Deadman's Fury (The Deadman Series Book 2) Page 9

  Matthew nodded, remembering the conversation he’d overheard a couple of nights ago at the Shamrock Saloon; the bartender talking to Marston and his response about being gone for a week. Satisfied they wouldn’t run into a shooting match on the Donnelly’s property, he drank the last of his coffee and asked, “What time do the Donnellys usually show up for work?”

  “Usually 8:00 or close to it,” Dicky wrote.

  Matthew sat up straight as he saw the telegraph agent scurrying toward his office. As promised, he was opening up early. Standing, he grabbed his hat and said, “You guys pay up and get the horses ready to head out. I’ll meet you at the livery as soon as I’m done.” He paused and added, “Pack your gear, too. No need to load your saddlebags quite yet, but have everything ready to grab.”

  The men stood to leave as Matthew went out and crossed the street. As soon as the telegraph machine warmed up, he sent his messages to the deputies in Granville and to Iris. Walking toward the town stable, he saw Dicky’s little roan tied to the hitching rail out front and strained to see into the darkened interior. All three of the Spokane County sheriff department’s horses were saddled. The mule nickered from his own stall.

  “We’re ready to go, Matthew,” Roy called from inside the barn. “We were thinking this would be as good a place as any to wait. We can see out but the Donnelly’s will have trouble seeing us here in the shade.”

  “Good idea. Dicky, please move your horse inside with the others.”

  Dicky quickly obeyed and the four men stood beside their mounts, waiting for the Donnelly’s carriage to roll past.

  “Watcher doin’?” The stable owner, a heavy-set man with a belly as big as a barrel, walked up from the back of the building with a bucket of oats in his hand.

  Matthew turned around and smiled. “Nothing, really,” he replied. “Just having a powwow before we hit the road.”

  “Well, okay…I guess. Just don’t let these rigged up hoss’s spook those left in their stalls. Once one goes, they all wanter take off in a bunch, you know.” Matthew did know that. Horses were such herders that they would all run straight over a cliff if the boss stallion told them to.

  Pulling out his pocket watch, he peered at the time. 7:54…Not too much longer, he thought.

  Ten minutes passed and Matthew started to wonder if the Donnelly’s planned to stay home today. But then they heard the sound of hoof beats coming up the road. Standing back out of the light and staring through the big double doors of the barn, he saw a fancy black coach pass by. Looking down at Dicky, he saw the boy nod. “Wait here for a minute,” he said, and went to the stable doors.

  He watched the carriage pull to a stop in front of the flower shop. Margaret Donnelly stepped down and entered her business as the coach moved to the opposite side of the road and out of sight.

  Earlier, Dicky had written that Patrick Donnelly always followed the same schedule. He would drop off his sister at her shop and then head across the street to mind the Shamrock and other business concerns from his office in the restaurant.

  Hustling to where his men stood poised, Matthew said, “Let’s go.” All four lawmen mounted their horses, riding toward the cemetery and the Donnelly’s home.

  They rode about four miles, eventually coming up on a well-maintained piece of land. Most of the fencing was post and rail but soon turned to elaborate wrought iron with a beautiful, high archway surrounding the big white house. A discreet sign on top of the arch read, DONNELLY’S CEMETARY.

  Staring past the fence, Matthew saw an elegant graveyard with a stone mausoleum, angelic statues and numerous marble headstones. Years ago, after Top Hat had decimated so much of his hometown and its population, the city of Spokane had donated wrought iron fencing for the local cemetery. Nicer than many towns boasted, there still wasn’t enough money to maintain the grounds and there certainly wasn’t enough cash left over for most folks in Granville to invest in statues or fancy tombstones.

  He sighed and turned to Dicky. “Is there a groundskeeper?”

  Dicky shook his head and stuttered, “Nnnno, sir. Just FFFred and Dan, I thth…ink.”

  “Okay, let’s ride around the back of that barn,” Matthew said. “We’ll hide our horses there and if we hear anyone coming we can bail out down the road.”

