Deadman's Fury (The Deadman Series Book 2) Read online

  Abner and Dicky had just gotten a small fire lit in a clearing about thirty feet away and Matthew could see Roy fixing a fresh pot of coffee. The girl looked famished but she eyed the other members of his party with distrust. “It’s okay, Miss. Those are Spokane County deputies…my friends. They would never hurt you.”

  She stared up into his eyes and then took a step toward the fire. Letting out a cry, she stumbled, wobbling in pain.

  Looking down, Matthew frowned. Despite her long dress, he could see her right ankle was at least twice as big as the left.

  “Whoa! Let me help you,” he said as she grimaced in pain. Not knowing what else to do until they were able to dress and wrap her injury, he scooped her into his arms. She struggled briefly, then went limp as he strode toward the fire.

  As the deputies watched them approach, Dicky appeared worried but Roy, as usual, was all business. He took one look at her ankle and walked over to the mule to get his medical kit.

  “Knock it off!” he snapped when the animal laid its ears back and bared its teeth. Quieting, it allowed the deputy to rummage around in the bags. A moment later, Roy knelt by the girl with long strips of wrapping material. Gazing down, he said, “This is either a break or a really bad sprain. Look at that swelling!”

  The girl’s ankle was as big around as a cantaloupe, and blue and purple with bruises. Her toes were turning white which Matthew knew was a bad sign. He had the feeling this young woman had walked for many miles when she should have been resting and letting her injury recover.

  “Lie down for a minute and let us wrap this ankle,” he murmured.

  She gazed at the four men and sighed, knowing she required assistance in order to make it back home to her people. “Thank you” she whispered and laid down, allowing one of the men to place her foot in his lap.

  Matthew held her hand as Abner and Dicky chopped stout branches into splints and Roy wrapped soft cloth rags all around those branches for support.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  Biting her lip to keep from crying aloud in pain, she looked up and smiled. “My people call me Little Deer, but the teacher at my school says my name is now Sarah.”

  “Well…,” Matthew paused, “you are very brave, Little Deer. Can you tell us what happened to you and Amelia?”

  At that moment, Abner walked up with a steaming cup of fresh coffee and handed it to Sarah. She took a drink, grimacing at the bitterness, but Matthew could see the ashy color leave her complexion almost immediately.

  Roy finished wrapping her ankle and stood up. “I think this is a bad sprain. Maybe, if she lets it rest for a while and keeps the splint on, the swelling will go down. She’s not walking anywhere though…not for a while anyway.” He glared down at the young woman with his stern words, making sure she got his message.

  Sarah struggled to sit up and Abner put one of their saddlebags behind her back for support. Looking over at the sheriff, she said, “I was walking to school. I’m not a student anymore, but I help the white-lady teacher with some of the Indian children who need to learn English so they can succeed in their studies.” She took another sip of her coffee and continued.

  “The school is just outside of Walla Walla. It is about three miles away from my family home, on the outskirts of my people’s reservation. It takes me about an hour and a half to walk there so it was just breaking dawn when a carriage came up the road behind me. Normally, that would not be a problem for me. I will walk off the road and let wagons or buggies pass but…” A tear trickled from her eye and she whisked it away with an angry swipe of her arm.

  Sarah stopped talking and lifted her nose like an inquisitive hound as Abner had just put some bacon in a fry pan, the smell wafting through the air. She looked so starved, Matthew wondered how long it had been since she filled her belly.

  Turning to Dicky, he said, “Would you bring Miss Little Deer a piece of bread soaked in that bacon fat?”

  Nodding, the young deputy hustled off and Sarah looked up at the sheriff. Smiling, she said, “Sir, I appreciate your efforts to honor me and my people by using my Indian name but it’s really not necessary. Mine was one of the first tribes to go willingly to the reservation. We were dying, you see, and most of our men were killed either on Bear Paw Mountain or fighting against Custer and his troops.”

  Dicky brought a piece of hard bread liberally soaked with bacon fat and the young woman tore into it like a hungry wolf. While she ate, Matthew walked over to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup.

