Chapter Thirty-Four
Ance was cramped up and overheated as he remained curled up in the makeshift compartment inside Irish's cart. His hiding place was nearly impossible to see if someone happened to look inside the cart--it had also been made to hold cargo much smaller than Ance.
His knees were in his chest and he was having trouble drawing deep breaths because he was so constricted. He hoped no one would open the compartment too quickly because if they did, he'd come popping out as if he were spring loaded.
Getting the cart hadn't been too difficult. Ance had left Irish out of sight, ridden into town as if pasing through and expressed his interest in owning the thing. The sheriff had been so desperate for money to help rebuild his busted jail that he'd happily taken Ance up on his offer, never realizing that Ance had been the one to blow up the building in the first place.
The four and a half days it had taken them to make their way to the fort had been torture for Ance. There'd been nothing for him to do but worry and envision all the terrors that Audrey had probably been forced to endure. He had at least been able to catch up on a bit of rest in the back of the cart during the day while Irish drove up front. He felt rested, strong, able and more than a little pissed off and ready to get his woman back--ready to bring Penelope her mother back.
He sat in his tight quarters, his knee pressed against his nose and making breathing quite difficult, and listened to a guard demand Irish to stop his cart and explain his reason for being there. Ance rolled his eyes when Irish began a long winded, rambling sales pitch touting the extreme benefits of his elixir with just enough Irish brogue in his words to draw a man's attention. He claimed that with the help of his elixir a man could shoot crows from the sky, hit can at two hundred yards, lift two hundred pounds without straining and get rid of any and all ailments, aches, pains and malfunctions. It sounded like a load of fresh horseshit to Ance but it was clear the men listening were interested as they began talking back and forth.
"Just wait here a minute, Irishman. We'll go see about letting you in!" One of them called.
Ance wished they'd damned well hurry. If he didn't get his goddamn legs out of this position soon, he'd be forced to drink a bottle of Irish's snake oil poison just to have hopes of ever moving again. It seemed as if hours passed, though Ance knew it had only been minutes, before the creaking of metal hinges and scarping of wood against dirt indicated that the heavy fort gate was being swung open.
The cart lurched as it started forward, sending Ance's nose into knee and causing him to let out a string of curses under his breath. He had a feeling Irish's great plan had included him cramped up in this compartment just for Irish's sick and twisted amusement.
Barnaby's voice suddenly filled the silence and Ance fought the urge to burst from his compartment, lunge from the back of the cart and slit the bastard's throat then and there. Ance closed his eyes and breathed deep as he listened to the conversation going on outside the cart.
"What's your name?" Barnaby asked.
"Fergus is the name my mama gave me, sir, but Irish is what ya can call me. That's what all my friends call me," Irish replied with a light laugh.
"Irish? I've heard that name before. Aren't you a two-bit thief and a scam artist?" Barnaby demanded. Ance nodded, though he couldn't be seen. Irish's reputation was certainly an earned one.
"Only to those lesser lads and lasses without the brains for business sense and science, good sir!" Irish exclaimed. "I am a scientist and a businessman and neither of those things are respected among farmers and cow herders."
Barnaby's laughter filled the air. "You are certainly right about that!" he agreed. "Us businessmen are often looked down upon but we're just making a living the same as everyone else."
Ance growled. Making a living by selling children and women to Indians and white men alike that would turn them into slaves to do their bidding. Ance might be a man who killed without remorse, stole what he needed to get by, (and some things that he simply wanted to get by), and had no real respect for anyone, but he damn sure had never hurt a woman or a child--and he never would.
"Would ya allow me to rest up here a while and tell ya about my new product?" Irish questioned. "I believe your men could benefit from but a mere swallow and perhaps we could work out a deal o'sorts to sell my elixir together and earn a bit more cash. Your reach stretches just a bit further than mine ya see...."
"You're a long winded man, aren't you Irish?" Barnaby chuckled with amusement. "I don't know how much use I have for selling elixirs... of course the savages might pay good money for such strong spirits that can perform such miraculous feats."
"And ya see that's why I want to have ya for a partner there, Barnaby. Ya are the finest businessman I ever have heard tell of." Ance grumbled under his breath but knew Irish was doing a good job at getting on Barnaby's good side. Barnaby always had been the type of man to want his ego stroked.
"I'll tell you what, Irish, I don't know that I care about going into business selling lies in a bottle, but you most certainly seem as if you might be an entertaining guest to have over dinner. Why don't you come on in? We were about to sit down to a meal."
"That sounds like a slice of heaven to me!" Irish quickly agreed. "I'm a wee bit gaunt in the middle."
"Just park your cart over there by the stables and Waylon will put your horses up. Cayhill, you get up on that turret and keep watch, everyone else come on in and eat. We've got some traveling to do tomorrow so you'll need a good meal and a rest."
Ance stiffened. Traveling? Barnaby hadn't been planning to wait here until he showed up? Maybe the man thought he wasn't coming... or maybe he'd never held Audrey here at all and the woman was already sold off or....dead.
Ance's heart tightened in his chest and he shook his head. He couldn't have been wrong again! He knew Barnaby. Audrey had to be here... Ance simply had to find her.
The cart lurched once again as Irish took it to the parking place that Barnaby had indicated. Ance heard the chatter of conversation grow fainter as all the men made their way inside. He felt Waylon unhooking the horses and knew that it was now or never.
