They were almost home. Buck could smell the hot spring and see the barn, the yellow house, and the big old cottonwood beside the hot spring. The sun had gone down far enough it no longer bothered him, but the heat remained oppressive. He’d be glad to be home. He heard a shout and glanced off to the east. A rider rode toward them, barreling down from the top of the hill. He didn’t recognize the rider, but he knew the horse. It was Gabe’s palomino, Royale.
“Is that Cornell?” Rafe asked, pulling back on the reins, shading his face with one hand and squinting.
Buck stood in the stirrups. “I can’t tell from this distance, but that’s Gabe’s horse. Something’s wrong.” Spurring his horse into a run, Buck charged up the hill with Rafe eating his dust.
“Buck, Rafe,” Cornell shouted, pulling up his winded mount. “Jo and Birdie…something’s happened to them. Don’t know if they’re lost or what. Can’t find them. Disappeared…no trace.”
“Where’s Gabe and Van?” Buck asked, working hard to keep a rein on his instinct to tear off on his own to go find the girls.
“Gabe’s on Gypsy, Birdie’s mustang. He said Gypsy might be able to pick up their trail. I never heard of such a thing. Gabe and Van scoured the aspen grove. They found Birdie’s boots and stockings. She must’ve waded into the creek. Gabe and Van have the leftovers from the picnic. They said they’d stay out looking until they found them.”
“Doreen?” Rafe asked. Buck heard the panic in his voice.
“She’s driving the buggy. Mrs. Millican and Edditha are with her. They should be pulling into the hot spring soon. They left right after I did.”
“This isn’t like Jo,” Buck said. “She doesn’t wander off.”
Rafe echoed his sentiments. “Neither one of those girls has ever gotten lost. If one of them was hurt, they’d find a way to let someone know.”
Buck, his jaw working, nodded. “Right. We gotta assume there’s foul play…they’ve been taken. But why? And who?”
Rafe, his face pale and eyes stormy, said, “Van and Gabe have a good chance of finding them, Buck. They’ve got a good fresh trail.”
“I know, but I should be out there.”
“I feel the same, you know I do. But we both know we’d only slow them down.”
“True, but we can get this sorted out—find out what the hell’s going on around here, and who’s behind all of this. Those two boys will find the girls. They know what to do.”
Buck shook his finger at Cornell. “First thing in the morning you go into town and get your old man, drag his butt out here.”
Rafe had a question. “Cornell, you know a man with red hair, fancy boots, and coat? I’d say he likes to wear a riding costume, speaks funny English.”
Cornell puckered up his brows. “McDaniel, Ivers McDaniel. Sounds like it might be him. He’s a land speculator from back east. He tried to get Pa to sell him one of our mines and some timber. Made some threats when Pa turned him down. Pa didn’t take him seriously though, basically, told him to go to hell.”
Buck nodded. “If you know where to find the son-of-a-bitch, get him out here too. I got a gut feeling this is all hooked together with your blasting orders, my cattle dying off, and the canceled reservations. I mean to find out who’s at the bottom of it. Taking my girl, they’ll pay for that. Whatever this is about, someone’s gone too far.”
»»•««
Birdie, slung over the back of a horse on a stomach full of apple pie, an egg and ham salad sandwich, nauseous and disoriented, feared she’d throw up. The wadded-up, nasty, sweat-soaked rag they’d stuffed in her mouth would certainly increase the odds of her choking to death on her own vomit if she did.
She had to pee. She didn’t know how long they’d ridden, but it seemed forever. She and Jo had gone down to the creek shortly after lunch, and the sun had been right overhead. She could feel the heat of the sun on her backside but couldn’t tell in what direction they were headed with her head hanging down and the damn sack over her head.
When the horse stopped, a pair of big hands grabbed her around the waist and set her down on her bare feet. Razor-sharp, blistering hot gravel dug into her flesh. She made a mental note and figured this slope faced south and west.
The ropes at her ankles were untied. She got shoved forward and realized they were going uphill. She stumbled and fell several times, landing on her knees. Each time, her captor yanked her up by the ropes tied to her wrists.
He didn’t say a word, not one word, not a cuss word or a grunt, no sound. She thought it strange, and it made her suspect she knew her tormentor—she’d know his voice if he spoke.
There were other sounds. She wasn’t the only one on this march. Others were ahead of her. She recognized the sound of boots on gravel and the huffing and puffing of belabored breathing as they traveled up the steep slope. She also heard a whimper, and a squawk of protest but no one spoke.
