Chapter Six

The wagon moved on at a steady pace up the hills, down into the valleys and over the ledges of the road clinging to the side of the mountains.  They travelled alternately through short, brushy forests, then through wide expanses of nothing that eventually changed to chaparral.  They made one quick stop for necessary reasons, then continued on. As the day dragged on, the heat began to mount until the air inside the canvas of the wagon was sweltering.

Joe was thankful they had ridden most of the day.  It gave him a chance to keep his arm still so the cut in his armpit could dry, giving it time to make a deep, well knitted scab that would hopefully stay.  The sweat now was only a minor nuisance, and it felt like the swelling in his face had reduced.  But with the heat and sweat, came the wearing of the rough metal shackles on his wrists.  He knew it wouldn’t be long before his wrists were raw and bloody.

After their last break, while the captives were shifting to get comfortable and rattling their chains, Joe took the opportunity to grab the two rods, sliding one into each of his boots.  All he could do now was wait until they reached Aurora where Nolan would be short handed, and hopefully, he could use the cover of darkness to slip away.  That would only happen if he managed to pry one of the links of the chain apart.  He spent the rest of the ride in the daylight studying the chain between his legs and the chain that attached him to the man sitting beside him.

By the time the wagon stopped again, it was dark, and had been for a full hour.  No one came to the back of the wagon, but Joe heard Nolan’s voice outside.  “Dusty, you and Scully, come with me.  We’ll come back and relieve you two in a couple of hours.”

Joe heard the horses trot away.  One of the men left behind poked his head into the back of the wagon.  “You boys get some sleep while you can.  Tomorrow’s gonna be real hot.  You better pray Nolan let’s you walk.”

Listening for the sound of movement outside to give way to the crack and pop of a fire, Joe knew the two men that were left were somewhere to the right of the wagon where they could see the back.  He was sitting on the left side, and slowly reaching both hands under the canvas, he felt for the bonnet hooks.  One by one, he slipped the loops of the bonnet off the hooks, leaving enough room for him to slide between the bonnet and the side of the wagon.  Next, he found a link between him and the next man that hadn’t been welded, leaving a split in the metal.  Setting the small rod, a king pin, under his boot heel to anchor the link, he used the longer rod, a box rod to pry at the split.  Looking at the link after his first try, Joe saw that the split was no longer flush.  He continued to brace the link and pry it, and after some time, he had bent it enough to slip if off of the next link.  He had separated himself from the other men in the wagon.

He stopped and listened, and heard faint chuckles from near the fire.  Slipping out of his shirt, he slowly ripped off the other sleeve, then tore the sleeve into two strips.  He wrapped his shirt around the chain between his ankles and tied it with the strips, then lifted his feet and shook them, proving the shirt muffled the sound of the chains.

Taking a deep breath, he went head-first under the bonnet.  He caught himself on the side of the wagon, swung both feet down to the ground, and then slipped away into the night.  Having no idea which way to go, he went to high ground hoping to see the flickering lanterns of Aurora.  With his eyes adjusted to the dark, he walked up a hill, and reaching the top, realized he was in a cemetery, the white stone monoliths glowing eerily in the dark. As he walked through them, he wondered about the souls buried there, thinking he could soon be joining them.  Taking a deep breath to chase such thoughts away, he spotted Aurora spread out before him in a small valley just beyond the cemetery.

From the top of the hill, halfway down, the land changed from scrub forest to chaparral.  Walking became difficult, not only because of the dark, but the small desert sage bushes caught and pulled at the chain between his ankles.  He had to bend and hold the chain up, paying more attention to where he stepped to avoid the brush.

Finally, he squatted in a shadow at the side of a building, looking up and down the street.  He had never been in Aurora and had no idea where the sheriff’s office was.  The street he was on appeared to be the main street of the town, so it was just a matter of walking down behind the buildings to find the sheriff’s office.

He looked for a building with bars in the back window, and when he found it, he eased to the side and watched the front door and the street.  When he saw a break in the bustle along the street, he quietly shuffled up onto the porch and quickly stepped inside, going straight to the man sitting at the desk.

“Sheriff, I’ve been kidnapped and need help,” he said, holding up his shackled arms.

The sheriff dropped his pencil on the desk and sat back in his chair.  “Son, you aren’t the first man who come in here wearing irons and claiming he was kidnapped.  And I’ll tell you, most of the ones wearing army issue irons are prisoners trying to escape.”

The muscles in Joe’s jaws flexed as he gritted his teeth. “Sheriff, I’m not a prisoner.  My name is…”  The sound was instantly cut off by a blow to the back of his head.

“Now, Nolan, wha’ d’you have to go an’ do a thing like that for?  The boy was about to tell me his name.”

“His name don’t matter.  He’s one of mine.”

“Yours?  Well, get him out of here.  And make sure that darn army scout don’t see you.  I don’t want that fort commander comin’ in here ‘cause his precious mine has been found out.”

Nolan grabbed Joe’s wrist chain and dragged him out the door and into the alley.