Part 2 of 3
It was getting near to noon when Ezra left the saloon feeling rather pleased himself. He'd been getting a bit low on funds since he'd arrived in Red Fork, and an hour at the poker table had done wonders for his mood and his wallet. But it had yielded no new information about Chris Larabee.
His mood lifted still further when he saw Maria driving a buckboard into town. Yes, this was proving to be a good day. But before he could walk up to her, she had reined the horses in front of the doctor's and hurried inside. Moments later, she and the doctor drove off. Since she appeared to be all right, Ezra assumed it was some other member of the household who required medical attention.
He would inquire when he saw her again. And he hoped that would be soon.
Later that afternoon, the doctor was brought back to his office by Raul. Doc Sanderson watched as the big Mexican didn't immediately return to the ranch, but instead took the buckboard a little further down the street. Probably to complete a few errands, the doc concluded.
He went into his office, took off his hat and settled into an armchair to think about the mysterious patient he'd had today. Sanderson had seen him before when he stitched up a small but deep cut on the back of the man's head.
It had been a deep, lacerated wound. The piece of metal appeared to be nestled tightly against bone. Sanderson had tried to remove it, but it was wedged in there tight and he couldn't get a grip on it. Saboted steel, almost like cannon shot. He hated those kind of injuries. He'd seen plenty of them in the war. If you went after it, you might break some blood vessels, maybe bring on gangrene. Most times, he'd just sawed the leg off. Best way in wartime, as far as he was concerned.
Sanderson had already spent a good amount of time on the effort, when he finally turned to the woman and said "If he wants to keep that leg, might be best to just close 'im up and hope for the best. There'll be pain, though. And he'll have a definite limp."
"I appreciate your efforts, and I'm sure he does, too." She had looked so calm about the whole thing. Almost glad.
He hesitated. "If I broke the leg, I might have a better chance of gettin' it out-"
"Leave it in," she'd said flatly. "I'm sure you've done all you can do."
She'd paid him very generously for his services. And to not ask any questions.
It was evening when Chris opened his eyes groggily. His eyes adjusted to the light and he snapped them shut again with a groan. Either he had died and this was Hell or, worse, he was alive and this was Ella's house. A piercing pain in his leg told him he was still alive.
He lifted the blanket. His clothes had been removed and a white bandage was wrapped around his left thigh. And that infernal chain was attached to his left ankle.
"The doc left a few hours ago." Ella's voice. She was sitting in a chair, watching him. "Groggy? The doctor had to give you something when you started thrashing around. He took those four little stitches out of your head while he was here. He said it was healing nicely."
She moved the chair closer to bed, bringing with her a pan of water and a cloth. She gently wiped the sweat brought on by pain and weakness from his face and chest as she talked.
"I did you a favor. Doc Sanderson's really an excellent doctor, better than that friend of mine. Doc Sanderson was in the war, but you know how those army doctors were. A deep wound like that, all they know is to saw a man's leg off. He was all ready to take yours, but I wouldn't let him. I made him leave the shot in there instead."
Chris tried to move his leg. He could feel the agony of metal rubbing against bone. His face went white as a moan escaped his lips.
Ella set aside the pan of water, went to the table and brought back a small brown bottle and a spoon.
"He left you some laudanum for the pain. I'm afraid your injury is going to give you a permanent limp," she said sadly, sitting beside him again. "I'm so sorry, my darling. But you'll always have me to take care of you." She reached out to touch him.
Chris tried to push her away. "Bitch," he growled through clenched teeth.
Ella's face clouded over. She stood and set the bottle and spoon on the chair.
"You're trying my patience, Chris. I know you're in pain, but you've no one to blame but yourself for that. You haven't appreciated anything I've done for you, even after I fought to save your leg. Maybe if you were to hunger for me as I have for you, you'll appreciate me more fully."
She started to leave, then paused in the doorway. "And I can teach you a thing or two about hunger." Then she disappeared down the hall for the night.
Chris noticed she didn't lock the door this time. Why should she? He was a cripple now. Even if he somehow got out of the chain, he couldn't get far.