  They rode slowly around the property, alert to anyone else’s presence. Although there was a stand of tall, lilac bushes and a few fruit trees behind the house and barn, they could easily hit the road running if need be.

  Matthew and his deputies got down from their mounts and tied them to whatever was handy on that side of the building. Then they peered around the corner, checking one last time for a guard or a lookout.

  Finally satisfied they were alone, the men moved quickly to the big double doors in front of the barn, pushing one to the side. They slipped indoors and Matthew rolled the door closed again. Two horses whickered at them from their stalls and the lawmen let their eyes adjust to the dim. There was a large, well-maintained hayloft upstairs and the sun shone through the open slats, sending brilliant rays down through the shadowy interior.

  There were six stalls on either side of the barn and the men searched them all. Matthew had hoped against hope that he would find Amelia stashed away somewhere inside but it didn’t take long for them to see that wasn’t the case. It was as clean as a whistle. So clean, in fact, that it seemed all wrong.

  There was no dung anywhere and the hitching rails were spotless. Even the two windows set high up on either side of the sliding doors were shiny. It seemed like the entire place had been wiped down.

  “What do you think, boss?” Roy looked as frustrated as Matthew felt. Although the barn’s cleanliness was beyond reproach, it was a little too much so for Roy’s taste.

  “I think there was something here but the Donnelly’s cleaned up the evidence.”

  Roy nodded. “Yup, I agree. Do you want to look inside the house?”

  Matthew frowned. “I would like to but you know the law. The only thing we have is a gut feeling. I believe young Dicky but breaking and entering into the Donnelly’s house without the sheriff’s approval could get the bunch of us thrown in jail. And I don’t think Winslow would grant us access.”

  Dicky glanced up at Matthew’s words and his heart thumped with anxiety. He really had no proof of wrongdoing on the Donnelly’s part and he would hate to get the Spokane County posse in trouble for a hunch.

  “Boss, come and have a look!” Abner’s normally placid face was alight with excitement.

  Matthew, Roy and Dicky walked to where Abner stood by the last stall, staring down at the hay-covered floorboards. At first glance, the enclosure was immaculate…no dung, spilled oats, or trough water.

  Yet Matthew followed Abner’s gaze and spotted something strange. Moving closer, he knelt and peered at the place where a crossbeam held the wall upright. Crammed in between two pieces of lumber, there was a small piece of paper folded in two with only one corner showing.

  He reached in and gently coaxed it out of its hidey-hole. Standing up, Matthew unfolded the square and beheld his own face along with that of his wife and infant son, Chance.

  He remembered the day that photographer fellow had come out to the farm to take his family’s pictures. To the amusement of Iris’s other children, Chance had been in one of his rare rages. The little photographer was none too happy about the Wilcox family’s nonchalant disrespect of his art: The more he squealed, “Please, no laughter, be more serious!” the more the family chuckled and smirked until, finally, he shot the image Matthew now held in his hand before he left in a huff.

  The men crowded around him and Roy said, “Well, well. Looks like we finally found ourselves a trail to follow.”

  Matthew nodded silently and tucked the photograph in his vest pocket. Then he said, “Abner, great work…thank you.”

  The young man blushed with pride as Roy gave him a cuff on the arm. Dicky grinned up at the giant and said, “Gggg…ood eyes!”

  T
hen Matthew said, “Let’s go.”

  The lawmen walked to the barn doors and, after peering outside to check that they were still alone, pulled one panel sideways enough to squeeze through. Mounting their horses, the Spokane County sheriff and his deputies rode back through the yard and onto the road.

  They kept their horses at a trot until they reached the town limits and then slowed to a walk. Once at the hotel, the officers moved swiftly upstairs, grabbed their kits, paid for their rooms, and were heading west toward Seattle before the sun hit high noon.

  Chapter 14

  Trouble on the Road

  Dan and Fred stopped outside of a ramshackle cabin in the western foothills of the Cascade Mountains, about forty-five miles away from Seattle. It was still quite warm for September although the girls had shivered and quaked with the below freezing temperatures during the latter hours of the night’s travels.

