The Loner: Inferno

Chapter 26

Elsie’s actions took The Kid completely by surprise. She hadn’t looked or acted like she had any fight left in her at all. As he fell backward, his hands shot out and gripped the sides of the window, stopping his plunge.

She continued her attack, lunging at him, clawing at his eyes with her fingernails. He jerked his head from side to side to avoid being blinded. Planting his feet underneath him, he straightened up, and tackled Elsie. She wailed as her feet came off the floor. The Kid forced her backward, and they fell onto the bed with him on top.

Her struggles intensified and became more frantic. She was certain she was about to be raped. Her mouth opened to scream as she flailed at The Kid with both hands.

He slapped his left hand over her mouth and used his right to trap first one of her wrists and then the other. He levered her arms above her head and pinned them to the bed. She stopped fighting and moaned against his palm.

The Kid put his face close to hers and said in a low, urgent voice, “Elsie! Elsie, listen to me! I’m not going to hurt you! You remember me from the wagon train. You know I’m not going to hurt you.”

She blinked rapidly as she stared up at him. He didn’t see any hope or understanding in her eyes, only fear.

“Elsie, you’re all right now,” he went on, although that wasn’t exactly true. She was still in plenty of danger, just not from him. “I’m going to get you out of here. Do you understand what I’m saying? I’m going to help you and your mother and Jess and Leah. We’re all going to get out of here.”

For the first time, something other than sheer terror was visible in her eyes.

“Listen, I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth, and we’re going to talk, all right? Don’t scream.”

The others wouldn’t think anything of it if they heard screams coming from this room, but The Kid knew he had to calm Elsie down if he was going to be able to talk rationally to her. And if they were going to have even a chance to get away, she needed to understand what he was saying.

She stared up at him for a long moment before finally nodding. He lifted his hand, but held it ready to clap down again over her mouth if she started to let out a yell.

Instead she whispered, “Mr. Morgan? You ... you really want to help me? Not ... not ...”

“Shh. That’s right. I’m going to help you. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Her features crumpled up as she started to cry, sobbing quietly.

The Kid rolled off her and sat up on the edge of the bed. He lifted her and pulled her against him, putting his arm around her shoulders again, but in a kindly, comforting fashion. She buried her face in his shoulder and continued to cry.

He held her for a while, knowing that the stress of the past week couldn’t be let out in a short period of time. But he also knew that he couldn’t sit there all night holding her. He had to get to the other women and get them out of there.

Finally he said, “Listen to me, Elsie. Are you hurt badly?”

She swallowed hard and shook her head. “N-no, I’m all right, I guess. The Indians ... they treated us pretty rough, but except for ... molesting us ... they didn’t really hurt us.”

“Then you can still ride a horse?”

“Yes. If it means getting away from here, I can ride a million miles!”

The Kid smiled. “I don’t think we’ll have to go that far. We need to get back over the border, though. You think the others can all ride?”

“I know my mother and Mrs. Ritter can. I ... I’m not sure about poor Leah. She’s capable of riding, but ... well, she’s not really right in the head anymore.”

“We’ll deal with that when we have to.”

Elsie clutched at his sleeve. “I-I thought when the Indians weren’t holding us prisoner anymore that things might get better. But the men here ... they’re just as bad as the Apaches, aren’t they?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“What are they going to do with us? Are they going to keep us here and ... and—”

“You’re not staying here. You’re going home.”

Instantly, he regretted his choice of words. Elsie didn’t have a home anymore, and other than her mother, she probably didn’t have any family left. She started to cry again.

Even if he was able to get them back to the States, The Kid knew all the women would have a hard time of it. Unfair though it might be, they would be shunned and scorned because they had been raped by the Apaches, and that story would probably follow them anywhere they went in New Mexico Territory.

The answer to that was for them to go somewhere else, somewhere no one would know them or be aware of what had happened to them. Somewhere they could start over. That would take a lot of money.

Luckily, Conrad Browning had a lot of money.

The Kid knew all it would take was one telegram to his lawyers, and the four women would be taken care of. Each could have a new start, and if Leah Gabbert needed care for the rest of her life, Conrad Browning’s wealth could easily pay for that, too.

First things first, he reminded himself. That meant getting out of there.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he told Elsie. Having a plan to think about might distract her from the terrible things that had happened to her. “Jess and one of those other men are next door. I’m going to try to reach the window of that room and get inside. If I can take Kelly by surprise, I can knock him out. Then I’ll figure out some way to deal with the others.”

“They’ll kill you,” she said.

“Not going to let that happen,” he said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He patted her shoulder. “You just sit here and wait for me.”

“I ... I’m not sure I can sit. I’m too nervous for that.”

“Well, come to the window, then. You can help me watch for guards.”

They went to the window. The two halves of it still stood wide open, and a night breeze moved the curtains. The Kid leaned out and looked around.

The room he and Elsie were in was the last one along the corridor, which meant it was on the corner of the building. He could see the main gate and one of the guard towers, which meant the Rurales on duty could see him, too, if they happened to look in his direction.

