Trails Of A Lonely Heart

By Patrick Norris

Wyatt Dillon was born and reared in the Leinster Mountains in Ireland. At the end of the 1960’s he immigrated to America to follow his dream of being a cowboy. Many years later he found himself back in Ireland where he was hired to track down 4 vicious and brutal men who had kidnapped his former sweetheart Maria Larimore and her son Brad.

• Language: English
• Publisher: FIRSTeBook
• Release date: Jan 12, 2011

Book preview

Chapter 1

Along a wet and winding road, on a wintery day in February, the woman and her teenage son were driving to their lodgings in the Mount Leinster Mountains, just outside Bunclody. Normally, she did her shopping in Dublin, but because of the weather, she had decided on Enniscorthy, even though the little town on the river Slaney did not give her as many choices in shops or clothes as she would have wished for. Reducing her speed, she drove through Bunclody and, at the head of Carrigduff, steered her hired jeep left and continued her journey up toward the Western Riding ranch at the top of Mount Leinster. She wished she had her own pickup-truck back from the garage, as she was still not used to the replacement jeep. She was so accustomed to the automatic that she had almost forgotten how and when to change gear manually. Just as she was halfway up Barnahask Hill, she noticed two large cars behind her, flashing their lights. She pulled over to the side as far as possible, so they could overtake, as they seemed to be in such a hurry. The first car, which she saw as it got closer, was a large, black GM van, with Florida plates. It wasn’t unusual to see American number plates in Ireland. It was a very popular country for American visitors, so she didn’t pay it much heed. The second car didn’t pass her.

I guess he’s afraid to overtake on this narrow road, she remarked to her son.

Topping out on the hill, the mountains and forests were now in clear view. The mist had risen and it was a clear day. Another fifteen minutes, she thought, and I’ll be trying on new clothes in front of my bedroom mirror.

Without warning, the van suddenly stopped in front of her, sideways across the road, which gave her no chance to pass. Behind her, the second car pulled up and almost rammed into her rear bumper. Two men jumped out of the van, with hooded masks, and before she had any comprehension of what they were doing, she was dragged from her car by one of the men. On the other side of the jeep, the other man dragged her son from the rear seat. She tried to scream, but a gloved hand was clamped over her mouth immediately. Within seconds, they were both bundled into the back of the van. Tape was quickly wrapped around her mouth and hands, and her son’s. The doors were slammed shut and the van sped away toward the mountains. The whole operation had been carried out in less than a minute. She tried to move closes to her son, but one of the men grabbed her and threw her to one corner, growling, Stay fucking there and be quiet.

The men still wore their masks. Not another word was spoken as the van bumped and rolled along the country road. After approximately fifteen minutes, the van slowed down, veered drastically to the right, and stopped. She heard car doors slamming, and another man climbed into the passenger seat before they moved off again. She knew immediately that they had left the tarmac road and were now on a rough, dirt road. She could feel the tires of the van trying to grip the surface as it danced and chugged upward. As she lay in the back of the van, her only thought was for her son. If this is a kidnapping - or even worse - why did they also take the boy? Her mind raced as she tried to grasp what had just happened. Abruptly, the van stopped and the doors opened. The cold air hit her face and she shivered. They were somewhere in the middle of a forest. The dirt road had ended here. Somehow, the small cabin nearby seemed familiar, but she couldn’t be sure. Beside the cabin, several saddled horses were hitched to the rail. At the other hitching rack, three packhorses were loaded and also ready for travel. This type of scene was not unfamiliar to the woman or her son. She managed a large outfitters trail-ranch in the mountains, where her son helped her out between school terms. There were now four men, all still wearing masks. Much to her distaste, one of the men put his hands all over her body - frisking her; then the boy. They removed the mobile phone from the boy’s pocket and threw it on the ground, where it smashed to pieces. The boy struggled briefly, until one of the men backhanded him across the face, knocking him to the ground.

Stop fucking about, you little cunt; just do as you’re told, said the man.

Quickly, they were ushered toward the horses. The woman and her son were forced to mount. When they were all mounted, one of the men rode up beside them and blindfolded the woman and her son before they moved out. She got the feeling they were riding single file as she could only hear the horses’ hooves in front and behind her as they rode up the rough trail leading high into the mountains.

