Part 5 (2/2)

From the near distance came an answering whinny. Ariana felt a new stirring of the animals and the two men who guided her. Before her eyes buildings began to take shape. She could not see them clearly through the snow, nor could she count them. Was it a town? But no, they all looked poorly kept. Ramshackle. And then she heard the big man say ”Whoa” in his loud raspy voice, and the four horses stopped as one.

Ariana did not move. She was aware that someone stood near her. She wondered if she would be lifted down or left to fall off her mount.

”Git her to the south shack. I'll have one of the boys take care of the horses,” the big man's voice instructed, and she was moving off again, her horse being led away by Sam.

There was no way she could have made it into the building on her own. Sam half supported, half carried her. Once inside, he helped her to a wooden bunk in the corner.

”I'll git a fire goin',” he announced. ”It'll soon be almost livable in here.”

Ariana did not respond.

She heard the man moving about the cabin and sensed that the fire had been started. But she didn't care. Didn't care about any of it. She was cold clear through and weary beyond belief. Her swollen wrist did not hurt any more than the rest of her. She closed her eyes and almost immediately fell into a deep sleep.

Ariana woke up stiff and sore and in a strange place with no idea how long she had slept.

Her first conscious thought was that the sun was now s.h.i.+ning. She could see its faint light through the cracked, dirty window. She breathed a prayer of thanks for the sun. Now someone would be looking for her. Now there was some hope she would be found.

Her next awareness was that she was not alone. She felt a moment of panic and her eyes quickly scanned the room.

Sam sat on his log stool with his back against the cabin wall. He was tilted back so his feet could extend to be propped up on a rough table.

”Mornin',” he said lazily when their gaze met.

Ariana groaned in response. It brought a little chuckle.

”Little stiff?” he asked good-naturedly.

Ariana struggled to get her feet off the bed and under her. Every movement hurt.

”You'll git yer bones shook outa”all in good time,” Sam commented, cutting himself a chew of tobacco.

Ariana concentrated hard on standing to her feet.

”Brung ya the things ya be needin',” went on Sam, and he dropped his heavy-booted feet to the floor with a clunk.

Ariana looked about her. The room was small. It had a potbellied stove, the rough wood table, two log stools, and the bunk in the corner on which she had slept. Over by the door, a simple shelf held a dented basin and a sickly green, chipped enamel pitcher. On the floor stood a pail with water. A second pail stood near. Sam nodded at it now.

”Yer slops,” he explained. ”Winder is nailed shut so's ya'll jest have to wait 'til we come to dump 'em.”

Ariana noticed her schoolbag on the table. She was comforted to see even that little bit of home.

Sam stood to his feet. ”Reckon ya'd like to get washed up. Water's hot in the kettle.”

Ariana had missed the kettle that sat near the back of the stove.

”I'll brung ya over some vittles.”

Sam shuffled toward the door.

Ariana moved as though to follow. She wanted to call after the unshaven man. She had so many questions. Where were they? Is this where she would stay? For how long? Why? Why?

Before she could get her voice to work, he had gone. She heard the thunk of a heavy bar falling into place over the outside of the door. She was locked in.

Ariana spent most of the first two days in her captive cabin in tears of fear and frustration. She was locked in. Solidly and securely. She didn't know where she was or why she was there. The most frightening thought was that she didn't know what her captors intended.

There was no way out. She had already pushed with all her might on the door and clawed at the window until the tips of her fingers bled. There was nothing she could do. Nothing but weep and pray.

On the third day, Ariana awakened from a troubled sleep and took a fresh look at her situation. So far, nothing too terrible had happened to her. She was a prisoner, yes, but other than that first encounter with the two men and her damaged wrist, she had not been hurt or mistreated, at least so far. Only Sam had been to the cabina”though she had heard other voices outside and other footsteps on the path. She should thank G.o.d for each day of safety. Her fathera”and the townsfolka”would be looking for her, led by the sheriff and his men. Maybe they were closing in even at the moment. She just had to be patient. Be calm. Trust. Really trust in her heavenly Father. Her fighting and agitation and tears were getting her nowhere. Ariana wiped her eyes and decided that those tears would be her last.

”Well, ya got her herea”now what?”

Sam spit at the fire and turned back to eye his boss. The big man said nothing. He seemed to be thinking.

At last he stirred and turned to Sam. ”So fara”plan's worked jest fine,” he said with satisfaction. ”Ya picked a good one. Pretty an'a”well, she oughta race the blood of any man. Even one as cool and calculating as the Kid.”

He stopped and laughed, not a pleasant sound. Sam s.h.i.+fted nervously on his wooden block.

”The storm did jest what we wanted it to,” went on Will Russell, then stopped to curse and spit on the floor. ”Not even an Injun could track us through all thet.”

Sam s.h.i.+vered at the thought of the storm. There had been more than once when he'd thought they would all end up frozen in the saddle.

”So nowa”” prompted Sam.

The big man scowled. ”What ya frettin' on now?” he growled.

”Ain't frettin',” responded Sam, unruffled. ”Jest wonderin' how long I'm gonna be playin' nursemaid to the little schoolmarm.”

Will stomped across the room and looked out the window at the sunny day. The snow lay in s.h.i.+mmering drifts across the floor of the canyon. The buildings all wore big fluffy caps of winter snow, and the trees bowed down with the weight of the whiteness. It was a pretty world.

But Sam could tell his thoughts were on other things. ” 'Bout time to have us a meetin',” Will said, and he grinned an ugly grin that showed his stained teeth and highlighted the jagged scar crossing his cheek.

He turned back to Sam. ”Tell the fellas we want to have them all in here followin' supper. Who's on guard duty?”

Sam thought for a moment. ”Right nowa”James. Then Curly. First night s.h.i.+fta”McDuff.”

”Good,” said the big man. ”I wanna be sure that Skidder is here fer this meetin'. And the Kid. Make sure the Kid's here.”

Will Russell began as usual, spitting on the floor, then clearing his throat. His son watched as the big man's eyes scanned the group of rough and rugged men, a motley crew, to be sure.

”Ya all know thet we got us a guest,” was his opening statement. He paused. There was no response.

”Now this here guest isa”special. I can't give ya none of the particularsa”jest want to say thet the keepin' is important. Thet's all thet's necessary to say. Iffen anything should happen toa”our guesta”thet is anything thet would lend itself toa”leavin'a”well, I wouldn't take a bit kindly to thet.”

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