Wife Hunt · Part 1

Wife Hunt · Part 1 (1/2)
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Sheriff Pierre 'Pete' Lebrun joined the dozen or so people standing on the platform of the train station in San Juan, New Mexico Territory, waiting for the arrival of the northbound 'noon' train. It was the middle of July, 1889, and it was hot, even here in the highlands of the northern part of the Territory. Train movements provided most of the 'excitement' during the daytime. There wasn't much else happening.

That changed when a very pretty young woman riding a bay mare rode up to the livery stable across the street from the station. She was wearing a brown long-sleeved shirt and a white hat over her light-brown hair. Black boots were visible below her calf-length gray split-skirt. The split let her ride astride, and most ranch women dressed this way.

Her horse was played out, so it was obvious she had ridden far and fast. She took the horse into the livery stable and then crossed the dusty street to the train station and bought a ticket.

Sheriff Lebrun recognized her. She was Jane Jones, the recent bride of Frank Jones, the richest man in the county. The sheriff, along with most of the people in town, disapproved of the marriage because it was such a mismatch. Frank Jones was in his fifties, almost sixty, about three times Jane's age. And everyone knew it wasn't a love match.

The train pulled into the station, but before Jane could board it three men rode up. Two were just cowhands, but the other was Frank Jones himself. When Jane saw him she screamed and ran up to the sheriff.

She pleaded, “Please, please, don't let him take me back. He tortures me.”

This surprised the sheriff. He hadn't heard of any marital trouble, and in a small town gossip travels fast. But Jane hadn't been in town since her marriage, not even for church, so this might be something new.

He looked closely at Jane but he didn't see any marks. No black eye, no split lip, and if she'd been whipped it didn't affect her movements. Frank might have been hitting Jane where it didn't show, but he couldn't know that.

Frank walked over to Jane and the sheriff, who asked, “What's going on, Frank? Jane said you hurt her and she don't want to go back to your ranch.”

Frank replied, “I've never hit her, Sheriff. This is just a minor quarrel. My wife wanted to go to Denver to visit her kinfolk. I said now wasn't a good time, maybe next month. She got angry and said she'd go whether I liked it or not. All I want is for us to go back to the ranch now and talk this out.”

That seemed reasonable to the sheriff, but Jane's agitation increased. She knelt in front of him and begged, “Don't let him have me! I'm begging you!” Jane was crying now, deep shuddering sobs. Tears streamed from her pleading blue eyes.

The sheriff felt sorry for her, but he decided there was nothing he could do. Frank was her husband and he had the final say, and without hard evidence of life-threatening abuse he couldn't come between a husband and his wife.

Frank took hold of Jane's arms, pulled her to her feet, and dragged her over to the horses. He took some thin rope out of his pocket and tied Jane's hands behind her back. She was struggling, but Frank tied her without any difficulty. He lifted her onto a horse and they rode off.

*** Two weeks later ***

Sheriff Lebrun lounged in front of his office, leaning back in his chair. He sat up abruptly as he noticed a familiar figure riding a lathered horse.

He stood and shouted, “Hey Blake! Come and talk a while.”

Blake replied, “Hello, Pete. I'll do that.” He stopped and dismounted, tying the reins to the hitching post and removing a Winchester rifle from its saddle holster.

Blake was a big man, over six feet tall. He had a full beard, black with streaks of gray. His face was dark-tanned where it wasn't covered by his beard or hat. He was wearing dusty black pants and a dusty and sweat-stained blue shirt. His black boots were scuffed and his black hat was creased. He had obviously been traveling for some time. The Colt.45 in his holster was clean.

The men shook hands. Blake said, “Good to see you, Pete. I'm glad you ain't got yourself killed yet.”

“Same to you. Where you been?”

“I was down south, around Las Cruces. I was after some hombres wanted in El Paso.”

“Did you get 'em?” Pete asked.

“Yeah, but it was hardly worth it. They was just petty outlaws, and the rewards offered were small. I barely cleared a hundred bucks. You got anything here? I need some money.”

