As they reached the door he said, “My advice would be to free those women at once. We in Texas do not take kindly to men who abuse women.”
Fraconi watched them go, saying, “You could have held some of them hostage.”
“No, Carlo, for he would have sacrificed his men. Don’t you see? He’s completely without honor or loyalty. Whatever veneer there was on the surface has peeled off during the War. He is a man without a code, without a sense of honor. Probably he deluded himself that he was an officer and a gentleman. Underneath that facade he is neither.”
“What will we do?”
“I want you to go into the woods and find the Travens. They are woodsmen, I understand, and they are very careful men, so be alert. Perhaps together we can do something.”
When Fraconi was gone Connery walked to the sideboard and poured a drink. He had acquired a taste for rum, and although he often drank it was always sparingly. He had the feeling that whatever situation arose he could cope with it if sober, so he never intended to be otherwise.
There was every chance that Ashford would attempt to drive off some stock from his ranch or one of the others nearby.
Except … suppose there was a ship coming? Suppose he took the girls off to sea?
Out there on Mission Bay he had his own ship, a fast vessel with eight guns, and he kept it ready for sea at all times. After all, a man needed a way out.
He was here, he had come to love the ranch, and he had no plans to leave, but just in case, the schooner lay waiting. He called it, after the vessel in an old sea ballad, the Golden Vanity. There was no vessel in the American seas that could out-sail or out-maneuver her.
If Ashford took the girls to sea, he would take in his anchor and let out some sail, and he could lay alongside of whatever ship they had within hours.
Ashford led the way back to their horses. Mounting without a word, he rode toward the gate. The others followed, walking their horses.
Kate held back, riding behind Ashford, unwilling to risk what might follow and feeling his shame.
Martin Connery had made him out to be a fool, had shamed him before his own men, shown them he was inadequate. As she rode she was thinking ahead. The story of what happened inside would get around. One of those who was there would talk, and Ashford would lose control.
For one wild, desperate moment she wished she had stayed behind, for when Ashford lost control the men he had commanded would become a rabble. The first thing on their minds would be the girls in that wagon. She had to get them away. They must escape. Nor could there be any delay. She would have to chance it at the first opportunity and just hope they could meet the Traven boys.
Suddenly their pace was too slow. She had to get back. What could have happened while she was gone? Just suppose …
She did not want to suppose. She wanted only to be back, to see the girls again, to plan.
Somehow they had to get away, and they had to get away now. She could already see the men hanging back, and Cutler and Hayden were whispering among themselves. And once, looking back, she caught their eyes on her. Suppose, just suppose, one of them decided to pull away from Ashford now?
At the first sign of trouble she was going to use her spurs. She was going to get out of there.
They were coming up to the shores of Mission Bay, ready to cut out around it. Suddenly, glancing off toward the Gulf, she saw a ship!
Quickly, she glanced at the men. Hayden and Cutler were hanging back, deep in a whispered argument of some kind. Gushing rode somewhat abreast of her, yet closer behind Ashford. They had not seen the masts. Only topmasts showed through the trees, still some distance off.
Quickly, she averted her eyes, praying they would not see it. Now she knew. She had to get away. She must get to the girls and get them away at once! At the very first opportunity, or even without opportunity, they must go! Where was Dal? And Mac? Where were they now?
Inside she was so frightened she was almost ready to cry. There were still several miles to go and they were walking their horses!
Desperately she fought to keep her composure, to keep her face from showing her fear and her worry. If only …
Mac Traven was waiting no longer. Bellied down in the sand at the edge of the forest, the Travens had been watching the wagons. With Ashford gone discipline had relaxed. Two of the men were down at the edge of the water, fishing. One stood on a rock, casting out into the water and slowly drawing his line in toward him. Two others were asleep under the supply wagon.
Others were lying about the fire or talking. “Jack,” Mac suggested. “You an’ Jesse can’t run as fast as us. You be ready to cover us. We’re goin’ in.”
“How you goin’ to get away with that many women?” Jack protested. “It ain’t sensible!”
“I’ve a hunch our time is up. We’ve got to do it now, before the others get back. If shooting starts, shoot to kill. We’ve no choice, and that’s a lot of thieves and murderers out there.”
He waited, using his field glasses. Suddenly, his eyes caught something. He lifted the glasses a little higher.
The topmasts of a ship!
Silently, he passed the glasses to Dal, then to Jack and Jesse. Now there was no question. They had to make their move.
“Wait a minute,” Dal suggested. From an inside pocket he took a small hand-mirror. Glancing at the sun, he tilted the mirror to catch the sunlight, directing it into the wagon through the opening, praying one of the girls would see it.
Almost at once Mrs. Atherton got out of the wagon. He gave one quick flash into her eyes, then into the wagon again. One by one the girls got out.
They were close enough so that in the still air her voice carried. “I’ll make some coffee. Dulcie, you and Gretchen gather some wood.”
“There’s a sharp woman,” Jack said. “I’d hang up my hat for a woman like that!”
The girls walked toward the woods, stopping to pick up sticks. Nobody seemed to pay any attention. Then one of the men under the wagons sat up, wrapping his arms around his knees, he was watching.
Mac put away his glasses and put a reassuring hand on his belt gun, then passed it to Jesse. “You can use this,” he said. “Remember, get the girls away.”
The other girls had scattered out, picking up sticks.
The man under the wagon who had been watching crawled out. “You’ve got enough. Come on back!”
“You want to get wood for tonight?” Dulcie asked. “If we do it you don’t have to, and I’m tired of settin’ in that ol’ wagon!”
One of the other men sat up. “Maybe she’s lookin’ for a walk in the woods, Charlie? Whyn’t you see?”
“Hell, the Colonel will come back. He’d raise Hell.”
“Suppose he does? I’m gettin’ tired of just layin’ around when we got all those women. I think …”
He started to get up, and Dulcie paused. “Just you set still! I’ll be back.” She walked into the woods as if going for a reason and Gretchen followed.
When Dulcie was still ten yards from the woods she saw Jesse. “Come on,” he said, low-voiced, “this is the time.”
“Hey, you! Come back here!”
One of the girls suddenly panicked and started to run. A man lunged up from under a wagon, smashing his head against the under-pinning. Swearing bitterly, he held his head in both hands.
The man who had first shouted at Dulcie now started after her, running. Happy Jack let him come. “This one’s mine,” he said. When the man was almost ready to reach out and grab Dulcie, Jack said, “Over here, Mister!”
His voice was low and could not be heard beyond where the man skated to a sudden stop. He looked at Jack and he went for his gun. Jack fired and the man doubled over, and suddenly men were leaping up from all over.
Mac Traven held his Spencer .52 in his hands, and he watched the girls coming, running toward him. Men started up, and several started coming toward them. Jack’s shot brought them to a sudden stop as they realized there was more involved than just the girls.
Mac threw his rifle to his shoulder and shot a man in the rear who was turning toward a wagon, obviously to pick up his rifle. Then coolly and taking his time, he shot three more without changing position.