Catch Me If You Can (20 page)

That it would happen was a certainty.

The hunt was on.

* * *

Eleanor unloaded the contents of her suitcase onto the bed.

She dressed in heavy suede breeches and warm woolen shirt, over layered cotton leggings and vests. There was also a leather jerkin and a suede jacket to wear, as well as a long, heavy black waterproof dustcoat. She pulled on her sturdy boots and filled her newly purchased saddlebags with vital equipment – maps and her father’s diary. She slipped her compass into the pocket of her jerkin and folded her clothes from the previous day into the case, intending to offer them to the housekeeper. Checking over her pistols, she belted them across her hips. Then she swept her hair back, tied it tightly at the nape of her neck and pushed her black leather Stetson on. Taking a last look at herself in the mirror, she picked up her rifle, slung the saddlebags over her shoulder, and left the boarding house.

After she visited the bank, she crossed to the store, stocking up on supplies for her first stage and purchasing some heavy blankets. They were brightly patterned and she was attracted to their unusual colors and designs. The store owner directed her to the local horse dealer on the outskirts of the town and watched curiously as she strode off. Connell’s was a surprisingly large dealer, and she found a wide selection of animals to look over.

“We used to be quite a trading point,” Eddie Connell drawled through the stump of cigar held in his teeth. “You know, when they was still building the railroad to the west.”  He swept his arm out vaguely at the horizon, watching her with curiosity all the while. “Where you heading?”

“The Napa Valley,” she replied.

His eyebrows shot up and he pushed his felt slouch hat back on his head. “California, huh? Any particular reason why you don’t take the train, little lady?” 

She smiled up at him. “I prefer not to.” 

He looked at her appreciatively. “A woman who likes a challenge, huh?”  

She nodded and turned her attention to the horses.

After a moment, he gestured and led her across to another stable. “Seeing as you’re going so far, you better look at these brutes.” 

There were six stallions in a separate stable. Eleanor was immediately impressed by their stature and breeding. As she approached them, one lifted his head and looked back toward her. He was chestnut and black, and resembled her horse Clancy at home. She was immediately drawn to him. She stroked his head, stretching up to reach him, for he was large. She bent to examine his legs then ran her hand over his back. He whinnied.

“I’ll need a saddle and tack.” 

“We got ‘em missy, everything you need. A fine choice of horse, may I say.”

“Does he have a name?”

He shrugged. “You call him whatever you want to missy. He ain’t going to object to carrying a little thing like you.” 

They agreed a price and the horse was saddled for her.

As she passed in front of the final buildings of St. Joseph, she urged the magnificent horse to a canter, speeding away from the marks of civilization on the landscape, and galloping finally toward a distant horizon – toward a distant dream – and, at first, Eleanor’s journey went well.

Chapter Sixteen

On The Trail

The weather was cold when she began her journey through the prairie land, but Eleanor knew it was a better time to travel than during the spring rain season. For the main part her journey was dry, and the sun spread a little warmth across her path as it cut through the crystal clear skies of the late winter days.

At first, she planned to journey quite close to the railroad, stopping at towns along the way. Increasingly she strayed from civilization. To vary her ride across the fertile plains, she rode amongst gnarled oak and black walnut trees, or along the bluffs thickly strewn with boulders and rocks.

As she guided her horse, Eleanor drifted on memories of her times with Rivers, remembering the experience of sinking into his dark brown eyes while he’d watched her and urged her on while they were making love. The daydreams brought about a longing to be near him again.

She regretted not leaving him a note. She couldn’t help wondering, too, about his proposal of marriage. Her reflections led her to believe he had indeed been serious, although she hadn’t thought so at the time. However, she’d no desire to be married until it was time to provide an heir to the Craven estate. She’d secretly allowed herself time to travel and learn. She’d never wanted to be like Lady Lavinia Brooks, tied to her embroidery and her social functions – that was what being a wife meant to her. But would it be like that, with a man such as Peter Rivers?

She had to admit the idea of sharing a bed with him every night was an immensely attractive idea. Even when she rankled against his control she knew she loved him. She loved his tenacity too. What other man would have stuck steadfastly to such a thankless task as she must be to him?

If she imagined never seeing him again, she found that she felt quite ill. She missed his company, his wit and his teasing words. She missed the feeling of his hands on her body and the way he made her tremble with desire. She almost wished she’d let him win her over. She sighed, picturing him on the train bound west.

Shortly, he would be with Frieda again.

She made a mental note to write a letter on her next stop and let them know she would be with them a matter of weeks.
A letter, send a letter, it will be an olive branch.

