Strongheart (25 page)

He made camp among rocks on the far side of Razor Ridge, and during the day he hid among rocks on the town side, the eastern side, and watched Annabelle's house and café with his spyglass as much as he could. There were plenty of hardwoods near the river, but spring buds had not come out yet—too early—so Harlance was able to see some of the comings and goings.

Harlance might have been crazy, and he might have possessed the naïveté of the criminal mind, but he was not stupid. As he watched Annabelle, he was looking for a pattern or a weakness. He also wanted to see how long Joshua would stay away from her when he left her house. Maybe if there was some kind of pattern he could figure out, he could set up a proper ambush to kidnap her.

He would see her go to the café at different times and return at different times during the day. Joshua seemed to be healing and was splitting firewood all the time, doing work in the yard and in her garden. The two would occasionally ride together.

Harlance wanted to be patient, as he did not want to try to tangle with Joshua straight-up. The man had already proven too dangerous, although what Harlance did not realize was that Strongheart didn't really care about him now. He had gotten the ring back.

But Joshua also knew human nature, and he knew that Harlance would be recognized often now and referred to as a coward, as he had organized a gunfight and run out on it in the beginning. Especially on the owlhoot trail, McMahon would be spoken about behind his back in hushed tones. He would be regarded as a joke by his own peers, criminals. And if that didn't drive him over the cliff mentally, Harlance was also still desperately fearing for his life, that Strongheart was still going to hunt him down and kill him. He just could not conceive that Strongheart was no longer a threat to him.

Although Harlance wanted to be careful, on the other hand he wanted to strike before Strongheart was fully recovered.

Now he got an unexpected surprise. He saw Strongheart with his horse saddled up and full saddlebags. Judging from the body language of the pair as she walked outside and handed him his rifle and a bag of something, it seemed he might be moving out of her house.

Annabelle had spent most of the day at the café, and Joshua had ridden Gabe to the Hot Springs Hotel and rented a room. When she arrived home, he waited until she freshened up, and then he swept her into his arms. Faces inches apart, they stared into each other's eyes for a long time. Their lips parted and came together and kissed slowly, as if both wanted to savor every second of their kiss, of their embrace. When they finally stepped back, she had tears running down her cheeks, as she knew what he was going to say.

She smiled bravely, joking, “I thought Indians did not know much about kissing.”

He grinned and replied, “My stepfather taught me to be a gentleman, and my mother told me over and over that real women want a real man, and they want romance.”

She smiled, “They taught you well.”

He smiled.

Joshua said, “I rented a room at the Hot Springs Hotel. I have to move.”

“Why?” she asked.

“You know why,” he said softly.

She looked down and then lifted her chin, saying, “Yes, I know why.”

He had made coffee, and she poured each of them a cup. She handed his to him and gave him a soft kiss at the same time.

They drank, and she said, “Joshua, I want you to understand something. I have thought about this a lot. I loved my husband very much, Joshua, and I was true to him. However, he is gone now and I was raised to always survive. And I have already wrestled with my thoughts and emotions. I know that there is part of you, half of you actually, that is Sioux, which I may not always understand, but I am willing to. I also have thought about this without my emotions. I mean analyzing our situation. I truly and deeply love you, and Joshua, I can honestly say I love you even more than I loved my husband. He was a wonderful man and he was all man, but you are even more so.”

He sighed.

She went on, “I know that life with you would sometimes be difficult because you are half-red and I am white. Only because some people are ignorant. But it is important to me that you understand, I know for certain I love you with all my heart. I also respect you and am willing to wait until you feel totally good about this.”

He set both of their cups on the table and pulled her into his arms, and they kissed long and hard.

“I have to leave, or I never will,” he said. “May I take you to dinner tomorrow?”

“Oh yes, I would love that,” she said.

He said, “I will be here with my horse to pick you up at six o'clock.”

