of dread crept down Percy’s spine.
“Hell, that’s Jesse and Hendershot,” Cyrus grumbled. “I’ve a mind to fire their asses on the spot.”
The two men reined their horses to a stop and before Cyrus could say anything, Jesse looked at Isaac Turner and said, “Injuns kidnapped your oldest girl, Isaac.”
The blood drained from Isaac’s face and his shoulders slumped. “When?”
“’Bout dark, yesterday. Found the tracks of four unshod ponies and they’re headed west.”
“So not reservation Injuns?” Isaac said, his voice barely audible.
“Unless they done circled around, no,” Jesse said.
“How many men you got trackin’ them?” Cyrus asked.
Jesse studied the ground for a moment then looked up at Cyrus and said, “None. Miss Franny told me to ride up here and find ya. The girl had probably been gone for hours fore we found the tracks.” Jesse looked at Amos and said, “Seth ain’t with you?”
“Why would Seth be with us?” Amos asked.
“He rode off after you yesterday mornin’.”
Amos was momentarily taken aback. “Do what?”
“Seth rode out not long after ya’ll rode out. Miss Rachel sent Eli and Win out to fetch him.”
“So he’s back home?” Amos asked.
“No, sir,” Jesse said. “They still ain’t back.”
Not one to dawdle with a bunch of questions, Cyrus Ridgeway was a man of action and he began barking orders. “Eli and Win can handle Seth, maybe. Wilcox, take Amos and Isaac with you to see if you can cut the Indians’ trail. Percy, you, Jesse, and Hendershot head back to the ranch and hitch up the wagon. It’ll slow us down but we’re going to need it. Load on some more ammunition and, Percy, tell your ma to pack enough supplies for a couple of weeks.”
Cyrus gave little thought to consoling his daughter Abigail, nor did Isaac appear to give much thought about consoling his wife. And there was no question about which wagon to hitch up, because they all knew which one Cyrus was referring to.
Cyrus looked at Jesse. “Any idea which band of Injuns took her?”
“Didn’t find no arrows or nuthin’, but I’m bettin’ Comanche since they rode west.” Jesse thought a little longer then said, “Could be Apache, though.”
“Two feathers of the same bird,” Percy mumbled.
“They’re all nasty and mean,” Cyrus added. “Jesse, you and Hendershot trade out for fresh horses.” He glanced at the position of the sun to gauge the time and guessed it was somewhere around ten in the morning. “We’re burnin’ daylight.”
“What are you, Luis, and Arturo goin’ to do?” Percy asked.
“We’re going back to Fort Sill. I’ll report Emma’s kidnappin’ to the army and the Indian agent then we’re goin’ to roust some of them redskins and see if we can maybe find out where their kin is camped. A bunch of the Injuns speak a little Spanish so Arturo or Luis can help with that.” Cyrus paused a moment to mentally calculate the logistics of everything. The wagon was going to slow everything down, but that couldn’t be helped. “Jesse and Clay, I want you two to hang back at the ranch and keep an eye on things. Try to get the rest of them calves branded so we can start a drive up north to the railhead. For the rest of you, we’ll meet in two days where Wildcat Creek feeds into the Pease.”
The men were starting to ride away when Cyrus rethought his strategy. “Wait,” he shouted. “Percy, you rode all over this country when you was rangerin’. You might ought to go with Wilcox, Isaac, and Amos. Each of you grab an extra horse to take along with you.”
“Who’s going to get the wagon?” Percy asked.
Cyrus looked at the two Mexicans he employed. They were good men and would stick to a task until it was done, regardless the circumstances. “Arturo, you and Luis go get the wagon. Jesse and Clay, you help ’em get her hitched up. I’ll ride back to Fort Sill myself.”
“Sí, patrón,” Arturo Hernandez said.
“Make sure you get plenty of ammo,” Cyrus ordered, “and tell Señora Frances to pack some grub.”
“¿Dos semanas?” Arturo asked.
“Sí,” Cyrus replied. “Could be longer, but who the hell knows.” Cyrus, usually a very decisive man, was having trouble wrapping his mind around who needed to go where. He shifted in the saddle, feeling the pressure of time slipping away. The major sticking point was trying to decide the best use of Percy’s skills. And guarding the wagon would be paramount. “Scratch that. Percy, you go with Arturo and Luis to get the wagon. Tie on a couple of water barrels, too. I got a feelin’ we’re headed into dry country.”
“Okay,” Percy said, an exasperated tone in his voice. “We set now?”
“We’re set,” Cyrus said. “See ya’ll in two days.”
The men separated and rode off in three different directions. Percy and his crew rode hard toward the ranch, arriving early in the afternoon, after changing horses several times during the ride. The men stripped their saddles from the worn-out horses and Percy asked Hendershot and Jesse to round up the wagon team and some fresh mounts. As they dispersed to saddle fresh horses, Percy headed toward his mother’s house to ask her to pack up some grub. On the way, Abby and Rachel came outside to meet him and fell in step beside him. Abby looked as if she hadn’t slept a wink since Emma had disappeared.
“Where’s everybody else?” Rachel asked.
“Most went west to see if they could cut the Indians’ trail. Pa rode back to Fort Sill to report Emma’s kidnappin’ and to see if he could dig up some information about who might have taken her.”
“What are you doin’, Percy?” Abby asked. “You’re going out to help find her, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I came to get some supplies and to grab the wagon.”
“What wagon?” Rachel asked, then she answered her own question. “Oh, that wagon.”
“Yes, that wagon,” Percy said. He looked ahead to see his mother stepping down off the back porch of the main house.
“How long are you goin’ to be gone?” Rachel asked.
Percy shrugged. “Pa’s planning on a couple of weeks.”
Abby reached out her hand and pulled her brother to a stop. “I want to know what you think, Percy. You’ve ridden out to that part of the country.”
Percy really didn’t have time for all these questions, especially when he didn’t have any answers his sister would want to hear. He knew how difficult the task ahead of them was. The area they were heading into was a sea of nothingness that stretched for hundreds of miles in all directions. Looking for a single band of Indians was going to be like looking for a single needle in a barn full of
