The moon provided barely enough light for Dylan to see the dim deer trail he was following. The only sounds were the tramping of his horse’s hooves and the chirping of crickets.
He must find Rachel soon or she’d have to spend the night on the mountain at the mercy of bears and cougars.
He reined in suddenly. He had heard the striking of a hoof on stone. He leaned forward and peered ahead. A horse was coming down the trail, its reins dragging on the ground. With an indrawn breath he recognized Goldie, but couldn’t make out the bundle lying across the mare’s back.
A savage oath ripped from his throat when the horse drew near and he recognized the bundle as a body and that the body was Rachel’s. A dull fury built inside him mixed with terrible fear as he swung from the saddle and ran to her.
He lifted her head and could hardly recognize her, her face was so badly bruised. When he gently pulled her off the mare, she let loose a cry of pain. It told him that she had bruises on her body, possibly some broken bones.
She moaned a few times as he awkwardly climbed into his own saddle while cradling her in his arms. When he turned Devil’s head back down the mountain, Goldie followed him.
It was almost midnight when John Jacob saw two horses coming up the river road. He and Monty had given up their search an hour ago. He had been sitting on the narrow porch ever since, waiting for Dylan’s return.
A cold chill slithered down his spine when he saw that one of the horses was riderless, and that the single rider was carrying a body. He couldn’t clearly see the body, but in his heart he knew the rider was Dylan and that he held Rachel in his arms.
John Jacob jumped off the porch and reached Devil in two long strides. “Is she alive?” He looked anxiously at Dylan.
“She is, John, but barely. That bastard has beaten the hell out of her.” He gently lifted Rachel down into Jobn Jacob’s waiting arms.
“I’ll blow his brains out!” John Jacob gritted through his teeth as he carried Rachel into the post.
“You’ll have to beat me to it,” Dylan growled under his breath as he followed the other man inside.
Rosie and the other girls crowded into Rachel’s room as John Jacob laid her down on the bed. The half-dozen patrons in the place would have done the same if Rosie hadn’t blocked their entrance.
“You know you men don’t belong in here,” she snapped, “but one of you go to the Indian village and bring back some medicine.”
“Rosie,” John Jacob called, “come and strip Rachel down and get her in a gown.”
He and Dylan started pacing the floor as they waited for the medicine, sometimes bumping into each other.
Dylan stopped once to ask, “Have you felt her pulse, Rosie?”
“Yes, I did that right away. Her pulse is strong.”
It seemed but a short time before there came the sound of hooves pounding down the river road. “I sent Monty to the Indian village,” Rosie said. “He’s made the trip in record time.”
John Jacob sighed his relief. “The old medicine man will send something to help Rachel. He knows how to heal battered bodies.”
The bedroom door opened and Monty stepped inside. “Chief Yellow Feather sends a message to you, John Jacob. He says this Taig Sutter must be stopped before his evil can do more harm,” Monty explained, holding out a pouch. “His medicine man sent this for Rachel.”
John Jacob and Dylan looked at each other, their eyes bleak. “What are we going to do, Dylan?” he asked.
“I’ll go after him,” Dylan said. “But first I want to know Rachel is going to be alright.”
“Then let’s mix up this medicine,” Rosie suggested.
“The medicine man said it will ease her pain,” Monty said.
“I hope he’s right,” John Jacob said, and Rosie left the room to gather bandages and boil water.
When she returned to where Rachel lay, she ushered all but one of the women from the room. She asked Iva to bring her a basin of warm water, soap, a washcloth and a towel.
As soon as Iva returned, Rosie made a tea from the medicine man’s powder and carefully spooned it down Rachel’s throat. Next she turned to the basin of water and the washcloth.
As Rosie rolled up her sleeves, she looked at the two men and ordered, “John, you and Dylan can leave now. I won’t be needing you to help me bathe Rachel.”
Both men blushed.
Rosie and Iva looked at each other and smiled. Then they started to do what they could for Rachel.
The younger woman gasped when she saw the condition of Rachel’s body. “How could a man do this to a woman?” She looked at Rosie with wide, unbelieving eyes. “I’ve had a few rough customers, but they never beat me like this.”
“You’ve been lucky that you had men like John Jacob to look after you. If you’re wise, Iva, you’ll stay here with John. You may not make as much money as you would in a fancy place, but you’ll have protection.”
When Rosie had done everything she could for Rachel, she went into the kitchen to report to John Jacob and Dylan.
“She looks bad, John Jacob,” she said. “One eyelid is almost closed, and her whole face is swollen from cuts and a split lip. She has bruises all over her body where she was hit and kicked.
“And I think she has some broken ribs. She’s going to suffer some, but I believe she’s going to be alright. The medicine man’s tea seems to be helping the pain. She should sleep through the night. If she does rouse, I’ll give her some more.”
“Thank you, Rosie.” John Jacob hugged her shoulders and added, “I’ll be sitting up with Rachel the rest of the night. I’m going to look in on her now.”
Dylan followed John Jacob into Rachel’s room. Her face was bruised and battered, but her breathing was even and she seemed to be resting more comfortably.
“Thank God, she’s going to make it,” Dylan murmured. “Now I’m ready to go after the bastard who did this to her.”
Rosie caught his arm at the door. “Dylan,” she said, “I don’t blame you for wanting to kill the man, but at least have a cup of coffee before you start out. You must be exhausted by now. It will steady your nerves.” Dylan took the cup of coffee Rosie handed him and drank it in two swift swallows.
Devil was still tied and saddled outside the post and Dylan mounted, then touched the stallion with his spurs. The black quivered and bunched its muscles, then sprang forward.