  This was one of Donnelly’s way stations. The men saw a paddock filled with horses, a milk cow and a flock of chickens in the side yard. As they inspected the property, an old man stepped out on the porch.

  “Hello! I was beginning to think you weren’t comin’!” he hollered.

  “Smitty, you old dog!” Dan responded. Then he and his partner climbed down off the wagon, stretching their legs. Fred heard the captive girls in back of the wagon, whispering amongst themselves and complaining of their need to pee.

  He rapped sharply on the back entrance port and hissed, “Shut up! We’ll let you out in a minute.”

  Dan walked up to Smitty Threwgard and said, “You got some coffee made, by any chance?”

  Smitty nodded. “Yup, sure do, although it’s a mite strong by now. What kept you men? I expected you last night.”

  Dan rubbed the whiskers on his face. “We had to stop every other minute for these bitches to pee, or take care of their bleedin’ or what have you,” he swore. “We always used to dope ‘em up for the trip but, this time, Mr. Donnelly said there wasn’t any dope to spare. Probably Margaret got ahold of what there was. She never could keep her fingers out of the cookie jar, you know.”

  Smitty gestured and Dan followed him inside the cabin, accepting a cup of stout black coffee. Taking a noisy slurp, he continued. “Anyway, maybe it was a good thing we stopped. About thirty miles back, Fred glassed our back trail and saw four riders coming up fast behind us.” Smitty raised an eyebrow.

  “Reason I mention it is,” Dan continued, “Fred thought he saw a man he recognized. They was a good ways back, about twenty miles, but he thought he saw a rider that’s as big as a house and rides a draft horse. If that’s him, it means there is a band of lawmen—probably those deputies out of Spokane—hot on our trail.”

  “You think they’re after you?” Smitty wanted to know.

  Dan shook his head. “Fred thinks so but you know he’s always worried about this thing and that. Anyway, there’s no way to tell, really. But it don’t help that this is such a lively bunch. Last thing we need is an inquisitive bunch of lawmen sniffin’ around this wagon.”

  Moving to the open door, he peered outside and saw that Fred was herding the girls down a plank to the grass. He watched as a number of the females squatted in place to relieve their bladders.

  Smitty whistled. “Lookit that penny-headed girl there…she’s a beaut!”

  Dan nodded. “Yep, that’s the newest acquisition. Her name is…” He stopped talking as both men heard Fred start to yell. The tall, skinny man ran back down the plank from inside the wagon and accosted the redhead just as she started standing up from her squat.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” they heard Fred’s voice bellowing through the still, morning air.

  “Ooops, looks like we might have us a problem,” Dan muttered and strode off the porch to where Fred stood screaming into the frightened girl’s face.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked his friend and partner.

  Fred turned around. “One of the girls is missing!” he hissed. “The little squaw…”

  Dan’s heart skipped a beat. “What? How can that be?” Now he was getting mad and wanted to shake some information loose from the mute, terror-stricken girls. Donnelly did not suffer losses well and would not hesitate to take his anger out on their hides.

  Staring at Amelia, he asked, “When was the last time you saw the squaw?”

  The disheveled young beauty looked down at the ground and replied, “I really don’t remember since it was dark when we last stopped. I thought she was asleep under her blanket but maybe she left while we were busy.”

  Dan frowned. “And you didn’t think to alert us when you saw she was no longer in our company?”

  Amelia’s cheeks turned red. “No! Like I said, it was dark. For all I knew, she had changed positions while I was outside. I didn’t even know she wasn’t there anymore!”

  The girl made a reasonable argument, but she was too young and inexperienced to dissemble well. Although her eyes were wide with innocence, she kept glancing down and sideways…a sure “tell” if Dan ever saw one.

  Stepping forward, he raised his right hand and slapped the furtive look right off her face. She fell down with a cry and the other girls gasped with dismay. Amelia stared at the bright red blood that spotted her hand from the split on her lower lip and then glared up at her tormenter. “Okay,” she spat. “She escaped a long time ago, maybe thirty miles back. And I hope she gets away for good!”

