More rocks rained down. Some bounced off his big frame, but now and then one hit him and left a cut.
Trapper raised his rifle. “Step back, Hank, and raise your hands.”
The beefy man did as he was told while rocks continued to pound on him.
Trapper handed his rifle to Number One. “Shoot him if he moves.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered.
“Emery, are you and the girls all right?”
“We are,” Number Five answered. “Can we keep throwing rocks, Tapper?”
“Sure.” He climbed into the wagon and hugged both girls, then let them go back to throwing rocks.
Trapper moved to Emery. He pulled her close, and they just held on tight to each other. Neither said a word. When he pulled away enough to kiss her, Trapper heard the girls giggling.
“There’s one more man,” Trapper whispered, not wanting to frighten the girls.
“We know,” Emery said in a normal voice. She pointed to the back of the wagon. “He must have crawled under the wagon. When he started coming into the wagon, I was busy with that giant out there.
“The girls hit him with the chamber pot. It was full. I’m afraid the man doesn’t smell so good.”
Chapter 13
The next few days were hard. Trapper hurt all over. Hank had broken two of his ribs, but Trapper was able to drive the wagon by the second day. Five and Four stayed on either side of him on the front bench, wiping blood from his cuts and constantly talking about how bad he looked. The three older girls and Emery rode, surrounding the wagon as if guards.
They passed through the edge of Dallas but didn’t stop. Number One was setting the pace and directing them over open country to her home.
Emery had insisted on doctoring the outlaws. Then Trapper tied them in the wagon and put the luggage on their horses.
When Number One said they were on Chapman land, Trapper thought they were home. He had no idea it would take two more days.
As the ragged, exhausted group neared the huge ranch house, armed riders rode out to meet them.
“What is the meaning of this? Are you drifters unaware you’re on Colonel Chapman’s land?” the leader of the not-so-friendly greeters demanded.
Before Trapper could answer, One moved her horse forward. The young girl not fully grown sat tall in the saddle. “Are you men aware I am Catherine Claire Chapman?”
All the men looked at her in shock.
“We were ambushed on the trail and almost killed. We have the outlaws tied in the back of the wagon. I want you to make sure they are locked up until my father decides what to do with them.”
Catherine rode over to the wagon and lifted little Sophia May from the bench, then looked at the man closest to her. “Give Mr. Trapper Hawkins your horse and drive the prisoners in. We’ll race to the house just like all Chapmans do.”
All the men followed orders. One older rider, with a mustache that went from ear to ear, offered his arms to Number Four. “Come along, Miss Helen Wren, I’ll ride you in.”
“All right, Sam,” Number Four said politely, “but while I’m here I plan to learn to ride all by myself. Will you teach me?”
“Of course. Just like I did your three big sisters.”
Trapper slowly climbed onto the mount he was offered, then asked the cowboy to lift up the widow to ride with him. “My horse is almost lame, can someone see to him?”
Again the older man answered, “We’ll see to it. Mr. Hawkins, right?”
Trapper nodded. “So you knew we were coming?”
“We did, sir. The nurse wired us. She said you’d make it by Christmas.”
“Did we?” Trapper had lost track of the days.
“You did, sir.”
Emery looked frightened when one of the men lifted her up in front of Trapper, but she obviously wanted to hold on to Trapper. All the little ladies seemed to think he might pass out at any minute.
Number One raised her hand and pointed toward home. “We ride to home.”
They all took off, laughing and yelling. The cowboys at the wagon raised their rifles and fired in salute. The Chapman princesses were home.
By the time they reached the steps, everyone on the ranch was watching.
Trapper had no problem recognizing the colonel. White beard, white hair, and standing strong and tall. For a moment he frowned, as if he didn’t know who was invading his ranch.
Number One lowered the four-year-old to the ground and she ran toward her father. She was halfway up the steps before anyone recognized the youngest daughter.
The colonel hugged her so hard, Trapper thought he might crush her. Within a minute all his daughters were around him, talking and hugging and laughing. He took each girl’s face in his big hands and stared at them, then smiled. No matter how bad they looked or how they were dressed, his girls were back.
Trapper stood watching. He’d done it. He’d got them home by Christmas.
As the chaos began to settle, Trapper wasn’t surprised to see the colonel’s eyes focused on him.
“Mr. Trapper. I’d like to have a word with you. Now!”
Trapper remembered what the teamster had said about the colonel threatening to kill him if the girls arrived with one scratch. The girls were all sunburned and bruised, with scrapes and blisters.
He tried to stand up straight as he moved forward, but Number Three cut him off when she ran in front of him, almost tripping him.
“Now, Papa,” she began, with her fists on her hips.
The colonel pointed his finger. “What happened to your hair, Elizabeth?”
“Never mind that. Right now Trapper needs a doctor and some rest. He is hurt and hasn’t slept in days because, even injured, he’s always watching over us.” She crossed her arms. “And I go by Eliza or Three. You’ll not lecture Trapper. I will not stand for it.”
Anger reddened the colonel’s face. “You telling me what to do, daughter?”
All five girls stood before him with their arms crossed and their boots set wide apart as if
