“And that’s the one thing we haven’t got,” Jack said bitterly.
“Tonight,” Mac said, “we’ve got to do something tonight.”
Nine
Kate Connery was thinking. Dal was out there. The stories of his death were obviously untrue. Mac was with him, and from a hasty glimpse she had at the stampede she was quite sure the other man was that worthless uncle of Dal’s. Well, maybe worthless was too strong a word. Yet what could three men do?
They would need help, and if Jesse could get away he could be helping rather than lying on his back and waiting for whatever might happen.
Gretchen and Dulcie would do what they could, which was not much, and besides, she did not want them to draw the anger of their captors. Whatever she did she would do of her own free will, and she was prepared to take the consequences.
Cordelia Atherton … she could be depended upon. She was quick, decisive, and unafraid.
“Cordy.” She spoke in a low, conversational tone, but not in a whisper that might draw attention. “We’ve got to help.”
“I’ve been thinking that.”
“They will want to free us, so we must try to foresee what they may do and how we can help.”
“There isn’t much they can do.”
“I know the Travens. They will never stop until we are free or they are dead.”
The men were struggling, trying to get the dead ox free from the wagon. The animal was heavy, and it lay under nearly four feet of water, which did not help. The second ox, which was not yet dead, was kicking and threshing around in the water, hampering their efforts.
Colonel Ashford returned, riding up to the bank. With several others he had ridden ahead to scout the trail just before the attack. He sat his horse, watching the men clearing the dead ox from the yoke and trying to drag it free.
“Get both of them out on the bank and butcher them,” he said. “We will need the meat.”
“We lost two men,” somebody said. “Farrow’s gone, and so is Johnson.”
Ashford swore under his breath. Two good men, and Farrow had been a solid, dependable man, not like some of those who followed him.
“Butler,” he said, “take two men and bury them. On the bank somewhere. Keep their guns and catch up their horses. We’ll need them.”
“What use will horses be on a ship?” Frank asked.
“We aren’t on a ship yet,” Ashford replied brusquely. By the time they got the two oxen from the water and butchered them, more than two hours had been lost. The air had grown heavy, and it was very hot. In the distance there was a roll of thunder.
Kate rested her elbows on her knees and stared out of the back end of the wagon. Happy Jack Traven! That was the uncle, and he was not really worthless, simply a man who liked trouble or seemed to. Unless she was mistaken, there would be a storm, and a storm offered opportunities. But first she had to think. At all costs they must not be put aboard a ship. Once they were at sea, the Travens would have no chance.
It might have been the idea of the storm, but it was more than likely the ship and Dal’s uncle Jack, that made her think of her own uncle.
She had seen him but once, when she was a small girl, and she clearly remembered him. He was her father’s older brother, a former sea captain who had swallowed the anchor, as the saying was, and gone ashore and to ranching. He was not the only one, for Captain Richard King who founded the King Ranch had been a steamboat captain before he began ranching.
Martin Connery held himself aloof from his family and lived surrounded by retainers, most of them members of his old crew or seamen he had known, now turned cowboys. He had been master of a privateer and often suspected of piracy, and he tolerated no nonsense from anyone.
She had never visited his ranch but knew its approximate location. It could not be far away.
Suddenly, the wagon gave a lurch, there was a sloshing of water and much cursing, and then the wagon moved and a few minutes later tilted sharply back as the oxen pulled it up the bank and out of the water.
Kate peered outside. The sky was heavily overcast now. It was going to blow, and she knew storms along the Gulf Coast often reached hurricane proportions. She thought of the broken glass from the bottle she had found. She had hidden several pieces of the glass in the wagon. Now she got out a piece of it and moved closer to Jesse.
She could see his eyes in the semi-darkness, and she touched his shoulder warningly and then went to work with the sharp edge of the broken glass to cut the rawhide that bound his ankles.
Suddenly the canvas at the end of the wagon was jerked back. It was Colonel Ashford. She had barely time to let the fragment of glass drop to the canvas that covered the wagon’s floor.
“Are you all right?” He looked from one to the other, his eyes sharp and suspicious.
“We aren’t complaining,” Cordelia replied, “although we’d be happier at home.”
Kate saw his eyes on her and was well aware of his interest. She smiled a little and said, “When you have time, we must talk.”
“It could be now,” Ashford said. “We’re making coffee’.”
He helped her from the back of the wagon, and when she was on the ground she smoothed her dress, then touched a hand to her hair.
“You must have planned all this very hurriedly,” she said.
He gave her all his attention. “Why do you say that?”
“Because it is unlike you to be so foolish. By kidnapping us you will have aroused people all across the country. They may be slow to act, but they will act, and you will never dare come this way again.
“It seemed to me that you were in a hurry to succeed in what you planned, and much of what happened was simply a matter of doing what could be done at the moment. I believe a man as clever as you obviously are would have planned more carefully.”
“The surrender of Lee was unexpected,” he agreed.
“Of course. Stealing women is one way of arousing a country against you, and by now men are moving. There will be a dozen armed bands on your trail by now.
“And soon we will be aboard ship and gone,” he said, smiling.
“Perhaps. What if your ship does not come? I have helped to fight Comanches, Colonel Ashford, and one thing I would not wish is to be caught on an open beach in a fight with men who could fire from the protection of sand hills.”
“As I said, we will be aboard ship.”
“Have you looked at the weather? No ship is going to want to try those narrow inlets from the sea during a storm. It might be a week before a ship can drop anchor out here, and by that time it will be too late.”
“You are an intelligent young woman.”
“You knew that all along, and you should have talked to me before all this happened. For example you are going all the way to Mexico to get arms, money, and horses. I could have told you where they could be had much easier.”
Ashford looked out toward the Gulf. The water looked dark and ugly. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I am a Confederate, too. You never asked any questions. You just grabbed us and ran. I did not like Lee’s surrender, either, and I think victory can still be had.”
“There was no time for questions, no time for planning. We had to move. Above all, I had to keep my men busy to retain their loyalty.”
“And now?”
He paused, considering it. This young woman made a lot of sense. He had moved fast, too fast for planning. He had to deal the cards, and there had been no time to stack the deck.
“What would you have done?” his eyes searched hers. “You spoke of guns, horses, and money?”
“Just south of here,” she said, “I have an uncle named Martin Connery. He is,” and she had no idea whether what she said was true or not, “a confirmed Confederate, but more than that, he likes to make money. If he was approached in the right way …”
“Do you think he would help us?”
“I can promise nothing, but if you go to him, go quietly. Ask that he help, or suggest that he help. He has thousands of horses and he has cattle. His ranch is out of the way south of here, and he has few visitors. Yet he could gather and equip an army.”