Chapter 16. Enjoy!
The sun had barely begun to rise when Reid and his Rangers arrived at the abandoned camp site of the outlaws they were looking for. The dogs they had brought along had lead them straight to the open space in the middle of the thick forest. Dismounting his horse, Dan scanned around the area, finding traces of blood in the upturned ground.
"What ye make of that, Hollis?" Dan asked his fellow Ranger. The latter sunk to his knees to touch the dried up blood, rubbing it between two fingers.
"Could be a day old, maybe two. Don't have to be hers, Dan." Hollis said.
"It's hers.." Dan decided, sighing heavily as he squinted against the bright light of the newborn sun. "They took her with them. So she aint dead yet." The thick forestry area made it impossible for him to see further than a couple of feet. And he knew that had been Cavendish' thinking as well. A man like him would want to be able to scan the perimeter at all times. They were both men raised in the desert, and were used to be able to see where they were going, they had that much in common. He looked up at the sound of horse hooves, and frowned when Elton and his agents approached the Rangers slowly.
"Goodmorning, mr. Reid.." Elton said cheerfully, tipping his bowler hat at the confused Ranger. "Little bit of a chilly morning, isn't it?"
"What the hell are you doing here, Henry?" Dan said, unamused. The agent ignored him as he dismounted his horse like he had all the time in the world. His men followed his example, and Dan couldn't help but notice in disdain that Evans was with them as well. Seemingly recovered enough to get back into the saddle.
"Mr. Cole thinks you're incompetent.." Elton spoke matter of factly, tying his horse to a tree. "He thought it would be best for me and my men to accompany you on your.. little quest to find our little prairie poppy."
Feeling slighted in his abilities, Dan walked up to fine suited Elton, forcing the latter's back into his own mount. "Ye got some nerve to follow me around with that excuse, Henry. We both know ye don't give a damn about that girl getting home." The Ranger hissed.
It only took a moment for the agent to lose his fearful expression at the Ranger's sudden close proximity. "Very perceptive of you, Reid." He sneered. "Unfortunately for her, that insightful talent of yours didn't present itself when little miss Hartley was still among us. After all, it was you who swore by high and low that Cavendish wasn't anywhere near that farm, wasn't it?"
Grabbing the agent by his collar, Dan growled in anger. He would have punched the little man stupid had it not been for Hollis placing his hand on his shoulder. "Easy, Dan. The blowhard aint worth it. Not with Cavendish out there doing God knows what to that girl. Remember why we're here."
Dan let go reluctantly, and the agent shuddered slightly from the experience. "Don't get in my way." The Ranger warned softly. Elton gazed at him haughtily, straightening his collar in an attempt to regain his composure.
"We don't have to thread upon eachother's feet, mr. Reid." He said calmly. "You should be glad Mr. Cole was considerate enough to give you more men to work with."
Chuckling joylessly, Dan shot a quick glance at the other agents. "Men?" He huffed. "Three overpaid mercenaries and a eunuch don't even make for one whole man." Evans shifted in his saddle angrily, but a warning glare from Elton told him not to act upon the Ranger's insults.
"Very witty, Reid. Very catchy. But this isn't your own personal vendetta no more. we're riding with you." The agent said. "Besides, we can both get what we want this way. You get that girl, I get Cavendish, his gang and all the money on their heads."
Dan ignored him as he mounted his horse, giving the order to the other Rangers to follow his example. "Is that what you promised your boys?" He asked, looking at the group of mean looking mercenaries. Their fine suits didn't do much to hide their vicious expressions. "You promised them the reward money of the Cavendish gang?"
"And what of it?" Elton spoke arrogantly. "It's about time somebody does something about that pesky little pack of dogs."
Dan could only chuckle and shake his head. "Cavendish worked with dogs years ago, Henry. The men following him around now are anything but stupid. I hope you know what you're doing. Cause let me tell you one thing, I aint going to save your hide." Elton just tilted his head with a bored expression. Not in the least impressed by the Ranger's warning. "Anyway, I'm heading West. I suspect Cavendish will keep close to them mountains for shelter. You can follow or we can split up" Dan continued, he didn't wait for the agent's reply as he ushered his horse forward, his Rangers in close pursuit.
