed with alcohol, his mood could turn unpredictable.

“Whyn't you go sleep it off?” Ward suggested.

Jess spoke miserably, his words slurred. “Sleep it off, that's all yuh can say? Sleep
what
off? Got yuh outta a tough spot, Ward, and now I'm goin' loco waitin' for a payoff I ain't gonna get.”

“Once this is over, you'll get a payoff, Jess,” Ward said calmly.

Jess was too drunk to detect the odd inflection in Ward's voice, though Ehron Lee and Cora noticed, and instantly suspected what Ward intended. Jess merely raised his lolling head to him.

Ward explained patiently, “There's 'nuff cash here for all of us: Burrows, Cora, you, and me to ride south. Head down to Mexico. Plenty to do there.”

Jess seemed oblivious to what Ward was saying. The high-proof whiskey demolished what remained of his comprehension with the impact of an eight-gauge. He was swaying and his eyes were heavy-lidded. Finally, rocking on his feet, he made his way to the unoccupied bedroom to pass out.

There was silence in the cabin for the next several moments. Ehron Lee kept his focus on the playing cards he held in his hand. Then he slowly lifted his eyes and looked directly at Ward. Ward returned the gaze and nodded.

“He'll behave himself,” he said quietly, adding, “But when this is over, there's only one payoff he'll be gettin'.”

TWENTY-THREE

GEORGE WATSON HAD
taken the stage from Allensfield to Colbert City. Judge Harrison did the same, though he rode in from Bolton. They arrived a day apart from each other, which was how the kidnappers had planned it.

Judge Harrison reached town first, on the morning stage. He asked directions from the fellow who ran the livery stable. Its neatly painted signage proclaimed:
TRUSWELL'S LIVERY, HORSES AND BUGGIES FOR HIRE
. He got directions on how to get out to Border Pass and where he could find The Skeleton Tree. The stable owner, Bob Truswell, regarded Harrison curiously; it was an odd request since the area was so desolate and rarely traveled—and though he himself didn't believe in such things, as a lifelong resident of the town, he was well acquainted with the superstition surrounding The Skeleton Tree. But it was none of his concern and he provided the information and then rented Harrison a buggy, even though he suggested to the judge that the trail was pretty rough and better traversed by a horse. Harrison merely forced a smile and said he enjoyed his comforts. He rode off, leaving Bob Truswell to scratch his head.

The following day, the afternoon stage brought forth George Watson. He had traveled a greater distance and was tired enough from the long ride to consider settling in the town overnight and starting out early the next morning. He had another long, even more difficult ride ahead of him. He knew, however, that was not a luxury he could afford. He, too, would need a way to get out to the appointed rendezvous and was directed by a citizen to Truswell's Livery to see about acquiring a horse for a few days. Once the transaction was completed, Watson asked the same directions as had Judge Harrison, leaving Bob Truswell truly puzzled. In all his years as stable manager, he couldn't recall even once being asked how to get to Border Pass and, specifically, The Skeleton Tree. Now within a day of each other,
two
queries had come his way.

“Had a fella come in yesterday askin' the same thing,” Truswell said as he readied the horse the stranger had chosen.

“That so?” Watson said with muted interest. He was curious, though not inquisitive as he thought it likely might be Marshal Buck Leighton who had passed through, per their arrangement.

“Yeah, wouldn't think much 'bout it, only that just ain't a place people 'round here tend to go. 'Fact, most everyone I know stays clear of Border Pass.”

“Well, I'm not from around here,” Watson said brusquely. Noticing how Truswell was regarding him with suspicion, he muttered an explanation. “Gotta meet some folks there, then we'll be ridin' on.”

“Strange place for a meetin',” Truswell commented.

Watson half smiled. “Reckon. But these are strange people.”

Once again, realizing it was none of his affair, Truswell obliged with the directions, then ambled out onto the street to watch as George Watson rode off, heading west.

* * *

Jess Colfax had a hankering for fresh meat. Farther out toward the mountains there was plenty of wild game to be had and early the next morning he loaded shells into one of the Winchester '66 rifles and announced that he was going to bring back a buck for supper. Both Ehron Lee and Ward were agreeable to the idea. It not only might serve to offset Jess's restlessness and the threat of his deciding to act on impulse, but also would help replenish their food supply, which was running low, and neither Ward nor Ehron Lee thought it prudent to venture into Colbert City.

