Saving Alice Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

The driver reined in the mules. There was no time for him to warn the passengers of the trouble, for the holdup men were right there. The driver figured that if everyone cooperated, then they would get away with just the loss of money and valuables. He knew that if the robbers were planning on using the guns, they would have done so already. So the driver sat holding the reins.

Beside the driver sat the shotgun rider, Jim Watson. At the first sight of the riders, he deduced that there was nothing he could do in the present situation. After an initial jerking up of his rifle, he quickly stopped himself about half way up to firing position and took his right hand off the trigger and held it up away from the gun.

Jim was not a coward. Any man who rode shotgun had to be a man of nerve, but he knew when he was licked. So he held the gun until he could set it down safely.

After the coach had come to a stop, the mules snorted and breathed heavily. The riders sat on their horses in silence as a couple of the horses pranced about for a few steps, but were held in check. No one said a word. The driver and Watson, and the robbers just sat staring at each other for just a moment.

In the coach, the passengers didn’t know anything was wrong. They had assumed that the team of mules needed a rest. Whenever the coach came to a stop the passengers usually sat for a moment in an effort to let their joints settle back into place before attempting to climb out. This was no different. They all sat for half a moment. Tim Hawkins rolled his neck from side to side, Alice clasped her hands together in front of her and pushed them out for a stretch, and Matthew rolled his shoulders up and yawned.

Whitmore was the first to break the silence, saying, “Looks like we get to stretch our legs for a few moments.” And with that he reached for the door handle and threw the door open.

At the sound of the door opening Jim Watson called down to the passengers, “Folks, you need to sit tight. We’ve got a problem out here.”

Four of the seven riders, two from each side, spurred their horses forward and came up on the sides of the coach. The passengers stared in disbelief. Alice gave a startled gasp and grabbed Matthew’s hand.

“Listen up everyone. You need to come out one at a time, and move real slow like. Keep your hands in sight, and you shall live to breakfast,” came the command from the rider on Whitmore’s side of the coach.

For about ten seconds nobody moved. Then, slowly, the center bench was emptied, as the passengers started to crawl out of each side door. The driver and Watson climbed down from their perch, while Watson made exaggerated movements of caution with his rifle as he carried it down and laid it on the ground and backed away from it. Alice came out and stood behind the men, followed by Matthew. Everyone had their hands held up to shoulder height.

“Well now, what we want is a sharin’ of your resources.” The speaker was out in front sitting next to two other riders. He was a big man with broad shoulders and a frame that made the horse under him look small. Though his lower face was covered with his soiled bandana, he had an unmistakable scar above his left eye that put a slice through his eyebrow, and traveled another slanting two inches onto his forehead. His voice was deep and gravely, and had an edge to it. He spoke as though he knew people wouldn’t want to disagree with him.

“What we want is just a few things to tie us over for a few days- perhaps a pocket watch or a money belt- anything that you would like to share.”

With a nod of his head he spoke to his men, “Jim, Willy, see what these good folks are willing to pass on.”

With that, a man from each side of the coach jumped down from their mounts and started going over each person for valuables. Rings and watches were given up. Pocket money was handed over. Most of the men had their real cash of money hidden elsewhere on their body. Slowly but surely each person was giving up their treasures.

Matthew had two money belts. When he was preparing to leave on this trip, one of his friends warned him that it would be wise to wear one up high around his chest and one low around his middle. He was told to keep just a little of his money in his pockets, a little more in his lower belt and the majority in his upper belt.

“Look at what we have here,” said the bandit that had just reached Matthew. “We got us a Bible man.”

Matthew had carried his Bible out of the coach with him. It had been on his lap for most of the trip. There was no convenient place to lay it down in their cramped seating, so, on his lap, it had resided for the entire trip.

“What are you carrying that around for, Mister?” This was asked with a tinge of mockery in his voice.

“I’m a preacher,” responded Matthew in a soft voice.

Matthew was just as scared as everyone else. A part of him was wondering what he was doing out here away from the city. Why on earth did he put Alice in such a dangerous position?

The bandit’s smile somewhat froze under his bandana. Robbing people was one thing, but robbing preachers was another. In his eyes, preachers always deserved respect. He stood now a bit unsure what to do.

“You don’t look like no preacher,” the bandit stammered.

“Well, I am.” Summoning up some courage, he continued, “You know, this is not pleasing to the Lord. The Bible says, ‘Let him who steals steal no more.’”

“Well… Ah…”

“What are you talking about?” boomed the voice of the leader. He had slid off his mount and was striding over to the stammering thief.

“This here is a preacher.”

“Is that a problem?”

“I ain’t never stole from no preacher before.”

“Preacher-money spends just the same as anyone else’s.”

“All the same, it just ain’t right.”

“What kind of yella dog are you? Stealin’ is stealin’!”

One of the other thieves piped in, “I think Willy’s right. We shouldn’t oughta take nothing’ from the preacher. Nothin’ good’ll come of it.”

With a sudden move the big man swung a vicious backhand across Willy’s face. He was lifted off his feet as though a bear had hit him. With a thud he landed on his back, knocking his hat off, at the same moment his bandana slid down to his chin

Without thinking, Willy rolled to his knees and reached for his gun. There was a deafening boom and Willy was jerked off his knees. For a second time he landed on his back. This time he didn’t get up. He lay still with his gun laying in the dust near his head and a bloodied wound in the center of his chest.

At the sound of the gun, all the passengers instinctively ducked, and the horses shied. Willy’s untethered horse started and ran about fifteen yards before settling down. The big man swung his gun around in the general direction of his own men.