Pete chuckled, “I got something just today. Come inside, and I'll show you.”

The men entered the office and Pete rummaged in a drawer in his battered desk. He found two pieces of paper and handed one to Blake. “Look at this. Not something you see every day.”

The paper was a 'wanted' poster. Blake read the poster, then read it again. “You're right, that's not something you see every day.”

WANTED for Theft

Jane Jones

$1000 Reward will be paid to anyone who delivers her

UNHARMED to the Buzzard City jail

Description

Age 20

Height 5' 4''

Blue eyes

Light brown hair

Purple birthmark on left forearm

Blake whistled. “That's a hell of a lot of money. What did this Jane do, clean out the U. S. Mint?”

Pete laughed. “It's a bit more complicated than that. This all started about two weeks ago. I was at the station waiting for the train to arrive when Jane rode up. She bought a train ticket, but before she could board her husband Frank Jones appeared. Jane was scared of him, and she even begged me on her knees to stop him from taking her. It was embarrassing, but I couldn't do nothing ”

Blake agreed. “If she's his wife she has to do what he tells her to, and he has the right to beat her, as long as he don't kill her or bust her up.”

Pete nodded. “Yeah, that's true. Frank dragged her off, tied her up, and threw her on a horse. When they rode off she was crying and screaming. It was hard to watch.”

“If this Frank Jones is such an SOB why'd she marry him?” Blake asked.

“She weren't given much of a choice. It was more like a slave sale than a marriage. Her pa liked to gamble, and he owed a lot of money to some hard men. Frank said he would pay them off in return for marriage to Jane. Her pa begged her to marry Frank and said that he would be killed for sure without the money. Jane, the dutiful daughter, agreed to do it.

“The irony is that her pa died from a heart attack a week after the marriage. If he'd died a week before it none of this would have happened.”

Blake said, “That's an interesting story, but what's it got to do with the wanted poster and the big reward?”

“About a week ago Jane ran off again, and Frank really wants her back. Nobody knows where she is. She's got kin in Denver, but she couldn't take a train, because after the first time she ran off Frank paid every stationmaster and ticket clerk between Santa Fe and Pueblo to look for her and notify him if they spotted her. He also paid the conductors so they would watch for her if she did get on a train.

“She's probably up in the mountains someplace. Hell, she could be dead by now, but I don't think that's likely. Jane's been taking care of herself since her ma died, six or seven years ago. Her pa was a brakeman on the Santa Fe, so he weren't home much, and when he was he never had any money.”

“But what about the theft charge?” Blake asked.

“Frank told a county judge that Jane had stolen money and a horse from him when she left and he wanted her arrested for theft. The judge issued the warrant, likely in return for a bribe. That was a smart move by Frank. Now any law man, hell, any citizen, has a valid reason to arrest Jane.

“Also, a lot of people feel sorry for Jane. If she's an abused wife fleeing a brutal husband they might not say anything if they saw her, but if she's a criminal on the run from the law they'd be more likely to turn her in.”

Pete handed another paper to Blake. “Here's a copy of the warrant.”

Blake said, “Yeah, Frank's smart all right. He put up the reward money, didn't he? Is he good for it?”

Pete replied, “Yeah, he did and he is. Frank's got a lot of money. He invested in a mine near Silverton and he struck it rich. He's not cheap, either. He pays his hands more than the going wage, and he pays for what he buys with cash. He likes to show off his wealth, and welching on the reward would be bad for his reputation.”

“Why didn't he say on the wanted poster that he was offering the reward?” Blake asked. “What's this Buzzard City shit all about? And where is it? I never heard of it before.”

Pete replied, “I dunno for sure why he ain't on the poster. Most likely he wants to reinforce the notion that Jane's a fugitive criminal, not a runaway wife.

“Buzzard City was a boomtown once, but when the Buzzard mine played out most people left. It's not that far from here, and it's easy to find once you know where to turn off the main road. It's at the end of a dead-end road, so it's unlikely you'd go there by chance.

