Ryan waited, staying in the shadows. He didn’t know how long it would be before someone came along to change the guards.
“Ryan,” J.B. called less than two minutes later.
“Here.” Ryan stepped in through the open door, noting the woman and the two men that flanked the Armorer, their hands on their weapons. “There’s a lot of things we’ve got to talk over.”
DOC SAT on his haunches and watched the barn. The wag carrying Mildred had disappeared inside almost a half hour before. Cloaked in the shadows of a nearby residence, crouched behind some bushes, he kept his Le Mat blaster across his knees. He held the slim volume of Robert Frost poetry in his free hand, forcing himself to be patient by trying to recall all he could of the poet’s work.
He was torn between going back to Ryan and the others to let them know where Mildred had been taken, and not wanting to desert the woman.
His mind conjured up torture scene after torture scene, refusing to give him any rest. Too many of the vulgar violences that traveled through his brain were too clear, too much a part of what he had lived through.
Doc had witnessed the evil that lurked in the hearts of men. He stifled a burst of laughter that threatened to tear free inside him, not knowing what had sparked it.
Voices warned him that men were coming back out of the barn.
Doc drew back into the shadowy embrace of the hedges beside the house and curled his finger around the Le Mat’s trigger. He had it set for the massive .63-caliber shotgun load. If all hell was going to break loose when he had to use it, he figured on clearing the decks as much as possible beforehand. Kirkland walked out of the barn in the company of two other men, all of them illuminated by the lantern the healer carried. One of them Doc recognized as being one of the men aboard the wag that had taken Mildred. Kirkland led the way into the back of a large manor house that showed evidence of skilled carpenters who had built it.
When the men disappeared into the house, Doc waited a little while longer, then eased out of hiding and took long steps toward the barn. The door was left unlocked, so he crept inside.
The stink of hay and the animals filled his nostrils as he passed inside. He used his cane much as a person without sight would, feeling for uneven surfaces ahead of him.
With a dull thunk he found an object before him that turned out to be one of the wag wheels. He pocketed the Frost book and whispered hoarsely, “Mildred! Mildred! Dear lady, it is I, Doc. If you can hear me, please let me know.” He searched frantically, feeling across the buckboard, sorely afraid that Mildred’s corpse would be the only thing left lying there.
Thankfully, in a sense, the buckboard was empty. That still left finding Mildred almost an impossibility. Doc prayed as he searched, hoping that the woman was still alive.
A sliver of moonlight above him caught his attention as it threw a narrow shaft onto the stalls in front of him. It vanished a moment later, obviously having been reflected from some other surface outside. Still, it presented possibilities.
Working from the brief glimpse he’d gotten, Doc found the ladder leading up to the hayloft and climbed it. When he gained the top, he used the sword stick again to search the area before him, making his way to the small doors fronting the barn. The moonlight rimmed them, drawing them into squares almost three feet across.
When he reached the doors, he pulled the bolt back and opened them. Moonlight invaded the barn, falling down over the horses below. Most of the stalls contained animals. With the unaccustomed light invading the barn, some of the horses started nickering restlessly. Still, the natural light flooding the barn would be much less obvious than lighting a lantern.
Doc climbed back down the ladder and rounded the buckboard. A quick check let him know that Mildred wasn’t in any of the stalls. His mind flew, racing with possibilities. He glanced upward, seeing nothing but the hayloft above.