He slowly sat up on the edge of the bed to test his leg. He moved the injured limb carefully until he could get both feet on the floor. The chain only made the pain of movement worse. Finally, he forced himself to stand. Pain shot through his leg, the leg buckled, and he crumpled back onto the bed. He lay gasping, beads of sweat on his forehead and upper lip.
He stretched out on the bed, taking in deep breaths until the pain subsided to something manageable. Then he reached for the laudanum still on the chair. At least he would be able to find escape his physical pain.
That same night found Vin and Josiah sitting out in front of the Red Fork Hotel.
"Still nothin'," spat Vin in frustration. He sighed. "Maybe my instincts are wrong. Maybe we're just chasin' our tails and it's my fault."
Josiah looked at him. Vin looked tired. Josiah knew he'd been restless every night since they'd arrived. "We all want to find him."
Vin barely heard him. "I just feel so sure he's somewhere nearby."
Josiah looked down as he spoke. "Maybe you just want it to be true?"
Vin shook his head. "It sounds crazy, I know. But I've never been so sure of anything in my life."
Josiah nodded in understanding. "Then we'll give it one more day."
"Thanks for believin' in me, Josiah."
Josiah shrugged. "Faith's my business."
Vin managed a slight smile. "How do you explain Ezra bein' here, then? You know he had to have fixed them cards."
Josiah smiled. "That Mexican girl he's after might have somethin' to do with it. And maybe he believes in luck."
"You think faith and luck are the same thing?"
Josiah stretched and prepared to return to his room. "Faith, luck, intuition. I think it all comes down to believin' in something you can't see. 'Sides, one more day can't do no harm."
Ezra took a mid-morning stroll over to the general store. The bell over the door tinkled as he walked in.
"Howdy," said the storekeeper jovially.
Ezra smiled back. "I need some shaving soap...and, ah, some cigars."
As the clerk wrapped up Ezra's purchases, Ezra asked in his most off-handed manner, "Do you know the Mexican woman who was in here the other day? A mute girl?"
"Oh, yeah. She and a fella -- guess that's her brother or something -- come in here from time to time. Don't really know 'em. Not much for conversation, if you know what I mean." He laughed heartily at his own boorish joke. Ezra smiled tightly.
"Funny thing, though," he continued. "They just bought more supplies than usual. Like they're expectin' company or somethin'. Be a pretty quiet party, eh?" The storekeeper laughed again.
Ezra paid the man and left quickly. He didn't like the man's sense of humor, but the storekeeper did have a point. The fear he saw in Maria's eyes and the surliness of her...brother? They didn't strike him as being people who'd welcome visitors.
Ezra, Josiah, and Vin had stayed in Red Fork largely because of Vin's instincts. Now Ezra's instincts were niggling at him.
As Ezra was leaving the general store, Doc Sanderson was having a late breakfast and pondering his mystery patient. The whole thing just bothered him.
Sanderson knew he wasn't supposed to see it, but there had been a chain by the bed. It hadn't been used while he was treating the wounded man's injuries, but clearly it was meant to keep the man a prisoner. But why?
He lit a cigar and slowly blew out a puff of smoke. He'd been well paid for his silence and lack of curiosity. And that money would come in handy. Sanderson was tired of scrabbling in a dirt-water town. He hoped to make some real money by opening a practice that catered to the hypochondriac society matrons of San Francisco.
Maybe this mystery man he'd treated was wanted somewhere. There'd been six men-gunslinger types-in town looking for a man. There were still three of them in town staying at the hotel. Maybe this was the man they were searching for. And maybe he was worth more than Sanderson had been paid.
The doc picked up his hat and headed for the hotel.
Doc Sanderson walked up to the hotel desk clerk. "I'm lookin' for three men. There were six of 'em before. Know who I mean?"
The clerk nodded. "Yeah, doc, but they're out. Probably since near dawn, 'cause they was gone when I got here. You wanna leave 'em a note?"
"That would be fine. Thanks." Sanderson penned a quick note and left. He didn't see the large Mexican observing him from across the street as he walked into his office. The Mexican started across the street.
Ezra had hoped to see Maria in town since her quick errand to the doctor's. He had been feeling a little guilty, since he should probably have spent more time thinking about finding Chris and less about running into Maria. But now the storeowner's observation about laying in supplies made him wonder. It was probably nothing, but Ezra had learned to play his hunches.