“Now it's almost a ghost town. The only businesses left are a couple of saloons and a general store. But it's useful for Frank. It's the nearest settlement to his ranch house, and it's still legally a town. Frank's the 'mayor' and he hired a 'town marshal', mainly to keep the drunks off the street. And the jail's still usable, so it'd be a handy place to keep Jane until he could get her back to his ranch.”

Pete stood up. “Enough of this chatter. Let's go to my place. Marie will be glad to see you, and it's almost time for dinner.”

The next morning Pete and Blake were sitting at the breakfast table. Pete asked, “Well, you gonna go after Jane? She's got a big head start.”

“I haven't decided yet. Tell me more about her.”

Pete replied, “She can take care of herself. She had too, her pa never had a spare nickel. After her ma died she got a job at the Congress Hotel, first in the kitchen, then as a maid. Over time she learned all there was to know about running a hotel. She lived in the hotel so she was always there, ready to handle anything that came up. Brogan, the owner, shit a brick when she quit to get married. She was really the hotel manager, without the title.

”I know a lot about her because she and Marie are friends from church. The argument with her pa happened in the hotel lobby, so everybody in town knows why she married Frank.”

“Is that all she did at the hotel?” Blake asked.

“Yeah, the Congress is respectable. Brogan don't let any whores into the place, and he don't rent to any single women. Anyway, Jane never had a man. A lot of men tried it on with her, but she turned 'em all down. Course, most of 'em were just broke cowboys.”

“Is she used to being in the woods?”

Pete answered, “Yeah, she liked to camp in the mountains if she ever got a few days off. In the fall she'd go hunting, and she'd always come back with a deer or an elk.”

Blake was quiet as he pondered what he should do. Finally he said, “I'm going after her. It's a longshot, but I don't have nothing else to do, and that's a lot of money. Let me see that map.”

Pete spread out the map and Blake bent over it. After a while he spoke. “I figure she'll head for Denver, if she's got kin there. She can't take a train until she's north of Pueblo, and she'll want to stay out of sight, so I figure she'll stay in the mountains. There are several trails she could take, so I'm just gonna to have to take a guess. Of course, if she's used to being in the woods and she's a good hunter she could just camp somewhere and live off the land until the search dies down.”

Blake sighed, “Like I said, it's a longshot. I figure she'll travel slow and careful, so it's likely she's still in New Mexico. I'm gonna take a train north to the border and then head back down south.”

Blake shook hands with Pete. “Thanks for the food and the bed. Marie's a fine cook, give her my thanks. If I hustle I can catch the morning train. Wish me luck.”

Three weeks later Blake knew he was out of luck. He had detected no sign of Jane. Once he left the road he hadn't seen many other people, just a few cowboys and a prospector, and none of them had seen her either.

Before he left town he had stocked up on beans, bacon, flour, and coffee, but now he was almost out. If he didn't start back to civilization soon he'd be hungry before he got there.

It was just after dawn. Blake climbed out of his bedroll and stretched. “Oh, well,” he thought. “I knew it was a longshot. Time to go.” He had slept in his clothes and boots, so all he had to do was strap on his gun-belt, pick up his.45 from his bedroll, and put it in his holster.

Blake had made camp about 50 yards from a small stream which was flowing in a shallow ravine. His camp was surrounded by head-high brush and some pine trees so it wasn't visible from a distance. His hobbled horse was grazing about 50 feet from the camp, and he had taken a few steps toward it when he heard a gunshot. It was close, and it came from the direction of the stream.

Blake instinctively ducked, then realized he was completely screened by the brush and trees so the shot couldn't have been aimed at him. He walked in the direction the shot had come from, and when got close to the stream he crawled to the start of the ravine and peered over the edge.

He didn't see anybody, but there were fresh hoofprints beside the stream and going up the gentle slope on the other side. Blake watched intently for about ten minutes, then he ran down the slope, splashed through the stream, and climbed up the opposite slope.

