Chapter 10

They moved at a fast walk rather than a gallop, intent upon concealing their trail from the posse rather than running blindly from it, and Jared was extremely grateful for the easy pace. Every movement jolted his arm and sent a stabbing wave of pain across his shoulder and down his back. He tried once more to assess the damage. From the feel of it, the bullet had entered high on his shoulder and had broken his collarbone before lodging somewhere near his armpit. His left arm, still cradled against his chest, was totally useless, and while the wound seemed to have clotted, he'd lost enough blood to feel weak and dizzy. His right knee was swollen and stiff, as bad or worse than the first time he had injured it.

He was having trouble focusing on the twists and turns they were taking to evade the posse and Gideon didn't know the country at all. Their chances of getting away were slim as long as they were on Dulce and none at all once they reached their destination. He sagged morosely against Gideon, allowing the other man to support his weight and keep him in the saddle, sliding away into the darkness, rousing now and again, but unable to fight the growing weakness and lethargy.

"Let's stop for a break," Barstow called a couple hours later, and they came to a halt in a small grove of trees.

Jared was barely aware of Gideon getting down first, then catching him as he half slid, half fell from Dulce's back. They staggered to a nearby tree and Jared leaned limply against it, then sank down against the base. With the lack of motion, the pain subsided to a continuous dull throb and after a few minutes he was able to sip from the canteen Gideon was holding to his lips.

He slowly became more aware of his surroundings. There were three girls with the outlaws, two about his age and one around ten or twelve. The pretty dark-haired one in the black riding habit had her arm around the young one, comforting her. The blonde was arguing vociferously with Barstow, who seemed to be getting a great deal of amusement from the conversation.

"I think I know you," Jared said uncertainly to the dark-haired girl when she came over to them. "You're from Solitude."

"We all are," she replied. "I'm Rose Delaney. That's Agnes Rogers, and this is Beth Ann Carson."

Rose's father, Ross Delaney, was a big, gruff rancher, a widower who doted on his only daughter. Jared had often seen the two of them in town together, and Ethan had trained the palomino mare that Rose had received for her 16th birthday. He didn't recognize the little girl with her, but once he heard the name he knew who she was - the orphaned niece of Mr. Carson, the owner of the Mercantile. They had taken the shy little girl in after her parents had been massacred in an Indian raid. Agnes Rogers was the daughter of the town's banker and, according to Estelle, as spoiled as she was pretty. All three men would pay dearly to get their girls back.

Agnes gave up her arguing and stomped over to them. "I can't believe them," she announced angrily. "They simply will *not* listen to reason!"

"Agnes thinks we deserve better treatment," Rose explained with a sigh.

"We do," Agnes insisted. "Don't they realize our value to them, or what will happen to them if we're harmed?"

"I'm Gideon Kuschel. That's Jared. What happened? How did you end up with these outlaws, anyway?" Gideon asked, wisely ignoring Agnes' question.

"They tried to rob the bank in Solitude," Rose started to explain. She discreetly lifted her skirt and tore a strip from her petticoat.

"My father's bank." Agnes interrupted with a flounce of heavily ruffled skirts. "Needless to say, they failed."

Rose ignored her. "I met Agnes at the hotel this morning. We were on our way to the Mercantile and Mrs. Carson asked if Beth Ann could walk with us. We were crossing the street when we heard a lot of shooting, then people were running and shouting that the bank was being robbed. We tried to get out of the way, but they came tearing down the street from the bank and before we knew what was happening they'd grabbed us and pulled us up in front of them. The town's men couldn't shoot for fear of hitting us. They were going to let us go when they got out of town, but the men were getting ugly about the bank job failing and their leader -

Barstow? - decided to hold us for ransom. They're taking us to some hideout they have in the mountains."

"I'm scared," Beth Ann whimpered, pushing back the fine mousy hair that was escaping from her braids.

"We're all scared, Beth Ann," Rose replied calmly, folding and tying the strip of cloth. "But Sheriff Dashman is on his way. We just have to hold on until he gets here. Jared, if you can lean forward a little I've got a sling for your arm."

Jared managed to lean forward enough for her to slip the loop of cloth over his neck, biting his lip hard to keep from crying out as she lifted his arm into it. Once in place, though, the sling took the weight of his arm and made the pain a little more bearable.

