Santa Fe Woman (27 page)

“Yes.”

“Let me get on my horse. I’ll help you look for ’em.”

“You stay here, Grat. Let me do a little looking, then we’ll see.”

Rocklin wheeled around and galloped back toward where the family was waiting. Mark had joined them, and his face was pale. “We’ve already asked everybody,” he said before Rocklin could speak. “We’ve got to find them!”

“Herendeen saw them,” Rocklin replied, “way back by the spot where we nooned. I’ll ride back and pick up their tracks.”

“I’m going with you,” Mark said.

“Be better if you stay here.”

“No, I’m going.”

“All right. Catch up a horse then.”

Mark ran to saddle a horse, and Rocklin dismounted and stood, trying to think of some way to put this matter in the best light. He knew the fears that now racked the Hayden family, and he said, “Probably they just wandered off. That happens sometimes.”

“I warned Carleen so many times,” Leland whispered, and he shook his head. “I can’t believe she’d go so far.”

“It’d be hard to get lost in this country. It’s so level and bare.”

“I got lost once in a desert,” Rocklin said quickly. “You get turned around and head in the wrong direction, and before long you don’t know which way is up. In the country with mountains you can always fix on a peak. I never got lost in the Yellowstone country, but the prairie is different.”

Mark was back now, and Rocklin swung into the saddle. “I’ll come back as soon as I find out something.”

Rocklin kicked the stallion into a dead run and did not even look back. He kept up a torrid pace until they reached the point where the riverbed and the cottonwoods were visible. He kept watch until he found signs of several fires that they had made. “This is where we nooned,” Mark said. He looked around and said, “How do you know where to start looking?”

“Herendeen said he saw Carleen headed for those trees over there. You stay behind me. I don’t want you to mess up any tracks.”

Mark pulled his horse up and watched as Rocklin leaned over. He found, apparently, what he was looking for, but he didn’t speak until they were halfway to the old river bed. “I see Carleen’s tracks here and Jori’s pony both going in, none coming out.”

When they reached the riverbed, Rocklin dismounted and gave the reins to Mark. “Hold my horse,” he said. Without another word he moved forward toward the line of trees bent over.
He
was like a hound,
Mark thought,
sniffing on a trail.
He knew he would be utterly helpless and useless in such a situation, and as he sat there, the fear that had been birthed in him grew until it made his hands tremble.

Moments went by that seemed longer than they were, and finally Mark saw Rocklin emerging from the trees. He was running, and when he got there his lips were drawn into a tight line. Something in his eyes frightened Mark. “What is it, Chad?”

“Indian war party took ’em.”

Mark shot a frightened glance at Rocklin, and quicker breath stirred in him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Kiowa, I think.” Rocklin’s face had a drawn expression. Mark had seen it before. It always came when the big man was facing a disagreeable thing. “What’ll we do?”

“Go back to camp.”

“But we’ve got to go after them, Chad.”

“We’ll have to tell your folks what happened.”

There was a dismal ring in Rocklin’s voice that tolled like a funeral bell to Mark. He felt a deep emptiness inside, and the world around him seemed to have closed like a curtain of darkness.

* * *

“I’M GOING WITH YOU, Chad.” Leland Hayden’s face was stiff as parchment. He had taken the news that Rocklin and Mark had brought back badly, and his hands were unsteady.

“That won’t do, Leland. You stay here and take care of things. I can do this better by myself.”

“Is there any hope, Chad?”

Rocklin shifted his gaze to Kate. He saw the fugitive shadows chase themselves in and around the corners of her mouth as she tried to hide the fear. “Always a chance. It was a small party.” He didn’t mention the fact that a small party could be just as devastating in their cruelty as a large one. There was no way to comfort this family, so he moved quickly, filling his canteen with water and giving instructions. He saw Mark filling his own canteen and shook his head. “You can’t go, Mark.”

“I’m going.” Mark’s voice was flat and level, and there was a stubbornness in him that Rocklin had not seen before.

“You wouldn’t be any good to me. You can’t read a sign. You don’t know Indians.”

“I’m going after my sisters, Rocklin,” Mark said. “If you leave me, I’ll follow as best I can, but I’m going.”

“I reckon I think better of you for it. All right, Kate, fix us something to eat, some dried meat maybe, and we’ll take some extra guns.”