Their attention was focused outward, though. And they were probably sleepy. The Kid would be running a risk by using those vigas to reach Kelly’s room ... but all of life was a risk, wasn’t it?

He had gotten one break already. Kelly’s window was open. The night was too hot to leave it closed.

The Kid pointed out the window to Elsie and explained what he was going to do.

“Be careful. If anything happens to you—”

“It’s not going to,” he said, hoping that he could keep that promise.

He took off his boots and climbed onto the window sill. When he stood up, he was able to reach the nearest viga. He got a good grip on the rough wooden beam and swung away from the window.

The strain on his arms and shoulders was tremendous, but the rugged life he had led over the past few years had given him a great deal of strength. His muscles contracted to swing his body back and forth, building up momentum. When he judged that he had enough, he let go and reached for the next viga as he sailed through the empty air.

The building had only two stories. If he missed and fell, the drop probably wouldn’t kill him or injure him greatly, but it might ruin his plan. He felt relief shoot through him as his hands slapped down on the beam and fastened to it like iron clamps.

When he was a boy, his mother and stepfather had taken him to a traveling circus performance in Boston. A circus was rather low-class for the wealthy Vivian Browning, but Conrad had wanted to go. Anyway, Vivian had grown up on a ranch in Texas and hadn’t completely forgotten those days. She enjoyed the spectacle of it, too.

Conrad had been especially impressed by the acrobats, and as The Kid swung from beam to beam, he remembered those men in their gaudy costumes. This seemed like something they would do to make audiences cheer.

His performance wasn’t a matter of entertainment, though.

It was life and death.

By the time he reached the beam where he was able to put a toe down and rest it on the window sill, the muscles in his arms, shoulders, and back were burning and throbbing. He worked his other foot onto the sill and took more of the weight off his arms. The Kid perched there for several long moments to recover his strength.

He couldn’t see into the room, but he could tell that the lamp had burned low, giving off only a faint illumination.

He could hear just fine, though, and he didn’t like what he was hearing.

Enrique Kelly said, “You’d better do what I tell you, honey, or you’re going to be sorry.”

“You can go to hell.”

That low, hoarse voice belonged to Jess, and the anger and defiance The Kid heard in it brought a grim smile to his lips for a second.

“I could say the same thing to you,” Kelly responded.

“It wouldn’t do any good,” Jess said. “I’m already there.”

“That’s enough arguing, damn it. Come here, you little—”

A fist thudded against flesh. For a second The Kid thought Kelly had hit Jess, but then Kelly’s grunt of pain told him it was the other way around. Jess wasn’t the sort of woman to slap somebody. She clenched her hand into a fist and whaled away.

“Blast it!” Kelly exclaimed.

Clothes ripped. Another blow sounded, and the soft, involuntary cry of pain came from Jess.

The Kid had waited as long as he was going to wait. He bent down, grasped the sides of the window, and pulled himself through the opening. He caught a glimpse of Kelly struggling with Jess. Kelly had succeeded in ripping the rest of her tattered clothing away from her. The lamplight glowed on her pale, bruised skin.

The Kid launched himself in a flying tackle that took Kelly from behind. His shoulder caught Kelly in the small of the back and knocked him forward onto the bed.

The impact sent Jess flying. The Kid didn’t have time to see if she was all right. He had his hands full with Kelly.

The man was big and strong and obviously an experienced bare knuckles brawler. He had barely landed on the bed when he bucked up away from it, arching his back in an attempt to throw off his attacker.

The Kid got his left arm around Kelly’s neck and hung on. Kelly drove an elbow into his midsection. The blow knocked the breath out of him and he gasped for air, but he didn’t loosen his grip. Kelly managed to heave himself up and topple over backward, which put The Kid on the bottom. His head hit the floor hard when they landed, stunning him.

The Kid grabbed hold of Kelly’s left wrist with his right hand, and didn’t let go. Somehow he found the strength to squeeze harder. He knew he had cut off Kelly’s air, and if he could just manage to hang on, eventually the Irishman would pass out or die.

Kelly tried to fumble his gun from its holster. The Kid brought his knee up sharply and hit Kelly’s wrist. The revolver flew free and slid across the floor.

With a heave, The Kid rolled over and put Kelly underneath him. He planted a knee in Kelly’s back and hauled up harder against the Irishman’s neck. There was a chance he would snap Kelly’s spine, and if he did, it was perfectly all right with The Kid.

Before that could happen, Kelly finally went limp. Thinking that it might be a trick, The Kid kept the pressure on Kelly’s throat for another minute or two. When he let go at last, Kelly’s head fell forward and thudded against the floor.

The Kid checked for a pulse and found a weak, unsteady one in Kelly’s neck. The scalp hunter was still alive, but he was unconscious and likely to stay that way for a while. The Kid thought about killing him—it would take only a few blows with a gun to crush Kelly’s skull—but in the end decided against it. He had killed men in cold blood before, but only some of those responsible for the death of his wife.

He pushed himself up onto hands and knees, then heaved himself to his feet. As he did, he heard an all-too-familiar sound.

The metallic ratcheting of a revolver being cocked.