His back stiffened and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he saw Raul leave the doctor's office. Something about him definitely didn't sit right with Ezra.
Ezra quickly ducked and watched as Raul got on a horse and rode out of town. Ezra hurried to where his own horse was hitched in front of the hotel and followed Raul at a safe distance.
This was one of those times Ezra liked: when he couldn't lose. He was going to find Maria...and maybe there was a slightly-better-than-outside chance he'd find Chris.
By mid-afternoon, the only person who had come into Chris's room was Raul. He left fresh water in a pitcher on the table, but no food. Chris wasn't surprised. Ella was trying to punish him. And she wasn't doing a bad job of it. He felt weak and hungry. And thirsty.
Chris eyed the pitcher. Normally, it would have been just a few strides away, but in his weakened condition, it seemed much, much farther. Still…a man could go without food for awhile if he had to, but not without water.
Chris pushed back the blanket and, after several painful attempts, stood shakily on his good leg. He started to limp, but pain roared through his wounded leg. He crashed to the floor, trying to bite back a scream. The gunslinger lay there for several minutes, his chest heaving as he sucked in deep breaths until the tides of pain subsided a bit.
He clawed at the bed, struggling to get onto his good leg once more. Even the slightest movement sent shock waves of agony through his leg. His fall had strained at the stitches and the white bandage around his thigh showed a few drops of blood. He grimaced as he dragged his injured leg behind him. Slowly, painfully, he made his way toward the pitcher of water on the table.
Chris picked up the pitcher and drank greedily from it. He stood there a moment, balancing awkwardly on one foot. Finally he hobbled back to the bed, carrying the pitcher with him, sloshing water all over the floor. He set the pitcher on the chair by his bed. Chris was now bathed in sweat and breathless from his exertions as he carefully eased his body back under the blanket.
He poured himself a dose of laudanum. His hands were so sweat-slicked and shaky with weakness, he only managed to get a few drops into the spoon. He swallowed the laudanum anyway and tried to sleep.
Buck was in the jailhouse, pacing like a very irritable tiger. Ever since they had arrived home, he'd been like this. JD found that nothing anyone said could seem to placate the big Irishman, so he'd finally lapsed into silence.
"Why don't they send somethin'? Anythin'!" He shouted for the umpteenth time to no one in particular. "It's drivin' me nuts."
He stopped and fixed a steely gaze on JD. "Where's Nathan," he demanded. "How long can it take to check on a wire?"
JD sighed. He didn't know why he continued to bother. It was only asking for trouble. "I'm sure he'll be right back. They said they'd wire us when they needed us. Maybe they don't need us yet."
Buck flared. "They need us all right! We got his gun and no Chris! And all this waitin' around ain't gettin' us any closer to findin' him!"
JD wondered if Buck was just going to lose it and strangle him right then and there when Nathan walked in.
'''Bout time!" Buck snapped.
Nathan ignored the outburst and spoke to JD. "Nothin' yet. They may even be on their way back right now."
"Then what?" Buck demanded.
But nobody knew the answer to that.
It was a few hours later when Chris awoke. The light coming through the window told him it was dusk. He heard the door opened slowly. Chris craned his neck, but he couldn't see who it was. He wondered if Ella had changed her mind again. Whoever it was cautiously approached the bed.
It was Maria.
In her hands, she held a small bowl of thin soup. She stared at Chris for a long moment with wide, sable eyes. Finally, she knelt beside him and set the bowl on the chair, next to the spoon and the laudanum bottle. Raul must have refilled the water pitcher because it had been moved from the chair back to the table.
Chris's stomach rumbled in response. Maria carefully helped him to sit up, rearranging the pillow behind his back. She handed him the bowl and spoon. He ate hungrily. When he was done, she took the bowl and spoon, then reached into her pocket and put something in his hands.
Bread. A roll. And it was still warm. Chris looked at her. She smiled softly back at him and watched as he devoured it almost as quickly as the soup.
She poured him a glass of water, then helped him to lie down again and pulled the blanket up to cover his chest.
"Thank you," he said, in a raspy whisper.
Her warm hand gently touched his face, and then lightly brushed his blond hair off his forehead. Chris looked into her eyes and he could see the sorrow there. Or was it pity? For a moment, he suddenly felt cold all over. He pulled the blanket closer.