  Turning to Roy, he said, “We’ll stay for a while longer, then we need to move out.” Glancing at the two younger men, he added, “Get some shut-eye if you can. Once we get going, I don’t plan on stopping until we reach Seattle.”

  Roy handed him a small cup of water and winked. Knowing what it contained, Matthew nodded his thanks and walked back to where Sarah sat on the ground. Handing her the laudanum-laced drink, he said, “Do you remember who took you?”

  She drank the liquid, and sat back against the saddlebag with a sigh. Nodding, she said, “Yes. It was a man named Fred, and another named Dan. They put something over my mouth and then I slept. When I woke up later, I was in a big barn with some other girls.”

  Sarah’s eyelids started to droop. “I was there for many days and nights, and I am sure that the woman drugged us to keep us quiet. Finally, though, Amelia came. That was…” It was all she could do now to keep her eyes open. “… three days ago, I think.” She laid her head back and started to nod off.

  Matthew leaned forward and said, “Sarah. Do you know where those men were taking you girls?”

  Startled awake, she answered, “Yes…I think so.” She struggled to sit upright. “Most of the time when I was held captive in the barn, I slept and slept. Last week, though, I started to wake up. I think the woman who watched us was using the drugs meant for us.”

  Sarah gazed off into the distance for a moment, then said, “I heard the big boss—the woman’s brother, Mr. Donnelly—say that a cheek was holding an auction where girls would be bartered off to the highest bidder.”

  Matthew grinned. Proof! he thought. If worse came to worst, he could call Miss Little Deer to court as a witness. Then he frowned and asked, “A cheek? You mean a sheik or a sultan?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I don’t know what kind of man that is exactly but I heard our captives talking about it a lot.” This time, when Sarah laid her head back on the saddlebag, she fell into a deep slumber.

  Matthew knew perfectly well what a sultan was. He also knew that if he and his men did not move quickly, they would lose Amelia forever to the Far Eastern sands of time.

  ~

  “What do you mean he left?” Winslow snarled.

  The deputy shuffled his feet and mumbled, “Sir, what I meant to say is I saw the little bastard riding off down the road with that Spokane sheriff’s posse about noon. I thought you knew!”

  Winslow glared at the man and then said, “I gotta go. You sit here while I’m gone and mind the office. I’ll be back in a little while.”

  The portly sheriff stood up and plucked a handkerchief out of his coat pocket. It was, of a sudden, unbearably hot and he knew that his sweat had more to do with facing Donnelly than the warm weather conditions. Still, he was dripping like a pig.

  He mopped his brow and the back of his neck as he walked down the boardwalk to the Shamrock Saloon. Winslow had known for a long time that Donnelly was a crook. Although he didn’t quite know what the man did, he was not blind as he had often seen the Donnelly’s black coaches coming and going in the dark of night. He had also seen the furtive glances and witnessed too many episodes of clandestine, criminal behavior to be innocent of the man’s activities.

  Still, the minute the sheriff had let his own greed and ambition get in the way of his duties, Donnelly had owned him lock, stock and barrel. Two years earlier, when the Irish siblings first came to town, Patrick had offered Winslow a hundred dollars a month to oversee some of his enterprise
s. In other words, look the other way.

  At first, Winslow thought the man was running guns. And maybe he was. But the sheriff also “looked away” when a wagonload of painted ladies showed up just after the Shamrock’s doors opened. Prostitution was against town policy—it was 1889 in the town of Wenatchee, after all, not some backwater burg in the 1860s.

  But a hundred bucks was a hundred bucks. So, despite a number of town hall meetings and a rowdy protest by the Ladies Auxiliary Club, Winslow pocketed the cash and allowed a brothel into the city limits only two blocks away from both the Lutheran and Presbyterian churches.

  Over the last few months, word had reached his ears about a series of kidnappings taking place in eastern Washington. His first thought was that Donnelly was behind it and Winslow decided, if he knew what was good for him and his family, he would keep his suspicions to himself.

  Now, though, the pigeons had come home to roost in the form of Matthew Wilcox and his Spokane County deputies. Damn their do-good hides! he thought as he kicked at a small clod of mud so hard, he almost fell over backward.

