The Rocking R Ranch. Tim Washburn

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      CHAPTER 16

      Rachel Ferguson was thumbing through an old issue of Harper’s New Monthly Magazine when she glanced outside to see Seth limping toward home. She tossed the magazine on the table and rushed outside and wrapped her arms around him, anger coursing through her body at the obvious beating Seth had taken.

      Seth burst into tears and buried his face in his mother’s chest. When the sobbing subsided, Rachel stepped back and held Seth at arm’s length. Her heart broke to see his battered face. She wanted to ask a thousand questions, but instead, took Seth’s hand and led him back to the porch, deciding Seth needed to tell the story at his own pace. Rachel took a seat on one of the rockers and Seth attempted to sit down then immediately jumped back to his feet.

      “What’s wrong?” Rachel asked.

      Seth loosened his belt and pulled his pants down far enough to expose the X branded on his left buttock.

      All thoughts of allowing Seth to tell the story flew from her mind and she lurched to her feet, trembling with rage. “Who did that to you?!”

      “Three men. They’re the ones who roughed me up, too.”

      “Where are these bastards?”

      “Uncle Eli and Win shot them.”

      “Good,” Rachel said, the sudden rage dropping back to a medium simmer. She stepped in the house, grabbed a pillow, and returned, placing it on the rocker’s seat. “Sit.”

      Seth gently eased down on the pillow as his mother retook her seat. “What else did they do to you?” Rachel asked.

      “Slapped me around, then burned me with the brandin’ iron.”

      “Nothing more?”

      “I reckon that was enough.”

      Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. “Were they Indians?”

      “No. White fellers about Pa’s age. They was drinkin’ whiskey.”

      “Bastards,” Rachel muttered. “Well, they deserved what they got. How’d you run into them?”

      “I saw ’em riding toward me. Didn’t nothin’ seem unusual about it. I was hopin’ to ask them if they’d seen anything of Pa’s group, but when they rode up and stopped, the meanest of the three grabbed the reins out of my hand.”

      “Why didn’t you just jump off your horse?” Rachel asked.

      “And go where?” Seth asked, his voice tinged with anger. “A man afoot ain’t no match for three armed men on horses.” He stared at his mother a moment. “You act like it’s my fault.”

      Rachel took a deep breath, wanting to tell him if he hadn’t ridden off nothing would have happened. But she didn’t. “You sure they didn’t do anything else to you?”

      “How many times you goin’ to ask me that?” Seth asked. “Ain’t being beat up and branded enough?”

      Knowing that some people were capable of the most vile, deviant behavior, Rachel was hoping her son was telling the truth and that nothing else had happened. “I’m just glad you’re home safe now.”

      “When’s Pa comin’ home?” Seth asked.

      Rachel shrugged. “Who knows how long it’ll take them to find Emma.”

      Seth looked away then did a double take. “Where’s Emma?”

      “You didn’t hear?”

      “No, but I heard Uncle Percy shootin’ the Gatling gun. I wondered why. What happened to Emma?”

      “She was kidnapped by Indians last night.”

      Seth hung his head. “Oh no.”

      “They’ll find her,” Rachel said with more conviction than she felt. “Now, go inside and wash up and put on some clean clothes.”

      Seth pushed unsteadily to his feet. “Which Injuns took her?” he asked.

      “Don’t know yet,” Rachel lied. “Now go on.” She didn’t have the heart to tell Seth that it was most likely the Comanches. Everyone along the frontier knew what happened to Comanche captives. They’d all heard the horror stories. And Seth needed to focus on healing rather than wonder what tortures his cousin might now be enduring.

      Seth limped into the house and Rachel stewed. If Amos and the others hadn’t gone off on a wild-goose chase after rustlers, she thought, things probably wouldn’t have gone sideways. “Damn him,” she muttered.