"There's food in our saddlebags, if they'll let you get it, Gideon," he whispered, leaning back against the tree carefully.

"I can try," Gideon said doubtfully. "Are you hungry?"

"God, no." Jared shuddered at the mere thought of trying to eat. "But you need to eat and so do the girls. You might need the energy later. Do you have any idea where we are, Rose?"

"No," she admitted reluctantly. "We're headed northeast from town, but this is all new territory for me. Our ranch is south of Solitude."

"Clem told Muley that the sheriff will never find the new hideout. I'm scared," Beth Ann whimpered again.

"Don't be a baby, Beth Ann," Agnes ordered. "The sheriff doesn't have to find their hideout. As soon as Papa pays the ransom they'll let us go."

"You need to eat," Jared repeated wearily, ignoring the girl's simplistic view of the situation.

"I'll get it." Rose got to her feet and dusted off her skirt.

"No, I will," Gideon told her firmly, ashamed to have the girl do something he was afraid to.

Dulce had been tied at one end of the picket line and he hesitantly approached her, half-expecting to be shot at any moment. Opening the right saddlebag, he took out the lunch he had prepared for himself and Damien. That morning seemed so far away now. He wondered if Damien had missed him yet. Was his quiet, dependable partner looking for him or was he still cutting wood, oblivious to Gideon's plight?

"HEY! What do you think you're doing?" a heavily bearded outlaw grabbed Gideon's shoulder and spun him around.

Gideon mutely held up the lunch, too scared to speak.

Thankfully, the man seemed to understand the explanation. He let go of the young man's shoulder and moved to the other side of the horse, opening the other saddlebag and giving Gideon the food out of it, as well.

"You have enough water?" he asked gruffly.

Gideon hesitantly shook his head and the man handed him another canteen. "Tell Jared I'm sorry," he whispered softly. "Real sorry." Then he raised his voice again. "Get back over with them others now." He gave Gideon a rough shove in that direction.

"Thank you," Gideon said, then hurried back to the others, trying not to run.

He handed a packet of sandwiches to each girl, keeping one for himself, and they all tried to eat. "Are you sure you don't want something, Jared?" he asked solicitously.

"No. I can't eat," Jared whispered. "Water?"

Gideon held the canteen to his lips again. The young man's weakness and pallor worried him. He needed to be taken to a doctor, not put back on a horse en route to God knew where.

"Mount up," Barstow called, and the outlaws began scuffing out their tracks and hiding the evidence that they'd been there.

"Put the rest of it in your coat pocket," Rose told Beth Ann. "We don't know when we'll get to eat again."

Gideon followed the sensible advice as well, then helped Jared get one last drink.

"Help me up," Jared requested softly. "Let's get away from this tree before they come over here."

"Why?" Gideon asked, puzzled, as he helped Jared to his feet.

"Because I pulled some of the bark away at the base," the young man explained. "And I don't want them to see it. It's the only way I could think of to leave a sign for Damien."

~~~~

Damien straightened up, wiped the sweat off his forehead and looked at the sun. "They're late."

"Yeah," Ethan agreed. "But they probably lost track of time."

"Or set the cabin on fire," Damien replied with a small smile.

An hour later they were getting worried.

"We've got most of a load here," Ethan commented. "Why don't we take it back and check on them."

"Good idea," Damien said.

They finished loading the wood they had cut, then started back to the cabin, both outwardly nonchalant, inwardly worried about their partners. Entering the ranch yard, Ethan checked the barn while Damien headed for the cabin.

"Dulce's gone," Ethan announced as they met back in the yard.

"They're not here," Damien announced at the same time.

"They would have taken the trail by the creek. It's faster."

Damien saddled his horse while Ethan unhitched the team, and they were swinging up into their saddles when Damien held up his hand.

"Horses coming. Fast."

Moments later, two men from town galloped into the ranch yard, the stars ostentatiously pinned on their chests showing that they were part of a posse.

"Afternoon, Montgomery, Silver Fox." They pulled up in front of the two men, their horses lathered and breathing hard. "We're following a gang of outlaws. Dash sent us to ask if you've seen any sign of them."

"No," Ethan said, looking toward Damien. "We haven't seen anyone at all today. What'd they do?"

"They tried to rob the bank early this morning. Someone saw them and sounded the alarm. They killed one of the tellers, and kidnapped three girls on their way out of town. We've been trying to track them, but it's hard going. We lost them this last time when they took to the creek. Dash thinks they might be a remnant of Fletch Dutton's gang."

"Jared and Gideon didn't show up with our lunch, and they would have been riding along the creek," Ethan said grimly.

Damien was already in the saddle and headed down the trail, and Ethan followed close behind.

"Wait!" one of the men yelled after them. "Dash wanted to know if you'd join the posse!"

