Holding Their Own IV: The Ascent (35 page)

Pete rushed about inside the bar
, trying to organize a posse. Motor vehicles were in short supply in Meraton, anything capable of off-road travel rarer still. Someone had recommended horses, and messengers had been sent to several outlying homes and ranches, soliciting help.

Being a retired cop, Pete had questioned Betty and Kevin, the wounded boy still in a partial state of shock. He had also walked the crime
scene, noticing Terri’s spent shell casing, the wires from the Taser, and the lack of blood anywhere in the area. He surmised that Terri had hit her target, but the assailant had no doubt been wearing body armor.

Terri’s 9mm pistol was left behind, further evidence that the men who abducted her weren’t common criminals. These days
, any firearm was valuable, and everyone knew it.

A hundred things were happening at once, including speculation on the range of the getaway ATVs, where they would take Terri and even one person suggesting a courier be sent to Fort Bliss to ask for a search via helicopter.

Frustrated by a lack of resources, it soon dawned on Pete that any effort to rescue Terri was hopeless. Every minute that went by gave the kidnappers more of a head start, and the trail would quickly grow cold. There simply wasn’t any way to organize enough men and transportation to be effective.

Pete considered opening the bar’s floor safe and retrieving the directions to Bishop’s ranch. He could send some men to fetch Bishop and Nick, but no one knew for sure where the two men were headed. Besides, Bishop was already furious over the place’s whereabouts being known by whoever attacked
yesterday. Increasing the number of people who knew the secret location would make things worse. Even if he did risk sending someone, by the time they made the round trip, the kidnappers’ trail would be cold.

The only positive aspect of the morning was the arrival of two
Beltron ranch hands, the men taking the day off to shop in the market and refresh themselves at the bar. Excited by the furlough, they had left the distant spread before sunrise, riding their horses into town less than an hour after the crime.

Pete knew both of the men were expert hunters and experienced with the surrounding terrain. Both had eagerly agreed to follow Terri’s abductors as best they could. Watching the two horsemen ride off, Pete was somewhat relieved to at least being doing
something
, even though he doubted the horseflesh could catch up with the motorized kidnappers.

Before their departure, Pete had issued a serious warning to the two cowpokes
while holding his hands a few inches apart from each other. “These guys came
that
close to killing Bishop at his ranch. They shot Kevin. They carried smoke grenades, Tasers, and assault weapons. Don’t try to be heroes—you’ll end up dead. Just trail them, find out where they went, and get back here. We’ll decide what to do then.”

It was late afternoon before Bishop pulled the truck into the parking lot behind
The Manor.

“Hey,” Bishop teased, “do you think my head wound qualifies me to park in the handicapped spot?”

“I don’t know if I would be
earitating
Betty if I were you.”

Tired from the long trip and anxious to see Kevin and Terri, the two travelers stepped down from the cab and stretched
their stiff arms and legs.

As they made their way to the front entrance of
The Manor, Bishop noticed that the few men who were around avoided eye contact with him, prompting a comment to Nick that he’d better take a shower as soon as possible.

“What’s going on?” Nick noticed as well. “I thought these people liked you.”

A small crowd of locals was gathered around the front steps of The Manor. Nick noticed several people looking down and avoiding eye contact with the approaching duo. “Something’s wrong.”

Pete separated himself from the group, walking briskly to intercept the two men. Focusing on Bishop, Pete said, “Bishop, I’m sorry
to tell you this, but. . . .”

“Terri?”

Pete looked down and spread his arms in frustration. “Bishop, we tried to stop them. They took her from Kevin’s room and . . . .”

“Terri!”

Bishop meant to shove past Pete, but the stout bartender put his hand on Bishop’s chest and stopped him. “Bishop, they grabbed her about an hour after sunrise and headed northeast. I’ve got men out …”

Bishop’s head started swimming, the result of a massive adrenaline surge and the shock of the news. Staggering a half step, Nick and Pete quickly moved to stabilize their friend. 

While Bishop began mumbling half-formed questions, Nick and Pete bracketed him and made for the hotel’s lobby. Pete told Nick, “Kevin’s okay, but still a little shocked. He can’t hear real well because Terri got off a shot in that little room, but the doc says he’ll be okay.”

The two men managed
to get Bishop into a chair, and one of the women fetched some water from the kitchen. After he was sure his friend was stable, Nick headed for the stairs. Pete warned, “Nick, Betty is standing guard with her shotgun in Kevin’s room. Give her some warning.”

Nick nodded and proceeded to take the stairs two at a time.

“Betty,” he shouted from the top of the steps, “it’s Nick. I’m coming in.”