He walked to the door and turned, smiling. Using his right hand, he brought his thumb toward his chest and touched himself with it. He then crossed his arms at the wrists, with the left wrist on top of the right and the backs of his hands toward her, fists closed. With the right hand actually touching his breast over his heart on the left side, he struck himself with some power in the chest, and then pointed at her with the index finger of his right hand.

Before she could ask, he said, “That is Indian sign language. Since most nations have totally different languages, for many years we have spoken to each other in sign language. All the tribes and nations use the same sign language. I just told you, ‘I love you.' With the power that I struck my heart with I told you how strong that love is. If I would have just touched my chest with my fists, that would have meant that I am fond of you.”

He pulled his shirt out of his jeans and said, “How deeply do I love you, Annabelle?”

He raised his shirt, and there was a big, angry red spot on his heart where he had struck his chest. He tucked his shirt back in.

Smiling and opening the door, Strongheart said, “You make my chest red.”

He walked to his horse.

She followed him out, smiling broadly, eyes glistening, feeling giddy like a schoolgirl. She handed him his Winchester and the oilskin bag that contained the rest of his belongings.

This was the action watched by Harlance through his spyglass from Razor Ridge.

He was safe in his hideout, but little did he or anybody else know that in just over thirty years' time, a little after the turn of the century, prison labor would build a single lane road that would run the length of the ridge, and it would become a major tourist attraction for decades, named Skyline Drive.

Now Harlance watched Strongheart as he rode to the hotel, and he could even see him unsaddling his horse and putting him in a stall at the hotel stable. He knew that the time to strike would be now.

With the woman as a hostage, he would be at a considerable advantage over Strongheart because of the harm he could do to her. He also had been an outlaw in this area for years, and he knew the Big Hole country, the Little Hole country, the Nesterville and Cotopaxi area, North Park, Red Canyon, Grape Creek Canyon, Lookout Mountain, the Grand Canyon of the Arkansas, the entire Arkansas drainage, Phantom Canyon, Beaver Creek Canyon, Garden Park, and everything in between and all around. Basically, as a somewhat successful outlaw, Harlance McMahon knew every nook and cranny in the very large county, which was part prairie and mainly mountain.

He figured that he had not been able to ambush Strongheart successfully with Big Scars Cullen because he did not have an edge like he would with the beautiful woman. But he began to worry now, because Strongheart had been living with Annabelle and now had moved out. Again, he saw things like a criminal and did not understand the kind of principled thinking that came from people such as Strongheart. He saw ulterior motives in every situation, because that was his own mind-set always. He assumed that Strongheart had been sleeping with Annabelle all along, and he wondered if they had now had a falling out. If so, would Strongheart come to save her? he wondered. Again, with his thinking, Harlance would not even consider that Strongheart had moved out to protect her reputation, that they had not been intimate and that he was doing this out of love and common sense as opposed to any selfish reasons.

Joshua enjoyed soaking in the hot springs, and like others he felt that the mineral spring-fed hot water had medicinal advantages for those soaking there. Whether it did or did not, it felt good on his now healing body. There was still soreness, especially from the hard work that he had been doing. He would work hard again the next day and get his clothes washed and make preparations for a romantic dinner. His mind was already working on that.

From the time he was a young boy, Joshua had heard stories about his biological father and how much he and Joshua's mother had loved each other. The other thing that stuck in his mind was his father's total unselfishness in not marrying her. Those days were well over two decades earlier, even well before the War Between the States. Joshua knew his father was correct in assuming that many people would treat him and Joshua's ma horribly because of racism, not just in the white community but among the Lakota as well. He still ran into many problems in the white man's world. Trouble was brewing with the Lakota and their allies, such as the Cheyenne and the Arapaho. In just less than three years' time, Civil War hero and presidential hopeful Lieutenant Colonel George Armstrong Custer and his entire battalion would be killed at the Battle of the Little Bighorn, which would be known by many whites as Custer's Last Stand, but by the Lakota as the Battle of the Greasy Grass.