Pursing his lips in agitation, Elton climbed into the saddle and started prepping his gun calmly, taking bullet after bullet out of his ammunition belt, in no hurry whatsoever. After a moment of silence, he motioned for Evans to come closer.
"Which way is Cavendish going?" He asked. The bearded, gruff looking man spat on the ground beside his horse, causing Elton to look slightly disgusted.
"Aint nuthin' fer him out west." Evans grumbled. "He's gonna go south."
Elton nodded, shoving his now loaded pistol back into its fancy new holster. "And cross the border to sell that pretty little sheep to the nearest brothel, no doubt. The less Rangers the better, I suppose. This is where you'll prove your use to me, Evans. I know there's a trail down the canyon that leads straight into Mexico. You will lead us there."
Evans hesitated, his horse shifting her weight restlessly. "Aint safe te take a longrider's trail"
Elton rounded on him quickly. "Are you here for a safe little road trip or are you here to make sure I don't throw your filthy person back into the prison you belong in?! You know the way… you get us Cavendish and his gang, and I'll make sure you can continue your revolting lifestyle in peace."
Evans said nothing, and could only stare at the short, fine suited man in absolute hate. "Yes, sir, mr. Elton, sir."
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As quick as the water had risen, it sunk again as the narrow canyon's path widened. Eleanor was sure she had been under water for more than once, clinging to her panicking horse for dear life. And that had probably been the secret to surviving a thing like this. Horses could swim, and they would swim for their lives in an act of unbridled self-preservation.
As the water sunk to the animals' knees, the men regained their bearings slowly, now resembling more of a pile of drowned rats than outlaws. She coughed and sputtered, water gushing out of her holster and shoes. Her tired mare's reins no longer wrapped around Butch's saddle, she looked around to see where the leader of this group of wet dogs had gone to, and spotted him a little up front. Butch had dismounted his horse, and lead the animal by her headpiece to higher ground.
Shivering violently, she looked down at her hands, wrapped tightly around the knob of her saddle, red from the freezing cold water.
"You okay?"
She looked up to find Frank standing beside her, his young stallion's head hidden behind a curtain of soaked through manes, much like his rider, who's hair was plastered to his forehead. She couldn't help but giggle softly, and that seemed to lighten Frank's worry immediately. "I'm alright.." she assured him. He smiled at her words and reached out to take her horse's reins.
"Let's go and get you dried up.." He announced, tugging her horse with him. They had only just recovered from the whole ordeal, when Jesus galloped his horse right past them, causing another wave of water to cover them both. He jumped off his mount the moment it climbed the soil, and fell to his knees with a heavy thud, kissing the ground and muttering his prayers in Spanish, his arms raised up to the heavens.
"Darn it, Jesus!" Frank barked, taking off his hat to wring it out again. "We knows yer happy to be in Mexico, ye don't have to be like that about it!"
She looked around, up at the ridges, and the land she left behind. They were in a foreign country now. But the rainclouds were over her homeland, and the skies were a pale pink across the river. Following their example, she dismounted stiffly, rubbing her arms to get warm. She was sure this part of the border was a trail no Ranger was dumb enough to take. A trail meant for outlaws looking for a quick escape. Butch had brought her into safety the only way he knew how, to go where no lawman dared show his face.
A fire was built on the soggy banks of the Rio Grande, and boots and coats were hung to dry on improvised racks close to the fire. She did her best to hide her embarrassment of being among half-dressed men. Some had even taken off their shirts. But this was her life right now, and it was all she had left, she had to get used to it one way or the other. Keeping to herself, she decided to give it a try to remove her horse's saddle without any help. It was only one strap, how hard could it be?
"What ye wearing underneath that dress?"
Came the question when she had just pulled the heavy leather saddle off her horse's back. She turned to face the speaker, and found Barret gazing at her coldly in nothing but his trousers, an impressive pattern of scars decorating his sunburned skin. He folded his arms over his chest as he watched her struggle with the heavy saddle, indicating he wasn't going to help her.