“Anyone else have a problem with who we gather our proceedings from?” This was said with an edge to his voice, like a deep rumbling growl from a wolf. The air was thick with danger as he stood there facing down his own men. No one stirred to offer a challenge.

After a tense pause, having kept his men in check, the thief slowly put his own gun back in its holster and turned towards Matthew. He had returned to his gravely casual voice as he said, “Now then, Preacher, I’m not too different from you when it comes to gettin’ money. I threaten with a gun and you threaten with a Bible and hell and some sort of judgment. Ain’t that right, Preacher?” He said this last word with a sarcastic tone.

“No sir, you aren’t right,” Matthew said with a shaky voice as his eyes stole a quick glance at the still body of Willy. “I mean it’s right that you threaten and want money, but I’m not after money. I’m after souls. I talk about the love of God. I implore men to…”

“I’m not interested in your sermons” the thief interrupted, “But I am interested in what kind of offering you’re willin’ to make today,” the thief paused and his eyes narrowed while his mouth beneath his kerchief formed a mocking smile. “And, I won’t even make you sit through Sunday singin’ and preachin’ to give to me. Tell me if that ain’t a bit kinder than your approach.

“So what do you have there on you?”

Matthew hesitated, and then slowly reached his hand into his pocket. He pulled out a few coins and held them out to the thief.

“Very nice,” the thief observed as he tallied the sum of the coins. “Less than a dollar there. But I’m sure you didn’t come all this way with just but a few coins. Come on, lets have us an offering like you’d like to get after one of your sermons.”

Slowly Matthew unbuttoned his jacket and untucked his shirt. He undid his lower money belt and handed it over to the thief. The thief just held the belt for a couple of seconds while looking down into Matthew’s eyes.

“How did a snip of a boy like you become a sin buster?”

Matthew felt that old anger rising up. He had always hated being looked down upon because he looked a good decade younger than he was. He noticed his right hand start to ball up, but he stopped it short of a fist. He wasn’t exactly afraid of the man, per se, but all the unholstered guns and a dead man laying just a few feet away did raise his emotions to a fearful level. He knew that fists against firepower were not even close to a fair match.

Trying to ignore the “boy” comment, Matthew started to say, “God has called me…” but, before he could get the words out, the thief punched him in the stomach with a ferocious right-handed punch. Matthew didn’t have time to even flex his stomach muscles or to roll with the punch. He received the full force of the blow just below his rib cage. Every last bit of wind was knocked out of his lungs as he doubled over. Reflexively he cradled his arms to his stomach as he fell to the ground gasping for air. The other passengers winced and Alice gave a short scream and fell to Matthew’s side.

“You caused one of my men to die, boy,” the thief said with just a hint of growl. “By all rights I should kill you now, but because you are just a twig of a man and a preacher to boot, I’m going to let you live.”

Alice looked up from beside Matthew who was still struggling for breath, “You’re an animal!” she said with an unsteady voice. Her green eyes shimmered with tears and her hands were trembling.

The thief looked at her. He had seen her when she came out of the coach, but he had taken little notice of her. Robbing a coach was delicate business until everyone was properly subdued. There wasn’t time for distractions. But, now that everything was completely under control, he took the time to really see this woman that was insulting him. He liked what he saw.

“How do ma’am,” he said with a nod of his head and leer in his eyes.

Alice felt the chill of his look and turned her face back to Matthew.

“You know,” continued the thief, “there’s parts of this wild area out here where women are considered rare. Fact is…” he pause as his eyebrows compressed slightly, “a fine woman like you could fetch a fair price with some of the men I know.”

Alice was still looking at Matthew as the thief spoke. Her eyes widened in disbelief and her heart took on a faster pace.

Matthew had heard the exchange as well, and was desperately trying to get up. His stomach muscles refused to relax from their spasms. He forced himself to his elbow and started to move up. With an effort he forced three halting words from his mouth, “She’s… my… wife!”

“Well then, ain’t that appropriate. You made me loose a man, and now I’m gonna to make you loose a woman. S’pose that ‘bout makes us even, don’t it?”

With that said, the thief stepped forward, leading with his left foot, reaching for Alice’s arm with his right hand. Alice hadn’t seen him make the move, but she felt the iron grip on her upper left arm. She tried to push away from him, but his hold was unbreakable. She didn’t scream, but instead swung her right hand in a sweeping windmill swing, but it was stopped just an inch from his face by his left hand.

Matthew knew it was nearly impossible to make an effective attack from a grounded position, but fear for his wife made him reckless. With an effort Matthew tried to find his feet so he could lunge up at his foe, but the thief had predicted this. With his left foot still forward, the thief kicked his right foot into the stomach of Matthew. Once again Matthew was sprawled onto the dirt with no air in his lungs. An instant later, the thief had dropped his right hand from Alice’s arm and pulled his gun out, while his grip on her left wrist was unwavering. He held his gun level as he looked around at the other passengers. Very slowly at first, he started to back up in the direction of his horse. When no one made a protest, he lowered his gun slightly and turned with Alice now in tow, and walked to his horse. Though Alice struggled and protested vehemently with cries of help, she was simply no match for the brutish strength of this man.

With a fluid movement, the thief had mounted his horse and pulled Alice up in front of him.

In a loud voice he commanded, “I want everyone to lay down, and stay down. The first head I see come up will be shot through.”

Everyone obeyed by laying face down in the dirt. Matthew was the only one attempting to make a move to his feet, but his air was just starting to come back so he moved with the slowness of pain. The whole while, Matthew kept his eyes on Alice who was calling his name and struggling. He could see the tears running down her face. Then, in a flash, the band of thieves turned and rode away.