Chapter 13

"They what?" Sheriff Ned Jones shouted in bewilderment from having to hear the news about the outlaws' escape from this town after the leader had his identity revealed.

"The bandits got away," answered the shortest lawman uneasily. "We thought we had'em, but then they opened fire on all of us. They're cleverer than we thought they be."

"Did one o' those goons carry a calf with them?" Ned asked with his left hand on the desk.

"Why yes, as a matter o' fact they did," answered the tallest man. He had suffered only a few minor injuries on his head from being thrown by Scar Face Sam. Ned had learned that the gang leader had been a trouble maker in this town long before joining a group of other bandits to be called the Yeller Gang. No one knew the reason, but there was no time to ask about that. "I caught one o' them rascals walkin' down the street with a gold calf. When I questioned him about it, he says the poor thing was out wanderin' in the desert while chased by hungry coyotes."

"Was that all he said about her?" the sheriff asked with a hard edge in his voice. He was intent on finding the outlaws in time before there would be more innocent lives at stake.

"Then he showed me a couple o' scars on her back sayin' they were made from the claws of coyotes," he maintained thoughtfully with his arms folded. "But each one was in different directions. I mean claw marks are usually lined up together are they not? Looked more like cuts from a whip or somethin' if you know what I mean."

"That's the one!" Ned blurted. "That's the same calf I rescued from his house. What else was I to do; leave her there? The poor thing was found sufferin' from both lack o' nutrition and physical abuse. Did he show any aggression toward her in a way?"

"Well when I saw her stomp on his feet, he began cursin' and yellin' for her like some sort of wild grizzly. I was outraged that anyone would talk like that to a baby animal."

"Let me tell ya'll what else I know about him," began Ned, rising from the chair he had been sittin' on. "Not only is that rascal in cahoots with the gang, but he is a good-for-nothing drunkard who beats on poor helpless critters just like he had been mistreatin' that sweet calf who is out there waitin' to be rescued." The men stood there silent for a moment, and then one of them stepped up.

"Well then if that is what he is, then let's all go out and find those crooks." Every man had shouted in agreement until another one of them spoke up as if objecting to the idea of following.

"But we don't know where they are. They might be in Pueblo, Denver, across the Rocky Mountains for all we know."

Once again the room fell silent suddenly remembering that none of them had a single clue as to where the bandits may strike next. Then the men stared at each other helplessly.

"Not to worry gentlemen," Ned spoke eagerly. "My dog here can track down any criminal with his scent without ever losin' it." Dan stood next to Ned as if he were awaiting an order. None of the men noticed Sampson clinging onto Dan while hiding under his left ear. He had been feeling anxious to find Grace as soon as possible. He often wondered if she was now feeling lonely without him there to comfort her. "He's even helped me track down what was hidin' in that rascal's house." He finished, trying not to sound boastful.

"Well what are we all standin' round here for when we should be out searchin' for them bandits?" The men ran outside in delight and mounted their horses. "Let's go!"

Meanwhile at the plateau region

A short while after the bandits had gone to sleep; Grace quietly chewed on the grass beneath her thinking about what would happen within the next few days or more with her still as a hostage. Although her stomach had been raw with hunger, she was feeling too upset to eat fast and her taste buds seemed to have faded a bit. The berries in the mulberry bush were ripe and juicy enough to send a refreshing energy throughout her weakened body, but not entirely. She hadn't known that sometimes an injured body needs as much time to heal fully before it can move on. The cuts on her back still burnt painfully which caused her to moan helplessly. Those stings she had been given by Lewis were a cruel way for him to explain who the boss was while she was the victim under his grasp. Grace wished she could step in the water and wash away the pain.

"There has to be a way out somehow," she whispered while chewing. Somehow or other, there had to be a way passed the bandits and their guard dog. But then where would she escape to? "All I want is to be away from him." There was one thing for sure; she did not want to allow herself to become dinner sooner or later to her captors. No; she wanted to experience the happiness and freedom she had been dreaming of. Whether it's out of the question or not, Grace had to figure out a plan of escape or else she would be taken further and further away with no hope of being found. Even if she was in the outside atmosphere, Grace felt that as long as Lewis had her, she would remain locked up inside still yearning for freedom.

