Authors: Paradise Valley
Maggie’s hope of Sage being able to get to her and live through it was dwindling. Two more men rode with them now. Jasper came across their camp last night and soon figured them to be the type of men who’d do anything for money… and they were. He promised to pay them well… and throw Maggie in on the bargain… if they helped him and Jimmy kill Sage Lightfoot.
One man, named Walt Sloan, was tall, and actually could be considered handsome, if he weren’t so mean-spirited. He wore two guns, one on each hip, and he didn’t care about anything but getting paid to kill a man. Jasper asked Walt straight out if he knew Kate Bassett.
“Slept with the bitch once, a year or so ago,” the man had replied with a shrug. It didn’t bother him that Jasper and Jimmy had left Kate for dead. He needed money for drinking, whoring, and gambling.
Walt’s partner, Arny Clay, was an ornery little man with long, dirty blond hair. Arny didn’t talk much. Mostly, he catered to Walt and obeyed anything the man told him to do. It was obvious that these two men were the “worst of the worst” Sage had told Maggie about, and Maggie feared she’d soon see Sage shot down in cold blood.
Jasper roused her early, giving her one swallow of coffee and one bite of dried beef, then let her relieve herself before he plopped her on his horse again. Every bone and muscle in her body hurt, and her lips were cracked from lack of water.
“We’re headin’ up today,” Jasper told her.
Maggie soon learned what “headin’ up” meant. Within an hour they were climbing over accumulated talus at the base of a searing cliff, on to a steeper incline riddled with loose rock and shale, making the trek so slippery and dangerous that the men dismounted to lead their horses by the bridle. Jasper tied Maggie’s wrists to his horse’s tail, leaving about three feet of leeway, then took the roan gelding and continued the climb.
In her weak condition, it was close to impossible for Maggie to stay on her feet, let alone keep her balance with so much loose rock. The horse balked several times, and she realized that if the horse slipped, it would land on her and take her all the way down the slope. Every move sent rocks and gravel tumbling past her, creating dust that stung her eyes.
She wondered how in God’s name Sage would make it up here without getting shot. She knew now why desperate men came here to hide from the law. What lawman in his right mind would come to this place where he would have to climb this miserable pathway to get to the top, then face murderers and thieves once he got there, if he even made it that far without being shot?
A piece of shale gave way under her foot, and she went down. Jasper kept going, letting the horse drag her for several yards, before he and his men finally stopped long enough for Jasper to walk back and jerk her to her feet. “Keep up, or I’ll let this nag drag you all the way to the top,” he snarled.
Maggie wanted to spit on him, but her mouth was so dry she couldn’t. Her arms stung from bleeding scrapes that were coated with dust. She looked down to see that the front of her dress was filthy and in shreds. She grunted when the horse jerked to a start again, and she determined she’d keep up just to spite Jasper, who would probably enjoy seeing her fall again.
She glanced behind her at the sweeping panorama below. Sage was right. A man could see half of Wyoming up here. It would be an indescribably beautiful view, if not for her current situation. Far across the endless sea of yellow grass below, she spotted a lone rider moving at an unhurried gate. She daydreamed it might be Sage, riding easy, so as not to draw attention.
She looked ahead again, seeing that they were headed into a pathway so narrow that they had to go through single file. Red walls on both sides made it impossible to go anywhere but up.
So, this was Hole-In-The-Wall. They climbed and climbed. The air cooled—Maggie’s only relief. Still, the struggle of climbing and fighting to stay on her feet made Maggie sweat. She couldn’t imagine what she must look like by now—let alone what she must smell like. She knew instinctively that the men didn’t care. Once they reached the top and could finally rest, all eyes would turn to her as the only woman. She would no longer be able to depend on their own haste and weariness to keep them at bay.
After a good hour of climbing, they reached a mesa, where at last the ground flattened out. Jasper came back and untied the rope from the horse’s tail, then plopped Maggie on the mare and climbed behind her. “We’re home, honey,” he said sarcastically.
