Castroville: Countdown to Armageddon: Book 7 (6 page)

     “Hell, I don’t know.”

     “There’s that word again. I wish you wouldn’t use it. It’s so unnecessary.”

     “Sorry. If I stop saying it will you get on with it?”

     “Deal. The only reason for the man to carry a plate of food and a bottle of water into the barn is to give it to someone who cannot leave the barn. They’ve got at least one prisoner in there.”

     “Interesting observation. What else you got?”

     “Outside the barn. There was a man leaning against the barn wall, next to the door. He had a rifle in his hands. Did you notice him?”

     “Yes. Another man came to chat with him for a few minutes. Then the first man left and the second man stayed. So?”

     “Two things. Why would both men be carrying rifles?”

     “I thought I was asking the questions, Randy. I thought you were the smart one providing the answers.”

     “Men usually only carry rifles for two reasons. Either they’re hunting, or they’re on a war footing. They’re expecting to be attacked and might need the rifles to defend themselves. In this case, what would be in the barn that would require men to think they’re going to have to defend themselves? I doubt if there’s any gold in there, or animals of any great value.”

     “You have a way of turning a five cent sentence into a twenty dollar paragraph.”

     “Okay, I’ll spell it out for you. What you saw was the changing of the guard. There’s something in the barn so valuable it has to be kept under guard. The man leaning against the wall was guarding the barn. His shift was up and the second man replaced him.”

     “So, you think Tom is in there and maybe my mom, and the guards are there to keep them from escaping?”

     “Close, but no cigar. They’re not guarding their hostages. There’s no need to. The hostages are either tied up or locked in rooms inside the barn. No, they’re not guarding the hostages to keep them from escaping. They’re guarding the barn to prevent someone from trying to set the hostages free.”

     “Okay. That makes sense. So why don’t we just shoot the son of a bitch at the door and go in and get them?”

     He gave her a stern look.

     “Sorry. Why don’t we shoot the guy at the door and go in and get them?”

     “We might have to, if that’s the only way. But it would attract an awful lot of attention. And since there’s only one way in and out of the barn, odds are we’d get trapped inside and they’d shoot us when we tried to leave. And there might be other problems as well.”

     “Such as?”

     “Sometimes there’s more than one guard. I watched as people came and went. Several of them went in and out of the barn, to get a horse or to put one away, to get a piece of tack, whatever. Sometimes for no apparent reason.

     “But it wasn’t always the same people. A couple of the guys who went in, I didn’t see come back out. And a couple of men came out that I never saw go in. So there were at least two, maybe more men, who could potentially be guarding the hostages from inside the building.

     “The problem is that Jack Payton is reputed to be a very brutal man. He’s the type of man who might tell his people that the hostages aren’t to be taken alive. That if anyone ever tries to rescue them, they are to be shot.

     “And if that’s the case, there’s very little chance we could get to them before they were executed.”

     “Wow. You really did see more than I did. What else did you see?”

     “I know who two of their lieutenants are.”

     “How in heck do you know that?”

     “The tall lanky one. Brown shirt, blue bandana, white hat. Several of the men walked up to him, said something, then walked away again. They were either providing information to him or getting instructions from him. The same was true of the chubby man. Black hat, white shirt. They’re both leaders. If it comes to a shootout, they’ll be our secondary targets, after Jack Payton himself. Without their leaders, the rest won’t know what to do and that’ll make them weaker.

     “As for the guy in the white shirt, that bolsters the chances that they have women or children being held as slave labor.”

     “How do you figure that?”

     “Cowboys seldom wear white shirts. That was true even before the blackout, and is especially true now. They’re too hard to keep clean on a working ranch. And how many cowboys have you seen who would take the time to scrub a white shirt to get the road dust and grime out of it?”

     “Good point. Not many.”

     “My guess is that they have some women, including probably your mom, who they make clean and cook for them.”

     “You think that’s who’s in the barn?”

     “No. Actually, if I had to guess, I’d say the women are probably held in the ranch house. And that Tom’s in the barn. The women can’t do their chores from inside the barn. It’s dark and dusty and smelly in there. There’s likely no running water in there either. No, the women, and children if they have any, are almost certainly in the house.”

     “So, they hold the women as slaves to clean and…”

     Sara shuddered but didn’t finish the sentence. But her point was clear. She suspected the women were forced to do other things besides the cleaning and cooking.

     She went on.

     “The women do their cooking and cleaning, but why in the world would they hold Tom? He’s a man. He’s no good at any of that stuff.”

     “I don’t know why they’d hold him. We’ll find out when we get him out.”

-10-

     Inside the barn Tom was in bad shape. They’d brought him some food to eat. But they’d done so only to torment him. On the plate was a tough and dried up pork chop and some raw carrots.

     The man who’d delivered the food cackled, not unlike an old witch. He said, “Mr. Payton said he doesn’t want you to get hungry. That it just wouldn’t be a proper way to treat one of his guests. He says you need your nutrition to maintain your strength, so you can lead us to where your gold is stashed.

     “Oh, and here’s a bottle of water, so you don’t get thirsty. It’s rain water, from one of the barrels we use to water the chickens and hogs. May be a little chicken shit mixed in it, but Mr. Payton says that just gives it more flavor and texture. He said you wouldn’t mind. He said after you give us your gold you can have all the fresh water you want.”