~~~~

They crossed and re-crossed the creek three times before Damien caught the glint of sun on glass. Dismounting, he found the broken jar, flies buzzing happily over the spilled cobbler.

"They were here," he said as he searched the ground carefully. "The ground's tore up where the horse fell."

Ethan dismounted as well, and held both horses, remaining quiet and letting the tracker search for sign in the dry, scuffed grass until his soft oath brought Ethan quickly to where he was kneeling.

Ethan knelt next to him, and gazed at the bloody handprint stamped into the grass.

"Looks like they ran into the outlaws, all right." Damien's tone was bleak. "And there's more blood over here. One of them is bleeding pretty bad."

"Which one?" Ethan was almost afraid to ask.

"Can't tell from the handprint." Damien shook his head. "They're too close in size."

"They're still alive, though," Ethan said with conviction. "The outlaws must have taken them along. They wouldn't have wasted time hiding or taking bodies. Can you follow them?"

Damien cast around the area for further sign, while Ethan followed and stayed quiet, letting him concentrate. At last the Indian looked at the sun and shook his head. "They're heading northeast, but they're hiding their trail and it's getting dark. There's too much risk I'll lose the trail, or cover it with ours. We'll have to start at first light."

"All right," Ethan replied with a frown. His own inclination was to keep moving, but he knew he had to trust the other man's judgment. "I'll go home and pack up some medicines and provisions. We'll meet back here at first light."

Damien nodded agreement, and Ethan rode home and unsaddled Lucifer almost mindlessly, giving him an extra ration of grain. The cabin seemed bleak and empty, cold, even though he built up the fire.

He didn't bother to cook supper, making do with some bread and cheese he found in the pantry. Then he made up a small pack with food and medicines. "Willow bark, yarrow, comfrey, bandages," he muttered to himself, trying to think of every contingency. He added a change of clothes for Jared in case he was wet or cold, refusing to think of any other possibilities.

