Sharon Poppen (20 page)

“Well, let’s just see.” He relaxed his grip slightly as he got to his feet and pulled Hannah to her knees. He yanked her hair forward until her face was buried in his crotch. “Now, let’s see if you’re what you say you are.”

Hannah’s nose was crushed against Stevenson’s denim clad crotch. She gagged as she breathed in the smell of filth and tried to pull her head away. He twisted her hair again, pushed her deeper into him, and pulled her head back a few inches.

“Unbutton me, whore.”

Hannah drew her hands slowly up and touched his top button with one hand. She formed the other hand into a fist and with all the strength she could muster in her twisted position, she slammed it into his penis and testicles. Stevenson screamed, let go of her hair and fell into a fetal position. His curses and groans continued as he cupped his privates and rocked from side to side.

Hannah grabbed his guns, stuffed them into her waistband and ran to the horses looking for rope to tie him into submission. Finding none, she ran to the cart and began to thrash through the variety of foodstuffs, clothes and bedding. She was grateful that Stevenson’s cries had not woken the babies. Finding no rope, she turned to the woman who was setting out some fry bread, dried fruit and jerky. Her head was down as if she hadn’t seen what had happened. The boy was still hanging onto her skirt.

“Rope?” Hannah asked.

The woman kept her head down and acted like she didn’t hear her.

Hannah grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Help me.”

The woman kept her head down, but glanced at the suffering Stevenson and then turned slightly toward Hannah. “Diablo,” she whispered, and nodded her head toward Stevenson.

“Yes,” Hannah agreed. She made a motion of tying something and pointed at Stevenson.

The woman looked down at the boy, and then turned her bruised and battered face to Hannah. “Si.” She frantically began to toss the contents of the cart around and finally came up with a couple of rope strands that looked as if they’d served as belts. Just as she put them in Hannah’s hands, the sound of a rifle being cocked drew the women to look in the direction of the sound.

His face a grimace of pain, Stevenson stood next to his horse. The barrel of his gun was aimed at the little boy. “Hold perfectly still or the kid dies.”

The woman froze.

Hannah gripped the ropes and locked eyes with Stevenson. “Don’t hurt them. They didn’t do anything. Take your anger out on me.”

“Oh, don’t you worry. You’ll pay. You’ll pay. For now, carefully toss those guns over here. And, if I even feel like you’re up to something, the boy dies.”

“Oh, Madre!” the woman moaned.

Hannah pulled the guns from her waist and threw them toward Stevenson’s feet.

The minute they hit the ground, he growled at the woman. “Tie the bitch up.”

“No comprende,” she begged.

Hannah watched Stevenson shoulder the rifle and move his finger along the trigger.

“No,” Hannah cried. “I’ll get her to do it.” She turned to the woman and held out the ropes.

The woman looked at Stevenson and he nodded. She took the ropes. Hannah held her wrist against the cart and motioned for the woman to do what Stevenson wanted.

“Wait. I want those legs where they can’t do any harm. Kneel down,” demanded Stevenson.

Once Hannah was on her knees, with her back tight against the slats of the cart, Stevenson took a couple of steps nearer and looked at the knots. “Try to free yourself.’

Hannah struggled.

“Try harder.” His voice grew stronger and he walked straighter as he came closer.

Again she struggled in vain. Satisfied that Hannah was no threat, he moved to within inches of her and put the shotgun barrel under her chin. Hannah’s eyes filled with tears, but she said nothing as she waited for the punishment he was going to give her.

“Who are you?” He nudged her chin with the gun.

“Name’s Hannah. I was on the train when your wife was killed. I promised her dead spirit that I’d see that no harm came to her child.”

He sneered. “Looks like you failed.” He flipped the barrel around and smacked Hannah across the face with the stock.

The pain brought stars and she thought she was going to faint.

“That’s just the beginning bitch. Now, who’s that man that was with you in the livery?”

“Just a man who was also on the train. He’s looking for the killer.”

