Tracie Peterson - [Land of the Lone Star 03] (20 page)

“You’d do well not to scream. I’ve got orders to bring you back alive, but I won’t be shot in the process. So if you wanna live, keep your mouth shut.”

Carissa’s knees nearly buckled in fear, and she thought she might well faint. She couldn’t have spoken if she’d had to. Shaking from head to toe, she didn’t even fight until after the man had gagged her and tied her hands. As he placed a bag over her head, Carissa seemed to wake up to the reality of what was happening. Giving the man a swift kick, she tried to run, only to have him grab her and throw her over his shoulder.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere but with me.”

She couldn’t reply, nor could she see anything. The man didn’t seem to care about being gentle. He tossed her across his saddle without any concern for the pain he caused. Carissa moaned as the horn dug into her ribs. The impact nearly knocked the wind from her. She tried to move her arms, but the bag came down too far and much too tight.

The man hit her hard across the backside. “Settle down now or I’ll make you sorry.”

Carissa did as he told her, not knowing what else to do. She was helpless to move, and without the ability to speak, she couldn’t even attempt to reason with the man.

They rode for what seemed like hours. Twice Carissa had felt the contents of her stomach rise into her throat only to swallow it back down. She didn’t know if it was from the ride itself or the stench of the man, but the nausea refused to leave. Pain ripped through her body. She cried out, but the muffled sound didn’t even merit the attention of her captor.

Carissa tried her best to rationalize what was happening. The man who’d taken her wasn’t an Indian, but rather a white man. He seemed intent on taking her specifically, saying that she was to be brought back alive. But why? Dread settled over her. Was this man one of Malcolm’s cohorts? Had he come believing she had some treasure of Malcolm’s?

Her mind whirled with questions and images. She could only hope and pray that there weren’t others—that her being taken was an isolated incident and not just one of many other plots against the women on the Barnett ranch. Tears poured from her eyes, dampening the sack around her face.

Oh, Father in heaven, where are you? Help me! Help me, please!

“Where’s Carissa?” Hannah asked her sister.

“She went to the outhouse,” Marty replied, helping Gloria onto a chair. “She said she’d be right here.”

But ten minutes later there was still no sign of Carissa. Hannah shook her head. “This isn’t right. Juanita, you all go ahead and pray so that the children can eat. I’m going to see what’s going on. Maybe Carissa is sick.”

She moved quickly to the back door. “Or maybe something is very wrong,” she muttered. A sense of dark trepidation came over her. “Carissa! Carissa!” she called as she made her way across the yard.

She checked the outhouse but no one was there. Glancing around the yard, she saw nothing that indicated Carissa had been there at all. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Carissa was gone. Hannah quickly searched through the outbuildings. Some of the men were working to break a horse in the far pen, but Berto wasn’t among them. Continuing her search, Hannah found Berto sharpening an axe.

“Have you seen Carissa?” she asked the man.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“She was supposed to join us in the house for lunch. She went to the outhouse, but never came back.”

Berto put down the axe and got up. “I will help you look.”

Hannah nodded, but already she felt certain that Carissa was gone. She didn’t know how or where, but something in her mind warned her it wasn’t going to be to anyone’s liking.

I
just don’t understand,” Laura said. “Why would anyone take Carissa?”

Hannah shook her head and patted Laura’s hand. She hadn’t wanted to give bad news to Laura, fearing it would cause a setback in her weakened condition.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if it was Indians.” Hannah forced back tears. “She went to the outhouse and that was the last anyone saw of her. Apparently someone grabbed her while she was out there, but no one saw or heard anything.”

Thunder rumbled. A summer storm moved ever closer and Hannah knew this would only cause them more problems. Berto had found boot prints leading to a single horse. The horse had been led out in a southwesterly direction, but now the rain would obliterate the tracks. She didn’t bother to tell Laura this. It would surely only cause more panic.

Laura looked at Hannah, her eyes wide with fear. “Will they kill her? I mean . . .” She fell silent.

“I don’t know. We have no way of knowing. If it were Comanche or Kiowa, I think they would have raided the entire ranch and burned us out. They had ample opportunity to take the children or any one of us earlier in the day. Berto said he found indications of boot prints, so I don’t think it was Indians. Some wear boots like ours, but not that many. Most prefer their own style of moccasin or nothing at all.” Hannah still held tight to Laura’s hand.

“I’ve sent for the sheriff,” Hannah continued to explain. “I expect him most any time.” At least she hoped he’d be there soon. There was a fair chance that he wasn’t even in Cedar Springs. Pablo had been the one sent to fetch him, and he hadn’t returned yet.

“I feel so helpless,” Laura said. “I’m still so weak and tired, but I want to do something to help.”

Hannah nodded. “I know, but you must rest. Taking care of Lucas is more than enough help. It leaves the rest of us free to do what we can.” She didn’t have the heart to explain that there really wasn’t anything to be done. “And your prayers . . . your prayers are priceless.”

