It was decided that a trip to the mine would be the first order of business in the morning, with the hope of encountering Mr. Evans there and perhaps even Tom McNeel, although his failure to collect his mailed argued he was no longer in Tombstone. Flora would not be joining them as she had started a small school for the younger children near their house, but Megan was adamant; she insisted on accompanying Ted to try to find Camellia's father, and Ted was inclined to indulge his bride whenever he could.
CHAPTER TWENTY – Kidnapped!
The honeymooners awoke reluctantly to the knock of the maid delivering hot chocolate and pan dulce (sweet bread) to the room, as requested the night before. They had decided not to bother with a full breakfast, in order to make a faster start, but had arranged for a luncheon basket to take with them.
Hefting the basket, Ted suggested he pick up the buggy from the OK Livery and come back for it and Megan. Megan smiled sweetly and turned to the porter.
“Can you just hold that for us until we are back with our conveyance?”
“Of course, Mrs. Bristol!”
Looking back at Ted she rested her hand on his arm and looked up at him winsomely. “I’d really much rather accompany you on this fine morning.”
The desk clerk grinned and shook his head indulgently as the couple strolled out arm in arm.
Droopy Pete had been leaning on the wall just outside Hafford’s Saloon, keeping an eye on the Grand. His luxuriant mustache blended in with the variety of facial hair to be seen on the local male population, he thought smugly. He waited until the Bristols had strolled past him on the opposite side of the street before straightening up and following them slowly. His horse was hitched in front of the Can Can, and he took his time untying the mare and checking his saddle girth. In a few minutes he saw Ted hand Megan up into a rented buggy, then climb in beside her and take the reins. They drove the scant block back to the hotel and Ted went inside to secure the lunch hamper.
Looking around the largely deserted street, Pete acted on impulse. Moving swiftly, he mounted his horse and rode over to where Megan was sitting. As she turned to see who was coming up beside her, he leaned over and scooped her right out of the buggy and onto his lap.
Her shriek had passers-by looking their way, but Pete bent down and planted his lips on her face, effectively shutting her up. It also served to make the onlookers shrug and start walking away.
Off balance and flailing, Megan scratched at the foul-smelling face attacking hers and found her fingers entwined with what felt like one of the fox tails that trimmed her winter coat. Yanking her hand to free it, the fur came away and she nearly fell as the man jerked back, trying to grab at his face. He kicked the horse into a gallop as she managed another scream, his flailing arm pinning her as he tried to reach his face, only to find her body in the way.
Aware of the panicked horse’s growing speed, her fingers grabbed what they could. She felt more greasy hair and grabbed tightly as the man’s yelp of pain was added to her own continued high pitched vocalizations. The dead animal—well she hoped it was dead!—still clung to her other hand as she struggled for a handhold on that side. Digging in her nails and pulling, she felt the fabric she was clutching give way as the shirt tore open and several buttons popped off. She scrabbled again for purchase and this time her fingers snagged the neck of the knit undergarment he wore beneath the shirt. Shuddering at the thought of what she was touching, but reluctant to fall to her death beneath the horse’s hooves, she clung tightly as they soon left the town behind.
Pete was in quite a lot of pain from his torn-off mustache and pulled hair, and was in a fair way to being strangled by the tight grasp on his garments, but he forced himself to focus on controlling his mount. Realizing no one was behind them, he gradually regained control of the bit and eased the horse off the road and into the dips and crevices that made up the hilly landscape. Once out of sight, he pushed toward the river, where the cottonwoods would screen them, should anyone try to follow.
~~~
Ted smiled at the desk clerk as he retrieved their picnic hamper. Reaching out to accept the basket he became aware of a commotion outside the door and then heard a woman scream. That was Megan’s voice! What was happening? He should never have left her alone outside, unprotected.
The basket dropped back onto the counter as both men raced outside and saw the fleeing horse with its double load, Ted confirming the color of Megan’s riding habit.
“Stop! Thief! Murderer!” he called out, leaping up into the buggy.
One of the onlookers came up to Ted, exclaiming, “Say, that was Droopy Pete that went off with the lady. I just saw his poster at the jail! But I thought from the way he kissed her she was his wife.”
“No!” cried Ted. “That's my wife he just kidnapped. Where's the sheriff? Tell him which way he went!” he called out as he snapped the reins and started to give chase. The man who’d identified Pete managed to scramble aboard as the carriage gained speed, and yelled out to someone in the gathering crowd to bring his horse.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE – Following Clues
Pinkerton Agent Ned Brandt had been busy. Willie “the Dip” was a