Joshua had always wanted that great love like his father had with his mother, but he also would remember his father's selfless act, which he respected and admired so much. He knew that there was always a chance for a good life anyway, even with love lost. The Pinkerton was reminded that Dan had maybe been more distant and a stern taskmaster, but he'd done every action out of love and concern for Joshua and a desire to make the young half-breed tough for a tough, ofttimes unforgiving world.

Joshua had sent Lucky a telegraph earlier and let him know he was well on the mend and had rented a room at the hotel where they had both stayed.

Zack Banta knew he was fine simply because Banta knew everything that was going on in southern Colorado almost before it happened.

Harlance made his way down the switchback trail on the east side of Razor Ridge. At the bottom were smaller hogbacks and dirt mounds, and he would use these for cover as he worked his way closer to the house. He would wait until dark to actually get close enough to carry out his kidnapping plan. He moved as near as he dared go to the territorial prison, which was at the far south end of the ridge on the eastern side. Harlance waited with his horse behind the last large dirt mound.

The sun had been well hidden by the mountains as he came down, and the sky was now dark. He mounted his horse and, avoiding houses, rode toward hers a half mile distant. Arriving, Harlance tied his horse to a corner post of the corral behind her barn and grabbed his Henry repeater. He then went into the corral, caught her horse, and slipped on its bridle and saddled it. When he was finished, he left his horse and led hers to the front of the house. He tied the horse to a tree in the front yard and went up next to the small porch.

Harlance figured that if she saw her horse was saddled, she might think it a surprise by Joshua or a friend and would be curious enough to come out of the house. He correctly assumed she would not dream that anyone would saddle her horse and tie it there if they were up to no good. It just would not make sense.

On the other hand, the outlaw figured that she would remain in the house or bring a gun if he knocked or did anything else more obvious to try to get her to come outside.

Unfortunately for Annabelle, he assumed correctly. He used a long stick to tap on her window and backed away into the shadows, gun at the ready. Annabelle was stitching on a dress, getting ready for her date tomorrow. She was so excited just thinking about it. She could not believe she had actually kissed Joshua, and she loved his words about his mother teaching him that women want romance. She wondered what he would do for their date, but she was certain it would be romantic.

It was right at that wonderful fantasy moment that there was a tap on the window. She looked out and saw her horse tied out front, saddled, and ready to ride. Annabelle smiled, thinking Joshua had planned an evening ride for them. She put on her boots and a warm coat in preparation for the late winter night air. She grabbed her gloves and walked out the door and up to her horse, looking left and right for the man she loved. There was a click as Harlance cocked his Henry and stepped from the shadows.

“Ya say one word above a whisper,” he said quietly, “and I'll shoot ya where ya stand, git back on mah horse, and ride off inta the darkness. Ya understand, little lady?”

Her heart sank. Annabelle wanted to scream, but she believed him that he would shoot. Her mind flashed from one scenario to the next. She wished Joshua would appear, but she knew better. It was night. They had a date tomorrow night. He would not appear now.

Harlance said, “Climb inta the saddle.”

Then she got a plan. She stepped toward her horse and pretended to stumble, falling to her knees. She set her two leather gloves down side by side and pulled several fingers toward each other, forming the letter H on her pathway. She got up and brushed her dress at the knees. Using her body as a shield, she kept Harlance from seeing the H in the dark. She climbed into her saddle, placing her dress over both sides of it. She decided then that she would tear strips from her petticoat and drop them along their trail.

But Harlance walked up to her and tied her hands to the saddle horn with a cotton piggin string, normally used to tie calves' legs together for branding. He grabbed her reins and led her to the corral. Once there, he secured a long lead line and attached it under her horse's bridle and mounted up himself. He led her off into the night, avoiding houses as best as he could. He led her up over the hogbacks and Razor Ridge, to the road to Eight Mile Hill, which would parallel the Grand Canyon of the Arkansas and bring him back to the river at Parkdale. This was the same road the stage had taken when Joshua first met Annabelle. She and Harlance now rode well into the night, crossed the bridge over the whitewater at Parkdale, and headed out Copper Gulch Stage Road. He took her to the first gulch off the stage road and made camp for the night, tying her to a tree.