The two were quickly prepared for their mission, and as they were getting ready to ride out, Herendeen and Wiley Pratt came to stand before them. “I’m goin’ with you,” Pratt said. “I’ll help you kill them devils.”

“No, you stay here, Wiley.”

“I want to go,” Herendeen said. His eyes were smoldering. “I’d like to help get those two back.”

“Grat, you’re in charge of the train while I’m gone. I’m depending on you to keep things going.” He saw refusal beginning to form in Herendeen’s eyes, and he said, “This is what you do best, Grat. Now, there’s water ahead ten miles. I’ll draw you a map. Take the train on in there as quick as you can and draw up in a defensive position. Those Indians know how many we are. They may come back.”

“I hope they do,” Grat’s voice grated. “I’d like to kill ’em all. I’d like to go with you though.” Something wistful touched the big man’s face, an unusual sight to Rocklin. “I like that little girl.”

“We all do, but you wouldn’t be much use huntin’ a Kiowa war party. You are good at your job, so take care of things.”

Kicking Bird was staring at Rocklin, his eyes inscrutable. “I think it is Santana,” he said, a warning in his obsidian eyes.

“What makes you think that?” Rocklin demanded.

“His camp, it is over there two or three days’ ride. He’ll go back there, I think.”

“I think so, too,” Four Bears spoke up. “It is bad to tackle Santana without a big war party beside us.”

“Well, we don’t have a big war party, Four Bears.” He waited for the Indians to say that they would not go. Indians had no
shame about backing off from a fight when they saw they were outnumbered or in a bad situation. Rocklin agreed with them, for the most part. He knew that words would not convince them, and he said finally, “I’ve got to go after the women. I wish you’d go with me. I’ll make it worth your while. Buy you whatever you want.”

“Dead men can’t use much,” Kicking Bird suddenly grinned, “but I will go with you. I never liked Santana.”

“But Santana would like to get his hands on you,” Four Bears said. “You remember him.”

“I remember him. He won’t take me alive.”

“We need good horses,” Kicking Bird said.

“We’ll take three horses apiece, the best horses in the herd. Let’s go pick ’em out now.”

* * *

MARK WAS SO WEARY he was about to fall off his horse. His arm ached from holding the lines that held his extra two mounts along beside him. Sometimes they lagged and nearly jerked him out of the saddle.

The sun was going down now, and it was all he could do to keep up. He noticed that nobody had looked to see if he was coming, and he knew that if he fell behind, he would be on his own.

They had been traveling for six hours, and finally Four Bears, who was the best tracker, pulled his mount up and turned. “We camp here. Too dark.”

Relief washed through Mark. He sat in the saddle, aching and wondering if he had the strength to stand up. He forced himself out of the saddle, and his legs nearly collapsed. Glancing
around quickly, he saw that nobody was paying him any attention. Kicking Bird took his horses. “I’ll take care of the horses,” he said.

“Mark, catch up some wood if you can find any.”

“All right, Chad.”

Mark began walking around. Wood was scarce, but he found a small tree that had died, apparently, of the heat. He broke it up, came back, and soon he had a fire going.

“How far ahead do you think they are, Chad?”

“Four Bears thinks maybe twelve hours, a day’s ride. It could be more.” Rocklin’s voice was hard as stone, and he sat before the small fire adding sticks to it.

When the fire was going well, the Indians came in. They sat down cross-legged, and Four Bears stared at Rocklin. “They’re headed straight for Santana’s camp. Many braves there.”

“How many?” Rocklin asked.

“Who knows. Maybe a hundred.”

Alarm ran through Mark. “Why, we can’t fight a hundred Indians!” They had half a dozen guns between them, but the Indians had guns, too. He waited for Rocklin to speak, to give some sort of indication of how things were going, but he did not. Mark said, “I guess we can eat this food that Kate put up.”

He got up, found the meat and the bread, and the four ate silently. There was no water available. It was a dry camp, so they had to drink out of their canteens.

As soon as they had eaten, the two Indians lay down and seemed to go to sleep instantly. Mark had no thought of sleep. He stared into the fire and, from time to time, lifted his eyes toward Rocklin. Finally he said, “I can’t help thinking what could be happening to Jori and Carleen. I’ve heard awful tales about how Indians treat captive women.”