  Hiring young Dicky had been a bad mistake, as well, Winslow acknowledged with a sigh of self-disgust. The kid was too smart by half and had noticed almost immediately that something was off about the town’s newest benefactors. Every time the boy came a runnin’ to tell him what he already knew, though, Winslow would put the fear of God into him, warning Dicky that he didn’t know nothing and to keep his big yap shut.

  Still, he acknowledged that he might have been a little too rough with the kid this last time. Especially since that damn nosy sheriff, Matthew Wilcox, was standing right there with his cold emerald eyes drilling holes into Winslow’s soul. He had come off sounding like a liar, even to his own jaded ears.

  He strode up to the Shamrock Saloon and was about to step inside when one of the doors swung outward. Patrick Donnelly was standing there, glaring at where Winslow stood wiping the sweat from his face.

  “About time you showed up, Sheriff. I was just coming to fetch you.” Patrick’s large face was red with fury and his hazel eyes bored into Winslow’s like two bullets.

  Although Winslow felt like running and screaming away from the gangster, he followed Donnelly into his office and gulped when the huge man locked the door.

  Patrick turned to him and said, “You need to gather up some evidence against those Spokane County lawmen. Rape, murder, I don’t care what you come up with.” He grinned and added, “Then send a telegraph to the King County sheriff’s department demanding an arrest.”

  Chapter 16

  An Important Message

  Seven hours after Sarah fell into an exhausted slumber, she woke up in the arms of a young giant. She remembered his name was Abner and he smiled bashfully as she squirmed around in his arms.

  “It’s all right, Ma’am. We’re just coming into a town now,” he murmured.

  Facing forward, and painfully aware of her throbbing ankle, Sarah saw a little town not too far off. It was a ramshackle place, surrounded by tall fir and cedar trees with a tumbling waterfall in the distance. The streets were muddy and there seemed to be more saloons than houses.

  Matthew recalled there was some trouble here a couple of years back involving itinerate Chinese railroad workers but things seemed to have settled down now. At least, he hoped so.

  He stopped his horse and, reining the animal around, asked Sarah, “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m better, thanks.” Amelia was right…her uncle Matthew was a very handsome man even if he was white. Gazing past him, she frowned. “Where are we? I was hoping to go home to my people in Walla Walla but this is different country. Very, um, green.”

  Matthew nodded. “Yes. If time wasn’t of the essence, my men and I would have taken you home but we don’t have that luxury. I have decided to install you in the closest hotel and find you some medical attention. Then I’m sending for my wife, who will come and take you back to your family. Is that okay with you?”

  Sarah had never—not even once—been asked if she approved of a man’s plans or not. Startled and pleased, she nodded her agreement. The sheriff winked and trotted back to the front of their party. Walking slowly, they entered the town known as Gold Bar.

  Originally a gold miner’s camp, it probably would have dried up and blown away if not for the railroad depot and a few new buildings designed to accommodate travelers. Matthew saw a decent hotel, a restaurant and a large church. Sighing with relief, he felt sure he could find accommodations for Sarah until Iris arrived by train to accompany her back home.

  Gasping, Dicky pointed and stuttered, “Loo-oo-ok!”

  They had come down from a tangle of trees and high bluffs but now they could see a gigantic mountain come into view. It was ungodly huge and rose like a frosty iceberg over the hills and treetops.

  Turning to Dicky, Matthew said, “I believe that is Mount Rainier. It’s a volcano.”

  Dicky looked half-ill with awe. For that matter, so did Roy who asked, “It ain’t going to explode on us, I suppose?” He eyed the looming mountain with distrust.

  “No. It’s dormant, from what I’ve read,” Matthew supplied with a grin.

  “Well, it better just stay that way,” Roy responded.

  They pulled up in front of the only hotel in the rough little town. The proprietor sat on the front porch, eyeing them in an unfriendly manner. “How do you do?” Matthew called out. “My name is Matthew Wilcox. I am a Spokane County sheriff and these are my deputies. Do you have a room available?”

  The middle-aged man spat chew on the boardwalk by his chair and said, “I got rooms, but we don’t let Injuns in.”

