Chapter 21: Retrieval

At last, they were ready and left to find Willow.

Ty estimated they were at least two hours behind Willow, but it didn’t make sense going off half-cocked. They started back in the lane.

“Willow was hurt,” Paul, told Ty. “Everyone’s blood smells a little different to me and once I’ve scented it, I don’t forget. I have tracked Willow by her blood before, so I know it’s hers. She isn’t bleeding a lot, so she should be okay.”

Ty believed him. They got to where Ty believed they had swapped to a coach and Paul prowled around and examined the track carefully. A dusting of snow was already filling in the tracks.

Paul looked around carefully, “The wheel pattern suggests it is an old transport coach. The back wheel on the left side is missing a section of the steel rim. If they go over to many bumps, it could break. For us, it makes it easier to track as long as not too much snow falls. This road heads to the coastal border with Sunland. If they get into the tourist villages, it may be hard to find them.”

Ty was impressed with his knowledge. He wondered if Paul would be interested in an honest job after they got Willow back. They headed off at a run in the direction Paul said. They crossed over several crossroads, but Paul didn’t stop.

He told Ty, “The crossroad that’s important is about an hour ahead. One road takes a direct coastal route. The other road went inland first then wove its way back, in several places. If I were the adductor, I’d take the most direct route until out of Ausland.”

“The coach wouldn’t be questioned or even thought about by passer-buyers on that road. After that, it may be different. If it were I, I’d head to Manito. It’s a good place to disappear. If I were planning an escape route, I could take a ship from there. The place was full of foreigners to hide amongst as well.”

“I could even try opening an account in a fake name and get you to pay a ransom for her and then promise to leave Willow somewhere for you to collect her. Harry used to work for a guy who did it on a regular basis until he was caught.”

Ty questioned, “Bill Smithe?”

“Yeah,” said Paul.

“He should have picked a better fake name,” said Ty.

Paul laughed, and the men rode on. They stopped at the crossroads, and Paul looked carefully at the road in both directions. He pointed out the wheel he was looking for in a rut in the side of the road.

“Yep, going straight ahead as I hoped,” Paul said and then grinned. He pointed to the area where the rim was missing. “They’ve hit a rock or two, and there is now a chunk out of the wood, not good for them but good for us. I think they were here about an hour or less ago.”

“The Coachman is pushing the horses hard. These drifts will slow them down if the traffic stays as light as it appears to have been. There is a Way-Station about three hours down the road by horse, just before the border. He will need to change the horses, as they are already pretty flogged. If we hurry, we may still catch them,” he surmised.

They didn’t argue with him and headed out as fast as their horses could go.

Carl wasn’t happy with the slower pace.

The coach had to slow down about an hour before the station. One of the horses was limping, and she refused to run. She had stepped on something hidden in the snow. The Coach made it to about half an hour before the way station when the wheel went.

The coach lurched violently to the rear. The horses panicked when they were dragged backwards by the carriage stopping so suddenly. Willow had been sitting in that corner and Carl in the opposite corner. He was tossed unceremoniously onto the floor before he slid down towards Willow.

Willow took the opportunity to kick Carl in the head, while he was down. He had lost the gun under the seat and wasn’t impressed to find, the heel of a riding boot planted in his temple. Willow stomped on him several more times with both feet until he stayed down.

The coachman wasn’t worried about the passengers. He was pissed-off, however, at losing his rifle when the coach lurched. He had to get the horses settled as they whined in distress and tried to drag the coach along.

The limping horse went down with a scream and dragged the traces of the other horses with it. All four ended up, becoming tangled and they panicked even more. The coachman had to cut them free. The three fitter horses took off when he did.

Willow noticed he was busy with the horses and slipped around the back of the coach to untie Roberts’ horse. The reins were knotted and stiff in the cold, and she was having trouble getting them undone with her cold fingers. She heard Carl cussing, as he tried to climb out of the coach and gave up on the horse.

She peered around the back of the coach. The open door hid her movement. So she climbed the embankment into the bushes on the side of the road and moved away from where she entered. She removed the gun from her deep pocket. She huddled down to wait to see what they did.

Willow was grateful now that Ty had fussed and made her wear the new fur-lined cape that he had purchased for her. The grey colouring blended in with the dirty snow and the shadows. It was also thankfully warm.

She heard Robert argue with Wal and cringed when she heard flesh hitting flesh. She heard a body hit the road and waited to see who came out on top. She heard Wal’s voice, and he was cussing, “Stupid fucking Gentry.”