The air turned cool, and the dampness of the sack on her sweaty forehead filled her nose with moldy fumes. The ground beneath her feet became wet, icy cold, and the gravel turned to slick slime. She slipped, her feet coming out from under her, and fell backward this time. She landed on her butt, not forward to her knees, and she sensed they were going downhill now. She was yanked to her feet, and she managed a dozen steps before being pushed down, landing hard on her backside.
Winded and struggling to catch her breath, she felt the ropes being tied back around her ankles, and she kicked at her captor, rolling her torso. Someone sat on her and pinned her down, holding her shoulders as they removed the smelly, musty sack from her head as well as the wad of fabric from her mouth. She would’ve yelled, but she couldn’t find the spit. She coughed and choked on the rush of cool air she’d sucked down her throat. She wheezed and snorted, her eyes watering and her throat clutching up.
Before she could find enough saliva to form a proper string of swear words, she heard retreating steps. Left in total, absolute darkness, she couldn’t see where her captors had made their exit. She couldn’t see anything. For a few brief seconds, she panicked, thinking she’d gone blind, the darkness was so deep.
All around her were the echoing sounds of water drip, drip, dripping in a steady, irritating rhythm. Her hands were tied behind her back, and Birdie wiggled her fingers and turned her wrists, searching for a wall behind her. Dirt, wet dirt, and stone…could be they were in a cave or maybe a mine. There were lots of old, abandoned mineshafts, none of them safe, and most of them inhabited by bats. Then she heard a whimper, and a spark of hope jumpstarted her heart. “Jo, Jo is that you?”
“Birdie? Thank God, I thought I was alone. Where are we?”
“Jo? I don’t know. I think a mine or a cave. Keep talking. I can’t see you. Can you see anything? My hands are tied. My ankles are tied, too, but I think I can scoot over to you. Keep talking. I don’t know if I can find you.”
“Birdie, no, don’t. Don’t move. You don’t know what’s on the ground. Or even if there is ground. If this is a mine, it could have a shaft that goes straight down. We’ve both seen the insides of these old mines. They aren’t safe. You could get hurt, Birdie, and I couldn’t do anything to help you.”
“I’m already hurt, bruised and dirty. It’s for dang sure I’m not going to sit here, do nothing, and wait to see what our kidnappers have planned for us.”
“All right, okay, then I’ll scoot toward you too. They tied my ankles up again. They didn’t do a very good job of tying my wrists back at the creek. I can wiggle my fingers and turn my wrists.”
“Good. My guy really knew how to tie a knot. My fingers are going to sleep. When we find each other, turn your back to me. You try to work my ropes, and I’ll try to work yours. Jesus, it’s dark in here. I thought I’d gone blind.”
Her knuckles dug into the ground behind her. Birdie bounced on her bottom with her legs stretched out in front of her and began her journey across the slimy floor. She encountered sharp rocks and wads of something sticky, maybe guano from bats, but she told herself it was just mud.
She could hear Jo getting closer—hear her huffing and puffing. She needed to hear Jo’s voice, hear her own voice. The darkness had Birdie in a panic. They’d been dumped in a cave. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. But she had to think, had to believe they could make it out of here. All that kept her from going over the edge into hysteria was the sound of another human being. Jo, the sound of Jo’s voice.
Finally, her feet kicked Jo in the hip. Jo yelped. “God, you scared me. I hope we’re the only animals in here. This has to be a mine, Birdie.”
They maneuvered around until they were back to back. Jo’s ropes at her wrist were loose, much looser than her own. After much fumbling and fussing, Jo got Birdie’s ropes undone, at least undone enough so Birdie could wiggle her wrists out of the coils. The feat accomplished, in no time they themselves free of their bonds.
They sat on their knees facing each other, hugging each other, savoring the warmth of another human body, hearing the sounds of a human breathing and talking, holding on to each other to save their sanity. In the pitch black. Jo asked the big question. “Okay, now what do we do? Do you think they’re still out there?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know who they are. Did you see their faces at all? Did you hear them say anything?”
“I was bent over a bush when they, or maybe just a he…one, I don’t know, grabbed me from behind. Next thing I knew I had a rag stuffed in my mouth, my hands and feet tied up and I had a smelly sack over my head. I had a full bucket of berries too. I planned on making a cobbler with those berries. You know, Van and Gabe are probably out looking for us right now.”