“I don’t believe you. He’s on your trail, my trail.” He smacked her again with the stock.

Blood erupted from her nose and mixed with the tears that could not be held back. “Hit me all you want,” she managed to say. “I’m alone. There’s no one following me.”

He kicked her crotch area. “You better be telling the truth. Because if I see anyone on that horizon, one of these kids die for each person I see. And you don’t even want to know what I’m going to do to you.” He kicked her again.

He walked over to the woman. “Don’t you dare defy me ever again!” He slapped her several times and pushed her to the ground. The boy began to cry, waking up the babies. Soon the sound of crying children threatened their very lives as Stevenson grabbed his daughter and shoved her at the woman. She quickly offered the baby her breast. The other baby continued to wail. Stevenson picked it up and walked it over to the grasses where he and Hannah had been sitting and dropped it to the ground.

Stevenson began to move foodstuffs and canteens from the cart to the horses. While rooting through the cart, he’d found a lariat. He cut it in two and motioned for the woman to stand. He took his daughter and laid her in the cart. He pointed to Hannah and indicated that the woman was to tie her ankles together. Once that was done, he untied Hannah’s wrists from the cart and secured them behind her back. He picked her up and laid her belly down right behind the saddle of his horse. He told the woman to get aboard Hannah’s horse, and then settled the boy in front of her saddle and handed Jessica to her. Stevenson mounted up and kneed his horse close to the woman. He took her reins and as they began to move away from the cart, he put a bullet between the eyes of the burro.

The woman looked frantically at the grassy area and began to scream for Stevenson to get her child. He pointed his pistol at the boy. She caught her breath and clutched the boy to her middle. “Por favor?” She wept.

He ignored her and kept moving.

Chapter 28

Whose Blood?

Liam’s eyes fluttered open just before dawn. Still more asleep than awake, his relaxed and well-rested mind and body had him back in South Carolina. He and his brothers had slept out under the Palmetto trees. Through the flittering leaves, he watched even the brightest stars bow out with a quick flash as the sun edged closer to breaching the horizon. Liam yawned and stretched leisurely coming fully awaken. No palmetto trees, just cottonwoods, but he smiled anyway, because like every morning for the past couple of months, thoughts of Hannah drifted into his mind. He turned toward her and had a fleeting moment of panic before common sense told him she was tending to nature.

Liam closed his eyes and let pleasurable thoughts of the woman he loved start his day. Despite his good night’s sleep, he still wished she’d been in his arms all night. He was becoming addicted to her touch. The sound of the horses lapping water drew Liam’s attention and he smiled in anticipation of Hannah’s return to the campsite. He waited, and waited, and waited.

The horses had calmed and the quiet dawn was starting to make Liam nervous. He got up and wandered over toward them.

“Damn!” A quick count of the horses brought on a sureness that Hannah was gone. Liam stormed about the grasses, trees and creek yelling, “Hannah!” Arriving back at the campsite, he found Frank and Jackson on their feet.

“What’s going on, Liam?” asked Frank.

“Hannah’s gone.”

“Gone? When? How?”

“How the hell do I know? I just woke up and found her and her horse gone.”

“Why would she leave without us?” Frank asked.

Liam walked over and poked a finger in Jackson’s chest. “You!”

Jackson backed up a few steps. “What about me? I was sleeping just like you. I didn’t know she was leaving.”

“He’s right, Liam. You can’t blame him.”

“Son of a bitch!” Liam ran his fingers through his hair. “I should have seen it coming. I knew she had something up her sleeve.”

“Liam?” Frank gripped Liam’s shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

Liam looked at Jackson. “While we were listening to your story last night, I could see how Hannah was struggling with the fact that Stevenson would recognize you. In fact, I asked her what she had up her sleeve, but she said we needed to decide what to do in the morning and that she needed some sleep.” He turned back to Frank. “I should have known. You know how stubborn and determined she can be.”