A flash of lightning filled the room with a boom of thunder following seconds later. “That storm is right on top of us,” Hannah said, getting to her feet. “I need to go check on the children. We’ve had the house closed up tight ever since Carissa went missing. Just in case.”

Laura frowned. “In case there’s another attack.”

She said it so matter-of-factly that Hannah knew it wasn’t a question. “We’re doing all we can. Like I said, I honestly don’t know what to think about the situation.”

But she did. In the back of Hannah’s mind she was already wondering if Herbert Lockhart had something to do with Carissa’s disappearance. Maybe he had come and, not being able to get to Hannah, had taken Carissa. Maybe he thought to trade one for the other. A bevy of scenarios played out in her head.

“I’ll keep you informed,” Hannah said, moving toward the door.

“I want to see the sheriff when he comes. Please.”

Hannah nodded. “Of course. I’ll bring him in to see you when he arrives.”

“And, Hannah,” Laura said, fixing her with a stern expression, “no matter what the truth is, I want to know everything. Don’t lie to me about this. It’s much too important.”

“I promise I will tell you everything.”

But even as she left, Hannah felt guilty for not sharing her concerns about Herbert Lockhart. She knew that Carissa had had a rough life in Corpus Christi and that Laura likely presumed some enemies of Carissa’s late husband had followed her to the area. But Hannah seriously doubted this was the case.

She checked on Marty, who was playing with the children in the loft. Gloria came to Hannah, demanding to see her mother.

“I want my mama.”

Hannah lifted the girl in her arms. “I know you do, darlin’, but she had to go away for a little while. You play and be good and when she comes home . . .” Hannah choked on the words and found she couldn’t continue.

Marty came and took Gloria from her older sister. “I wish you’d let me help look for her.”

Hannah shook her head at Marty with a look that demanded her silence. “You are serving a much greater purpose in helping with the children. Pepita will come and relieve you in about an hour, but until then, just keep them busy.”

“Hold me, Mama,” Robert said, hugging his arms around Hannah’s legs. “Pease, Mama.” Then thunder boomed overhead, and Daniel began to cry.

“You need to be brave,” she told her son. His expression indicated that he, too, was close to tears.

Marty deposited Gloria on the rug in front of the building blocks and picked up Daniel. “He doesn’t like storms.”

“None of us do,” Hannah replied. She could only hope that this storm wouldn’t bring any threat of tornadoes. “You children be very good, and I’ll have Pepita bring you cookies and milk in a little bit. Would you like that?”

Gloria clapped, now unconcerned with her missing mother or the storm. “I like cookies.”

Robert nodded. “Me too. I want cookies.”

“Then be a good boy for Marty.”

With that, Hannah returned to the first floor and went to the kitchen. She was instructing Pepita when she realized someone was knocking at the back door. She hoped it was Pablo returning with the sheriff. Hurrying to see, Hannah was glad to see the law official standing there.

“Mrs. Barnett,” he said, tipping his hat. Water dripped onto the floor and it was then that Hannah noticed the rain had begun to fall.

“Please come in.” She stepped aside and motioned him to follow. “I hope that Pablo has filled you in on our situation.”

“He did.” The sheriff took his hat off and brushed water from the felt.

Juanita was busy making tortillas, but she glanced up long enough to offer the sheriff a cup of coffee. He declined, and Hannah led him into the dining room, where she hoped they wouldn’t be overheard by the children.

“Berto and some of the others have tried to track whoever took Carissa, but now with the storm, I’m sure that will be of no use to us.”

“Do they have any idea of who might have done this? Pablo said there weren’t any signs of Indians.”

“No, there weren’t. Not that the Comanche always leave their calling cards,” Hannah replied, taking a seat at the table. She motioned the sheriff to do likewise. “But I believe if it were the Comanche, they wouldn’t have stopped with taking just one woman. They would have burned us out—killed us. It makes no sense for them to take one woman.”

The sheriff took a chair and considered her words for a moment. He didn’t get a chance to speak, however, as Hannah continued in a hushed voice.

“What about Herbert Lockhart?”

“What about him?”

Hannah squared her shoulders. “The man wants to see me dead. He isn’t the kind to leave business undone.”

“But Mrs. Lowe had nothing to do with Lockhart.”

“I know, but it’s possible he took Carissa in order to hurt me in some way,” Hannah replied. “I mean, I know what he’s capable of. He could have taken her thinking that it would force us to do whatever he wanted.”

“I suppose that is a possibility, but honestly, no one has seen anything of Lockhart in this area. Like I told you, my last report before the lines went down was that word came of him headin’ for Mexico.”

“I know.”

“Did Mrs. Lowe have any personal problems . . . someone who might have come here with the sole purpose of harming her?”

“Mrs. Lowe had a very bad marriage in Corpus Christi. She was married to a Confederate who plotted against the government. He tried to kill her and her sister.” Hannah’s voice was just a whisper. “He was killed, but I suppose it’s always possible that some of his men might mean her harm. Still, I don’t know why they would.”