Maggie studied her surroundings. This place was something from another world. People in cities, even on farms and ranches elsewhere, surely had no idea anything like this existed. She vaguely remembered someone saying that she’d not seen “big” country, until she traveled through the valley to Hole-In-The-Wall and ascended the towering cliff that bordered it.
Who’d said it? Sage? Kate? Newell? She couldn’t remember, but now, she knew what they meant. It seemed impossible she could get help or survive, even if she managed to escape. Flashes of her incredibly changed life since the night these men killed James left her feeling removed from her weary body. She remembered the ugly terror of men groping her, the hopelessness, the crimson welts on her hands from digging James’s grave. She remembered the first time she saw Sage Lightfoot, sitting tall on his horse, offering to help. She remembered shooting the grizzly, remembered Sage’s wonderfully warm, solid home at Paradise Valley… thought about how nice it would be to live there, sleep in Sage’s arms every night. She thought about that old cabin where she and Sage first made love.
He would come for her. She had to think positive and not allow herself to give in to lost hope. Jasper moved a hand over her stomach and breasts, rousing her anger and her desire to fight these men in any way possible. She saw one rather large and two smaller cabins ahead, which surprised her. She couldn’t imagine anyone living here, but then she chided herself for forgetting how different life was here. Anyone who came here to avoid the law would, of course, need shelter.
Walt Sloan and Jimmy Hart dug spurs into their horses’ sides and charged toward the cabins, whooping and hollering. They were finally “home,” as Jasper had put it. Maggie knew it was no home at all. For her, it would be hell.
Sage and Newell cautiously approached a cabin nestled amid boulders and wildflowers, surrounded by outbuildings, all located a half-mile from the gravelly escarpment that led to Hole-In-The-Wall.
“Stay alert,” he told Newell.
“You bet. The men we’re after, or even Maggie, could be here, for all we know.”
More than ever, Sage hoped to find Maggie without traveling to the top of the grand mesa in the distance. It would be a lot easier here, but he doubted they would get that lucky.
The sun was settling behind the western mountain range as they came closer to the structures, after spotting them from miles away. For the last hour, they’d watched the buildings turn from dark dots on the horizon to a well-kept ranch, that for all a tenderfoot would think, was a peaceful, picturesque home for a law-abiding family.
Several men were gathered around a campfire. He counted six, but knew there were likely more in the outbuildings, or in the cabin.
“Recognize any of them?” he asked Newell.
“No, but it’s gettin’ pretty dark. The sun will be set pretty quick.”
The men turned at their approach, two of them stepping closer with rifles in hand. Sage and Newell halted their horses.
“Speak your names,” one demanded.
“Sage Lightfoot,” Sage answered. “This here is Newell McCabe, good friend of Kate Bassett back in Lander. Any of you know her?”
The man instantly relaxed. He looked at Newell and grinned. “How’s Kate?”
“Not good,” Newell answered. “She might even be dead by now. We’re after the men who beat her head in and stole this man’s wife.”
The man frowned, turning his attention to Sage again. “That a fact?”
“It’s a fact,” Sage answered. Several others came closer, concerned looks on their faces. “We’re heading up the wall tomorrow,” Sage told them. “We’re pretty sure that’s where they are. We need fresh horses for the trip—hoping you can oblige—maybe help us find a way to the top without getting our heads blown off.”
“Well, hell, if this is because of Kate, we’ll see what we can do,” the first man told Sage. He shoved his hat more tightly onto his head to keep it from blowing off in the wind as he walked around Sage’s horse, studying the sturdy gelding. “Looks like a good piece of horseflesh.”
“He is, but he’s worn out. He’s a good strong gelding, and he’ll be fine in a day or two. If you don’t want to trade permanent, I can bring your horse back when we’re through. We just need fresh mounts for the climb.”
The man stepped back. “My name is Bob Yates.”
Sage nodded. Yates was perhaps thirty-five, built solid. Sage saw honesty in his eyes as Yates studied him a moment longer before he spoke again. “Seems like I’ve heard your name.”
