Chapter 13
Lizzy stood close to Troy. She hadn’t been able to get the pistol up fast enough, and once she did, it was too late. The men just took it from her, threatening to shoot Kyle and Troy. So, now here she stood with Troy as men, about six of them, took turns beating Kyle.
It was horrific. She had to look away, close her eyes to her friend’s pain, or she would do something rash that might cost them all their lives.
Troy held her hand. His fingers had such a strong grasp on hers that they were practically digging into her flesh, but she didn’t mind. The pain was actually helpful.
“This is for your disrespect at the restaurant,” the leader said as Kyle endured another blow. “No one treats El Aguila in that manner. This is your one and only warning.”
Kyle spat out blood in a long red stream and then smiled. What was he smiling for?
“This is about the waitress? Really? Well, tell your boss,” he said through split lips, “if he dislikes disrespect so much, he should try showing some respect himself. She didn’t deserve?—”
The man raised his hand and brought it down across Kyle’s face in a backhanded blow. It was a horrible sound, and Lizzy let out an involuntary squeak. A man pressed the muzzle of his gun into her scalp so hard that she ground her teeth.
Troy jerked, feeling her tense, and he received a blow with the butt of the gun to the back of his own head, making him stumble forward. Then he was dragged down to his knees and Lizzy was forced to follow. There they stayed while Kyle was beaten.
When it was over an interminable time later, Kyle lay motionless on the ground. She couldn’t tear her horrified eyes from his bloodied body.
“If you hurry to a healer, he might survive,” the man in charge said. He wore faded work clothes, and his hair was just too long, brushing against his collar. But it was his eyes that Lizzy would never forget. They were green and cold like chips of jade.
The men held guns on them until they had ridden off. Not that it mattered. They only had the two guns, and their assailants took them both, finding the shotgun under the driver’s seat. Troy hadn’t had time to even try to draw it.
Lizzy rushed over to Kyle the moment the men had vanished. There was so much blood, mostly from a deep gash in his forehead. He looked terrible. “Kyle!”
“It’s not so bad,” Kyle said between gritted teeth. “I know how to roll with the punches.”
“You just sit tight,” Troy ordered. He began to rearrange the lumber and iron to make space for Kyle in the back of the cart.
Lizzy tore strips of cloth from her shirt and bound up as many of Kyle’s injuries as she could.
There were gashes in his cheeks, and his ribs were definitely broken.
She could tell. She’d seen these injuries before, whenever the bandits would find her and her people.
It was all happening again, and she was so afraid that her hands were shaking, and tears ran down her cheeks without her actually sobbing.
She bound Kyle’s ribs, knowing that to leave them intact on the journey might cause more damage internally. Although Julie was a wonderful healer, Lizzy didn’t think there would be much she could do for a lacerated lung or heart valve cut on a broken piece of bone.
Carefully, she and Troy got Kyle into the cart. When they tried to lay him down, he struggled to breathe. The best they could do was sit him upright, leaning back on some wood. They had a blanket and Lizzy’s jacket, which she rolled up to help support his head. Then they set off home.
“Are you all right?” Troy asked.
Lizzy nodded. “I think so. And you?” She hadn’t checked on him. What was wrong with her? She had rushed to Kyle instantly, forgetting the man she loved. There was blood on his collar, which had to be from the blow to the back of his head. “You’re bleeding!”
She reached out to him, but he stopped her hand.
“I think it’s scabbing over,” he said. “Let’s not open it again.”
She nodded.
The side of her temple, closer to her forehead, was painful. Raising a hand and gently probing with her fingers, she found that it was bruised.
“That looks ugly,” Troy said. “Does it hurt a lot?”
“A bit,” Lizzy said. “I can’t believe those men came after us because Kyle stuck up for the waitress.”
“It does seem excessive,” Troy said. “I kept wondering while it was happening what the real reason for it was. Why were we targeted like that? Why follow us out of their way? Even if Kyle insulted them, they took a certain risk by coming after all three of us. Do you know any of them?”
Lizzy shook her head. “I don’t think so. Even though one of them seems very familiar, I can’t put a name to him. And his associates … they’re not that memorable.”
Troy looked thoughtful. “They called the man in the linen suit El Aguila. What is that?”
“The eagle,” Lizzy said.
“You speak Spanish?” Troy asked.
“Sure,” Lizzy said. “My father was Spanish, and he named me Isabel, which translates to Elizabeth in English. So I’m Lizzy to my friends.”