Maria glanced over her shoulder toward the door, snatched up the empty bowl and hurried noiselessly from the room.
Now that he'd eaten something for the first time all day, he felt at least slightly better. He lay there, his eyes focused toward the ceiling and began to think. The idea of spending the rest of his life crippled and living with the insane woman who murdered his family didn't bear thinking about. He wondered if Maria might help him escape, but he doubted it. He knew it had been a big risk for her just to bring him food.
For an instant, Chris wondered what Mary Travis would have thought of him like this, no longer able to walk without maybe a cane or crutch. What kind of life could he give someone like her? He just as quickly dismissed all thoughts of Mary from his mind. It didn't matter. Sooner or later he would probably die here.
But he wasn't ready to die just yet. There was still the Six. He wondered if they even knew he was missing, or if they would be able to find him. They were the only real hope he had left.
Ezra had followed Raul for a long distance to a remote ranch. It was well hidden, situated in a small valley and surrounded by trees. Ezra had taken a position a good distance from the house and had been waiting for a few hours now. He wanted the sun to set completely before approaching the house.
He had thought several times about going back for Vin and Josiah. But he decided he didn't want to drag them back here if Chris wasn't there.
If they found only Maria, the embarrassment would be more than he could endure. If he did encounter her, he was prepared to tell her he had gotten lost while searching for his friend. Besides, he wouldn't mind seeing her in any case.
Ezra looked up at the horizon. Soon it would be dark enough to move.
It was nightfall when Vin and Josiah returned to the hotel. Vin had been quieter than usual all day. Josiah had tried be of some comfort to him, but he knew the failure to find Chris had been like a crushing weight on the tracker. In the morning, they would have to return home and tell the others they'd turned up nothing. Neither one of them was looking forward to it.
They trudged through the lobby to the stairs that led to their room.
"Mr. Tanner?"
Vin turned sharply. The desk clerk was holding out a folded piece of paper.
"The doc left ya's a note."
Josiah took the note. "Much obliged." He and Vin stepped outside before reading it in the light from the hotel windows. "From Doc Sanderson. Says 'My office. May have information about your friend.'"
Vin stuck his head back inside the hotel. "Doc Sanderson. That his office down the street?"
"Only doc we got," said the desk clerk.
"Obliged."
From outside, Doc Sanderson's office was dark. Josiah tried the door, then looked at Vin. It was unlocked. They moved cautiously through the darkened waiting area into the office itself.
Sanderson lay sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood.
"Looks like he's been beat to death," observed Vin.
"And that your instincts might be right."
"Guess you better go to the sheriff's and report this. With that price on my head, I don't wanna risk goin' in there again. Should we wire for Buck, Nathan, and JD?"
Josiah shook his head. "Not yet. We don't really have much more to go on than we had before. It may be that someone don't want us findin' Chris and it may be just coincidence."
"You think it's just coincidence?"
"Don't know. But before we have Buck tearin' through here like a dust devil, let's see if we can found out anything more tomorrow."
Vin nodded in agreement. "I'll go find Ezra. Let him know what's happened."
It seemed like hours before the last lights in the windows of the house went out. Ezra waited several minutes longer before moving closer toward the house.
He crouched low and moved cautiously, quietly, through the underbrush and past a small pond. When he was still several yards from the house, he paused. Something near his feet glinted silvery in the moonlight.
Ezra knelt, lit a match and bent to get a better look. A tripwire. Clever. Whoever owned the property evidently had set out to discourage any unexpected visitors. He decided to exercise more caution as he proceeded.
He made it to the edge of the trees and paused again. It was all open several yards from where he was to the house. He still saw no activity.
Ezra selected a well-shadowed area near a corner of the house. He crouched low and sprinted toward it. He silently let out a small sigh of relief when another window went black. Soon the entire house would probably be asleep. He hunkered down and waited several minutes.
When Ezra decided to disappear, he sure did a good job of it, Vin though acidly. Bad enough they had to find Chris. Now he had to waste time looking all over town for the gambler. He'd started in the most obvious place, the poker table at the saloon. Those still hangin' around at this late hour hadn't seen him.