Once across, he crouched behind a bush and listened carefully, but there weren't any unusual sounds. Satisfied that no one had seen him, he slowly followed the hoofprints, using the brush and trees as cover.

A hundred yards or so later he came to the edge of a small clearing. About thirty feet away there was a large pine tree with a small deer carcass suspended from a low branch. A woman was using a small knife to dress out the deer.

The woman's back was toward him. She had light brown hair and she was the right height. Her sleeves were rolled up and Blake could see a dark spot on her left arm.

He thought “That's Jane all right. Now how do I capture her without anybody getting hurt? This ain't a good place to attempt it.”

Jane wasn't carrying a pistol, but a Winchester rifle was leaning against the tree. Blake thought, “Pointing a gun at her is a bad idea. I can't shoot her, and if she calls my bluff she can certainly shoot me. She'll be busy here for a while. I've got time to set up an ambush.”

Blake returned to his campsite and packed up his gear. He collected and saddled his horse, but he didn't mount it. He walked upstream, the direction the hoofprints had come from. He was careful to stay back so he wasn't visible from the stream, but every fifty yards or so he tethered his horse and crept toward it until he could see the other bank. Eventually he found Jane's campsite, which was on the other side of the stream.

It was located where the edge of the ravine receded from the stream, forming a wide sandy area. Some pine trees grew on the shallow slope that formed the side of the ravine and they shaded a lean-to shelter made of thin branches covered by a tarp. There was a stone fire ring and a horizontal drying rack made from small peeled branches. A cast-iron pot was suspended over the fire pit, supported by a tripod made from branches. A pile of firewood was stacked near the fire pit.

Blake went back to his horse and rode upstream a few hundred yards before he crossed the stream. He dismounted and tethered his horse away from the stream and screened from it by brush and trees.

He took handcuffs and a short chain out of a saddlebag. The cuffs were Darby style, but they were adjustable and snapped closed. He had recently bought them in Santa Fe, and this would be the first time he used them. He put the cuffs and the key in a back pocket.

The medium-weight chain was old and rusty. It was about five feet long and had a three-inch iron ring on one end and a two-inch ring on the other end. He put it in his other back pocket, cramming it in so it wouldn't jingle.

Thus equipped, he walked toward Jane's camp. He had a lot of experience with this type of activity, and he made no noise or disturbance as he walked slowly through the brush and trees.

Once he reached Jane's camp he found a place at the top of the bank that gave him a clear view of the entire campsite but was hidden from it by some bushes. He stretched out on the ground, made himself as comfortable as possible, and waited.

After a while Jane rode into the campsite and dismounted. She put a bundle of meat wrapped in the deerskin onto a flat rock near the drying rack. She took the saddle and bridle off of her horse, which started to graze on a patch of grass near the stream.

She carried the saddle to the lean-to shelter and set it on the ground. Blake was happy to see that the rifle was back in the saddle holster. He was surprised when Jane took off her shirt, revealing a white bandeau that covered her breasts.

She went to where she had placed the meat, took a small knife from a sheath on her belt, and commenced cutting the meat into thin strips, which she placed on the drying rack.

“Making jerky,” Blake thought. “She's really skilled. She could live out here until winter. My good luck is back. If she hadn't shot that deer I never would have found her.”

When Jane finished making the jerky she went to the stream and washed the blood off her arms. Her back was to Blake and he knew that now was the time to grab her. He leaped out of his hiding place and ran toward Jane.

Jane heard his footsteps and turned around. She was startled by his presence and glanced at her horse, then turned and dashed for her rifle, but it was too late. Blake tackled her from behind and they sprawled in the sand. Jane was face down with Blake on top of her.

Jane struggled, but it was hopeless. Blake outweighed her by a hundred pounds and she had left her knife with the meat. Blake was sitting on Jane's butt with his legs outside her hips. He pulled Jane's left arm behind her back and snapped a cuff on it. She resumed struggling, so Blake twisted her arm and she yelped.

“Put your right hand behind your back,” he commanded. “I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”

He reinforced this with another twist of her arm. Jane realized she was caught and let Blake cuff her right wrist.