"Excuse me?" she asked, a little fearful. The weight of the saddle started to hurt her shoulders, but she wasn't going to turn her back to Barret and place it on the ground. Not while he was asking about what her underclothes looked like.
"Your dress, you dunce." He repeated himself, agitated. "You're going to catch your death wearing that wet thing. So my question is.. what are you wearing underneath it?" she could only stare at him in disbelief.
"well I.." she started. "I'm not taking it off, if that's what you mean." He took a step closer, and she took a step back, so he stopped and held up his hands. "Hey now.." he started. "I aint going to rip it off you, alright? Put that saddle down and get yourself closer to the fire atleast. Cause if you think I'm going to play nurse for you if you get a lung infection because of this, you got another thing coming. I'm warning you now.. I've seen men die of that river's temperature and it aint a pretty sight."
No longer capable of holding its weight, Eleanor lowered the saddle to the ground slowly. Her spine protesting against every movement. Now her arms were free again, she wrapped them around herself protectively, averting her eyes from the outlaw staring her down.
"Unless you want me to ask Butch to come over here and explain the problem to him.." Barret threatened lightly, raising his eyebrows in question at the nervous young woman. "And mind you he won't have a single problem with ripping that thing off you if that means saving your life."
The thought alone made her blood freeze in fear. "Oh no, please don't tell him, mister Barret." She begged him. He tilted his head, a sly grin on his face, he had found his loophole and he was going to use it too.
"What you got under that dress?" He asked again. She stared at him with wide eyes, her mouth agape, ready to fire something back. "You gotta stop looking at me like a deer into the barrel of a shotgun, I don't bite nearly as hard as your hero over there." He taunted, obviously amused by her fuming reaction. She straightened her back, offended by his remark, and reached up to start unbuttoning the first few buttons of her soaked through dress. Had he been polite, he would have turned away his gaze by now, as true gentlemen never stared at a woman in a state of undress. But he kept his eyes locked on her shivering figure, until she arrived at the buttons close to her stomach, that was when he finally turned away, walking back to his place at the campfire.
Her old chemise wasn't anything worth writing home about, not to mention its faded white colour carried the stains of her travels even more clearly than the soaked through dark blue dress she wore over it. The cold wind coming from the river gave her goose bumps on her bare arms, and she heard the men around the campfire laugh in the distance. It was going to be quite the challenge to walk up to them, and sit among them in nothing but her underclothing. Holding her wet dress tightly against her chest, her worn shoes on top of the folded package of soaked clothing, she trudged toward the warmth of the fire, taking a deep breath to prepare herself for the looks an catcalls she was undoubtedly going to receive.
Surrounded by their own clothing on self-made drying racks, the gang sat around a big fire in their trousers and shirt sleeves. An already half empty bottle of whiskey was passed on from man to man, and nothing seemed to betray that these outlaws had just survived the Rio Grande's unpredictable nature. She decided to squeeze in between Frank and Skinny, as quietly as she could. But of course, everybody stopped talking the moment she sat down, her bare feet covered in sand and dry leafs. She felt herself shrink under their silent stares.
"Well look who finally decided to join the party." Butch taunted, making the rest snicker. "Dressed to impress." He continued, giving her a wicked smile. She didn't look up to meet his gaze, and stared down at her shivering hands instead. He motioned for the bottle of whiskey and tossed it into her lap, causing her to yelp in surprise. "Drink. You'll feel warmer." The leader instructed.
She made a face as she picked up the bottle, remembering its bitter taste from before. But she was too weary for further ridicule and she knew she was going to receive just that should she refuse the drink. So she plopped the cork, and after a moment of hesitation, took a deep swig. The gang hollered in enthusiasm. She coughed on the strong taste, and, wiping her mouth, handed the bottle to Frank before the rest would start challenging her to empty the whole thing.
"I do not understand why men like the taste of this so much.." she mumbled, the heavy liquor forming a film on her tongue.
"We don't, Sharky." Butch had obviously heard her opinion about the whiskey. "We just like the effect." Another round of snickering went through the group, and she couldn't help but chuckle softly at his joke.
