The Dawn of Fury (80 page)

He, Nathan Stone, had surrounded himself with fighting men, supposedly to bring El Gato and his outlaws to justice on behalf of the railroad. In so doing, he would have been able to get to Dade Withers without singlehandedly facing El Gato's entire gang. He could even absolve the new Nathan of some of the blame by claiming that he had only yielded to Mary's fears for his life. But the truth of it was, he had fallen victim to his guilt, trying to make it up to her for having shortchanged all the others. Eulie, who at thirty-five had never had a man. Lacy, barely eighteen, who had never had a home; and Viola, whose life had been destroyed over one of the old Nathan's gambling debts. He lived by the gun and he would die by it, and by casting their lot with his, hadn't Eulie, Lacy, and Viola done the same? Life was short, and a man rarely had time to pay for his own mistakes. For these revelations and admissions, Nathan Stone felt a certain kind of peace. He returned the Colts to their holsters and slept soundly until time to board the train for Kansas City.

It was an unseasonably warm day for March. Mary Stone walked beside the river and Cotton Blossom followed. Some of the officers' wives owned horses and were taking advantage of the favorable weather to graze the animals. The soldier assigned escort duty dozed beneath a tree. A stranger leading a horse didn't seem threatening until he came close enough to Mary to silence and subdue her with an arm around her throat. When she struggled, he clubbed her with the barrel of his pistol. Cotton Blossom lunged at him, but he swung the pistol again. It struck the dog a glancing blow to the head, stunning him. The stranger holstered his weapon, slung Mary across his horse belly down, mounted, and rode upriver. Several women had seen what had happened and were shouting. The private on escort duty scrambled to his feet and left on the run to alarm the fort. Cotton Blossom got up, unsteady on his feet, and set off after the distant horseman. By the time Lieutenant-Colonel Hatton got word of the abduction, the horseman and Mary were long gone. It was Hatton who eventually found U. S. Marshal Summerfield in the post barbershop having his hair cut.

“I'll investigate,” Summerfield said.

Lieutenant-Colonel Hatton immediately sent a telegram to Nathan Stone in care of the Kansas—Pacific dispatcher in Kansas City.

Upon reaching Kansas City, Nathan wrote and mailed a letter to banker Ames Tilden in Denver. Nathan had requested that his funds be transferred to the Cattlemans and Merchants Bank in Kansas City, payable to Nathan or Mary Stone. Briefly he considered taking his packhorse from Eppie Bolivar's stable, but that would involve taking the animal back to Hays via boxcar. He wouldn't be that long concluding his business in Indian Territory, one way or another. He had until four o'clock the next morning, when the westbound left for Hays, but there was no point in delaying his meeting with Joel Netherton of the Kansas—Pacific. He purely hated being in town afoot. There was no wind, the sun was doing what it did best, and he was sweating by the time he reached the Kansas—Pacific terminal. Nathan found Netherton with a sheaf of papers in his hand, and before Nathan could speak, the railroad man handed him the telegram received just a few minutes earlier.

“I didn't know where you were,” Netherton said. “I was hoping you were on your way here.”

His heart in his throat, Nathan read the short message and wadded the paper in his clenched fist. It no longer mattered what he had come to tell Netherton. Instead, he had a request.

“Joel,” he said, his voice trembling, “I have to get to Hays. I can't wait for tomorrow's train. I need a locomotive and a tender. I'll pay.”

“You won't have to pay,” said Netherton. “There's a yard engine with steam up. Come on. I'll clear it with the dispatcher and assign you a fireman and an engineer.”

Nathan stood behind the engineer, keeping out of the fireman's way, begrudging every minute it took the racing locomotive to reach Hays.

“We're up to fifty and high-balling,” the engineer said. “I don't dare push her any harder. Anything on the track, any damage, and we're goners.”

“I'm obliged,” said Nathan.

They reached Hays in just under five hours.

“Here,” Nathan said, handing each of the men five double eagles. He swung out of the cab before they could refuse. It would be dark within the hour and he groaned, for he was still eighty miles from Fort Dodge. He ran to the livery, reclaimed his horse, and within minutes was riding south at a fast gallop. A horse couldn't maintain such a gait for long, and he was forced to rein up to a slow gallop. He had to rest the horse at intervals, and he traveled the last few miles in total darkness. The sentry on duty at the gate admitted him quickly and he rode immediately to Lieutenant-Colonel Hatton's office.