  Dan stood over her, fighting his desire to kick her in the ribs. He and Fred were under strict orders to take as good a care as possible with this latest bunch since the Sultan’s auction was coming up quick so a bunch of broken bones would be frowned upon for sure. Taking a deep breath, he turned to Smitty and said, “Let’s change this horseflesh out. We got to get a move on.”

  The old man tossed his coffee cup dregs on the ground and walked as swiftly as he could into the paddock. Fred moved to the traces and started to unhitch their tired stock from the wagon.

  Dan growled, “You bitches get up in that wagon. There will be no more kindnesses for you from now on as I see you can’t be trusted. Now git!”

  The young women fled as quickly as possible up the plank. One girl yelled, “You ain’t even going to give us any water?”

  “No! Now, shut yer mouths!” Dan snarled. He had to feed and water them and he knew it. Still, he thought the fear of going without food and drink might deter the prisoners from doing anything stupid, at least until they made it to the warehouse.

  He and Fred got their new team harnessed and took a quick lunch. Then, after throwing two full canteens of water and a loaf of bread into the back of the wagon, they took off on the final leg of their journey into Seattle.

  ~

  Approximately twenty-five miles away, Matthew held up one hand and whispered, “Whoa, boys. There’s something over there in the trees.”

  The men pulled up their horses and stared into the woods to their right. Shadows intersected with shafts of sunlight that shot down out of the sky like golden arrows. It was pretty but hard to distinguish what was what. They strained their eyes and all of them drew their pistols in readiness. Then a branch cracked, sending chipmunks to chattering overhead.

  “There!” Matthew pointed and slid down off his saddle. The lawmen crept into the brush, keeping their eyes on a few low bushes that quaked with constant, unnatural movement. Matthew signaled for the men to stop and moved forward on his own. Peering over a fallen log, he saw an Indian woman curled up on the forest floor. She was so thin he could see her bones pushing against her flesh. Her eyes were huge and stared up at him as if her last hope had just died.

  He held out a hand and said, “Hold on there. We aren’t going to hurt you.” He squatted down, staying on the opposite side of the large, fallen tree and called, “One of you, give me some water.”

  Someone thrust a canteen over his shoulder and he uncapped it, watching as the girl’s eyes tracked his every move and licked her lips in thirst. He handed the water over the
log for her to grab. Wary as a hungry hawk, she reached up and took the canteen out of his hands. Tipping it to her mouth, she took a number of short sips and Matthew nodded in approval.

  “Good. She knows not to drink so fast that she founders,” he murmured.

  “What ya got there, boss?” Roy asked softly.

  “An Indian girl. Looks like she has been used rough, too.” He glanced over his shoulder at the deputies. “Listen, why don’t we stop here for a few hours? The horses need a rest, and we could use the time to try and figure out how to help this little squaw.”

  “Okay,” Roy agreed.

  Matthew heard the three men walk away to set up a temporary camp. He gazed down at the girl who had finished drinking and was trying to get comfortable on the ground. Her eyes were heavy and it looked like she was about to fall right over in exhaustion.

  Clearing his throat, he asked, “Can you understand me?”

  The young woman stared up at him and then, to his shock, she smiled. “Yes, I think you are Uncle Matthew.”

  Chapter 15

  Chasing West

  Matthew felt a sense of relief that he had chosen correctly. Sometimes a posse had no more to go on than a sixth sense when it came time to cut sign. Animals left a trail to follow: broken twigs; hoof or paw prints; drops of blood. However, when it came to humans—especially those that did not want to be found—the trail could sometimes become impossible to find, much less follow.

  Although he was shocked when the Indian girl spoke his name, he also realized that this girl must have seen the picture tucked in his vest pocket. Pulling it out, Matthew unfolded the photograph and showed it to her.

  “Do you know the girl who left this?”

  Pushing her long, black hair away from her face with shaking fingers, she nodded and answered. “Yes, it was Amelia.”

  Ashamed, Matthew swore under his breath and apologized. “I’m sorry. You’re hurt and tired. Let’s go over here and get you something to eat.”