CHAPTER 15

      Seth was unable to sit a horse with his blistered bottom so the three of them—Seth, Eli, and Win—were making slow yet steady progress heading back to the ranch afoot. Leading their horses, the three started around daybreak and were now in sight of the Red River. There had been no discussion about who the three men Win and Eli had killed were or where they might have been from. Dead was dead, and the rest of that stuff didn’t matter. Eli thought they were lucky they came along when they did because he had no doubt the three men had other devious deeds in mind. And if they’d tried to do whatever it was to Seth, how many other children had endured the same? Not anymore, Eli thought.

      The water level in the river was up slightly from yesterday’s brief shower, but it was little more than ankle deep in most places with a few deeper pools thrown into the mix. Eli didn’t know who’d given the stream its name but whoever it was had nailed it—the water was muddy and brackish, and so salty it was unusable most of the year. What the riverbed lacked in water, it more than made up for it in the amount of quicksand which littered the entire Red River basin. It would suck a cow or horse in so deep the only way to get them out was to put a rope on them and pull them out. Luckily, the three avoided any quicksand and a couple of water moccasins sunning on the sand and crossed safely.

      As they were climbing up the far bank and back onto ranch land, Eli’s heart stuttered when the roar of gunfire shattered the silence. The quick tat, tat, tat, tat could be only one thing—the Gatling gun. The three turned their horses loose to find their own way back to the barn and quickened their pace, weaving through a thick stand of blackjacks, not knowing if the ranch was under attack by a swarm of warring Indians or a roving pack of ruthless raiders. When the weapon didn’t sound again, Eli and Win glanced at each other, confused. They paused at the tree line and scanned the surrounding area. A large swath of land around the ranch buildings had been cleared of all trees and brush to allow for a wider field of fire and the only thing Eli could see were the heat waves shimmering in the distance. There were no clouds of dust indicating a group of invaders and the gun hadn’t sounded again. Hoping younger eyes might be sharper, Eli leaned in close to Seth and whispered, “See anything?”

      Seth shook his head. “I reckon they’re just horsin’ around.”

      “I hope you reckon right,” Eli said. He led the other two out of the woods. Hugging the tree line just in case, the three worked their way around to the side of the barn and saw Percy bent over the Gatling gun.

      “What the hell, Percy?” Eli asked as they walked over to the wagon and stopped.

      Percy stood and said, “Makin’ sure the gun’s workin’. I see you found Seth, proving miracles can still happen.”

      “Funny,” Eli said. “Are you anticipating an all-out assault on the ranch?”

      When Percy didn’t immediately answer, Eli asked the question again.

      Percy shot his brother a glare and climbed out of the wagon. Percy winced when he saw Seth’s bruised face, but he’d wait to get the story from Eli. He ruffled Seth’s hair and said, “Why don’t you go tell your ma you’re back so she’ll stop worryin’.”

      “Are you goin’ to shoot the gun again?” Seth asked, his eyes alight with excitement.

      “Shootin’s over. Now, go on, your ma’s worried sick,” Percy said.

      Seth hung his head and limped toward home. Once he was out of earshot, Percy looked at Eli and Win and said, “Indians took Emma sometime last night. We’re headed out to look for her.”

      “Which Injuns?” Win asked, his mustache and beard so thick you couldn’t see his mouth move.

      Percy stared off in the distance for a moment, then refocused his gaze on the two men. “Comanche or Kiowa.”

      “Not a hair’s difference between them,” Eli said. He looked down and nudged the dirt with the toe of his boot for a moment then looked up at his brother. “You’ve heard the horror stories of what they do to their captives.”

      Percy sighed. “I know. Only hope is to find her quick.”

      “Wagon’s gonna slow us down,” Win said.

      “Can’t be helped,” Percy said.

      “Want me to accompany you on the search?” Eli asked.

      “No,” Percy replied. “Best you stay and keep an eye on the place.” He nodded toward Jesse and Hendershot who were busy with the wagon and said, “Them two are stayin’ back.”

      “What do ya need me to do?” Win asked.

      Percy pondered the question for a moment. Win was a hell of a tracker, much better than he was, but the two Mexicans could cut sign almost as good as Win could. However, Win had fought in his share of Indian scrapes and was deadly with a rifle in his hand. “Probably be best if you went along, Win,” Percy said. “The more eyes lookin’, the better. Accordin’ to Colonel Davidson the Comanche are gettin’ mighty frisky.”

      “Why doesn’t Davidson do something to address the problem?” Eli asked.

      “Army’s goin’ to but he didn’t know when,” Percy said. “I reckon he’s got his hands full keepin’ what Indians he does have corralled.”

      “Ought to take their damn horses away,” Win said. “That’d keep ’em from ridin’ off.”

      “That’s his problem to worry about,” Percy said. “We got our own problems.” He looked at Eli and asked, “What happened to Seth?”

      Eli told Percy what had happened, including Seth’s branding.

      “Jeezus,” Percy said under his breath. “Where are those three bastards now?”

      “They remain right where we found them,” Eli said. “You can rest assured they will never abduct another child.”

      Percy nodded. “Good. Any idea of who they were?”

      “No, nor do I particularly care,” Eli said. “When are you leaving?”

      “As soon as I can get things squared away,” Percy said.

      “What are the odds of quickly finding Emma?” Eli asked.

      “Not good,” Percy replied. “It’s wide open country out west and finding anything will be a damn chore, much less a bunch of sneaky Injuns on the run.” He pushed his hat back and wiped his sweaty brow with his shirtsleeve. “I need to go do a few things before leaving.” Percy issued instructions about what he wanted done and turned for his house. He walked by the corral to see if either of his two sons, Chauncey or Franklin, were around but he saw no sign of them. Probably out fishing, he thought. Walking up the stairs to the front porch, Percy paused, took a deep breath, and pushed through the door.

      “You’re back,” his sixteen-year-old daughter, Amanda, said. Tall and willowy with long dark hair and blue eyes, she was the spitting image of her mother when she had been young.

      “Not for long,” he said, leaning down to kiss Amanda on the cheek.

      “Goin’ out to look for Emma?”

      Percy nodded. “How you holdin’ up?”

      “I’m scared, Papa. That coulda been me out there.”

      “Can’t live your life running scared all the time.