They travelled upward for what seemed like several hours, veering right and left. Daylight was coming to an end and as nightfall was nearing, it began to get colder. On arriving at a small, flat plateau, the horses stopped. The woman and the boy were roughly taken from their horses and their blindfolds removed. They were half pushed, half dragged inside the nearby cabin. She was glad to be finally out of the cold, although she knew that they were in deep trouble. Inside the cabin, she was forcibly taken to the corner where there were two bunk beds. Both she and the boy were quickly bound to the beds, their mouths still gagged. They could hear a lot of noise and talking outside, but couldn’t make out the words. They heard horses clattering off and a minute or so later two men came into the cabin. They still wore masks, which the woman found oddly comical. Basically, the masks were just large cloths with slits for the eyes and a hole where their noses stuck out. She’d noticed that they were familiar with horses and trails. These were no city slickers. They were all dressed in the same type of clothes, covered by long, dark rain slickers. One of the men had a way of walking and moving that somehow seemed familiar. She racked her brains for a tell-tale sign. She knew it would come. The man she thought was familiar was not one of the two who’d come into the cabin. One was slightly larger than the other, but otherwise, they were almost indistinguishable. The larger seemed to be the leader.

I’m going to remove the tape, he said as he came toward them. If either of you try to scream or cry out, I’ll beat the fucking shit out of you both and tape you both up for the rest of the night. Now nod yer head if you fucking understand me.

Both the woman and the boy nodded weakly. Their captor roughly pulled off the tape and threw it on the floor.

There’s plenty more where that came from, so fucking remember that.

They heated up some soup and brought over bowls to the woman and the boy.

Get used to this. As long as you’re here, this will be your daily food. Now eat it.

Some bread was thrown onto the bed beside them.

What are you going to do with us? the woman blurted out.

The smaller man was walking quickly toward her with his hand raised, when the larger man said,

Hold it! Leave her alone. We don’t want to damage the goods, now do we? Plus, I don’t like my women all scarred up, he added, as he laughed softly.

A chill ran up the woman’s spine. Suddenly, removing his mask, the man added with a sneer. You and your whelp there, are worth a lot of money, so if your old man comes up with the cash, you should be out of here soon. If he doesn’t, then I am going to fuck you and slit your fucking throat and the boy’s. Now does that answer your question, bitch?

The woman understood and looked at the boy, trying to convey to him with her eyes, not to worry, although she could see his fear mounting, despite her efforts. The second man removed his mask. The leader had an ugly face, with a scar across his forehead. He had a few days’ growth on his chin, his nose had been broken at some stage, and when the woman looked into his lifeless eyes, she saw only meanness. She shivered faintly as she began to realize fully, that she and her son, were trapped in a nightmare situation. She had to think. She lay back on the bunk and frantically tried to focus her thoughts on the time ahead. It wasn’t just for herself; her son was dependent on her - for his life.

When the two other men had left the cabin the night before, they had doubled back on their trail and in a short time reached the first cabin where they had dumped the van. They had made good time without the woman, kid and packhorses. Circling the cabin with caution - to make sure there was no one around, they entered. They drove the van behind the cabin and pulled an old tarpaulin over it, until it was completely hidden. Later on they doused the oil lamps which they had lit earlier and one of them climbed into the bunk and slept, whilst the other kept watch.

When communicating amongst themselves, they used no names - they were called simply Red, Blue, Black and Green. Red and Blue were now with the woman and boy. It was up to Black and Green to cover their tracks and see what the local Gardi would get up to. They all agreed that Red’s plan was fool-proof and that he had left nothing to chance.

Before daylight, Black and Green saddled their horses and rode upward for a few miles. Tying the horses to a tree, they doubled back - each moving outward - so that anyone following them up the trail would be caught between them. They were both at home in the woods and mountains and had dressed warmly for the job ahead. After finding good resting spots beside the trail, they sat back and waited.