Wal came around the back of the coach, pulled the saddle back out of the luggage compartment and saddled the horse. He went around to the open door and rattled around inside the coach. He collected a small bag, came back and tucked it into the saddlebag he had also had tossed over the horse.

He too had trouble getting the reins unknotted and ended up cutting them, cussing the whole time. Willow wanted to giggle at his frustrations but stayed silent. The silence was her protection. She had been so intent on watching Wal she had forgotten about Carl.

After Wal had hauled off and collected him one, he had been laying on the ground in the snow nursing his wounds. He rolled back onto all fours and weaved his way to the back of the coach. His head was hurting from what Willow had done to him, and now his jaw hurt again as well.

He got to the open door of the carriage and reached inside looking for his gun. He found that Wal had taken the bag of money and jewels. Now he was really mad. He finally found his gun under the seat. He could hear Wal trying to get the horse loose. He cocked the weapon and made his way back around to the back of the carriage.

Carl slurred at Wal, “I don’t think so shithead, that’s my money and my horse, back away.”

Even in the low light, Willow could see he was injured. Her boot must have cut his head when she had kicked him and blood ran down the side of his face. He didn’t seem steady on his feet, and she decided he was concussed.

Wal lifted his arms and backed away from the horse. Carl stepped towards him, slipped on the ice hidden by the mushed up snow and went down sideways. In response, Wal grabbed the horse. He threw himself on its back and turning its head, he galloped down the road, lying flat over the horse.

Carl scrambled to his feet, slipping and sliding as he did. He ran out into the road and fired several shots after Wal. He was screaming and cursing him the whole time. He dropped his arm and put his other hand to his head. He leant against the carriage breathing in hard and ragged breaths.

Willow was wondering if he was sane. She shivered, it was getting colder and she had been sitting still for some time. The surrounding bushes also shivered, and the movement attracted Carl’s attention. Willow hunkered down lower in the shadows.

“Where are you, you stupid girl?” Carl called out. “You will freeze out here, come and get back in the coach. Someone should be along soon, and we can get to the Way Station. I won’t hurt you, Willow, I love you.”

Willow didn’t believe him. He didn’t love her, and he would hurt her. He started looking at the ground to see if he could work out where she had left the road. Even he could see where she had scrambled up the drift to head into the bushes along the roadway.

Willow drew in a sharp breath. She flexed her cold fingers, took hold of the gun and aimed it in his direction. “Stop, or I will shoot you,” she yelled at him.

Carl halted and dropped to the ground and swung his gun around trying to work out where her voice came from. The bushes were thick and dark. “Come on Willow, come back to the carriage. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“Put your gun on the ground and back away from it,” she told him.

“Willow, come and get back in the coach it’s too bloody cold for these games,” he whined. Willow stayed quiet. “Willow,” he screamed. “Get the fuck back here now, you stupid bitch.”

Willow felt around and found a small rock. She threw it back towards the bushes near the coach making them rattle on the impact. In answer, Carl aimed at where he thought she was and fired the gun.

‘Four’, thought Willow. She had deliberately aimed her voice at the carriage to make it harder for him to work out where she was. He had fired well off to her left.

“Last chance Carl, drop your gun,” Willow yelled out again.

“Get the fuck out here bitch, if you had a gun, you would have used it by now.” Carl took his eyes off where he thought she was and scurried on all fours back closer to the carriage. He wasn’t quick enough. The bullet slammed into his leg, and he screamed in agony and rolled over to clutch his leg.

“Bitch, you fucking bitch, you shot me!” he screamed out in disbelief.

Willow grinned as she took the opportunity to move in case he had seen the blast from where she had shot. “Drop your gun Carl, or I may shoot to kill next time,” she told him, again projecting her voice away from her position.

In answer, Carl screamed out, “Fucking Bitch,” and aimed at the same spot he had aimed before and opened fired.

Willow’s grin broadened as she heard two shots and then two clicks on the empty chambers. She slipped out of the bushes and back down to the road and carefully walked up to Carl. He aimed the gun at her and Willow stopped. “I do know what an empty chamber sounds like Carl, put it down.”

Carl screamed in frustration but pulled the trigger anyway. Willow had enough of this game and shot him in the head. She couldn’t take the chance he had a miss fire and still had a bullet in one of the chambers. Carl collapsed back against the carriage wheel, and the blood welled on the side of his head as he slumped forward.

Willow looked dispassionately down at the man. She was surprised she had no remorse at killing him. He would have killed her and her children. He had tried to rape her twice, and she was certain that he was involved in the death of her parents.