But now she stopped eating and sat in somber silence with her heart aching in sorrow. Tears were welling up in her eyes when she thought about how Lewis would try and force her to work. He might curse at Grace if she limped behind or made a mistake such as dropping an item and losing it over the edge of a cliff. Worse, he could give her a worse punishment crueler than the whippings. Her silent tears had turned to sobs as she threw her head down on the grass. It was so hard for her to sleep in this situation where all seemed lost. Grace went on crying for the better part of the night choking down the last remaining sobs. She couldn't possibly make it through alone. Or could she? The calf was confused as ever. The tears streamed faster like leaks from water can.

"Why hello there darlin'," a soft gentle voice spoke to Grace somewhere interrupting her depth of thought. She turned her head back and forth to find where that voice came from. "I'm right below you," the voice replied. Grace turned her eyes to the ground to find a tiny bird painted in blue all over its body. The beak was small and yellow. A reddish color flowed over its chest.

"Who are you?" Grace asked the bird unsteadily.

"I'm Honey," the bluebird introduced herself to her. "And you are…?"

"Grace," was all she could say as she turned her head away in shame. Sampson once taught her that she should always introduce herself to friendly critters if she ever wanted to be a friend. She didn't mean to be rude, but she hardly felt like talking and preferred to be alone. Grace had always felt ashamed to show her feelings in front of others. From the looks of her appearance, the bluebird could sense that something was deeply troubling this young calf due to her silent treatment and her sorrowful eyes.

"Tell me darlin', why are yah cryin'?" Honey strutted over to the calf's face to find that she had burst into tears.

"Well I….I…," Grace was at a loss for words. So much has happened that she didn't know where to begin. "…I…lost my friend." Just mentioning about Sampson made her sob almost hysterically. Honey placed her wings over Grace's mouth hoping to hush and calm her down. She didn't want the calf crying loud enough to wake up the bandits who were still asleep in their bags. One of them had already stirred but remained still on the ground.

"Hush now, please calm down," Honey spoke gently whilst struggling with keeping her mouth closed. "If you're gonna cry; do it softly now."

After a short while, Grace was all cried out. She had no more tears or sobs; nothing but a dry lump in her throat that hurt whenever she swallowed.

"There, there now," Honey leaned against her face stroking it gently. The bluebird suspected that those men asleep had something to do with this calf's pain. If only there was an easier way to ask Grace to explain all about it without her breaking into more tears. Perhaps the poor dear needed a little more time to let her grief out.

Grace was able to quiet down miraculously. The way Honey had been comforting her reminded her of when Sampson once tried to calm her down during the time that she had been crying for her mother. He warned her that if she cried any louder, Lewis might barge in and beat her with a cane or belt (which he sometimes did). Perhaps Grace had made a new friend at this moment.

"Now listen up sugar pie," Honey whispered in her ear while rubbing her face gently. "Whatever else is wrong, you don't need to tell me now. But tonight there should be no more tears." Then Grace watched as Honey fluttered off the ground and into the air. "Wait here while I go fetch a cloth from my nest to take care o' them bruises on your back there."

The bluebird sped through a few trees. In a matter of seconds, she came flying back holding a blue cloth with her feet and dipped it in the flowing river. Soon Grace was lying on her stomach feeling the cold washcloth being applied over the cuts on her back. It was a relief to have the stings washed away as Honey did her best to clean each one before an infection spread.

"I don't know what happened here, but I'm guessin' that one o' them men has not been treatin' you fairly is that it?" Honey asked as she scrubbed between Grace's shoulders and neck area.

"Yes," Grace responded, holding still.

"I thought so," replied Honey firmly. "Now listen, I'll be watchin' over you to see how you're doin' so far. I'll be here tomorrow for you to tell me everything. But for now, these cuts will be needin' some time to heal properly. And those berries will give you enough energy to recover." Then she flew up into the air with the cloth. "Get some rest now, and no more tears." Honey disappeared behind the trees.

"Thank you," Grace whispered softly. Just like Honey said, Grace went right to sleep without crying her heart out. But whenever she felt the need to cry, Grace would have a new friend by her side. And maybe Sampson would like to meet her.