The Rocking R Ranch. Tim Washburn
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his fingers and tapped off the ash. “They don’t steal from you? They’ll steal anything not tied down around here.”
“They’re a thievin’ bunch, for sure, and you’ve gotta nip that in the bud in a hurry or they’ll steal you blind. We lose a few cattle every year to ’em, but it’s an unsubstantial number in the bigger picture of things.”
“Yet you’re up here chasin’ after a couple rustlers who stole two steers.”
Percy shrugged. “That’s part of the nippin’ in the bud I was talkin’ about.”
Davidson smiled and took a sip of brandy. “You can talk about mutual respect, but I don’t know, Percy. The only signs of Comanche respect I’ve seen was when they had a loaded gun pointed at them.”
“Like I said, we’re not short on firepower. Lawrie Tatum still the Indian agent round here?”
“Nope. Moved back to Iowa after resigning his post at the end of March. Got a new fella now. Name’s James Haworth, another Quaker, like Tatum. What he knows about Indians, I don’t know. Seems to want to befriend them all and doesn’t want the military involved in Indian business.”
“How’s that workin’ out for you?” Percy asked as he took another draw from his cigar.
“Not worth a damn,” Davidson said as he tossed the nub of his cigar onto the porch floor and ground it out with his boot. “I don’t know why they keep bringin’ these Quakers in an attempt to pacify the Indians. Haworth had the gall to ask me to remove the guard from the provision’s warehouse as a show of trust.”
“Did you?” Percy asked.
“I did. A group of Kiowas went in and stole everything there was to steal. Then he thought having a guard wasn’t such a bad idea. I’ll tell you, Percy, the only way we’re goin’ to get a handle on this Indian situation is by the use of force, and the sooner, the better. Sheridan and Sherman are in agreement, but they can’t get the folks in Washington to agree. Let the Indians take a few more scalps and I guess we’ll see what happens.” He turned and looked at Percy. “In the meantime, I’m just hopin’ one of them is not yours.”
“Me, too.”
CHAPTER 11
Having lost Seth’s trail in the rain, Eli and Win continued riding through the growing gloom, hoping to stumble upon him. Despite the recent rain, the heat was back in full force and only added to the misery of riding around in wet clothing, where everything rubbed in all the wrong places. The slickers they had donned proved useless against the deluge and did a better job of trapping the heat, which was the last thing either man wanted, so off came the slickers.
Win led them across Cache Creek and onto a broad plain that spread far ahead into the growing darkness. Crickets chirped, cicadas buzzed, and the mosquitoes were as thick as flies in an outhouse. All they could do was keep traveling east, hoping to find some sign of Seth or a fresh trail.
Before it got too dark to see, Win pulled his horse to a stop and climbed down for a closer look at the ground. He walked a wide circle, his eyes searching the grass for bent stalks and the sandy areas for faint impressions that might have survived the rain. Spotting something, he knelt down for a closer inspection. “Found something. Looks like we’re headed the right—”
A distant gunshot shattered the stillness.
Eli turned his head, trying to pinpoint its origin as the shot echoed across the prairie. “Sounded like it was due east of here. Not sure of the distance.”
“Half a mile or more,” Win said as he climbed back on his horse.
Eli spurred his horse into a trot as he scanned the horizon. A little further along, he spotted the yellow-orange glow of a campfire and slowed his horse to a walk. They rode as close as they dared without knowing the particulars and stopped, slipping down from their horses. After sliding their rifles out, they tied their horses to a small bush and crept closer. It appeared to be four people, one of them tied to a tree. Eli didn’t know if it was Seth, but he had a sinking feeling that it probably was.
Win moved off to the right, angling to get behind the group, and Eli followed. When they were about twenty yards away, they stopped and squatted down to survey the scene. Three older men were standing around the fire, hooting and hollering as they passed a whiskey bottle around, and tied to the tree was Seth. Eli couldn’t make out specific details, but it looked like the men had roughed him up some. For what purpose, Eli didn’t know. But three men against one small boy was far from a fair fight.
It was full dark now and the place the men had picked to build a fire was surrounded by high grass, making it difficult to see much of what was going on. It looked like there was a small creek on the other side of the fire and Eli was wondering if it might be a better approach, when Win leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Let’s move closer.”
Eli nodded and both men stood and crept forward about fifteen yards and squatted back down. It didn’t help much with the line of sight, but it did allow them to hear some of what was going on. Most of what they heard were alcohol-fueled stories with no hints about why they’d abducted Seth. And Eli could draw no logical conclusions from the scene before them. Why three white males, who looked to be in their late forties or early fifties, had taken Seth and tied him to a tree and then all but ignored him was mystifying. Then Eli’s mind dove to a deeper, darker place searching for answers, and a gear clicked another gear and he had a probable answer. It would explain why they were getting liquored up before starting, and Eli couldn’t bear to think what would have happened to Seth if Rachel hadn’t convinced him to go looking for her son.
The next series of events happened so quickly and were so insane that Eli and Win couldn’t have anticipated them and therefore didn’t have time to react.
One of the men walked over to Seth, loosened the rope, and turned him around, and then pulled his pants down and held him while another man pulled a branding iron from the fire, walked over, and branded Seth on the butt.
As Seth’s cries of anguish and pain filled the night, Eli’s anger flared hot. Win turned and said, “I’m gonna kill them sonsabitches.” Win pulled back the hammer on his rifle and stood, tucking the stock tight to his shoulder. He fired and one of the men jerked around and fell. Win was already levering another shell before Eli could get to his feet.
The other two men tried to make a break for the creek, but in their drunken state, couldn’t do much more than flounder around. Eli raised his rifle, sighted down the barrel, and squeezed the trigger. The nearest man dropped like his legs had been cut from under him. Eli felt no remorse as he levered another shell and looked down the barrel for the third man, the hot blood surging through his veins. Off to his left, Win fired two quick shots and just like that it was all over. The other men never got off a shot. Win pulled his pistol and walked over to make sure the three men were dead while Eli hurried over to Seth.
“Seth,” Eli said as he slowly approached. “It’s Uncle Eli, Seth. It’s all over now.” Eli grimaced at the burned skin. “Okay, Seth?”
Seth whimpered.
Eli gently pulled Seth’s pants up, untied the rope, and slowly turned Seth around and knelt down so he could look in his eyes.
Tears were streaming down Seth’s cheeks. “Why . . . would . . .”
Eli wrapped his arms around him. “Shh, you’re safe and that’s all tha—”
His words were drowned out by Win’s pistol shot.
“It’s okay,” Eli said. “They won’t be hurting anyone ever again.”
Seth nodded his head against Eli’s chest.
When the crying finally slowed to an occasional sob Eli asked Seth if he could walk.
“I reckon so . . . but not sure . . . I can sit a . . . horse.”
“Don’t worry about the horse