     Tom looked first at the food, then at the man standing over him.

     Several of Tom’s teeth were missing. A couple of others were broken and causing him great discomfort. His gums were tender to the touch and swollen, as was the rest of his head and much of his body.

     He’d have had a hard time getting down broth.

     But Tom was an old school cowboy. He was tough as nails and wouldn’t show weakness, even when he was hurting so.

     And he wouldn’t give Payton the pleasure of knowing he was close to being broken.

     Through bloody gums he managed the words, “Tell Mr. Payton thanks. It looks delicious.”

     The man started to leave, then seemed to forget something.

     He’d laid the plate of food mere inches from Tom’s face. But it seemed to lack something in his mind. So he went back to it and kicked a healthy portion of dirt onto the plate, and directly into Tom’s face at the same time.

     “Sorry. Forgot to season the food for you.”

     Once again, he cackled as he walked away.

     Tom closed his eyes and wondered whether this was how it felt to die.

     Alone again, he looked around the barn to assess his situation. His ankle was shackled to the dusty floor, but his hands were free. So there was that. Not that his free hands would do him much good. Some of his fingers were badly swollen and felt broken. He vaguely remembered that while one man was slamming a baseball bat into his ribs, another took great pleasure in stomping a boot heel into his hand.

     He wondered what kind of man would take such pleasure in beating someone half to death.

     And he decided that they weren’t men at all. They were little more than animals.

     But unfortunately the animals had the advantage at the present time.

     That would change, he knew. He knew that Sara would never leave him to die. And that worried him more than the prospect of dying himself. Even with Ranger Randy by her side, they would be greatly outnumbered

     He knew they’d be coming. He didn’t know when, or what they’d do when they arrived. But he knew they’d be there to help him at some point.

     He looked around desperately, trying to find a way he could help them in the rescue. Or how to escape to avoid having to be rescued altogether.

     He fingered the padlock to see whether there was any chance of breaking or picking it. Then he realized he wasn’t thinking clearly. He had no tools with which to pick a lock, and wouldn’t have a clue how to pick it even if he had. He was a lawman, not a burglar. The lock seemed sturdy, as did the chains which held him captive.

     His mouth was dry, his lips were parched. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, but his broken nose was clogged with dried blood. He could taste in in the back of his throat. He’d been breathing through his mouth for at least several hours.

     With his one good hand he picked up the bottle of water and looked closely at it. He took off the cap and smelled it. It was indeed rainwater. It smelled stagnant, as though it had been sitting in an open top collection barrel or trough for quite some time.

     He knew that drinking it would give him severe stomach cramps, maybe diarrhea. If he had internal damage from the beating, it might also contain a parasite that could cause a severe infection. In short, if it didn’t kill him outright it would certainly make him miserable beyond belief.

     He poured it out onto the floor to prevent himself from drinking it later in a moment of weakness.

     Looking around, he tried to get an assessment of his prison. The barn had an open floor, except for four horse stalls in the far corner. Light was limited, but Tom thought he could make out a familiar figure in the last one.

     He made a clicking sound with his tongue.

     Silver recognized it and raised his head.

     The horse appeared to be securely tied. He was still saddled. The bastards hadn’t even had the decency to make him comfortable.

     Tom hoped they’d fed and watered him. If he could find a way to get loose, they might need to make a quick getaway.

     He continued to look around.

     Although open on the ground floor, the barn featured a half-mezzanine. He could see dozens of hay bales stacked haphazardly on the mezzanine, but couldn’t see any guards on it watching him.

     As far as he could tell, there was only one guard. Tom could see him through the open barn door, rifle in hand and leaning against the barn’s wall adjacent to the door. Every once in awhile the guard would glance into the barn at Tom, then close his eyes again and lean his face into the sun. He seemed to enjoy the feel of the sun’s warmth against his skin. It reminded Tom of those people who went to the lake where he fished and never went near the water. Never fished, never swam, just went to the lake and laid on blankets on its shore, trying to get a suntan.

     It had always seemed a waste of time to Tom.

     On the other end of the barn was an open hayloft door which opened onto the mezzanine.

     If Tom had been running the show, he’d have placed a second guard in the hayloft door. But there didn’t appear to be one.

     Mr. Payton obviously had a lot of faith that Tom couldn’t work himself free, or he’d put more than one guard into place.

     That could be his ticket to freedom, if he could figure out a way to get free from his shackles.

     The limited light coming in from the barn’s door and hayloft door might be used to Tom’s advantage. Half his body was in the light, the other half in the shadows. He reached down and pulled the chain and realized there was enough slack in it to allow him to move a bit.

     It wasn’t much. Perhaps three feet or so. But it allowed him to crawl backwards a bit, so that his entire body was totally in the shadows.

     He watched the man on the door and tried to judge how often he looked in on his prisoner. It was a full five minutes before he turned his head again.

     This time he leaned in Tom’s direction a bit and squinted his eyes. It was obviously harder for him to see Tom in the shadows. Especially since the bright sun had given him temporary sun blindness.