After that, he lay on the bed and tried to rest, knowing that he was going to need all of his strength the next day. Sleep was impossible, though, and soon he was up and pacing restlessly about the cabin. The bed seemed big and empty without the lithe young body next to him. At last he sat in his chair next to the fire, cradling Jared's pillow in his arms, the young man's scent still clinging to it and comforting him. Jared would be all right, he reassured himself. He wasn't much of a tracker, but Damien was. Damien would find them, and then they'd get them back. Jared was tough. He'd survive until they could get there. "Oh, Jared," he whispered. "Where are you, little boy?"

~~~~

At that moment, Jared was sitting propped against the wall of a root cellar, eyes closed, trying not to hear Agnes' continuous whine. She sounded like a mosquito, he thought somewhat giddily. The high pitched drone was almost impossible to block out.

They had arrived at the outlaws hideout well after dark - an abandoned ranch in a box canyon. The log ranch house had burned to the ground at some point, probably when the ranch had been abandoned. The outbuildings were left, though, and the outlaws had set up headquarters in the bunkhouse. It had grown steadily colder since the sun went down, and they unsaddled the horses by lantern light and put them into the corral without any wasted movement, intent on getting inside and filling themselves with hot food and drink.

"What do you want us to do with them?" Muley asked Barstow, pointing to their captives.

"Throw 'em in the root cellar and put a guard on the door," Barstow ordered. "We'll deal with them later."

The root cellar proved to be a small cave carved into the rock hillside and fitted with a heavy, plank door. Gideon helped Jared dismount and half carried him to the door where they were shoved roughly inside, Agnes once again protesting angrily before the door was slammed shut and they were in total darkness. Gideon felt his way along the wall and helped Jared sit down, then sat beside him.

Beth Ann sobbed quietly.

"Would you shut UP?" Agnes raged at her, her angry flounce cut short as she tripped over Gideon's legs and fell in a flurry of skirts.

"Would you get OUT of my WAY?" she turned her rage on him.

"How are you doing?" Rose asked Jared quietly, ignoring Agnes' tantrum.

"All right," Jared said, leaning gingerly against the wall.

"I wish we had a light so I could bandage your shoulder," she fretted. "Maybe we could ask them for one."

"No," Jared shook his head. "It's best not to call attention to ourselves. I think we'd better leave it alone, anyway. My shirt and coat are stuck to it and we'd better not pull them loose or it'll start bleeding again. The sling is helping, though."

"They're going to kill us, aren't they?" Gideon asked quietly.

"Yeah," Jared admitted. "They're probably drinking by now. Then when they're drunk enough, they'll start getting mad about the robbery going wrong and they'll think about us. They won't do anything to the girls yet, but when I can't think of a story to satisfy them, they'll kill us."

"Then we have to have a plan," Gideon said firmly. "My father said that if you want to succeed, you don't trust to luck. You always start with a plan. And he may have been a failure as a father, but he's a very successful business man."

"A plan to what?" Agnes caught part of the conversation through her angry tirade at the outlaws.

"To escape," Rose said.

"Escape? You want us to go out and stumble around in the dark and risk getting lost or shot? No. I'm staying right here until my father pays the ransom and they release us."

"Try not to be a complete idiot, Agnes," Rose said wearily. "They won't free us after they get the ransom. They'll use us and then kill us."

"They wouldn't do that!" Agnes protested. "My father would see them hanged if they tried it!"

"Well, I'm sure that would make your father feel better, but it wouldn't help us much, would it?" Rose snapped back, at the end of her patience.

Beth Ann sobbed, scooting up against Gideon, and he absent-mindedly put an arm around her as he tried to think what to do.

"Maybe if we all felt around, we might find something we could use as a weapon," he suggested.

"Oh, that's a wonderful idea," Agnes said sarcastically. "I'm sure they left us a weapon that will take out all ten of them at once."

"It's better than any idea you've had so far!" Rose sharply reprimanded her. "Now shut up and look!"

Jared closed his eyes and drifted as the four of them made a careful search of the floor and then the shelves mounted on the rough stone walls. They were about halfway through and hadn't found anything but a splintery board that might serve as a club when they were interrupted by a quarrel outside the door.

"I don't care what Barstow says! I'm not standing guard duty all night. I'm as cold and tired as anyone else and I want inside where it's warm," one of the outlaws shouted angrily.

"I don't like the idea, either, but you're not leaving me out here alone!" The other voice was less strident, but no less determined.

The argument continued for a few more moments, then the door slammed back against the wall and the captives blinked in the sudden lantern light.

"We ain't standin' out in the cold all night because of you," Clem told them bitterly. "Hand me that coil of rope, Muley, then keep your gun on them while I tie them up."

He cut the thin rope into pieces and wrapped one around Gideon's hands several times before tying it in a firm knot. He repeated the process with Gideon's feet and then with the three girls while Muley covered them and prevented any attempts at escape. He held the last piece in his hands and looked at Jared, then dropped it contemptuously. "No point in tying you up. You ain't goin' nowhere anyway."

