“Nate!” Marilou screamed as her brother fell to the floor. She dropped to her knees beside him and put her hands on his face, trying desperately to deny what she was seeing.
“Murderers!” Nate’s mother yelled. She tried to stand up, but the pale-faced one shoved her back down in her chair, then cut a nick in her face with the tip of his knife. A bright red stream of blood began flowing from the gash.
“Leave her alone!” the father shouted, but his shout was cut off by a blow to the back of his head as the red-haired man brought his gun down sharply.
“What do you want?” Marilou asked. “What are you doing here?”
“What do we want? What does anyone want?” Shardeen asked. “We want money.”
“Money? Are you crazy?” the mother replied. “We don’t have any. We barely make a living from this place.”
Shardeen looked pointedly at Marilou. “Are you a virgin?” he asked.
“What?” Marilou asked, gasping at the impertinence of such a question.
“It’s a simple question, girly. Are you a virgin? Have you ever been with a man?”
“That’s . . . that’s none of your business,” Marilou replied.
“Oh, but it is my business. Now I figure your little sister here is a virgin, for sure,” Shardeen said, looking at Brenda. “Seems to me she’s too young to be anything else.” He looked back at Marilou. “But you’re a little older. For all I know, you may of already spread your legs a few times.”
“Why . . . why are you concerned, one way or the other?” the girl’s mother asked.
Shardeen smiled. “Well, since you asked, there are people in Mexico who are willing to pay a lot of money for Anglo women,” he said. “And if they’re virgins, why, they’ll pay even more.”
“You . . . would do such a thing? You would sell young girls to, to people like that?” the mother asked.
“Not just young girls,” Shardeen said, putting his hand on the woman’s chin and lifting it so he could study her more closely. “Any woman. You’ll do, too. I know you’re no virgin, but I reckon we’ll get enough for you to make it worth our while to take you with us.”
“I’m not going with you, and neither are my daughters,” the woman said resolutely.
“That’s all right by me, lady. If you don’t want to go with us, then I don’t see no reason for keeping you alive,” Shardeen said He cocked his pistol and aimed it at the mother.
“No!” Marilou shouted. “Don’t shoot her! She’ll go with you! We’ll all go with you!”
“Well, now, that’s more like it,” Shardeen said. He looked over at the other two men with him. “Whitey, you and Red go out to the barn and saddle three horses. Pick out the best ones you can find. Once we get rid of the women, the horses will belong to us.”
The albino started toward the door but the stocky one with red hair hung back. Red grabbed himself unabashedly. “Hey, Shardeen, can we have us a little fun with ’em before we sell ’em to the Mexicans?”
“No. We get a hundred dollars more if they are virgins,” he said. “I don’t aim to give up two hundred dollars just ’cause you can’t keep your pecker in your pants. If you want to do somethin’, do it with the old woman.”
“All right, don’t make no never mind to me which one I do it with, anyhow. Just as long as I get to do it,” Red replied.
“We ain’t got the time till we’re down in Mexico. Now get out to the barn and help Whitey with them mounts.”
Word of what happened out at the Kincaid Ranch reached town by noon. A neighbor who stopped by discovered the bodies of Hiram Kincaid and his son, Nate. There was no sign of Mrs. Kincaid or the girls.
The sheriff called for a posse and when thirty angry men rode out at about two o’clock that afternoon, it was all Jim, Frank, Barry, Tennessee, Chad, Ken, and Gene could do to keep from going with them.
“You know they aren’t going to find anything,” Jim told the others, as they stood in front of the saloon and watched the party leave. “They’re angry and frustrated and need to do this just to have something to do. But whoever did this is long gone by now.”
“I reckon you’re right,” Barry said. “But if it weren’t for the money we already took to do the job, I’d be out there ridin’ with them, even though they ain’t going to find anybody or anything.”
“Let’s go have another beer,” Tennessee suggested.
When the boys returned to the saloon, they found it nearly empty. Only Jensen, the gambler, had not ridden out with the posse, and he was sitting at a table at the back of the room, dealing hands of poker to himself. Seeing someone come in, Jensen looked up in anticipation of a game, but the smile left his face when he saw that Jim Robison and Frank Ford were with Barry and Tennessee.
Clay Allison arrived about an hour later. He recognized Jim and Frank, and started toward their table with Hector Ortega right behind him.
“Barkeep,” Clay called, “bring me a beer, and bring my amigo a tequila.”
“I don’t have any tequila,” Ned said. “If you want something to drink, go to a cantina. That’s where the Mexes go,” he added, looking pointedly at Ortega. “There’s two or three of ’em in town.”
“This ‘Mex’ is staying with us. Bring him a beer, too.”
Ned hesitated for a moment, obviously not too pleased with serving a Mexican.
“Boys, this is Clay Allison,” Jim said, introducing Clay to the others.
When he mentioned Clay Allison’s name, Ned gulped, and his eyes grew wide. He was galvanized into action. He quickly drew two beers, then brought them over to the table.
“Why didn’t you say you was with Mr. Allison here? Of course, anyone who is with Mr. Allison is welcome at the Border Oasis anytime, be he Mex or American,” the bartender said.
“Where is everyone?” Clay asked, looking around the saloon. “Don’t normally see watering holes this quiet, even in the middle of the day.”
“Someone murdered a man and his young son at their ranch near here,” Jim said. “Nearly the entire town has formed a posse to go after whoever did it.”
“Must’ve been a might popular man to have a posse that large after his killers,” Clay said.
“Yeah, well it’s not just the murders. The man’s wife and daughters are missing, too. The sheriff figures whoever killed the men took the women. Though where he took them, don’t nobody have any idea.”
“He took them to Mexico,” Ortega said in a matter-of-fact manner. He took a swallow of his beer.
“How do you know?”
“The banditos,” Ortega said. “They will pay gold for Anglo women.”
“So what you are saying is, the women are probably still alive?” Chad asked.
“Sí,” Ortega answered. “But it would be better for them if they were not, I think.”
Chapter 9
Shardeen, Red, and Whitey were riding hard to the south, down into Old Mexico. Even though Shardeen didn’t figure anyone would be following them, he intended to make a wide swing, throwing off anyone who might be tracking them. He looked over at his three captives—the two young girls and their mother. Even though they were mounted on their own horses, there was little chance of their getting away, as the horses were being led and the captives themselves were tied and gagged. They weren’t blindfolded, though, and Shardeen enjoyed seeing the terror that was plain on their faces.
Shardeen had given strict orders that neither of the two girls was to be touched because he wanted the extra money they would bring, but he had placed no such restriction on Katie Kincaid, the girls’ mother. Because of her age, her value would not be diminished by anything they did.