* * *

Eddie Connell looked at the four men suspiciously. “Yeah, I remember her. Pretty little thing she was. What’s it to you?” 

Rivers stifled a groan. “I work with her aunt. She’s family.” 

“Uh-uh,” the man drawled, as if still undecided.

“I’m concerned for her safety. She’s traveling alone and she’s a stranger to our land.” Rivers wrestled with his urge to pick up the little man and shake the words out of him.

Connell eyed Rivers warily, as if considering the likelihood that he might reach for his pistol in the next moment.

Rivers glowered at him.

The horse trader nodded, and took the cigar stub from his lips. “She came through here all right. It was a fair few days ago now. Bought a fine chestnut stallion, as I recall. Headed west, Napa way.” 

Rivers nodded. It was no more than he’d guessed, but it was good at least, to have that much confirmed. “Did she give any indication of the route she intended to take?”

The other man thought a while, returned the stub to his teeth, and shook his head.

Rivers quelled his urge to argue the point, telling himself the man had no need to hide any information at that stage in the conversation. He thanked him and gathered his men outside. His three companions were solid and reliable. They were hands from Frieda’s ranch and had traveled by train at her instruction, to meet Rivers at St. Joseph. He’d scouted the locality and waited their arrival in the boarding house where Eleanor herself had stayed – unbeknownst to him. The owner had seen many people pass through and he’d no recollection of a woman traveler, as described by Rivers, despite the fact his wife wore her gabardine skirt and fine Scottish wool jacket that very day.

Rivers spread out his map on the deck outside Connell’s trading post. His men gathered around him, focused on their task. “We must assume she has followed the route on this map and not deviated from it at all. That would place her somewhere along here.” He pointed to a stretch in the state of Wyoming, between the towns of Fort Laramie and Fort Bridger. “Although she may have gone into Utah already.”

He frowned. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, but that wasn’t going to stop him looking. “I’m going to telegraph Frieda and wait for her reply, then we’ll get the train to Denver. That will make time. From there we’ll go on by horseback.” 

He set off with purpose in his stride. He couldn’t gamble Eleanor had exactly followed the route of 1865, but he knew she would want to stay close to it for most of the journey, and therefore they should catch up with her soon. A kernel of hope and expectation had lodged itself inside him. Rivers didn’t acknowledge its presence, focusing single-mindedly on his task, but he was aware of it.

* * *

Whenever she saw signs of life, Eleanor increased the gap between herself and the other people, enjoying her solitude. She assumed the size of her mount, her heavy long coat and the rifle across her hip warned them she might not be a friendly traveler. Her father always told her that adopting an imposing bearing would make them think twice about taking you on, and so it seemed she succeeded in warding strangers off. She only detoured from her solitary path when her supplies ran low and she was forced to seek out a local trading point. Twice she stayed overnight in a boarding house, mostly for the chance to wash. She camped up amongst the rocks at night, huddled over the fire, wrapped in her blankets. The horse, who she’d called Clancy because he was so much a son of her own horse, was company enough for her.

All was well until one night as she sat huddled over the embers of the fire the horse whinnied and shifted about. She tensed and reached for her pistols, her ears scanning for sound.

A noise sounded to her right.

She turned that way, focusing on the darkness. “Who is it? Is there anyone there?” 

Her heart beat rapidly against the wall of her chest, the blood rushing in her ears, dulling the sounds as she tried to follow their direction. She focused on a spot in the darkness.

As if in response to her gaze, an animal edged into the light of the fire.

It was some wild dog or wolf, with a shaggy rough coat. It was huge and its eyes were keen, bright and focused in the firelight. Eleanor had never seen an animal like it before. She cocked her pistol and moved her other hand, bringing out the pistol there too, in case the beast traveled in a pack and another such creature was about to emerge from the night shadows.

It stood looking at her with hunger in its eyes. Its jaw opened, nose lifting, as if better to sniff her scent in the air.

Clancy whinnied and backed up from the tree where she’d tied him.

The creature started and ran off.

Eleanor fired a shot at the rock where it had been standing to hasten its path away. Joining Clancy, she embraced him in thanks, and for comfort. She was trembling.

That night she didn’t sleep.

The wolf had brought the scent of danger across her trail.

The following day when she saw a wagon bearing the signs of a traveling trading post, she cantered eagerly down into the hollow where the wagon was situated and looked around for signs of life.

“Hello,” she called, as she dismounted. There didn’t seem to be anyone around and she walked to the wagon, looking at all the boxes of goods, and utensils hanging around the outside of it, hunger beginning to draw her curiosity to the goods on sale.

A footstep sounded behind her.