Waylon and Cayhill, neither were men he knew by name, were the only men left outside if Ance was guessing correctly and he could get one of them to talk and give him Audrey's whereabouts before he killed them and made his way to the woman.
Ance unhooked the latch on the inside of the compartment and swung the door up. With relief, he breathed in his first bit of fresh air in over an hour. Slowly Ance stood and stretched out his stiff and aching muscles.
The back hatch was suddenly thrown open and Ance found himself staring at who he assumed was Waylon. The man's brown eyes widened and Ance saw his mouth begin to open. Leaping forward, Ance grabbed him around the neck and hoisted him into the cart, clamping a hand tightly over his mouth.
"Do you know who I am?" Ance growled. The man nodded roughly. Ance pulled his knife from his leg holster and pressed it against Waylon's bobbing throat. "You helped Barnaby steal from me." Waylon shook his head roughly as tears reddened his eyes. "Don't lie," Ance warned, pressing the knife tighter against Waylon's throat until a small red droplet of blood oozed out beneath the blade.
"Where is the woman?" Ance hissed as he loosened his hand a bit to allow Waylon to whisper.
"Go to hell," Waylon spat.
Ance chuckled. "Wrong answer." He pressed deeper with the knife and Waylon thrashed in his arms as it bit into his skin. Suddenly Ance froze when he heard Irish's voice.
"O'course I can allow ya to have a few free samples of my elixir!" he called loudly, clearly attempting to warn Ance that he was coming. "It wouldn't be right of me to ask ya to go into business with first allowin' ya to sample the product, would it?"
Ance cursed loudly. He opened the side window, opposite of where Irish's voice was coming from and clambered out, pulling a bleeding Waylon with him. The men thudded to the ground but thankfully the sound was masked by Irish singing loudly.
Ance glanced under the cart and saw Irish's scuffed up boots with holey soles approaching the door on the other side. The unmistakable gleam of Barnaby's polished boots were behind him. Ance heard Irish pick up a crate of clattering bottles. "We'll enjoy this inside if ya don't mind, Barnaby. I've been out in this sun for days and would enjoy the chance to shade my eyes."
"Boss, can I try it first?" Ance recognized the voice of a man named Gus. "I want to see if it helps my aim."
Another man laughed. "There ain't no damn help for your aim."
"Where's Waylon?" Barnaby's voice spoke up.
Ance glanced down at the dying man in his arms and hoped they wouldn't look to carefully for him. "Probably loving on them horses. You know how he is. Can we go on in and eat now? I'm starving!" the second man exclaimed.
"Are you a bunch of hired hands or a handful of toddlers?" Barnaby grumbled as their footsteps faded into the distance. "Sometimes I just can't tell."
Ance let his breath out slowly when they were gone. He glanced toward the main gate of the fort and saw that Cayhill was indeed up on the turret but his attention was focused outside the fort and not inside. Ance moved Waylon back out of Cayhill's sight and looked down at him.
The light was going out of his brown eyes but Ance shook him roughly. "Tell me where she is, you bastard."
"The cellar has several rooms..." Waylon whispered. "But your woman ain't down there anymore... We killed that bitch."
Ance let out a growl and slid the knife deeper, finishing Waylon off and dropping his body to the ground. Ance knew he couldn't leave him there just in case someone happened back out so he dragged him into an empty stall in the stable and tossed a bit of straw over his body.
The cellars... how did he get down there? Ance had no doubts that's where Audrey truly was and he knew she was still alive. Waylon had been attempting to have the last laugh before dying--it had been the desperate cruelty of a dead man that had had him telling Ance Audrey was dead.
Now that his faith in her presence and her life was renewed, Ance had to get down to business. First things first, he had to get rid of Cayhill. He couldn't risk the man seeing him taking Audrey out of her prison.. Then again there wouldn't be too many people in any shape to help stop Ance thanks to Irish's poison. Giving the men here free samples hadn't been part of the plan but Ance had to admit that it would certainly help. It would either cause the men to fall on their asses or it would kill them dead.... Either one would work for Ance, though he hoped Barnaby wouldn't drink that watered down mule piss. He wanted that man to be clear and sober when Ance shed his blood and took his life.
Ance looked up toward the sky and the sun that was getting lower toward the west. This would be a job better done at night but Ance didn't have time to wait. He wouldn't leave Audrey locked up any longer than she already had been... he only hoped she wasn't broken.
Staying close to the stone wall and doing his best to keep cover between himself and Cayhill, Ance moved forward. It helped that Cayhill was too preoccupied with the scenery outside the fort to give the inside any real attention at all.
Irish clearly had everyone busy inside and Ance was hopeful they wouldn't come popping out again until he had Audrey safely outside the fort and hidden. Ance looked up at the turret Cayhill was standing in. It was a good thirty feet tall and Ance knew those steps were too rickety and old for him to be able to slip up them silently and surprise the other man. If Cayhill caught him approaching and rang that bell beside him then Ance could kiss his own life, and Audrey's, goodbye.
Stepping back so he could draw a good bead on Cayhill, Ance slipped his smaller knife from his boot. His aim would have to be true and his arm strong to take the man's life from this far away but it had to be done. Letting out a slow breath, Ance sent the knife sailing through the air. He wasn't disappointed. The blade sank deep in Cayhill's temple just as the man pulled off his hat and he fell lifeless without so much as a sound.
Now to find the cellars. Common sense told Ance the entrance would be behind the main building and so that's where he headed with only the hope that Audrey would be whole and well leading him onward.