CHAPTER THIRTY
A FEW OF the town children were still in the schoolyard, playing games. None, when asked, had seen anything but Lonnie riding toward home, as he usually did. Inside, Miss Cochran was gathering up books and dusting her blackboard. She was horrified by the news but knew nothing.
Clay had never seen his friend so frantic. “I’m having difficulty thinking what we should do next,” Jonesy said.
“Let’s go see the marshal.”
“We’ll get a search party together,” Dodge Rankin said as he bolted from his chair. “Got any thoughts on who might have taken him? You sure his horse didn’t just pitch him, and he’s lying hurt somewhere?”
Pate raised his voice and waved the note. “He’s been kidnapped, Marshal, plain and simple. And we have to find whoever it is who took him.”
“Lord, Lord,” Rankin said. “I can’t recollect us having a kidnapping since way back when the Comanches was stealing women and children. I’ll get some of the boys together, and we’ll get to looking.” He then added a warning. “Ain’t likely to be easy since nobody seems to have seen which way they went. Plus, there’s not that much daylight left.”
While the marshal summoned a search party, Pate and Breckenridge headed for the ranch. Madge was already there, attempting to calm Patricia. The four sat at the kitchen table as Jonesy told of finding the note.
“You sure Ben Baggett’s involved?” said Madge. “Everybody thought he was killed in that Indian raid along with everybody else.”
“It’s Baggett,” Clay said. “I got no doubt. He somehow survived.”
“What’s this about money?” Patricia asked.
“It’s a long story,” said Jonesy. Then he told it.
“So you stole money from somebody who stole it from him?” his wife said. “I never heard of such a thing. And hiding it in a graveyard . . .”
“We weren’t planning on keeping it for ourselves,” Jonesy said. “What I don’t understand is how he knows it was us and Eli who wound up with it.”
“I suspect he’s just guessing,” Clay said, “which isn’t that important at the moment. What we gotta do is find Lonnie before any harm comes to him.”
AFTER COVERING SEVERAL miles and feeling confident that they hadn’t been followed, Doozy suggested they give their horses a rest. Alvin bound Lonnie’s wrists and ankles and had him sit against a tree trunk.
The brothers were elated by their success. “Think Mr. Baggett’s gonna ask for ransom?” Alvin said. “Maybe thousands of dollars?”
“Hope so,” Doozy said. “I’m wondering how much of it we’ll be getting.”
Dunning sat nearby, silently staring at the young boy who was shivering despite the heat. He was wishing he’d never mentioned that Jonesy Pate had brought him home.
After a short rest, Doozy said it was time to mount up. “We can keep riding until dark, then camp for the night. Be in Fort Worth by this time tomorrow.”
The moon was just coming over the horizon when the kidnappers arrived on the bank of a swift-running creek. A nearby grove of trees looked like a good place to camp. Doozy, feeling emboldened by their success, had appointed himself leader. “There’s to be no campfire,” he said, “and we’ll take shifts standing watch. We don’t want nothing going wrong now that we’ve come this far.” He looked at his brother. “Get the boy a drink. Then see to it he’s tied up good and tight.”
Then he smiled. “Our work’s already half done.” Alvin knew to what he was referring.
The night passed slowly as Lonnie slept fitfully, often whimpering when in the middle of a bad dream. Doozy and Alvin snored in harmony when they weren’t standing watch. Sleep completely evaded Dunning, who was glad to finally see the first rays of daylight.
While the brothers stretched and cursed their stiffness, Calvin walked to the bank of the creek to splash water on his face. He was on his knees, bent forward, when he felt the barrel of Alvin’s pistol pressed against his back.
“The boss said to tell you that your services won’t be needed any longer,” Alvin said just before pulling the trigger.
Dunning’s body quivered, then slowly toppled forward into the water.
Nearby, Lonnie screamed and frantically tried without success to free himself. “Why did you kill him?”
“Not to worry, little man,” Doozy said. “Our instructions was to kill only him and see to it you got good care. Think on it this way: Now you got a horse of your own to ride the rest of the way.”
SOON AFTER IT was discovered that Lonnie was missing, a dozen men joined Marshal Rankin and his two deputies to begin a search. Since there was little daylight remaining, they looked in secluded areas near town. “Check every barn and shed you come across. Come morning, we’ll split up in groups and head out in every direction,” Rankin said. He called out the names of the searchers who would make up each party.
By dark they had found no trace of the boy or his abductors.
When daylight came the next day, they broadened the search. “This seems to be well planned out, so I’m guessing they’ll head toward where they can find water for their horses. Grayson Creek’s to the east of here,” Rankin said. The marshal asked Pate and Breckenridge to be part of his group, which would head in that direction.
It was late in the afternoon when they reached Grayson Creek. They rode along the bank for almost a mile before finding Calvin Dunning’s body. He was on his side, and the crimson wound in his back was plain to see. He looked dead as they dragged him away from the water.
Only a faint groan convinced them otherwise.
Clay was leaning forward, his face almost touching Dunning’s chest, when he saw the other man’s eyes flicker and open slightly. In a slurred whisper, Dunning said, “Tell Madge . . . sorry . . . all I done.” Then there was a loud gasp and his eyes closed. His last words sounded like “Fort Worth . . .” and “Bagg . . .”
Breckenridge slowly got to his feet. “Baggett’s got Lonnie somewhere in Fort Worth,” he said.
“I know the marshal there,” Rankin said, “but truth is, he’s one of the biggest outlaws the town’s got. Don’t know how much help he can be to us, unless you’ve got money to pay him.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jonesy said. “We can take care of what needs doing.”