A man approached, his head lifted in concern. “Howdy. Looking to buy?”

He pulled his braces over his shoulders and ran a hand across his greasy head. He leered at her. Her stomach tightened. She flinched when he wiped his palm on his trousers and presented his hand to her. She nodded in response, trying to look away toward the goods on the wagon.

He leaned closer, and peered at her under her hat. “I thought you was a man!”

He laughed to himself. It wasn’t a pleasant sound.

She gave a cool smile. She wanted to be on her way again, away from him. The company of the wolf suddenly seemed preferable. “I need some supplies, coffee, canned food.”

He moved and put his hand against the small of her back, urging her toward the wagon. “I got some lovely stuff. Why not take a closer look?”

She feigned some interest in the goods, using it as an excuse to pull her body away from his. Instinct warned her to buy what she needed and be on her way.

As she looked in at the goods, the man grabbed her from behind, one hand across her mouth. He slammed into the back of her knees, knocking her down onto the ground and winding her. His heavy body followed, crushing her down with its weight.

She gasped for breath. She tried to pull away.

He grabbed her struggling arms with his other hand, while holding her body still with his weight. “A fighter are ya?” he said, chuckling.

He pulled the two pistols from her belt and tossed them away from her. He lifted his hand from her mouth to reach for a piece of rope.

Eleanor screamed, with all her might.

The sound echoed around the enclave.

“That’s right, you scream, there’s nobody around to hear you though.” When he’d tied her hands, he bound her mouth with a gag and dragged her up inside the wagon. He tied the rope to a plank across the top of the wagon so she hung down suspended by her arms.

He chuckled to himself as he left.

She struggled with the ties until they chaffed, filled with panic and fear.

Her hopes dwindled when her predicament sank in. Tears came when she thought how unlike her father’s journey her own had turned out to be after all. Grief gnawed at her. Her father, who had always been there to help her out of a fix.

And Rivers would be here for me now, if only I had let him
.

Rivers, yes. He’d made her feel alive again when she thought she never could, and he cared for her. She’d walked away from that.
Fool.
What now? Was it all going to end here, with this horrible man? Would he touch her, would he… hurt her? There was only one man in the world she wanted to ever touch her, and he was very far away.
Rivers.
Her heart ached.
Oh, Rivers.

“Would you be prepared to get blood on your hands, as well as dust on your boots?”  His words and his mocking eyes were in her mind.

He’d called her brave when they had made love, when she’d breached that territory with him.
Be brave.

She gathered her resources.

Pulling on the rope only made it tighter. She tried to claw at the knots. Eventually it slackened a mite. If only she could get it done before he came back. If not, she still had one chance. Her legs were free. She could kick him, but she’d have to be accurate. She would only get one chance. Her fingers worked on.

By the time the man emerged back into the wagon, Eleanor still hadn’t undone the knot. He breathed heavily on her, a leering grin on his face. She smelt alcohol on his breath and noted the glazed expression in his eyes.

She moved, her body responding in panic.

He put his hand inside her jacket, reaching for her shirt. The sound of ripping material made her cringe. Cold air on her bared breast made her fury grow. She drew her strength into a ball. Kicking hard and fast, she saw his body crumple in front of her. Following the thud of his body, there was a resounding clang. At the entrance to the wagon stood two figures, one with a large, heavy pan in his hand, a pan with which he’d disabled the falling man.

Eleanor slumped on the rope. As her breathing softened she looked at the two figures. The first climbed in, looking at her as he lay down the pan. They were young men, similar in looks, most probably brothers.

“He’s not…dead, is he?” said the younger man at the back.

“No. Thank Jesus Christ. I don’t need any more trouble. I don’t think he got a look at us, do you?” He bent over and examined the crumpled body of the trader.

“No, but she sure has.” The young man at the back looked at Eleanor.

The older lad frowned. She thought he looked trustworthy, but there was something edgy about him.

“What you gonna do now?” said the voice at the back.

Eleanor watched, barely breathing. His brow furrowed as he looked down at her. Fear raced back in. Her trouble might have been doubled. He lifted his hand and drew the torn material across her chest, covering her as best he could. She sensed he was embarrassed, and relief seeped into her bones.

He looked briefly at her face, watching her response as he spoke.

“We’ll have to take her with us, for now.” 

She shook her head from side to side.

The younger man climbed up. He smiled at her and was much less worried looking than his companion.

“I’m sorry ma’am,” the older one said, apologetically. “We’re going to have to leave you gagged for the time being.”   He offered a lopsided smile, sort of apologetic, and he shrugged at her, as if the situation was entirely beyond his control.