“Yeah, I suppose they are. And I suppose our captors know it too. So, if we put ourselves in their place, I wouldn’t stick around here for fear of being followed. I’d set up a false trail and come back in the morning to check on my prisoners. Two helpless females, they probably figure we’ll be good and scared, cold and hungry, by morning.”
“I’m scared and hungry right now,” Jo said.
Who? Birdie wanted to know who? And why would anyone want to kidnap them? Whoever their captors were, they knew the country, knew the mines and caves, knew them well. She’d know who the captors were if she could’ve seen their cowardly faces or heard their voices. Whoever they were, they knew when and where to capture them. Shoot, they’d been followed. They’d been waiting for the chance to pick them off and haul them away. This was planned. But why? To what possible purpose?
Birdie swallowed down her fear and anger. She would stay calm and focused for Jo’s sake. She had to stay strong. “Yeah, I’m hungry and thirsty too. It’s cold in here, wherever here is.”
What to do? She had to think. Staying still wasn’t an option, staying still and waiting meant falling asleep and death. The rescue might never come. Sure Gabe and Van were probably out scouring the countryside for them. But they’d have no way of knowing who took them, or why and in what direction. No, they only had themselves to rely on if they meant to survive, and Birdie meant to survive.
“Hang on to my skirt,” she said to Jo, “I’m going to try to stand up. I’m dizzy from riding with my head dangling down off the side of a horse for hours. And now, not able to see my hands in front of my face, I feel off balance. Can you stand up? You’re taller than I am.”
“I think I can.” With Jo’s hand in Birdie’s, they rose to their feet very slowly and carefully. “You realize, of course, if we find an opening, we don’t know if it will lead us out or farther in,” Jo said.
“Yes, I thought of that. On the other hand, if there’s only one opening, we could find our way out of here quite easily. This hole has to have walls. Let’s feel our way around.”
“Wait, Birdie. How are we going to know where we started?”
Turning halfway, Birdie found Jo and put her arms around her. “I love you, Petra Josephine Buxton, I love your mind. We’ll mark our starting point.”
Birdie giggled. Leave it to Jo to ask the hard question. Playing blind man's bluff in this old mine or cave could very well bring death. Unable to see a darn thing even with her eyes wide open had Birdie petrified to move, to even lift a foot.
“I hear a steady drip, though I couldn’t tell you where it’s coming from…it all around us,” Jo said.
Her mind searched, aching to think of something useful. Inspiration arrived in a flash. “My petticoat, we could use it, hang it on the wall, if there is a wall. Snag it on something. I would use my hair ribbon, but I suppose it’s long gone, and besides, the bigger the swatch of cloth the better. We might skip over it if it’s too small a marker. My petticoat ripped when I fell. I heard it. Then it got tangled up in my feet. I left my shoes and stockings beside the creek. I’m barefoot.”
Shredding her petticoat wasn’t easy. Something about the total darkness had Birdie fumbling and shaky. It helped to have Jo beside her to lean on. “Keep your hand on my shoulder, Jo. I’m going to turn around and see if I can feel a wall.” She giggled again. “Get it, Jo, I cracked a joke. I’m going to see if I can feel.”
Jo’s fingers dug into her upper arm. “I’m not laughing, Birdie. Maybe we should think about this a minute. We had to climb uphill to get here.”
Birdie reached out and struck solid. “I found a wall I think.” Feeling her way along, her fingers searched for something to snag the fabric from her petticoat. So far, all she could feel was wet, slick slime. “I agree, we climbed uphill to get in here. I also think we walked downhill for a few paces once the cooler air hit us, and it smelled different.”
Clinging to Birdie’s waist, Jo agreed. “Yes, yes, it did feel a lot cooler. Cold actually.” Jo’s voice echoed in the darkness. “Okay, let’s say we climbed up to this cave or mine or whatever, and when we entered, we went down for a ways.”
Birdie interrupted her reasoning to say, her hands wet with muck, “Not too far though. It didn’t take long for our captors to get out of here.”
Jo gripped her waist, and her fingers dug in and pulled her to a halt. “Well, that’s good then. All we have to do is find the opening, and if it goes up, that’s the way out.”
“Good thinking, Miss Buxton. All right, if we go down, then it’s the wrong way. But I don’t think we should split up. We stick together.”
“Yes, I agree. All right, I’m ready.”
Birdie turned her attention back to her task. “Yes, well so am I, but I can’t get this petticoat to hang on anything. You’d think there’d be a rock or something.”