Wilderness Double Edition 23, page 1
DAVID ROBBINS
WRITING AS DAVID THOMPSON
WILDERNESS DOUBLE EDITION #23
45: IN CRUEL CLUTCHES
46: UNTAMED COUNTRY
The Home of Great Western Fiction!
In Cruel Clutches
Zach King, son of legendary mountain man Nate King, is at home in the harshest terrain of the Rockies. But nothing can prepare him for the perils of civilization. Locked in a deadly game of cat-and-mouse with his sister's kidnapper, Zach wends his way through the streets of New Orleans like the seasoned hunter he is. Yet this is not the wild, and the trappings of society offer his prey only more places to hide. Dodging fists, knives, bullets and even jail, Zach will have to adjust to his new territory quickly—his sister's life depends on it.
Untamed Country
Nate King and his family pride themselves on their ability to handle whatever hardships the harsh wilderness of the Rockies deals out. But lately their cabin, nestled in the foothills of the high country, has had some troublesome visitors. Nearby Ute and Crow warriors have banded together and set out to destroy the Kings' home...along with the King family. Nate has no choice but to find a new place to live. With a bloodthirsty war party dogging his every step, will he have any family left by the time he finds a new homestead?
WILDERNESS DOUBLE EDITION #23:
45: IN CRUEL CLUTCHES
46: UNTAMED COUNTRY
By David Robbins Writing as David Thompson
First Published by Leisure Books in 2005
Copyright © 2005, 2019 by David Robbins
First Digital Edition: December 2019
Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information or storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
Our front cover shows The Flight by Frederic Remington, courtesy of Wikipedia Commons.
This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book
Series Editor: Mike Stotter
Text © Piccadilly Publishing
Published by Arrangement with the Author.
WILDERNESS 45
IN CRUEL CLUTCHES
One
Captain Phillip Dover loved the Astoria more than he did his wife. When he stood in the wheelhouse and gazed out over the trim white decks, he got a thrill he seldom felt when he gazed at Martha, who after bearing him five children had become as broad as a paddle wheel.
Dover never let on to his wife how he felt. He would rather face a hurricane on the open sea than Martha’s wrath, and she was already mad a lot these days. She complained that he did not spend enough time at home. She complained that he neglected the children. She complained that he did not buy her enough clothes or keep their larder well stocked.
He tried to explain that the life of a steamboat captain was not easy. That he had many important responsibilities to deal with on a daily basis, and he left the details of managing their household to her. As he put it during their last argument, “You are, after all, the woman of the house, and dealing with petty concerns is your job, not mine.”
That did not go over too well.
As a result, Captain Dover was spending more time on his vessel than ever. So it was that he happened to be on the forward deck when two of the best carriages money could buy or rent clattered down Front Street to the dock and stopped. Ordinarily, he did not pay much attention to such things, but when the uniformed driver scrambled down to hastily open the door, his curiosity was piqued.
Out of the first carriage stepped a vision of pure beauty. A woman so incredibly lovely, Captain Dover felt a stirring where he had not felt a stirring in more years than he cared to dwell on.
She was dressed all in black: black shoes, black dress, black gloves, black hat. A natural complement to her raven-black hair. Her face was exquisite, the kind that should be enshrined in a portrait for posterity. Her figure was positively enticing. In fact, Captain Dover decided she was just about as shapely a female as he had ever gazed upon, and he had gazed on a lot.
The vision of loveliness regarded the Astoria, then turned and said something to someone in the carriage.
Out climbed a young girl. Captain Dover assumed it must be the woman’s daughter. At least, the girl had black hair, and from where he stood he thought they both had green eyes but he could not be sure. There any resemblance ended. The sunny yellow dress the girl wore did not match her mood. She stared at the Astoria in great sadness, and when the woman took her by the hand and led her toward the gangplank, she balked and dug in her heels.
That was when two men dressed in dark suits slid from the other carriage and hurried to the woman’s side. They had dark complexions and dark hair and more than a trace of Creole blood. They were the same height and the same muscular build and looked enough alike to be brothers. Twins, even. At a word from the woman in black, they each grabbed one of the girl’s arms and followed along.
In a rare act Captain Dover greeted them himself, with a courtly bow to the lady and a grin for the girl that was not returned. “Welcome on board, madam. Am I to infer you mean to book passage on my ship?”
“Why else would I be here?” the woman said rather haughtily. Then she fixed her piercing green eyes on him and bestowed a ravishing smile. “My apologies. The past couple of days have been most distressing, and I’m afraid I’ve become a bit snippy.”
“Think nothing of it,” Captain Dover said gallantly. He tried another grin on the girl, but she was gazing angrily off into the distance.
“Ignore my niece, Captain,” the woman said. “She is in one of her peckish childish moods.” The woman graciously extended her gloved hand. “I’m Athena Borke, by the way. These are my servants, Carlos and Mateo. And yes, I would like to book passage for the four of us. That is, if you are bound for New York City as I was told?”
