The Lone Texan

CHAPTER 13

BY DAWN SAGE HAD KICKED, SHOVED, AND BITTEN SO many times that they covered her head with a burlap bag that smelled of potatoes and tied her onto her horse both at the horn and thigh level with belts. She could make out daybreak and knew they were traveling west. As the hours passed, she tried to rest as much as she could, knowing that night would be her best time to escape. She'd need all her energy then.

For almost four years she'd been up North in what most call civilization. She hadn't needed her survival skills. Her life hadn't depended on constant vigilance. Only, now she was back where her life might depend on what she observed and knowing the right time to act. Though her eyes were midnight blue and sunshine streaked her brown hair, Apache blood ran in her veins. Her mother's people had thrived on this land for generations, and she felt those ancestors near as the hours passed and her senses honed. She thought of nothing but breaking free.

The men talked among themselves. Slowly she pieced together facts. Four voices. Two of the six who'd helped row her away from Shelley's place were either silent, or they'd disappeared somewhere during the night. The others didn't seem to be celebrating their bounty. She got the feeling they were hired men doing a job, and that job wasn't over until the bag of contents from the safe was delivered.

She might not have sight, but she knew enough to describe each. One she called Big Hands, because when he'd lifted her, his hands circled her waist. His voice, mostly orders, came from in front of her.

Another man she thought of as Frog. His voice was low and raw as if overused. He smelled unwashed. Sage was glad he rode behind her, downwind of her. He didn't seem to like having her along, but he did whatever Big Hands told him to do.

The third man she guessed was thin and wiry. He paced when they were stopped and circled round the others when they rode. She guessed that he must be of a small build, maybe so small he couldn't have lifted her up into the saddle. His words came quick, and usually when he passed beside her, he'd warn her not to fall asleep. Twice when she'd thought she heard other travelers near, he'd whispered that he'd put a bullet in her back if she so much as sneezed. After that, she thought of him as Sneezy.

The last, she hadn't decided what to call, for he spoke little and kept his distance. Mostly, she heard the other three talking to him, and from that she knew, he was having trouble handling his horse.

They followed no road or even a trail, which was probably wise, since they were surely being followed by now. Several times during the night Big Hands ordered everyone to pull up until he decided on a direction in the dark.

Each time they stopped, Frog released her bound hands from the saddle horn and lifted her down. When he pulled off the bag, she tried to hold her breath until she was a few feet away from the smelly man. He'd mumble a few swear words, then loop a rope over her neck. "I ain't losing you in the dark," he'd say as he pulled it tight, "but you can walk around a little if you want”

Sage dug her heel into the soft, wet ground, hoping the print wouldn't be washed away in the drizzling rain.

When Big Hands told everyone to mount. Frog tugged on the rope, pulling her back to her horse. Each time he lifted her up, he remembered to tie her legs down. Sneezy circled by twice and asked if he could hold the rope when they stopped, but Frog told him that it was his job.

Despite Frog's smell. Sage was glad he didn't pass her off to Sneezy.

One thing she found strange. To the man, none touched her more than was necessary. They hadn't even checked her to make sure she wasn't carrying a weapon. To them she seemed to be no more than something they were transporting.

After several hours of riding in daylight, Frog pulled the bag off her head again and offered her water and an inch of dried meat to chew on. He tugged off her gag but didn't appear to have even heard her questions. He had a hard face and eyes dulled from seeing too much of life.

When she demanded that she have a moment of privacy, he tied a noose around her neck before freeing her hands. After pulling the noose tight, he moved to the other side of a tree. Her allotment of privacy lasted as long as she could function without breath, for the knot was too tight to budge.

She thought of reaching for her gun tucked in the folds of her petticoats, but the pistol only had one shot. Even if she was lucky and killed Frog, there were still three others, who looked like they'd kill her without blinking.

Sage decided to bide her time so that when she shot, she'd have a good chance of escape.

Quickly, she went back to Frog, and he loosened the noose just enough for her to breathe while he retied her hands.

"Don't fight it, miss," he said as he led her to her horse with the noose still snug around her neck. "It'll go easier for you if you don't fight so much."

"I don't want to go with you," she whispered back just in case her kicking and screaming earlier hadn't convinced him.

He tugged the noose off and replaced it with the sack. "It don't matter what you want. We don't care. You're going into hell with the rest of us, and there ain't nothing you can do about it."

He lifted her onto the horse and tied her legs tight to the saddle. "Country gets rougher from here on out. Don't want you falling off."

Big Hands' voice came from in front of her. "If you behave yourself, well take the sack off tonight. No one to see or hear you out here."