When Vin left the saloon, he noticed that Ezra's horse was also missing. First he figured Ezra might be out riding a little ways outside of town in search of Chris. They'd all done that and had turned up nothing and besides, it would be too dark to search now, so it didn't seem likely.
Then he thought of that Mexican girl Ezra had taken a shine to. Ezra was probably out making time with her in the moonlight somewhere. Impressing her with his courtly ways. Damn his hide, anyway. Here they were, searching high and low for Chris, and all Ezra could do was think of himself. Vin had nothing personal against the man. Hell, Ezra had been there right along with them more than once. But sometimes his sense of priorities…Vin shook his head ruefully.
The sheriff would likely still be at the doc's office with Josiah. Vin decided to look for Ezra just a little longer, then rejoin Josiah at the doc's office, after he was sure the sheriff had left.
Ezra cautiously went around to a door at the back of the house. It was unlocked. With all the traps around the property, the owners must have been pretty confident about their security.
The door swung silently on well-oiled hinges. Ezra opened it just enough to ease his slight frame past the door and into the house.
Ezra found he could see his way around better then he'd hoped. Shafts of moonlight broke up the darkness in the house. Off to his right, just past the kitchen, he could hear a man snoring. Probably the big Mexican sound asleep.
Ezra moved carefully into the middle of the house. The house seemed even bigger inside than it had looked from the outside.
He saw no one else so far. The gambler found the stairs to the second floor and hesitated. He climbed the stairs like a cat, pausing again at the landing. Which room first? Which door?
A hand touched him lightly on the shoulder and he spun around.
Maria.
He breathed out a sigh and smiled reflexively at the sight of her. Then it occurred to him. How was he going to explain his presence? His story about being lost was going to sound pretty lame under the circumstances, even to him.
Maria was staring at him, studying his face. She put a finger to his lips, then took his hand. She led him down the hall and around a corner, then stopped before one of the doors.
Ezra looked her questioningly, and she nodded. He opened the door a crack, and peered in. He felt all the breath leave his body and his blood ran cold.
It was Chris Larabee.
Sort of.
Ezra stared numbly. For Ezra there were few sure bets in life, but he would never in his life have bet on seeing Chris Larabee this way. For a long moment, he wasn't even sure it was Chris Larabee. Ezra stared, transfixed, as if he were watching a dream. Or a nightmare.
He saw Chris get out of bed, struggle shakily to his feet, and lurch awkwardly toward the table. A long, thick chain was attached to his left ankle. Chris was naked except for a bandage wrapped around his left thigh. There were dark brown stains on it, like dried blood. He was hunched over, obviously weak and in pain.
Ezra started to open the door wider when a shrill scream stopped him. He turned to see Ella backhand Maria sharply across the face. Then she came at him, arm upraised, a pair of shears in her hand.
He tried to activate the sleeve gun but during his days in Red Fork the mechanism had become clogged and sticky, and it jammed.
Before he could unholster his gun, Ella slashed at him. Her first strike hit the base of his throat, glancing off his collarbone and narrowly missing any arteries. She was fast, all arms and hands and blades, as she struck at him wildly.
Ezra winced as the tip of the shears cut into the muscle in the right side of his chest. Ella cut him in the same area again as he raised his arm to protect himself. He grabbed at her arm with one hand while the scissors jabbed repeatedly at his upraised arm. Blood dripped from his arm and the pain in his chest was intense. Finally he managed to grab at the shears and wrench them from her grasp. Behind her, he could see Maria staring in horror to her right. He glanced to his left just in time to see a fist like a ham headed for his face.
He crumpled to the floor. Before he passed out, he could hear Ella say to Raul, "Get rid of the body. And if it isn't a corpse yet, make sure it is when you're done."
She kicked Ezra in the stomach for good measure. Then everything went black.
Chris was trying to get to the water. The chain seemed to get heavier every time he tried. Chris kept placing the water pitcher by the bed, and Raul kept returning it to the table every time he came in to refill it.
Chris was almost at the table when he heard the scream and turned sharply. It was hard to see through the mists of pain, weakness, and laudanum that clouded his vision, but it looked like Ella and...Ezra?
He shook his head slightly and squinted. Ezra was struggling with Ella. But that couldn't be. Maybe Chris was dreaming? It was almost too much to hope that he'd been found.