When Dylan hit the narrow path to the Sutter shack, the freshness of the mountain air was like a tonic to him. His fatigue fell away. He thought of only one thing now. Getting his hands around Taig Sutter’s throat.
When he heard the long howl of a coon hound, he knew he was near the Sutter shack.
Four hounds came bounding out to meet him. They looked half starved. They kept their distance from Devil, knowing to stay clear of his hooves.
As Dylan reined Devil in, he thought it strange that all the barking and baying hadn’t brought Taig out to investigate the racket. He cupped his hands around his mouth and hailed the house.
He frowned when after a few minutes, no one came to the door. He called out again, this time calling Taig’s name. When the skinny mountain man still didn’t make an appearance and all continued to be silent, Dylan dismounted and rapped on the sagging door. No one called out to him to enter, and a chill ran down his spine. It was ominously quiet inside.
He cautiously pushed the door open. Taig could be waiting in the darkness, a rifle trained on the door.
Dylan could see by the pale light of the moon that the kitchen was empty. He carefully made his way to the next room, and there he stopped short in the doorway. The body of a woman lay sprawled on the floor in front of the fireplace. Still careful to keep an eye on the dark corners, he went and knelt down beside Ida Sutter’s still body. He knew without turning her over that she was dead. The darkening stain of her blood had spread all around her.
When Dylan did turn her over, he found that she had died from a bullet between the eyes. But before that she had been brutally beaten. He went into the bedroom and pulled a tattered quilt off the sagging bed.
“You have gone to a better place, Ida Sutter,” he said softly and spread the cover over her face.
Dylan stepped outside and breathed deeply of the fresh air in order to chase away the foul odor of death. He stood at his horse’s head a moment in thought. Should he set out after Taig, or return to the post and alert everyone to what had happened in this dilapidated shack?
His mind made up, Dylan swung onto Devil’s back and turned in the direction of the post. A posse should go after the killer. It was claimed that Taig wasn’t Rachel’s father, and Lord knew he didn’t like to think of Taig Sutter’s blood flowing in her veins, but all the same, he wouldn’t take the chance of maybe killing her father.
Rachel was going to take the death of her mother hard, of that he was sure. She must have loved her mother deeply to risk Taig’s wrath by visiting her.
Dylan found John Jacob sitting in the darkness of the porch, waiting for him. “Well, what did the bastard have to say for himself?” the big man asked as he stood up. “I hope you beat the hell out of him.”
“I didn’t see the polecat.” Dylan stepped up on the porch and sank down in a chair. He sat a moment, then said, “I’m afraid I have some news that is going to upset Rachel mightily.”
John Jacob narrowed his eyes at Dylan. “The no-good bastard beat the hell out of Ida, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did,” Dylan said solemnly.
“Will she be alright?”
“She’s dead, John. After nearly beating her to death, he put a bullet in her head.”
“Oh, Lord, no!” John Jacob exclaimed hoarsely. He walked to the edge of the porch and stared out into the darkness, remembering the young Ida he had loved so many years ago. Guilt and remorse overwhelmed him. If only he had been able to come back for her before she’d married Taig Sutter. Her life would have been so different.
“How is Rachel?” Dylan asked softly.
“She rallied a couple times. I think she’s going to be alright,” John Jacob answered after a while.
“I expect the death of her mother is going to hit her hard,” Dylan said.
“I’d rather be beat with a blacksnake whip than to have to tell her the news.”
Dylan sympathized with Andrews but didn’t offer to break the distressing news to Rachel. He said instead, “I expect we should start notifying the people up on Tulane Ridge. We’ll need some womenfolk to lay Mrs. Sutter out.” He paused a moment before pointing out, “We must get a posse together and track Sutter down before he escapes.”
John Jacob nodded his agreement; then Dylan added with a small, humorless laugh, “We’ll use his hounds to track him down.”
John Jacob stepped off the porch then and went to saddle his horse. When he returned from the barn leading his sorrel, he said, “It’ll be dawn soon. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble rounding up some men to hunt Taig Sutter. I’ve never heard any of my customers speak a good word about him.” He returned inside the post and started taking ammunition off a shelf. “Help yourself to some shells for your Colt, Dylan,” he invited.
Dylan hesitated a minute, remembering that he didn’t want to have any part in killing a man who might be Rachel’s father. He said finally, “I’m pretty beat from climbing the mountains. I want to rest awhile before I join you.”
“I expect you are a little tired,” John Jacob said with a smile. “Why don’t you stay here and keep an eye on Rachel. The girl’s going to need a friend when she wakes up. You can use my bed to grab forty winks.”
As the big man hurried out, Dylan found Rosie closing up the saloon. “Can, you tell me where John Jacob beds down?” he asked.
“Next door.” Rosie jerked a thumb toward the door next to the kitchen. Dylan had his hand on the latch when Rosie darted forward and got in front of him. Her face red, she said hurriedly, “I have to straighten up his bed. You stay here.”
It was only minutes before she was back in the kitchen, some rolled-up clothing under her arm. “You can go in now,” she said, smiling widely at him.
Dylan entered the room and closed the door behind him. He glanced at the bed and was surprised. It was made up so nicely there was no way Rosie could have done it in the few seconds she had been in there.
A look of confusion spread across his face when he turned back the bed quilt and saw beneath the pillow a woman’s folded nightgown. John Jacob did not sleep alone.
Dylan was surprised. Rosie was a fine-looking woman, but not nearly as beautiful as Rachel.
Dylan took off his boots, slid out of his pants. As he stretched out, he heard the galloping hooves of John Jacob’s sorrel racing down the river road, and he wondered what kind of man would bed a saloon wench like Rosie when he could have a girl like Rachel?