“We leave with the morning tide,” Dover assured her. “Permit me to say that you have chosen wisely. The Astoria is the newest and most luxurious ship in all of New Orleans, and our accommodations are second to none.”
“Which is why I chose you,” Athena Borke said. “I never settle for less than the very best. You do have berths available, I presume?”
“Our first-class cabins have all been taken, I’m afraid,” Captain Dover informed her. “But our second-class are every bit as elegant as the finest you will find elsewhere.”
“Didn’t you hear me? Second class will never do. I want four first-class cabins for myself and my servants.”
As much as Dover was smitten by her beauty, her imperious air was mildly aggravating. “In that case, you must either book passage on another vessel or wait until the Astoria returns.”
“There is a third option,” Athena said. “You can tell whoever is in two of your finest adjoining cabins that you are sorry, but there has been a mix-up and the cabins are already taken.”
The preposterous notion made Dover chuckle. “Honestly, madam. That would be highly unethical.”
“What price do you place on your ethics, Captain?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You understand me well enough. How much to bend your ethics and make an exception in my case? Would a thousand dollars suffice? Per room? Beyond the price of passage, of course.”
Captain Dover’s smile faded. He studied her and her companions anew and noticed things he had not seen before. Important things. Like the hard glint in the woman’s eyes and the icy arrogance of her features. Like the unmistakable stamp of latent cruelty on the faces of Carlos and Mateo. Like the fear buried deep in the eyes of the little girl. “You really want those cabins,” he stressed.
“I thought I had made that clear.” Athena impatiently tapped a flawless shoe. “Yes or no? I am a busy woman and cannot abide being kept waiting.”
Dover’s mind was racing. Something was wrong here. No one paid that much without good reason. Either she was in a dire hurry to reach New York City, or someone was after her. He looked at the girl again and had a troubling thought. But two thousand dollars was two thousand dollars. “You ask a lot of me. I will inconvenience people and earn their ill will.”
“So? For that much money, I should think you would slit your mother’s throat and dump her overboard, and good riddance.”
In his time, Dover had witnessed vicious fights between mates and roustabouts, seen the Emerald Queen blown to high heaven with all her hands and passengers on board, but none of that shocked him half as much as the heartless comment from this stunning beauty. For a fleeting instant he saw into the depths of her soul, and he nearly shivered at the revelation. “Very well, madam. I will make the necessary arrangements. You may board in an hour.”
“One more thing,” Athena Borke said, and glanced toward shore. “Is there any chance the Astoria can depart earlier? Say, tonight instead of tomorrow morning? I am willing to pay handsomely for any extra work it causes you.”
Dover had it then. She was definitely on the run. “Out of the question, I am sorry to say. Not that I wouldn’t if I could, but the schedule has been posted. And some of our provisions will not be brought on board until this evening. Tomorrow morning is the earliest we can manage.”
“Oh well. It never hurts to ask.” Athena gestured at the girl. “Come along, Evelyn. We will buy you a new outfit for the trip and be back in an hour to board.”
For Dover it was a busy hour. The occupants of the cabins did not take it well, even though he reimbursed them the passage fee. One man threatened to sue. Dover appeased him by promising he could book a cabin on the next voyage to New York City at half price.
True to Athena Borke’s word, the two carriages came clattering down the street again exactly sixty minutes after they departed. While she strode the decks with the sad little girl, her two servants transferred trunk after trunk from the second carriage onto the Astoria.
Dover watched it all from the wheelhouse. He had sent his mate into the city to make discreet inquiries about the mysterious lady in black, but Hanson had yet to return.
Soon after Borke and her charge disappeared below, the mate finally showed up. He was out of breath and bursting with excitement.
“I found out what you needed to know, Captain.”
“Did you indeed? It took you long enough.” Dover had found that the best way to keep the crew in their place was by constantly reminding them how lowly that place was. “I would almost suspect you of slacking off.”
“Not me, sir,” Hanson declared. “I did exactly as you wanted. But I had to go to four taverns before anyone recognized the name,” He lowered his voice even though no one could possibly hear them. “Remember that trial a while back? Some half-breed named King was accused of killing two brothers?”
“Vaguely,” Dover said. He had read a report or two about it in the newspaper, but then the paper was always filled with lurid accounts of sensational crimes. “What about it?”
“The brothers were named Borke. Artemis and Phineas Borke. Athena Borke is their sister.”
“You don’t say?” But that did not tell Dover why she was so anxious to leave New Orleans. “Anything else?”
“Word has it that she is in some kind of trouble with the law. She wasn’t happy that the half-breed got off and tried to have him killed. I can find out more if I go to the police.”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Captain Dover said. “You did well. Keep your mouth shut and there will be a little extra in your next pay envelope.” When he said little, he meant little.
“Thank you, sir.”
Left alone, Dover paced the wheelhouse with his hands clasped behind his back. He was tempted to go down and suggest to Athena Borke that in light of the circumstances, four thousand dollars per cabin seemed more fair than one thousand. He could bring a lot of grief down on his head by harboring a fugitive, even one so lovely.