“Dad!” Kevin looked up, flashes of relief cro
ssing his face. “Oh, God, dad! They took Terri!”

Nick moved immediately to embrace his son. “I know son, I heard. How are you? You doing okay?”

Kevin started weeping in his father’s arms. Between the sobs he managed to blurt out, “I tried to stop them, Dad . . . I couldn’t move . . . it was the same man who shot me in Alpha.”

Nick soothed his son’s hair, answering each statement with
, “I know, son . . . It’s okay . . . I know. . . .”

Bishop recovered quickly, becoming ultra-cold and logical. “Pete, tell me what you know so far, please.”

During Pete’s retelling of the morning’s events, Bishop didn’t stir or blink, his breathing remained even. The only sign of the fury surging through the man’s veins was the white-knuckled grip being applied to his chair. When Pete finished, Bishop had questions.

“Pete, did one of the men carry a SCAR rifle?”

“I don’t know, Bishop, what’s a SCAR?”

Bishop went to the hotel’s front desk and retrieved a piece of paper and pencil. He quickly made a rough sketch, showing Pete a drawing of a modern looking battle rifle with a folding stock.

“Yes . . . yes, one of them did have a rifle that looked like that.”

Bishop nodded, now sure it was the same men who had attacked the ranch, 99% sure it was the same men who broke into their room at Fort Bliss.

“Pete, how long have the cowboys been tracking them?”

“They left about an hour after the kidnapping, so roughly eight hours.”

Bishop paced back and forth across the lobby floor, his path taking him from the front window and back to his chair. “Pete, I know you and Betty did your best. I’m not upset with you. I just can’t figure out what to do. I’ve never felt so helpless.”

“Bishop, the good news is the doc does
n’t think the shock from the Taser would harm Terri or the baby.”

Bishop nodded, thankful for the small bit of positive thinking. “I’m trying to figure out where they would take her. They clearly have access to equipment like ATVs. They must have a pretty good supply of fuel as well.”

Terri remained conscious throughout most of the affair, but without the use of her limbs, she couldn’t fight back. She slowly regained the control of her body during the ATV trip, but having her hands bound during the unstable ride didn’t afford much opportunity to resist, let alone any attempt at escape.

Halfway through the journey, she decided to make her captor’s life miserable using the only weapon she had at her disposal
—vocal cords.

“What kind of cowardly man uses a
Taser on a pregnant woman? Can you just tell me that? Do you have any idea of what my husband will do to you once he finds you? He’ll skin you and your friends alive and boil your bones in his piss …”

The driver of the ATV listened in silence for the first four or five minutes, never acknowledging a word she said. She was about to give up, when the man took a hand off the handlebars and reached to his side. Producing a large knife, the thug held it in front of Terri’s face
, and said, “I’ll cut your cheek meat into thin slices if you don’t shut up. You won’t be so pretty once I’m done. It’s
your
call.”

Something in the man’s voice convinced Terri that he’d actually do it, so she decided to be quiet. Besides, she had practically exhausted her extensive repertoire of insults anyway.

For what seemed like hours, the three ATVs roared across open desert, climbed foothills, and skirted around deep canyons. The constant bouncing, jarring ride, combined with her physical condition, caused Terri’s bladder to work overtime. She half turned to the rider and announced, “I’m a pregnant lady, and I’ve got to use the bathroom.” Her request was ignored by her chauffer. Less than a minute later, she tried again. “I can pee all over both of us, or you can stop and let me go behind the bushes. It’s
your
call.”

After a few moments, the driver zoomed to the front and held up his hand, signaling a stop.

Terri was roughly lifted off the ATV and practically carried a few feet off the path. The man unbuttoned the top of her jeans and despite her protests, yanked her pants below her knees. He grabbed Terri’s jaw with an extremely strong grip and hissed, “Shut up and piss.”

Terri glanced at the two other riders, the smirks on their faces indicating they weren’t going to be gentlemen and look away.

“I can’t go with someone watching me. It’s called bashful kidneys,” she announced with a defiant tone.

“Whatever. You’re not going to run far with your pants around your knees.”

And with that, her captor turned away and walked toward the other two riders. “Give her a break,” he growled.

A few minutes later, they were bouncing across the desert again.

With her hands behind her back, Terri tried to think of anything she could do to facilitate her escape or rescue. She recalled writing down a shopping list of items she could use at the camper, her intent being to visit Meraton’s market before the day’s end. Slowly, as the ATV jolted from side to side, she managed to feel inside her back pocket, and tear off a small scrap of the paper. When she was sure the trail diverted the driver’s attention from her actions, she let a small piece blow free in the wind. It was probably useless, but she had to try.