"Get used to the taste, Chiquita." Jesus told her with a big grin on his broad face. "It's the only drink you'll get for a while to come. My brother makes his own whiskey in the village I was born."
"It's a day's ride from here." Butch explained to the ones who hadn't been there before. "And a good place to lay low for a while." He continued, his gaze resting on the shivering young woman.
"Is your sister still unmarried, Jesus?" Barret started innocently, receiving a threatening look from the big man, who made a fist and held it up at the army surgeon.
"You come near my sister and I will make sure you don't walk out of my village, but crawl! Like the French dog you are!" He said. Barret just smiled wickedly at him, not impressed at all. "It aint my fault she pulls her dress over her head for anyone that offers three bucks." He sneered tauntingly. Jesus got up with surprising speed, ready to do God knows what to Barret.
"Enough!" Butch interfered, causing the big man to sit down again. "Ah don't want no trouble during the ride. Ye can blow a hole in eachother's head once we git there! Understood?!" It seemed to be enough for the two men, for they stopped their bickering immediately.
"Where are we going exactly?" Eleanor inquired softly, giving Butch an unsure look, but he avoided her seeking eyes. Catching up on his leader's uneasiness, Frank decided to do the explaining for him.
"We're going to Jesus' village. Aint so bad a place. There's food.. and sometimes baby goats." He told her with a smile. Baby goats. Somehow Eleanor suspected there was more to this mysterious Mexican village than baby goats.
"The most beautiful village of the world!" Jesus announced proudly, spreading his arms in a welcoming gesture. "With the most beautiful chiquita's, and the best whiskey south of the border!"
"A whore's town." Barret said bluntly, wringing out his shirt without looking at her. "Where all the scum of the earth gathers to lay low." She felt herself grow pale at the thought of such a place. A place from tales of travellers her mother would run into when she ran errands in Colby. Her father had told her about such towns as well, although he had never been to Mexico. She hugged herself quietly, reminding herself that she wouldn't last a day out here on her own.
"And.. how long will we stay there?" Her voice trembled when she voiced her soft question, not exactly sure if any of the criminals would take kindly to her curiosity. Looks were exchanged among the members of the gang, and they all ended resting on their leader, who seemed all but willing to give her a straight answer. "Mr. Cavendish?" she pushed carefully.
It just made him chuckle. "Mr. Cavendish.." He repeated mockingly, wiggling his eyebrows. His men snickered at their leader's taunting antics. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it, boys?"
"I'm asking you a question." She continued, feeling scorned.
"I heard ye." He suddenly got back to serious, snapping out of his little game. "We'll stay there for aslong as we need.. Miss Hartley.." He almost spat out her name, as he tipped his hat in a pretend politeness. After that, he got up from his spot and walked off without another word. She watched him go in silence, the man had a way of making her feel like she didn't know how to talk to him. had he been anyone else, she wouldn't have allowed him to cut himself loose from the conversation like this, and she would have followed him to whatever corner he was sulking in.
"We usually stay about three days.." Frank tried. "Depends on how much everyone drinks and all." She smiled at him gratitude. Atleast someone was always willing to talk to her, and answer her many questions, even though he didn't have all the answers either. In search for warmth, she leaned against his narrow shoulder, gazing at the river, the new light playing tricks on its waves.
"I don't think I've ever been this far from home." She mused softly.
"First few miles are the hardest." Frank said. "After that it all feels the same. Till ye finally don't remember yer way back. Wouldn't know where te start."
She nuzzled closer against his arm, feeling tears well up. This wasn't her. This wasn't what she had promised herself growing up on the ranch. Then again, she didn't think the war had been something her father had promised himself when he married her mother and started a family with her. But it had happened nonetheless.
"I'm glad you're with me, Frank." She spoke softly, hugging herself against the growing cold around her. "You make it feel like I'm not so far from home." She felt his arm wrap around her trembling shoulders carefully, hugging her close protectively, like the brother her mother had always wanted for her. But somehow the Lord saw it fit to make her only child. There were no words needed as they both watched the river reflect the colors of the sky, till she was nothing but a mirror in which they could see the clouds pass over, giving room for the sun to cast her warm rays of light.
R&R plz