Frank nodded. “She is one determined woman when she makes up her mind to something.”

Liam headed for the horses.

“Liam, wait. We’ll gather our things and go after her with you.”

“No! Take Mr. Jackson and go back to the ranch.”

“Damn it,” Frank grabbed the reins of Liam’s horse. “Wait. You may not think so, but you need help.” Frank paused and touched his brother’s knee, “What if something …, what if you find Hannah …, ah …oh Christ, what if she gets herself killed?”

Liam jerked the reins from his brother and galloped off.

“Damn!” Frank hurried back to the fire pit and grabbed their food supplies and his bedroll. “Grab your stuff. We can’t let him get too far ahead of us.”

Fast as he tried to go, Liam couldn’t shake his brother and Jackson. He raced along the cart tracks while watching the horizon for signs of anyone and occasionally looking back to see if his followers were still trailing him and if they were gaining on him.

After riding for a couple of hours, Liam thought he saw a cart or wagon. His horse was foaming at the mouth and he knew she needed some rest. He also knew that, if he stopped, Hannah would get further away from him. He denied the horse both water and rest.

Liam nearly cheered when he clearly identified a cart of some kind just up ahead. His eyes raked the area looking for life. His hand went to his gun and he slowed to a trot. When he was alongside the cart, he jumped down and cautiously began to sort through the deserted items. He found no sign of Hannah, nor any human. As he circled the cart, he noticed dried blood on some of the slats. He shivered. “God, please don’t let it be Hannah’s blood.”

He noticed that the ground under the bloody slats was pretty churned up with scuffling made by something more than the large boot prints visible amid and around the area. “Damn, damn, damn!”

“Liam!” Frank called from a distance.

“There’s blood, but no Hannah,” he yelled to his brother.

Frank and Jackson neared the cart and dismounted.

“Looks like a scuffle here.” Liam pointed to the blood and the disturbed earth.

“It does at that.” Frank shaded his eyes and looked toward the horizon. “Looks like someone decided they’d make better time without the cart.”

“But who? Stevenson? Hannah? The Mexican woman? And, where are the babies?” While talking, Liam had been walking in a larger and larger circle around the cart looking for clues. He noticed some trod down grass leading to a tree and started to follow the trail.

“Look,” said Mr. Jackson. “I appreciate the fact that you’re worried about your woman, but what about my granddaughter. Why are we wasting time here while they’re still on the move. After all, your woman knew what she was doing; my granddaughter is the innocent victim here.”

Liam turned and began a determined walk toward Jackson. As he walked, his fists doubled. “First of all, she’s not MY woman. Her name is Hannah. And the only reason we’re here, this close to finding your granddaughter, is because of Hannah’s promise to your daughter’s soul and her drive to fulfill that promise.”

Frank hurried to stand between Liam and Jackson. “Not now, Liam. Let’s settle this after we find Hannah.”

Liam shoved his brother aside and grabbed Jackson’s shirt. His fist zeroed in on the man’s face.

Liam’s fist froze mid-air at the unmistakable wail of a human baby. It came from the area of grass where Liam had been heading. Jackson had ducked to avoid Liam’s attack and now cranked his neck toward the grassy area.

“What the hell?” Frank was already headed toward the sound. The other two were alongside of him when they spotted the red-faced and ant covered baby. “It’s not Jessica,” Frank said as he lifted the child up and held it at arm’s length. “Liam, strip its clothes off so we can get rid of the ants.”

“It’s a boy,” Liam said as he pulled the gown and diaper off the child.

“Whose, I wonder?” Frank and Liam brushed at the few remaining ants. Through all their efforts, the baby had continued to cry loudly. “We need to wash him.”

Noticing that the little guy was gnawing on his fist, Liam said, “And get him something to eat.”

Once the child was washed and re-clad in the now antless gown, its crying was intermittent, but the gnawing was continual.

“He needs to eat. Frank, check your food supplies.” Liam held the child.