For today was the day of the rendezvous with Judge Charles Hugh Harrison.

While a partly sober Jess packed up some gear and headed out into the wilderness for his hunt, Ehron Lee readied himself for his ride to Border Pass and The Skeleton Tree. He'd been anticipating this moment for what seemed an eternity, yet as the time now neared, he was possessed of a strange uncertainty. The plan was to bring Harrison back to the cabin, where he would be presented to his daughter, and then have the judge decide who between them was to die. Ehron Lee had no qualms about killing Harrison—indeed, he looked forward to blasting the buzzard's soul into oblivion. But regardless of what was to happen—whatever choice the judge made—Ehron Lee knew that another, more difficult decision would have to be addressed concerning the women hostages. Both Janette Watson and Evaline Harrison could identify them; not only had their faces been seen, but Ward and Jess had both freely referred to everyone involved by name. And Ehron Lee suspected that was not simply carelessness. Whatever choice Watson and Harrison made, they would not leave the cabin alive. That debt had to be paid. It seemed to Ehron Lee that Ward intended the same fate for the two women, as well. What particularly troubled him was that he could almost appreciate such reasoning, at least where his part was concerned. Ward was a prison escapee, a fugitive, and would forever be on the run. Jess Colfax would be dead; that already had been decided. But if the women were released, he, Ehron Lee, still legally a free man, would live out the rest of his days hunted by the law.

While he recognized that he didn't have much of a life to look forward to, he didn't want to compound his misery by spending his every waking hour looking over his shoulder. Most of all, he would never allow himself to be taken back to prison.

As difficult as it might be, and though it neither could nor would be him who would settle the matter, Ehron Lee understood that there looked to be only one resolution.

* * *

Ehron Lee kept himself out of sight, concealed behind a cluster of large rocks that formed a natural raised and serrated border just a short distance from where The Skeleton Tree stood. He was eager to see Judge Harrison again—very eager. The judge was instructed to reach the meeting place by twelve noon on this day. Ehron Lee figured Harrison for a punctual man, and if he was going to show, it would be close to the appointed time. Of course there was always the vague possibility he might decide to forfeit his daughter's life and not come. But Ehron Lee thought that unlikely. The man was a buzzard . . . but he was also a father.

The sun was hot and Ehron Lee was sweating profusely. His clothing was saturated, his shirt sticky from relentless perspiration, the material clinging uncomfortably to his body. Moisture from his brow dripped into his eyes, blurring his vision, and he had to constantly brush the sweat away to keep his view unimpeded. He checked his water canteen—full when he rode out this morning, now almost empty. He hadn't counted on the day being so oppressively hot. He trickled down the last remaining drops and tossed the canteen away. Fortunately, it wasn't a long ride back to the cabin, and Ehron Lee would be glad to get back there. The intense noonday heat was a reminder of what he'd often had to endure working in the quarry at Rockmound. Most important, he had to keep up his strength. He had to stay alert, on the off chance Harrison might decide to pull a fast one. One could never be sure of how a desperate man might think.

* * *

Judge Harrison arrived at the destination shortly before one o'clock in the afternoon—on foot, his black coat flung over his shoulder, his white shirt stained with sweat, his flat crown hat protecting his eyes from the blinding glare of the sun. He'd discovered that Bob Truswell had been correct about attempting to navigate a buggy through the Border Pass and finally had given up the attempt. Since he had no concern about returning the buggy to town as he knew that he would not be coming back from the meeting with the kidnappers, he left it sitting back on the rocky trail. He, too, quickly became exhausted from the heat as he walked to where he expected to find The Skeleton Tree. By the time he finally came into Ehron Lee's sight, he looked almost on the verge of collapse. Ehron Lee climbed down from his position among the rocks to meet him. He carefully maneuvered his steps through the tricky levels of outcropping with his revolver drawn but not aimed. Judge Harrison stopped and looked carefully at the man. His face betrayed no hint of recognition. It seemed apparent he could not remember Ehron Lee.

“You the man that has my daughter?” the judge asked weakly.

Ehron Lee didn't answer. He, too, gave a studied gaze. Even after all these years he clearly recognized the man whose judgment had taken away his life. A man he resented even more because, with all he had suffered through, Ehron Lee would have preferred a death by hanging. He'd lived with an ongoing torture. Hard emotions quickly took hold and Ehron Lee struggled with the urge to shoot the judge dead then and there.

