On the Trail to Moonlight Gulch (34 page)

“I’ll stick by here and keep my eyes peeled, Frank,” Wicasha said, his tone grave. “You can take my gelding.”

“No, Tory took the mule. I’ll be able to ride Lulu.”

“Maybe the mule tired, and they’re resting along the trail. You know how mules can be. Stubborn as mules.”

Wicasha’s shoddy attempt at levity failed to lessen Franklin’s worries. He jogged off to the barn. Two minutes later, he came galloping out at top speed atop Lulu. He stopped long enough to shout to Wicasha to shut the gate behind him. He turned a sharp right, reached down with barely a pause to unhitch the gate, and raced off for Spiketrout.

Tory was nowhere along the trail. No sign of him at all. Franklin shouted for him. No response. The trail, soft from the melting snow, showed clear signs Carlotta had stomped by. He dismounted a few times to inspect the surrounding woods. Nothing conclusive.

The concern that had nudged him earlier evolved into a pawing fear.

Postmaster Jim noted the distress on Franklin’s face when he stepped inside the postal office.

“What’s the matter, Frank?”

“Have you seen Tory?”

Jim said that Tory had come into the office earlier that morning, dropped off his letter, then left. That was the last he’d seen of him. “Sorry, Frank. I don’t know what else to tell you. What do you think became of him?”

Franklin did not want to answer.

Out on the street, Mr. Tang, owner of the Chinese laundry, said he had seen something fishy when he’d noticed two men leaning against a post watching Tory run about town with more interest than he’d thought normal. But he’d only recognized one of them, Ralph Burgermyer. After Tory stepped into the mercantile, Mr. Tang said, Burgermyer wandered down the street, and he hadn’t seen him since.

Franklin knew Burgermyer was a close associate of Bilodeaux. He often worked on his ranch north of town. But before he headed there, he hastened to the marshal’s office.

“I can’t do nothing about a missing person until he’s gone a good while,” the Marshal declared. Deputy Ostrem stood by Reinhardt’s side, scowling at Franklin. “You know how many people around here show up missing? I’d never get any sleep if I always went out looking for them all. He’ll show up, don’t worry.”

“You got to do something.”

Reinhardt shrugged. “Like I said, nothing I can do.”

“Something’s not right.” Franklin turned to leave. “And I aim to find out just what.”

“Don’t cause any trouble in town,” Marshal Reinhardt hollered after him, standing up to showcase is full six-foot height. “It’s been a quiet winter for Spiketrout, and I’m in no mood for a ruckus.”

“I’m not in the mood for no ruckus either, Reinhardt.” Franklin disregarded the marshal’s warning as he hurried down the boardwalk for the mercantile. The shopkeeper’s adolescent son said he’d seen Tory come into the store and trade jerky for a box of shells and some spices.

“Did he seem odd, Scott, like he was doing something against his will?”

The boy narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his forehead. “No, Mr. Ausmus, can’t say that he did. I can ask Pop once he gets back. He’s home tending to a leaky roof.”

“If you don’t mind, thanks.”

With new fears squeezing the pit of his stomach, Franklin rode Lulu five miles north of town to Bilodeaux’s ranch, where pasture opened like a cleaved pork chop. He was unable to admire the expanse of lush grassland surrounded by the mountains. He’d seen the Black Hills from inside most of his ten years, rarely venturing beyond Spiketrout or his homestead. Massive peaks, the tallest between the Rockies and the Alps, jetted toward the sky, darkening as dusk neared.

“You have no business here,” one of Bilodeaux’s men proclaimed from the gate to his ranch once Franklin reined Lulu alongside it.

“Bilodeaux trespasses on my land when he sees fit, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if I look around his?”

“You’ll look around from the pearly gates up in heaven, but that’s about the only way.”

“Listen, Dunne, I know Bilodeaux pays you good money, but you gotta clue me in. What’s going on? Does he got Tory or not? Some in town said they spotted Burgermyer trailing him, and Burgermyer is known to do Bilodeaux’s dirty work for him from time to time.”