“Why did he change it?” Troy asked.
Lizzy sighed. “There was a time when it wasn’t a good idea to be Spanish in our town. So, we embraced English with enthusiasm, and it worked.” She shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”
“You’re such an onion,” Troy said.
“What?” Lizzy asked, confused.
“I just meant that every time I peel back a layer, there’s another one underneath waiting for me to find out about it,” Troy said. “It’s wonderful. You continue to surprise me.”
“Well, then an onion is a poor comparison,” Lizzy said.
“Why?” Troy asked as he urged the horses to go faster. They were managing a fast walk, and that was as much as they could do given how laden the cart was.
“Because no matter how many layers an onion has, it’s always just more onion. A trifle—now those layers are great because you never know what’s next,” Lizzy said.
From there, their conversation dried up.
It was hard to be cheerful and upbeat after the brutality of the attack on Kyle.
Their adrenaline wore off, and Lizzy suddenly became so tired.
She wanted to pass out but refused to because leaving Troy to manage this drive home alone would be wrong.
She dug her fingernails into her palms and imagined all the wonderful booby traps they would set up around the town.
So any bandits or other ne’er-do-wells would be halted in their miserable tracks before they could cause trouble.
It was early evening by the time they reached the camp. Everyone was settling down to a dinner of stew and rice when they rolled in.
Julie took one look at them and then she was on her feet, running over. Andrew was close on her heels, followed by Michael and Emily. Troy told them what had happened while Andrew and Michael got Kyle out of the back of the cart.
“They beat him for that?” Emily asked, horrified.
Lizzy nodded. “And made us watch.” She felt tears prick the backs of her eyes, but she swallowed them down. “I did what I could for him. I bound his ribs. I’m pretty sure they’re broken. But I couldn’t do much on the road for him.”
Julie smiled and placed a hand on her arm. “It’s okay. I’ll take it from here. Emily, come and help me, please. Lizzy, you and Troy should get cleaned up and come see me later. I’d like to take a look at that bump on Troy’s head.”
“We will,” Lizzy said before Troy could insist he was fine.
Andrew handed Kyle over to Ethan and Michael and then took Lizzy and Troy aside. “What was this about? Do you know? Was it the bandits who set fire to the farm? The ones who terrorized you and the other villagers?”
His eyes drilled into Lizzy, looking for more information, some answers, but all she could do was shrug.
“One seemed vaguely familiar,” Lizzy said. “But that doesn’t mean much. The bandits changed out often. We never saw the same face more than twice at the most. I didn’t recognize any of the men today. I’m sorry.”
“No, that’s probably good,” Andrew said. “It might be that some merchant has a fragile ego and needs to beat up unsuspecting travelers to feel in control.”
“You don’t really think that, do you?” Troy asked. “This smells of a setup. A trap. I would have driven the cart somewhere else if there was an option, but with Kyle like that …”
“What are you saying?” Andrew asked.
“I’m saying that we need to be on alert tonight. I don’t think this is over,” Troy said. He looked around, scanning the perimeter of the camp as though expecting to see the men who had attacked them earlier.
“Where is Tim?” Liz asked with sudden concern.
“Here,” her brother said.
Turning, she found him nearby, a look of distress on his face. She wrapped her arms around him and held him to her. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you.”
He hugged her back without protest, a rare occurrence, and said, “I’m glad you’re home. Are we really in danger?”
“We might be,” she said. “Can you and your friends get up in the trees? Until we build the lookout platforms, you’re probably the only ones who can get up high enough to be able to see far. And that way, if you’re up there, you’ll also stand a chance of getting away if we’re attacked.”
“But it’s getting dark,” Tim said. “We won’t be able to see far for long.”
“You might not see anything because there is nothing to see,” Lizzy replied. “I just think we should be prepared, in case.”
Andrew sighed and nodded. “I guess we have to accept that threats will come from time to time. I just don’t want to scare folks. Let’s make sure that we keep calm. If we stay focused and make it clear it’s a precaution, then everyone should keep their heads.”
Lizzy nodded.
“Go and get some food,” Andrew said. “I’ll get Robert and Mark to help us. They have law enforcement experience. We can use their expertise.”
“But they’ve been clear about staying out of things,” Troy said. “They just want to mine.”
“Well, tough,” Andrew said. “We need them and their skills, and now is the time for them to stop being ostriches and pull their heads out of the sand.”
He marched off.
Troy turned to Lizzy and Tim. “Come on, let’s get some coffee.”