"Can you at least leave us the light? And maybe some blankets?" Rose asked. "It's cold and Beth Ann's afraid of the dark."

"Poor little babies," the outlaw sneered. "Get used to it." The door slammed shut and they were left in the dark again.

There was silence except for Beth Ann's quiet weeping as they all faced the dismal reality of their situation.

Jared fought the fog in his brain, sure that there was something he was missing. "The door!" he exclaimed at last, his voice a raspy whisper.

"What about it?" Gideon asked dejectedly, more because Jared expected a response than because he was interested.

"I didn't hear a bar drop or anything shoved against it."

"So?" Gideon didn't understand the significance.

"So the door isn't locked and I have a hand free. If I can get you untied you might be able to escape. Scoot over and let me try."

Gideon inchwormed his way over to Jared and the young man awkwardly found the knot and attempted to undo it one-handedly. After several fumbling efforts he admitted defeat. "I can't do it, Gideon," he groaned in despair. "I can't feel which way to push the rope. If we only had a knife!"

"God, I am so STUPID!" Gideon exclaimed. "Jared, can you reach inside my right boot?"

"You have a knife in your boot?" Jared asked incredulously.

"No, but I have a piece of glass. When I got thrown the jar broke and I stuck a shard of it down into my boot. I thought maybe I could use it for a weapon later on. Maybe it's sharp enough to cut the ropes."

Gideon wormed around until Jared could feel his leg, then find his boot. The shard of glass wasn't very big and had worked its way down and Jared couldn't quite reach it.

"OUCH!"

"I'm sorry, Gideon. Your boot's too tight. I can touch it with my fingertips but I can't reach it!" He was almost sobbing with frustration.

"Let...me...twist," Gideon grunted as he tried to find a better angle.

"Shake your foot, Gideon," Jared urged. "I've almost got it but I think it's snagged on your sock."

Gideon shook his foot at best he could as Jared tried to get his fingers on the elusive shard. It was a triangular piece of glass, not very long. The flat bottom had rested against the bottom of Gideon's boot with the truncated point facing up. The tightness of Gideon's boot and the heavy wool socks had prevented it from shifting and cutting his leg, but it also made it almost impossible to get out without removing the boot.

"Got it!" he said with a sigh of relief, pulling it free.

Both young men squirmed around until Jared could reach Gideon's hands once more, Jared biting back tears as he bumped his shoulder against the rocky floor. Unfortunately, he couldn't feel the rope and saw through it at the same time and the bonds were soon soaked with blood from the numerous nicks and cuts.

"I'm sorry, Gideon, I'm sorry. I'm doing my best," Jared kept repeating unhappily, no longer caring if the anxiously waiting girls knew he was near tears.

"It's all right, Jared," Gideon reassured him. "I know you can't help it. Just do it, all right? It's not that bad, and we need to get out of here."

Finally, an interminable time later, Jared had cut far enough into the rope to jerk it in two and unwind it from Gideon's wrists. Gideon clenched his fists and shook his hands to restore the feeling to them, then fumbled for Jared's hand to take the shard of glass from him. Using both hands, he was able to cut through the rope on his feet and then feel his way over to Rose and free her and the other two girls with only a few nicks.

"All right," he said a short time later. "What's next?"

"Do you think one of us should try to scout around or should we all take a chance and leave together?" Rose asked.

"Jared?" Gideon asked in turn.

Jared had been silent during Gideon's maneuvers. Cutting the other man free had taken most of his energy and he lay still, feeling sick and trying to conserve what little strength he had left.

"You'd better all leave at once," he said weakly. "There shouldn't be anyone outside, but there's no point in risking it with several trips."

"What do you mean, we'd better leave?" Gideon pounced on the pronoun Jared had used. "You're coming too."

"No," Jared shook his head, even though they couldn't see it in the darkness. "You can't risk saddling the horses, you'll have to go on foot. And I can't walk."

"We can help," Rose offered. "If we take turns supporting your weight--"

"No." Jared was adamant. "You have to go as fast as you can. I'll slow you down too much."

"We can't just leave you here!" Gideon protested vehemently.

"You have to," Jared insisted. "Dash and the posse are on their way, and so are Ethan and Damien. You can find them and lead them back here. I'll be okay until then."

"That's a good idea," Agnes said. "Let's go."

Gideon and Rose were both silent, knowing how little chance there was of finding help and getting back in time to save Jared.

"Gideon, can you get me a drink?" Jared asked. As the other man knelt beside him and held the canteen for him, Jared whispered softly. "You have to go, Gideon. You have to get the girls out of here. They'll rape them and kill them otherwise."

"All right, Jared," Gideon gave in reluctantly. "I'll send someone back as soon as I can."

"Would you do one thing for me?" Jared continued in a whisper.

"Anything," Gideon vowed.

"Would you tell Ethan I love him? That he's the best thing that ever happened to me?"

"Of course," Gideon murmured huskily.

"When you get out of here, head for the trees, one at a time, as fast as you can," Jared instructed in a louder voice. "Then try to go south and west. Go downhill and downstream and you'll run into people sooner or later."

"All right," Gideon replied. He squeezed Jared's shoulder wordlessly, then felt his way to the door and opened it cautiously. A few moments more, and Jared was alone.