Raul punched Ezra hard in the face and the smaller man dropped to the floor like a rag doll. Chris watched numbly as Raul threw Ezra over his shoulder and disappeared. Ella paused, looked at Chris, and walked away.
Chris stood there a moment, his thoughts jumbled. At last his shoulders sagged. There was nothing he could do to save Ezra now. Or himself. He took the pitcher back to the bed and set it down in its usual place on the chair. Then he slowly climbed back into bed and tried not to think about anything at all.
Vin returned to the doc's office only after he was sure the sheriff had left. Josiah was poking around in drawers as Vin walked in.
"Ezra's disappeared," Vin said flatly.
One thing about Vin, thought Josiah, he wasn't one to mince words. "Think he's with that Mexican girl?"
Vin shrugged. "Dunno. Probably. Find out anything?"
Josiah shook his head. "Not yet. Sanderson lived kinda comfortable for bein' a doc in this town. Had quite a lot of money in his pockets."
"So we know it wasn't robbery."
Josiah nodded. "Well, he thought he knew somethin' about Chris. And now he's dead. Why don't we get some sleep and then search this place in the morning, at first light?"
Vin agreed. "It oughta keep. Ezra should be back by then. It'll be easier to search if there's three of us."
Ezra awoke feeling woozy. Several places in his body ached, but what alarmed him most was his lack of mobility. He was laying on his side with a rope tied around his chest and arms, and another around his legs. His wrists and ankles had also been securely tied.
Gradually he became aware of his surroundings. He was outside and it was still dark. He could smell cool, damp earth and realized he was on the ground by the edge of the pond, several yards from the house.
Raul stood over him, grinning. Ezra didn't like the looks of that grin at all. He could guess what was coming next. What a way to die, he thought. Drowned like an unwanted cat. And worse, he'd been able to doing nothing at all for poor Mr. Larabee, who'd obviously suffered a great deal already. He watched Raul raise his foot. Ezra felt himself shoved into the icy, slimy pond as Raul walked away.
The pond proved to be deeper than it looked. Ezra struggled in the brackish water, his wounds hampering him. With an effort, he forced himself to calm his mind as if he were about to draw to an inside straight in a high stakes game. He managed to turn over and float on his back. Methodically, with his back to the shore, he began to kick, trying to make his way closer to the edge of the pond. He bobbed up and down, and tried to breathe whenever his mouth cleared the water.
It worked. He could feel the slimy mud beneath his fingers, but now he had a new problem. His hands were tied and his feet could not gain purchase on the steep, slippery sides of the pond so he could climb out. He glanced around but doubted he could make it to another spot along the pond's banks.
His efforts and his wounds were causing him to tire quickly, and he began to slide into the water. He struggled again, raising himself slightly, and took a deep breath before slipping under. He struggled against the ooze but only seemed to sink further into it.
Someone was pulling him by his hair. His head broke the surface of the pond and he took in a gulp of fresh air. The pulling of his hair ceased. Ezra blinked water out of his eyes as someone reached under his arms and slowly, awkwardly dragged him out of the pond.
Even with his eyes closed he knew it had to be Maria. Ezra lay there a long time, spitting out water, gasping and coughing as she worked at the ropes around his arms and wrists. He tried to untie his ankles, but his fingers were cold and stiff. Maria knelt in front of him. She gently pushed his hands away and finished untying him.
Ezra knelt facing her. His throat was sore from the wound and from swallowing pond water. "I am indebted to you," he said. His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper but it was the best he could manage. "You must go back to the house," he urged. "If they found out you've helped me–" He shook his head, not wanting to think about what Raul and Ella might do to her.
She looked at him, her large brown eye filled with concern. Gently she touched the wound at his throat, then the ones on his chest, then his arm.
Ezra caught both her hands in his. "No. Don't worry about me." He forced a smile. "I've got friends in town. They'll take care of things. Now, go. Hurry!"
She paused, staring at him. Ezra wondered if she'd heard him. She reached up and framed his face in her hands. She looked at him with hooded eyes, then leaned forward and gave him a long, lingering kiss. Despite being cold and wet, Ezra could feel the heat of her kiss stirring his blood from deep within his body.