“I’ve ridden this area and camped here more than once. That was a few years ago. I have my own ranch now, south of here—Paradise Valley.”
Yates nodded. “I think I’ve heard talk of you a time or two.” He folded his arms in front of him, while the men around the campfire watched and listened. “Who was it that hurt Kate and took your wife?”
“One is a fat, filthy man with a scar over his left eye. He’s called Jasper. He’s riding with a younger man called Jimmy Hart. There was a third man, but I killed him back in Atlantic City. The other two might have picked up more men by now, figuring they’ll need help when I come for them.”
“The bastards doubled back on us at Lander,” Newell added, “took this man’s wife, and left Kate for dead. Lightfoot’s been trackin’ ’em for weeks on account of they killed one of his ranch hands, raped the man’s wife, and stole money from Lightfoot.”
Yates scratched the stubble on his chin. “Nobody like what you described stopped by here, but in a valley this big, you can ride for days—see men in the distance, but never meet them. You know how it is out here.”
“I know all too well,” Sage answered.
Yates looked at the surrounding cliffs. “When we see men riding off in the distance, we don’t pay much attention, unless they head our way. Out here everybody minds his own business. I did see some men head up the cliffs late yesterday—far enough away that it’s impossible to say who they was, or even if there was a woman along. That area down there where we spotted them is where the narrow trail through the wall leads to the top.”
“I know the spot.” A sudden gust of dust-filled wind stung Sage’s face.
Yates studied him a moment longer. “Mister, if I was the marrying kind, and it was my wife up there, I’d be doggin’ those men too. Get on down off your horse, and I’ll show you what’s in the corral.” He turned to the other men. “Get these two some coffee. They’re okay,” he shouted. He looked at Newell. “Were you close to Kate?”
“Close as you can get without a weddin’ ring,” Newell answered.
Again, Yates tugged on his hat. “Well, now, me and a couple of others over there know Kate real good—and she’s a gem. They ain’t gonna like the fact that some bastard broke her skull. I don’t like it either. Could be I can get you some help in this.” He nodded toward the other men. “This bunch here—they’re all no-goods—but they ain’t the kind to beat on no woman, not even a whore. And they wouldn’t go riding off with some other man’s wife neither.”
Newell nodded. “I’ve met this man’s wife. She’s a good woman.”
“Come on then. Get yourselves some coffee, and I’ll go with you to pick out a couple of horses.”
Newell glanced at Sage. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”
Sage grinned. “I’m thinking we might have found ourselves some help.”
Newell studied the red cliffs nearby. “Up there, though, they might have pulled five or six more men to their side. If we manage to get up there, it’s gonna be a real gun battle.”
Sage dismounted. “Then we’ll just have to be ready, help or no help.”
Newell followed suit, climbing down from his horse and shaking his head. “I reckon’ so,” he muttered. “All I know is, I ain’t goin’ back to Kate without bein’ able to tell her that the men who hurt her so bad are dead.”
Sage put out his hand. “And I’m not going back to Paradise Valley without Maggie.”
Newell smiled sadly and shook his hand. “Agreed. We both came to finish what them men started, and it ain’t gonna be pretty.”
Sage squeezed his hand. “Thanks for coming along, Newell.”
Newell turned to follow Bob Yates to the corral. “Wild horses couldn’t have kept me away,” he answered. “And speaking of horses, let’s go find us some good horseflesh to get us up that little hill over there.”
Sage walked beside him. He’d been up that “little hill” before, and he didn’t relish going up there again.
Maggie felt like a trapped animal, waiting for a hunter to come along and torture or kill it. After arriving at this cabin at the top of Hole-In-The-Wall yesterday, Walt Sloan shot two men inside and declared the cabin would now be used by him and those who accompanied him. In some ways, Walt seemed to be taking over as boss of the four men rather than Jasper, who was afraid of the man and probably regretted asking him to join him and Jimmy.
After the shooting, several men in a nearby cabin shrugged it off, all but one who challenged Walt using the code of the gun. He, too, was shot down, and that was the end of the argument over cabin occupancy.