Blake examined the cuffs and was pleased to see that the smallest position was perfect. It was tight enough that she couldn't possibly slip her hand out, but it didn't put any pressure on her wrist.

Blake stood up, pulled Jane to her feet, and turned her so they were face-to-face. Jane's bandeau had been dislodged during the struggle and her right breast was bare.

“What's the meaning of this?” she demanded. “Why have you attacked me?”

“I didn't attack you, Jane. I arrested you.”

Jane was dismayed when Blake called her by name, but she hid it and continued her bluff. “My name is Enid Brown, not Jane. And I have committed no crime!”

Blake smiled. “Nice try, Jane.” He took the wanted poster out of his shirt pocket and showed it to her. “You match this description perfectly, especially that mark on your arm.”

Jane didn't try to hide her reaction to the poster. “Wh, wh, where did you get that?” she stammered.

“I got it from the sheriff, but they're posted all over.”

“But it's a lie!” Jane protested. “I didn't steal anything.”

“Don't matter. Your husband said you stole a horse and some money, and he bribed a judge to issue a warrant.”

“But it's my horse! I did take some money, but just enough to pay for supplies and a train ticket. Frank owed me that much.”

Blake shrugged. “Like I said, it don't matter. Once your husband gets you back the warrant will go away.”

Jane blanched. “No, no!” she cried. “I'd rather go to prison than go back to him!”

Jane grabbed the back of her bandeau and pulled it off her left breast. “Don't take me back to Frank,” she begged. “I'll do anything you want. Anything! I'll be your slave for as long as you want if you don't take me back.”

Blake covered Jane's breasts with the bandeau. “I don't poke any woman who don't want me to poke her, and that includes you. And a thousand dollars will buy me a lot of willing women.”

Blake grabbed Jane's arm and moved toward the lean-to. “Let's talk in the shade.”

Once there he said, “I'll explain how it's gonna be. I've been a bounty hunter for a long time, and I've worked out some rules that work good. I don't hurt people for the fun of it, and if you follow the rules I won't hurt you. First, you do as I say, and I don't like arguments. Next, you're gonna be cuffed most of the time.”

Jane started to protest, but Blake stopped her with a raised hand. “I know you don't like it, but that's how it's gonna be. I'll take 'em off as often as I can, but if I have to fight you to get the cuffs back on they'll always stay on.

“Finally, if you try to escape or if you attack me all bets are off. I will hurt you, and you'll stay hurting for the rest of the trip. I know the poster says you got to be returned unharmed, but I can hurt you without leaving any marks. Do you understand?”

Jane was appalled. She was the captive of a man who was almost as much of a monster as Frank. She managed to nod her head.

Blake smiled. “Good! Turn around and I'll take the cuffs off so you can put your shirt on.” He used the key to unlock the cuffs.

Once her hands were free Jane adjusted her bandeau and put on her shirt. “Thank you,” she said, and then she was surprised she said it.

While Jane was putting her shirt on Blake was attaching the chain to a small pine tree that was next to the end of the lean-to. He wrapped the chain around the trunk, threaded the end with the small ring through the large ring, and pulled the chain until it was tight around the tree.

Blake said, “I'm gonna get my horse. Hold out your hands.”

Jane obeyed, and Blake snapped a cuff onto her left wrist. He put the small ring around the bow of the other cuff and snapped it shut on her right wrist. Jane was now securely chained to the tree, with about three feet of slack in the chain.

Jane examined the cuffs. Her wrists were held together by about three inches of chain, including a swivel. She tried to slip a cuff over her hand, but she quickly realized that it was impossible. Yet the cuffs didn't pinch or hurt. She could actually hold a cuff so it barely touched her wrist. She was grateful for this, so different from her experiences with Frank.

Jane realized that she didn't know her captor's name. “What do I call you,” she asked.

“Blake's my name, but you can call me sir, if you want.”

Wife Hunt · Part 1 (1/2)
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