Rocklin stared across the fire, the flickering shadows changing his face and obscuring his thoughts. “There’s no sense fooling yourself, Mark. They’ll be treated rough, but they’ll be alive, and that’s what counts.”

“How can you be sure of that?”

“They capture women for a purpose. They want to make squaws out of them, but they’ll be alive.”

The crackling of the dry wood made popping sounds and sent sparks flying outward. They looked like miniature stars while overhead the real stars glittered. The two men sat there silently for a long time, and finally Mark said, “I hate to tell you, Chad, but I’m scared stiff.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“I want to pray, but I haven’t been a praying man. I’ve never given God much of a thought. How can I go to Him when I need something and cry like a baby?”

Rocklin picked up a small piece of the wood, laid it on the fire, and then another. Finally he said softly, “I reckon if we waited until we were good enough to go to God, none of us would ever go. I’m like you though. I wish I were a praying man.”

“How in the world are we ever going to deal with a hundred Indians?”

“Best chance is to catch ’em before they get there. I figure there’s nine of them. We can handle that many. Come daylight we’ll ride as hard as we can. We just have to wait and see how it goes.”

“Maybe we can catch ’em by surprise.”

Rocklin shook his head. “If it’s Santana, we won’t catch him by surprise.”

“You know about him?”

“He’s always been the enemy of the Comanches. When I was growing up, I heard tales about him, not nice ones. Nothing you’d want to hear. He’d like to take me alive though.”

“Why you especially?”

“I killed his son on a raid. He’s never forgotten it.” He suddenly said, “Go to sleep if you can, Mark. It’s liable to be a long day tomorrow.”

SANTANA SET A HARD pace, driving the horse at a dead run at times. After an hour the Indian carrying Carleen, at the command from the leader, removed the gag and untied her hands. Carleen at once began to fight, but the Indian merely doubled his fist up and struck her in the temple. She would have fallen if he had not caught her. He laughed and said something that made the other Indians laugh as well.

Jori was almost numb with fear. She was aware that they were climbing a ridge, and when they were near the top, she looked back but could see nothing but the emptiness of the plain. She was torn apart, could hardly breathe for the tears that she tried to withhold, and there was the knowledge that the future held nothing for her but pain and agony and misery. She had heard stories of how the Indians tortured people. They were noted for their cruelty, but everyone said they were so brave that you could strip the skin off of them and they would never make a sound. She had heard also that they admired anyone who could undergo torture without showing fear.

Finally Santana called a halt. A small water hole fed by a stream apparently filled in a slight indentation, and the Indians all stopped and took turns drinking. When all the Indians were finished, they stood around laughing and talking. Santana
motioned to Jori and said, “Drink.” One of the Indians cut the rope from under her feet, and she dismounted. She started for Carleen, but one of the Indians, whom she later discovered was named Fox, grabbed her. His eyes were wide, and he grabbed her blouse and ripped it away. His intentions were plain, but Jori determined to fight to the best of her ability. She struck out at Fox and caught him in the throat. He grunted and struck her a blow in the temple. She staggered backward, and he yelled and made for her. At that moment Carleen ran and jumped on his back. It caught him off guard, and her arms came around him and her nails bit into his face as she raked at him. She was yelling, and Jori caught her balance and shook her head from the effects of the blow. She saw Fox reach for his knife and start for the girl, but Santana called out something in their language and he stopped. An argument ensued, and finally Fox snarled and backed off.

Santana advanced. He was not as large as most of the other Indians, looking almost slight, but there was something fierce about him. He came to stand before Carleen, and she glared at him. “I ain’t afraid of you!” she yelled.

Santana laughed and looked at Jori. “This one is brave. She will make a good squaw.”

“What do you want with us?” Jori asked, hardly able to form the words. “My people will pay you to get us back.”

“I am Santana. I will take you to the village and leave you. Then I will bring all my braves, and we will kill everyone at the wagons and we’ll take all. We will take everything. Now,” he said, “drink and we will go.”

At that moment a resolution formed in Jori. It was a simple one.
Stay alive!
She turned and said, “Carleen, drink.” She herself
stooped down and drank. When they were finished, Santana motioned to the horses, and she went back, mounted up, and Santana said, “You ride with her,” speaking to Carleen. Carleen came at once and got on the horse behind Jori. Santana and the Indians mounted up, and they left the spring at a gallop.