Animals. They were all animals, like the wolves that tried to occupy the cave she and Sage claimed that night at Wolf Canyon. Survival of the fittest, or the smartest—or in this case—whoever was fastest with a gun.
In spite of her miserable, aching, filthy, tired condition, she’d been ordered to make coffee and a meal for her abductors, who after filling their bellies, started drinking and playing cards. By some miracle, they left her alone after that, probably too worn out to pay her any sexual attention. She knew that couldn’t last, not when she felt their eyes on her constantly and heard their crude remarks. She could only thank God that last night they’d left her alone, but while they used the beds, she was forced to sleep on the wood floor with only two blankets, her wrists tied behind her. She’d used her teeth to pull the blankets over herself and laid awake most of the night, imagining Sage coming for her, but so far today, no help arrived.
She’d hauled wood, hauled water, cooked breakfast on an old iron stove, scrubbed pans and dishes, and cooked a rabbit. Jasper kicked her in the rear more than once when she didn’t move fast enough to suit him. She was not allowed to bathe, and she’d never been so achingly tired on this whole journey as she was now. Her stomach lurched at how filthy and stained the blankets and mattresses were. She was actually glad to have slept on the floor last night.
From what she’d seen, she figured there were at least six men living in the cabin next door, all thieves and murderers, no doubt. Apparently, these cabins were used by any number of men at different times, with blankets and utensils left there for whoever might use them next. And as one would expect of such men, no one cared if anything was washed or organized.
Maggie knew better than to expect any of those next door to have a change of heart and try to rescue her. Jasper had ordered them to stay away from her, told them she was his woman. They probably figured that if Jasper wanted to abuse her that was his business as long as she really belonged to him. A few of them had stared at her curiously, probably wondering if they might be able to trade a couple of horses for her. One man looked as though he was wondering if Jasper was telling the truth. Maggie suspected he at least gave some thought to helping her, but he’d seen Walt Sloan in action and was not about to go up against the man.
Today, Walt and Arny took turns watching the trail to the top, lying in wait for Sage. Maggie felt sick with dread at what would likely happen, if and when Sage did come for her.
No, not “if.”
She must not think that way.
When.
On one hand, she was relieved that their attention and conversation centered around Sage’s arrival rather than on her, but the fact remained Sage would be a sitting duck. Once it was over, if Sage were killed, she would have no reason to live. She’d find a way to kill herself before she allowed these hideous men to have their way with her and then hand her over to the filthy cowards in the next cabin.
Her only hope for Sage was Jasper’s comments that he could “take that sonofabitch down in a fair gunfight any day.” He’d actually commented that rather than pick Sage off on his way up, he might let Sage reach the top and face him squarely. Walt Sloan relished the idea, and the two men argued earlier over which one would have the pleasure of shooting it out with Sage. They decided that whoever won at cards tonight would get to face Sage—and would “win” Maggie. Maggie figured that even if it came to a one-on-one gunfight, it would not likely be “fair” at all. Someone would end up shooting Sage in the back, even if he did beat whomever he faced.
Tonight she slept on the floor again, more fearful of what she dreaded most. Jasper and the others had taken baths earlier, if one considered jumping into a watering trough in their long johns a real bath. They were rested. Walt had even shaved. Their bellies were full, and now, while she lay trying to sleep they played cards… and talked about needing a woman.
“We’ve got one right here,” Walt Sloan said.
Maggie wanted to vomit. Apparently, it didn’t matter that she needed a bath. It didn’t matter that she was tired to the point of collapse, that she was covered with scrapes and bruises and dirt—her hands raw from scrubbing so much wash all day. She was their slave, there to be used however they pleased. It had only been a matter of time… and the time had come.
She lay waiting, like a rabbit hiding in the bushes, trying to decide when to flee, yet knowing that once it tried, it would be caught and killed. Finally, the inevitable happened. Walt Sloan rose and walked to where she lay. He removed his gun belts.
“I won,” he told her. “And since Jasper is out of money, you were the payoff.” He reached down and grabbed her wrist.