He pulled away from her slowly. "Please go," he said softly. "I'll come back. I promise." He watched her run towards the house. Ezra headed away from the house, hoping his horse was where he'd left it. He knew he was hurt bad. He would need reinforcements, and he couldn't hope to make it back to them by walking.
The dawn was streaming into the window into Chris's room as he gradually awoke. He awoke fully as Raul walked into the room carrying a tray of food. Ella followed as usual, her hands behind her back.
Raul helped Chris to the table and deposited him in a chair, then brought the other chair from the bed to the table.
Ella smiled at Chris. "Go ahead. Eat. You must be starving." She sat across from Chris, keeping one hand behind her back, and watched him eat. He ate quickly, in case her demeanor changed again.
"It has been torture to stay away from you all this time," she said. "I only want to do nice things for you. Look. Isn't it beautiful? I had it made just for you." She showed him the cane that she'd been hiding behind her skirts. It was ebony with an ornate metal handle.
Chris looked at it expressionlessly.
"Why do you make me do such things to you?" Ella pouted. "It hurts me to treat you like this, it really does. Why do you want to make me feel bad?" Her voice began to rise. "I've bought you clothes and brought you wonderful meals by an excellent cook. We've got this beautiful ranch. I went to a lot of trouble for us."
Her whole body seemed to tense. "One of your friends was here last night."
So it wasn't a dream. Ezra had been here after all.
She continued. "Raul took care of him. But if there's one, there's bound to be others. There were six, as I recall. I've planned a beautiful future for us! And they'll spoil everything! They're YOUR friends! WHY CAN'T THEY LEAVE US ALONE?"
She swung the cane, sweeping the dishes off the table. Pieces of broken dish scattered all over the floor. Ella struck at him where he sat at the table, landing a blow on his arm. He tried to rise from the chair, but couldn't move fast enough to avoid a sharp blow across his back.
Chris twisted around and grabbed the cane in one hand. He caught Ella's wrist in the other and twisted it sharply. She cried out in pain. She tried to jerk her other hand away. The cane flew across the room.
With all the strength he had left, Chris shoved her roughly away from him. Ella was caught off-balance. She staggered back, stumbled and fell amidst the dish fragments. She sat there a moment, then raised her hand in front of her face. She stared in wonder at the blood that was oozing from it. She frowned. Her eyes turned black with cold fury. She looked hard at Chris. "Raul…" she said in a low voice.
Chris didn't see the blow coming in time to duck. Raul's fist caught him sharply in the face. Chris's head whipped around, but he managed to stay upright. Raul struck him again and he fell to the floor. A current of pain shot through his leg. Raul kicked him sharply in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him. Chris instinctively curled into a ball to protect himself.
Raul stood over Chris, lifted his foot and brought it down full force against the injured thigh. Chris heard the snap of bone before he felt it. He didn't have strength enough to hold back anymore. He screamed in agony.
Her anger spent, Ella stood over him, breathing heavily. She looked at him calmly. Chris heard her voice sounding from very far away. "I hate it when you're mean to me. It's a good thing I know how much you really love me, or I couldn't forgive you like I do." She left the room without a backward glance. Raul followed her.
Chris welcomed the blackness that allowed him to escape from the agony that shrouded his body.
It had been a long journey back to town for Ezra. Much longer than the ride out. He ached all over. The chest wounds were not deep and had not bled too much. But the long slash on his arm and the wound at the base of his throat were another matter. His sleeve was soaked with blood and finally he had had to stop to fashion a temporary bandage. He wrapped another one snugly around his throat. He truly could have used the services of Mr. Jackson right about now, he thought.
It was dawn when Ezra made it into Red Fork. He had decided to secure the services of the local physician first. Once he was sufficiently treated for his injuries, he would find Mr. Tanner and Mr. Sanchez. They would be anxious to get to Chris.
So was he. He didn't have much farther to go if he could just hang on.
All along the way, he had been increasingly tempted to stop and rest. But in his own weakened condition, he was making slow enough progress as it was. His last image of Chris flashed through Ezra's mind again. As he had several times already, he straightened up in the saddle and kicked the horse a little faster. Each minute Chris spent in that woman's captivity was a minute too long.
Part 3