“I regret having to tell you this,” Hatton said, “but we were forced to abandon the trail at the Cimarron. This abduction was planned, and my patrol rode into an ambush. Men with rifles were firing from cover. One of my soldiers was killed and two more wounded. At dawn I can send a larger force.”

“I'm obliged, sir,” said Nathan, “but that won't be necessary. I aim to do what I should have done months ago.”

“By the way,” Hatton added, “your dog is still out there somewhere. He refused to leave. Magnificent animal.”

Nathan felt a surge of warmth for the valiant hound. Cotton Blossom, if the outlaws hadn't managed to shoot him, might be able to accomplish what all the soldiers and fighting men in Kansas could not. The dog might be able to trail the thieves and killers to wherever they were holed up. Nathan doubted they would be found at the Cocodrilo Rancho, for he could find his way to that.

He returned to the cabin he had shared with Mary, and when he lighted a lamp, there were all the memories. Her half-finished sewing, her clothes and some of his washed, dried, and folded neatly on the bed. He feared what the outlaws would do to her, for they were spoilers, defilers. They would use her, break her spirit, perhaps destroy the child that was his. He sank down on the bed, buried his face in his hands, and wept ...

Mary was petrified with fear, but she refused to weep. Breed finally reined up and allowed her to straddle the horse. Her belly cramped, and while she could bear the pain, she feared what it might have done to her inside. But that, as it turned out, would be the least of her worries. She believed soldiers had been sent from the fort, because hidden men with rifles had opened fire as soon as Breed had taken her across the river. She thought of Nathan, almost three hundred miles away, fearing what he might do when he learned of her fate. That he would be coming she had no doubt, but surely he wouldn't come alone. But then dread swept through her in a wave, for that was exactly what he would do. He had always told her his business with the Kansas—Pacific, but as she thought back, she realized she had no idea why he had felt compelled to go all the way to Kansas City to meet with Joel Netherton. Thinking back, she was able to see how he must have restrained himself for her benefit. But at last he had been unable to restrain himself, and this had been a side of himself that he hadn't wanted her to see. Her thoughts were jolted back to her own plight, and she began looking for familiar landmarks. There were none. She had been wondering if the outlaws had abandoned Cocodrilo Rancho; she had been hoping they had not, for Nathan could find it without difficulty. But all her hopes were dashed when Breed reined up before a larger, more elaborate cabin than the one she had known before. Breed dismounted and handed her down. She shuddered, for when the door opened, El Gato stood there grinning evilly.

“Ah, señora, after so long, you honor us with your presence. I think before we are finished with you that you be wishing for the old days. There was a time, señora, I would have killed any man who lay a hand on you. Now, I think since you betray me, I think I give you to them to do as they wish. Then, when your Señor Stone come for you, he will be allowed to see what is left. Then we kill him, señora.”

“I am a married woman,” Mary said, “and I am with child. Have you no conscience, no decency, no respect for a woman?”

“For a woman, si, for a pig, no. You are a pig who has been ruined. I am sick as I look at you. Take her to the bunkhouse, Breed. She must be prepared for the coming of Señor Stone.”

“No,” Mary begged. “Please ... for the love of God ...”

El Gato laughed, and Breed lifted her back onto the horse. It wasn't far, and he walked, leading the animal. Breed pushed her before him into another log building that served as a bunkhouse. The outlaws lounged on their bunks in various stages of undress, and she closed her eyes. Breed shoved her back on one of the bunks and jerked off her boots. She felt hands unbuttoning her Levi's while others ripped the buttons from her shirt. Then she was naked, as the men shouted over her. Breed came first, and she screamed ...

Nathan got up, poured cold water from a pitcher into a basin, and washed the grief from his face. He then checked his saddlebags, making sure he had some jerked beef and sufficient ammunition for his Colts and the Winchester. He then returned to Lieutenant-Colonel Hatton's office, finding Hatton about to leave.

“Sir,” Nathan said, “I need to speak to the officer who led that patrol that was ambushed. I want to know where that rider crossed the Cimarron.”

“That will be Lieutenant Atherton. But, my God, man, you're not going into Indian Territory tonight?”

“I am,” said Nathan. “Tomorrow they'll be expecting me. Where will I find Lieutenant Atherton?”

“Wait here,” Hatton said. “I'll have the sergeant of the guard get him for you.”

Lieutenant Atherton was a young man who had a bloody bandage on his left arm, above the elbow.

“Lieutenant Atherton,” said Hatton, “this is Nathan Stone. He needs to know where your patrol was ambushed this evening, where that rider you were trailing crossed the Cimarron.”