“But it is a possibility that we must consider.”

Hannah nodded. “I suppose it is. We could ask her sister, although Mrs. Reid is still quite weak.”

“I think we must talk to her,” the sheriff agreed. “She might have an idea of something that we’ve not yet thought of.”

Carissa didn’t know if she’d passed out or fallen asleep out of pure exhaustion, but when she awoke she found herself stretched out beside a campfire, hands tied in front of her and the dreaded sack gone. Struggling to sit up, she found three men watching her while they ate.

“What’s going on?” she asked groggily. “What do you want with me?”

One of the men got to his feet and came to where she sat. He crouched down and Carissa could see in the firelight that he was at least part Indian. “Do you want to eat?” he asked in perfect English.

“I want to go home.” She all but spat the words.

He smiled. “You aren’t going anywhere but with us.”

“Why?” She fixed her gaze on his eyes, searching for the truth.

“Because I said so.”

The other men laughed, and the Indian got to his feet. “If you want to eat, there’s food and I will give you some. If not—it’s your loss.”

Carissa ignored the rumble in her stomach and looked instead at the other two men. “Why are you doing this?” They were white men, and it was clear that this was in no way a part of an Indian attack. Apparently the Indian cohort was simply a part of their gang.

“We got our reasons, and none of them are your business,” one of the men replied. He continued eating from a metal plate, uninterested in Carissa’s concerns.

“My family will never stand for this,” she told the men. “They will come after me.”

“Most likely they will try,” the third man said. “But they won’t accomplish much. Long Knife knows how to cover his tracks.”

Carissa looked at the man but said nothing. Except for Night Bear, she’d never had any encounters with Indians. Long Knife ladled beans onto a tin plate. Next he added a piece of jerked meat. He looked at Carissa for a moment, then retrieved a spoon from what appeared to be his own plate.

Bristling silently at his approach, Carissa tried to keep a brave front. She didn’t want these men to think they had bested her. Long Knife crouched beside her once again. He put the plate on the ground at Carissa’s right and pulled a blade from his belt.

The long gleaming knife seemed a poignant reminder of the man’s name. He motioned to her hands. Carissa hoped he only meant to cut her bonds loose. She raised her bound wrists. With a quick flick of his knife, the Indian freed her.

“If you try to run; I’ll cut the backs of your heels.”

She shivered at the thought and rubbed her wrists. “Where are you taking me?”

The Indian stood. “Eat.”

She frowned. Why wouldn’t they just tell her what their plans were? She was just one small woman and could hardly thwart their efforts. After a moment of contemplation, Carissa picked up the plate and sampled the beans. She felt famished and downed the food without even considering what it was she ate. Her only thought was to keep up her strength and figure a way out of her situation.

When the men finished eating, Carissa waited to see what they might say or do. One of the men stretched out by the fire and pulled his hat down over his eyes. Long Knife came to where Carissa sat and took her plate and spoon.

“You can relieve yourself over there,” he said, pointing to a stand of trees. “Just remember, if you try to run away, I will cut you.”

Carissa nodded and got to her feet. She felt sore from head to toe and for a moment wasn’t even sure she could walk. She took a hesitant step and then another. The trees didn’t look to offer much coverage, but she took advantage of the moment nevertheless. When she returned to the camp, Long Knife motioned to the fire. “We will sleep for a time. I will tie you up again.”

She said nothing. What could she say, after all? She could tell him that she thought his actions were barbaric. Tell him she wanted to go home. But they didn’t care. They were clearly following someone’s orders.

“Where are we going?” she finally asked.

Long Knife bound her wrists and this time her feet, as well. With the rawhide straps he used to tie her ankles, he connected the other end to his wrist. “I am a very light sleeper. I will know if you move.” Last of all, he took up a blanket and tossed it over her.

Carissa looked him in the eye. “Tell me where we’re going. Tell me why you’ve taken me.”

He stretched out at her feet. “Go to sleep.”

She wanted to scream in protest. She wanted to kick him in the head. Instead, she forced her feelings to wane. Thinking of Gloria and her longing to be home, Carissa decided she would be far wiser to at least pretend cooperation.

For a long while she considered the situation. When Long Knife had taken her, he said something about someone wanting her alive. So obviously Long Knife and the other men didn’t plan to kill her. That gave her some comfort. But who had sent them?

Staring up at the stars overhead, Carissa tried her best not to move.
God, are you there? Do you see me here? Do you care?
She had spent so much time reading the Bible and praying, and she had thought that she was actually starting to understand God. Now this had happened, and she wasn’t sure she understood anything at all.

Carissa thought of her loved ones. By now they knew she was truly gone, but would they guess who had taken her or what direction they’d gone? The men said Long Knife would have covered their tracks. She let go a heavy sigh. What about Tyler? Was he home by now? Did he know she’d been taken? No doubt the tired men would jump to action when they heard. At least she hoped they would.