But then Dover thought of Carlos and Mateo, and how coldly Athena Borke had mentioned slitting his mother’s throat, and he concluded that two thousand dollars was more than enough, after all.
Five o’clock came and went. Dover was overseeing a delivery of barrels of rum when two men came up the gangplank and asked to see him.
They were a strange combination. One was a young rake with a flowing cloak and a sword at his waist. The other wore buckskins and appeared to be part Indian.
“Our apologies, monsieur, for disturbing you.” The rake doffed his hat in a gesture of respect. “My name is Alain de Fortier. My friend and I are here on most urgent business.”
“What would that be?” Dover did not like how the half-breed’s blue eyes bored into him with burning intensity. The pistols and the Bowie knife the man wore and the rifle he carried added to Dover’s unease.
“This is Monsieur Zachary King,” de Fortier said with a flourish to his friend. “He and I have reason to believe that a person we seek has booked passage on your ship.”
Dover knew before he asked what the answer would be. “Does this person have a name?”
“Athena Borke,” de Fortier said.
“And what has this woman done to earn the distinction of being hunted down by two young stalwarts such as yourselves?” Dover stalled to gain time to ponder.
It was Zach King who answered. “She kidnapped my sister.” His tone hinted at what he would do when he caught the culprit.
Alain de Fortier went on. “We have heard that a member of your crew was asking about Athena Borke earlier today, and we came as quickly as we could to ask if she is on board.”
Dover had another decision to make, and he erred on the side of fattening his purse. “I have never heard the name nor seen the woman. I am sorry, gentlemen, but whoever told you this was misinformed.”
“Do you mind if we look around?” Zachary King asked.
“I most definitely do,” Captain Dover said flatly. “I will not have my passengers disturbed.” To defuse their suspicions, he added, “But I will be more than happy to let you know if the Borke woman books passage on my ship. Where can I send word?”
Alain de Fortier glanced at King, who wheeled without saying a word and headed for the gangplank. “You must excuse my friend,” de Fortier suavely apologized. “He lives in the Rocky Mountains and is not accustomed to our civilized amenities.”
Captain Dover had to know. “Isn’t he the one who was on trial recently for murder?”
“That was him, yes,” de Fortier confirmed. “He has killed many men, my friend has.” De Fortier gave Dover a meaningful look. “I would not want to be the one who angers him. His sense of justice is far more violent than mine.” Replacing his hat, he said, “I bid you adieu.”
As soon as the pair were out of sight, Dover descended to the passenger compartments and knocked on the door to 101. One of the Creoles answered, Carlos or Mateo, he could not tell which, and he asked to speak with their mistress.
With a rustle of skirts, Athena Borke appeared. “Is there a problem, Captain? You look as if the Astoria has just run aground on a sandbar.”
Dover moved a few yards away in case the girl was in the cabin, and gestured for Borke to come closer. “Two gentlemen were just here to see me,” he whispered. “Well, one was a gentleman. The other was a half-breed. Need I say more?”
Her perfect face did not betray a hint of emotion. “I understand, and I thank you for your thoughtfulness.” She smiled a smile that did not touch her eyes and went back in.
Dover was going to ask for the money she had promised, but he figured he could wait until they were under way.
Then, if she balked, he could sic his roustabouts on her. Whistling to himself, he returned to the wheelhouse and spent the next several hours brushing up on his charts and dealing with a host of minor matters having to do with their departure in the morning. When next he thought to check his gold pocket watch, it was nine o’clock and the sun had set.
Captain Dover stepped from the wheelhouse. He loved the sight of New Orleans at night. So many lights, so much life, so much marvelous gaiety. He breathed deep of the muggy air and turned to go back in, when suddenly a Bowie knife flashed before his eyes and its razor tip was pressed to the base of his throat.
“Not a sound or you die.”
Two
Zachary King knew the steamboat captain was lying the moment Dover claimed Athena Borke was not onboard. He could see it in the man’s eyes. But he wisely did not let on he knew. He did not want to spook his quarry and spoil his chances of saving his sister from Borke’s clutches.
Zach would not rest until he did. Evelyn had been abducted because of him. Because he had killed Athena Borke’s brothers and then been acquitted. In revenge, she had taken Evelyn and was about to embark for New York City and from there to Paris, where Evelyn would be beyond his reach and quite possibly lost to his family forever.
The thought fueled Zach’s simmering rage. He had never been much good at controlling his temper, in part due to his temperament, in part due to how most whites and many Indians treated him because of a fluke of birth. He had been born half and half, and in their eyes, that made him somehow inferior. All his life he had to put up with abuse and scorn, and it had honed his temper as a whetstone honed a blade.
Boots pattered the street and Alain de Fortier caught up with him. “You handled that poorly, mon ami. I am not a frontiersman like you, but even I know that the hunter never lets the prey know it is being hunted.”