But he fought and controlled the impulse. Partly because what he was looking at now was not a man of power and authority—one who could dictate and damn another man's destiny—but someone stripped of his dignity. A man reduced in pride and stature in ex-convict Ehron Lee's presence.

Yet Ehron Lee was beyond feeling compassion for the judge's humbled position.

“Just tell me, is my daughter all right?” Harrison said, a slight pleading in his voice.

Again Ehron Lee failed to respond. Instead he gestured with a wave of his gun for Harrison to walk ahead of him. It was only a short distance to where Ehron Lee had left his horse, off the trail in a clearing, but Harrison had to call upon all his remaining strength, ebbing rapidly, to complete the walk.

“You ride, I'll guide,” were the first words to leave Ehron Lee's mouth once they came to the horse, standing close to a wall of rocks whose overhang provided cooling shade for the animal.

Harrison obeyed, giving a nod in acknowledgment, and he struggled to mount the horse, faltering a couple of times before getting himself settled on the saddle. He waited until Ehron Lee was seated behind him, then he half turned his head and asked gently, almost kindly, “Don't suppose you have a sip of water handy?”

Ehron Lee ignored the request.

“Just ride steady,” he instructed the judge.

* * *

While Judge Harrison had no specific memory of Ehron Lee, he had a different reaction when he was pushed into the cabin and was instantly greeted by the outlaw killer Ward Crawford, seated at the kitchen table, lips stretched wide in the same cocky grin he'd worn throughout the trial over which Harrison had presided six years previously.

“Ward Crawford,” Harrison managed over a dry swallow, the words spoken nearly inaudible.

“Pleased yuh remember, Judge,” Ward said pleasantly. “Saves me havin' to take time to reintroduce myself.”

Ehron Lee closed the door to the cabin and stood behind Harrison. “Reckon his conscience only lets him recall the guilty ones,” he said pointedly.

Harrison started to turn. But before he could completely face the man standing in back of him, Ehron Lee couldn't restrain himself any longer and he hit the judge across the side of the face with a sharp backhand, knocking him off balance.

Cora looked startled. Ward chuckled and slowly started to rise from the table.

“Okay, Burrows, yuh got that outta yuh,” he said.

Harrison's eyes were wide, and for the first time he looked truly frightened. He held his hand against his cheek and stepped back tentatively. As he did so, Ward stuck out his foot. Harrison's leg caught on Ward's boot heel and he tripped over backward. He recovered swiftly and attempted to scramble to his feet. Ward pressed his boot heavily onto the judge's back and held him pinned to the floor.

“P-Please,” Harrison implored, his voice rising in pitch. “I—I just want to see my daughter.”

Suddenly there was a sharp cry from the bedroom. It was Evaline, recognizing her father's voice.

“Daddy!”

“Evaline,” Harrison called back. Before he could say anything more, Ward stepped down harder on his back, causing Harrison to gasp and then fall silent.

Evaline was shouting for her father, frantically pounding at the door until Janette Watson was heard shushing and calming her, and soon the only sounds coming from the bedroom were Evaline's gentle sobs.

Cora watched silently. She glanced down at Judge Harrison, sprawled helplessly on the floor, and was upset when she saw the tears that came into his eyes. She felt sickened but there was nothing she could do. She was as powerless as any of the hostages.

* * *

It was dusk that same day when Buck Leighton and Melinda Burrows located the spot where George Watson was to rendezvous the following noon with his wife's kidnappers. They set up a small camp far from the trail where they wouldn't be noticed by an unlikely passerby—or an early appearance from one of the kidnappers. It was a warm evening so Buck thought it wise not to start a fire. They ate their supper cold from the can and slept comfortably if fitfully under the blankets they'd brought along for their travel.

Both rose early, just after sunrise. It was an uncertain day they faced. Buck had his worries of what was ahead but maintained a calm composure for Melinda's sake. Her own trepidation was understandably apparent. After five years she would be meeting the husband who had long believed she was dead. A man changed by his experience and who now chose to live outside the law. George Watson had told Buck earlier that the only difference he'd noted in the man at his release was that he seemed to lack compassion. Watson said that he never could have guessed that Ehron Lee Burrows would become a savage criminal capable of participating in such a heinous act. Buck thought differently. He only hoped that Ehron Lee might still feel some of the love he'd once had for Melinda. It was their one chance of possibly rescuing George Watson's wife . . . and preventing the murder of Watson himself.