  Matthew’s pleasant expression darkened. “Is that right? How much money would it take for you to have a change of heart on that score?”

  The proprietor scowled. “There’s not enough money in the world to make me change my mind. Now git!”

  Matthew sat rigid in his saddle. He understood that, for some, bad blood between white settlers and the natives would never wipe clean. Still, he hated rude behavior in a man. Glancing over at Sarah, he saw that her cheeks were flushed with fear and shame.

  “You run an unfriendly establishment, sir,” he snarled.

  The man just shrugged and spat upon his own porch again with contempt.

  “Sheriff, I got a room you can use.” A woman’s voice came from across the street. Matthew turned in his saddle and saw an older woman with a broom in her hands standing in front of a large gray house. She waved, gesturing him closer.

  Giving the hotel owner one last glare, Matthew reined his horse around and trotted about fifty feet down the muddy road. His deputies followed and they pulled up in front of the house. “Hello!” Matthew smiled. “Did I hear you say that you have a room available?”

  The woman grinned. She was missing many teeth and her face was as wrinkled as an old pear but her eyes were merry. “Yes, I do…four rooms to be exact.”

  “That’s wonderful, Ma’am. We’ll only be needing two, though. One for little Sarah and one for Abner who will be staying on to watch over her until my wife arrives.”

  “Name’s Gertie Mumford. This is my home. Used to be just me and my family but, once the mister passed on and the young’uns married, I’ve been letting rooms out.” She gazed down the road at the hotel and frowned. “Gotta say, I’ve been making a pretty good living at it, too. Don’t know why that rascal George Libby keeps turning away paying customers the way he does but I’m not complaining neither.”

  She stepped off her porch and walked over to peer up at Sarah. “Oh, my. Looks like you have a hurt hoof, dear. Son, hand that girl down to me so I can get her into bed.”

  Abner glanced at his boss who nodded in agreement. Sliding down off the huge draft horse with Sarah in his arms, he allowed her feet to drop and held her upright as she tried to put weight on it. Gasping in pain, Sarah clutched Abner’s arm.

  “Well, this girl needs the doc,” Gertie exclaimed. Turning to Matthew, sh
e said, “His office is down the road, there on the corner. Why don’t …?” She gazed at the four men and her eyes landed on the smallest of them. “You,” she said to Dicky, “run down and fetch him here.”

  Dicky grinned. “Y-y-yes, Ma’am!” he said and took off down the street.

  Abner picked up Sarah again and they trooped into Gertie’s house. It was a homely place but very clean with sparse furniture and a warm fire flickering in the woodstove. Although Indian summer had kept the temperatures moderate, Matthew had felt autumn’s inevitable approach in the early-morning frosts and red leaves falling from the deciduous trees.

  They helped Sarah into a small bedroom and then Matthew went back out the door just as Dicky and the town’s doctor stepped up on the front porch. Matthew stuck out his hand to shake and introduced himself. Then he said, “I was hoping you could check Sarah’s ankle. I suspect it’s broken, which is why there’s so much swelling. How much do I owe you for your services?”

  The doctor, a young man with ginger hair and a harried expression, replied, “Well, two dollars is my standard fee. But if I need to do a procedure, it’ll be more.”

  Matthew said, “Do what you need to do, Doc. Say, can you tell me where the telegraph office is?”

  The doctor frowned. “It’s in the hotel lobby, Sheriff, sorry to say. George is not a friendly fellow and neither is the company he keeps.”

  “Lucky for me, I don’t need a new friend right now.” Turning to Dicky, he said, “You and Abner stay here with Sarah. Roy and I are going to send a telegraph. We’ll be right back.”

  Roy, who had been standing behind Matthew, slapped his hat on his head and stepped off the porch. Matthew followed and the two men walked across the street trying in vain to avoid the numerous mud-filled puddles and potholes.

  Three men darkened the hotel’s front porch as the lawmen approached. They were a rough lot with dark, mud-splattered clothing and cold expressions on their faces. They stared at Matthew and Roy a little too closely for comfort and the sheriff felt a chill warning.