“I don’t know anything about Bilodeaux’s doings, or Burgermyer’s,” Dunne said, peering at Franklin under the brim of his Stetson with cutting brown eyes. “I stand guard here, that’s it. That’s what he pays me for.”

“How long you been standing on your post?”

“He asked me to come over a few hours ago.”

That sounded strange to Franklin. Something was up. His instincts never betrayed him. “Is Bilodeaux inside?”

“I don’t know.” Dunne stood firm. “Been on this spot since I got here. It was Vargas who come get me on Bilodeaux’s orders.”

“All right, Dunne. You just better hope nobody’s running afoul here, or you’ll be culpable.”

“Head on back to your homestead, Ausmus.”

Frustrated and angry, Franklin rode back into town. He stopped by the Gold Dust Inn and inquired with Madame Lafourchette and her girls, along with the other employees and the patrons. No one had seen Tory. He revisited the mercantile. Mr. Kenny had just arrived from home and reaffirmed his son’s account of Tory’s time in the store, but he hadn’t seen him since.

On the trail back to Moonlight Gulch, Franklin roved his eyes through the thickening darkness. Still no trace of Tory. His only relief came when he imagined that, once he returned to the cabin, he’d find Tory reheating the roast and Wicasha sitting at the table eager for supper. Smoke rising from the chimney might be the most wonderful sight he’d ever laid his eyes upon.

But as he cleared the dense grove of aspen and spruce along the northern rock face and craned his neck in anticipation by the gate, no smoke flowed from the chimney. His heart slumped in his stomach. He climbed down from Lulu and walked her inside the gate, too dispirited to ride her in. Then, suddenly, his heart fluttered with gladness. Wicasha was leading Carlotta into the barn. Tory had returned. Franklin rushed to Wicasha with Lulu in tow, yet something on Wicasha’s face stopped him.

“What is it, Wicasha?” Franklin whispered. “Where’s Tory?”

“I found Carlotta squealing by the gate, still saddled,” he said. “But I couldn’t see or find Tory anywhere. I followed down the trail a mile, saw nothing. How about you? Anyone in town able to help?”

His mouth too dry to speak, Franklin shook his head. Lulu’s reins fell from his hand. He jerked into action. “I got to find him. Somewhere, he’s out there. I have to look deeper into the forest. I have to look now.”

“I’ll come with you. It’ll be total darkness soon before the moon rises. We’ll need torches.”

“Is it Bilodeaux, Wicasha?” Franklin appealed to his friend with wide eyes. He already suspected the bandit, but Wicasha would confirm what his gut told him.

The taut-mouthed Lakota nodded. “Yes, I’m certain it is. This was the ruthless act I’ve feared.”

Franklin continued to eye him. “He saw us, Wicasha. Bilodeaux saw Tory and me in bed together.”

Wicasha licked his lips. “We best get moving.”

Franklin wasted no time. He raced for the torches, packed his guns and ammunition and other supplies, and filled the canteens with water. “He can have Moonlight Gulch, if that’s what he wants,” Franklin said, a lit torch searing the side of his face. “Let him have it. Let them all have it.”

“Don’t worry, Frank,” Wicasha said. “I don’t think Bilodeaux’s plan is to plunder your land while you hunt for Tory. He has something craftier in store.”

“Like what, Wicasha?”

“I guess we’ll have to find out.”

Chapter 27

T
ORY
awoke with a pummeling headache. He rubbed his head, stretched to sit upright, fell back down onto something hard. Nothing soft like the feather bed he shared with Franklin. It was pitch dark. And cold. But not freezing cold. More like the damp daytime April temperatures.

Instinct told him it was not daytime but not as late as the darkness indicated. What time was it? He lifted his pocket watch to his eyes, then to his ear. No ticking. He tilted the watch, trying to get a better look into the face. It had been smashed. He tucked the watch back inside his pocket and sat upright slowly, biting his lower lip to push down the ache in his head.

He reached for the back of his noggin. There was something sticky. The dark on his fingertips glistened when he brought his hand closer to his eyes. Blood. Tasted like blood too. Something had hit him. Maybe a heavy branch had fallen while he rode the trail. That sometimes happened. It had even killed a man traveling on horseback from Deadwood to Rapid City, he’d once heard.

But where was he? Indoors somewhere, although it didn’t feel like he was indoors. Didn’t feel like he was outdoors, either. He tried to piece together all that had happened. For a moment, he used logic to deduce that he and Franklin had gone camping to get away from the heavy spring cleaning and repair work around the homestead. He must be inside a trapper’s cabin. But where was Franklin? He wanted to call out his name, but something told him to stay quiet.

What had they done the past twenty-four hours? He and Franklin had worked around the cabin and the barn. Franklin was preparing to butcher the hogs. Tory had itched to get out. He’d been riding Carlotta. He’d mailed a letter in Spiketrout, bartered something at the mercantile.

Then he remembered.

He’d been heading back to Moonlight Gulch when he had noticed a man lying on the side of the trail, moaning in pain. Then what? Hadn’t he stopped to see if the man needed help? Yes, he’d raced ahead and perched near the man, inquiring if he was injured. He couldn’t remember anything else. That must’ve been when something struck him. Perhaps by a branch or….

Perhaps by a person. The same bandit who had attacked the poor man he’d found writhing along the trail. Made sense.

But something about that man he found curious. He’d looked familiar. He had seen him in town just a few hours before when he rode in on Carlotta. Where
was
Carlotta?

He peered around, searching for a window. He heard dripping. Dripping that echoed.

That was when he realized—he was in a cave.

His ears tuned to the low, steady hum of wind from the tiny crevices. He could make out only a faint light emanating from above about twenty yards ahead. The lone visible light. Instinctively, he went to move toward the light. But the sharp pain in his head forced him back.

Something in his pocket poked him in the side. He reached for what felt like a box—the shells he’d bartered for at the mercantile, along with the bags of coriander, oregano, and dill. They were in his pocket too, on top of the box. He had hoped to surprise Franklin with the spices for supper.

A stir somewhere in the cave.

Alert, he peered into the darkness. The hard rock underneath him cut off the circulation in his backside. He shifted his weight. Someone coughed. Were there others in the same predicament as he? The poor man he’d found along the trail, perhaps? Were they held against their wills? But what for?

“Is there anyone there?” Tory called.

He heard the clearing of a throat, then the advancing steps of someone in boots. “How you doing, youngster?” a raspy-voiced man said.

Tory stared, confused. Blurry images wavered in his mind. He squinted toward the voice as if to cut into the darkness. “Who are you?”

“I seen you in town,” the man said. “Perfect opportunity to beat you out on the trail before you headed back. You thought I was hurt, didn’t you?” The man snickered. “Stupid fool. Gullible as a lamb.”

Tory’s eyes adjusted to the dark, and he noticed the man wearing his derby. “You’re… you’re that man from the trail, the one I stopped to help.”

“You felled for it too.” The man chuckled. “While I was moaning and groaning and rolling about, my partner leaped from behind a tree and conked you on the head with a rifle butt. Guess no good recompense can come from helping out your fellow man.” The man laughed so hard the echo pierced Tory’s already splitting head.

“Where am I?” Tory whispered, wishing to have inflicted more strength into his voice.

“You’re in a cave somewhere. There’re hundreds of them in the Black Hills. No one is going to find you. So you might as well settle down and get comfortable.”

“What do you want with me?”

“You don’t need to worry yourself over that. Just sit back. If you want some water, to your left is a puddle. You can drink it up. Nice and cool and clean.”

“What happened to my mule? Where is she?”

“Don’t fuss none over that longears, she’ll find her way back home. I gave her a good swift kick in her hindquarters to get her moving.”

“I don’t have any gold, if that’s what you’re after.”

The man chortled. “It ain’t
your
gold we’re after.”

“We? What do you mean by
we
? Who else is here? Your partner, is he here, too?”

The man’s laughter grew fainter as he wandered back from where he came. A moment later, a small flickering light ascended from the ground. Smoke rose into the small opening where Tory had first noticed a dim light, what he now guessed must be from the flickering moon.