Sometime in the early afternoon, Green heard the tell-tale click of wood breaking. There were many sounds in the forest, but with this out of ordinary snap, he was suddenly alert. Dropping down flat, he waited, his heart beating madly. He eased the rifle along the ground before him and sighted it on the trail. Almost without breathing, he waited, until suddenly, he saw what he was waiting for. Not more than a hundred yards below him, he could make out a man stooping low - moving forward. He didn’t look like a policeman, as all the local Gardi wore black uniforms, but he guessed they would be plain-clothed police - or men who worked for the police force. Suddenly, another man came into view, around twenty yards to the left of the first one and some ten yards behind him. Green glanced upward to see if he could see Black. He spotted him fifty yards higher up. Black signaled that he had also seen the two men coming forward. They waited patiently until the two men were almost at the cabin. Black and Green donned their masks as they slowly started in pursuit. The roles were now reversed; the tracked had become the trackers. The two men both carried guns, but Black guessed from the way they held their guns, they were not familiar in the use of firearms. The two men were almost at the entrance to the cabin - all their attention focused on the door. Suddenly, Black and Green showed themselves.

Move an inch and you’re both fucking dead, said Black.

The men froze. Their rifles pointed toward the cabin door. They were smart enough to know that they could never swing their guns at Black in time and that they were in each other’s line of fire. From the other side of the cabin, Green added threateningly. And if he doesn’t get you, I will. Now drop the guns.

They were caught and they knew it. They dropped their guns and stood still.

Are there any more of you coming? Black growled.

No, replied one of the men. The police are not familiar with these parts. They recruited us to see if we could find your hideout. We’re just locals. Not police. They just hire us from time to time.

Find our hideout, me arse, said Black. Youse couldn’t find a beer in a brewery, you fucking idiots.

Coming forward, Black walked behind the two men.

Down on your fucking knees. Hands behind your heads. Down! he shouted.

He had leaned his rifle against the cabin wall and now held a short-barreled revolver. Slowly, covering them - with Green covering them from the other side of the cabin - he dropped ready-made plastic ties over their hands and yanked them tight. Then, putting his boot on their backs, he pushed the men to the ground. Placing his foot on one of their ankles, he tied both their legs together. He then toed them over with his foot, until both men were looking up at the clear sky of the cold winter’s day. Without warning, he dropped to the chest of one of the men and quickly slit his throat from ear to ear with a short, jagged-edged hunting knife. He then jumped quickly onto the second man and did the same, before rolling off him, laughing.

Fucking hell; will ye look at them? They’re still wiggling like two fucking pigs. Jumping to his feet he shouted, And who’s the man now, who’s the man now - you fucking pigs?

Green stood rooted to the spot. Waves of sickness came up from the pit of his stomach. Turning away, he threw up everything, except his guts. Wiping his mouth, with the back of his sleeve, he shouted at Black, You fucking bastard, why did you do that? There was no need to fucking kill them, you bastard.

Fuck you. My orders were to take out anyone who was following us. The boss means business, and he wants the fucking police and the bitch’s husband to know that we mean business.

There was no need to kill them, repeated Green. No one said there would be killings. I wouldn’t have agreed to this plan if I had known there were going to be killings.

Well, too fucking late, now aren’t you. Besides, you don’t have any fucking say in the matter. You’re only here because you know your way around the mountain and the forest. Now stop fucking whining and let’s get back to the horses. The boss will be waiting for us. Black turned his back and walked into the cabin.

A minute later, he came out with a piece of paper and a nail in his hand. Without hesitation, using the butt of his revolver, he drove the nail through the paper and into the chest of one of the dead men. He stood up. Laughing, he gazed at his handiwork, saying, Well, the fuckers can’t miss that. And now that they know we mean fucking business, they won’t be sending anymore would-be fucking Davy Crockett’s after us. Now let’s go, you whining fuck.

He turned and set off uphill, to the tied and waiting horses.

Chapter 2

At the end of the second day, the woman heard loud talking from outside. She and her son were still tied to the beds. The only time they were released, was when they needed to go to the toilet outside - behind a tree - whilst one of the men watched over them. The door opened, and Black and Green came in, rubbing their hands from the cold and stamping their feet. As they warmed their hands at the stove, Red asked, Well? Did it go as planned, can we start moving?

Like a fucking dream, except this shit-head doesn’t like the sight of blood, Black said, pointing to his partner.

Well, he’d better get used to it. If he doesn’t, he might be looking at his own blood one of these days, replied the big man, looking at no one in particular

Did you write the message like I told you? he added.

Word for word, replied Black.

Good. Now get some sleep. We’ll be moving out first thing in the morning. One of you, stay on watch. You can decide that amongst yourselves. If anything pops, I will be in the back room. He smiled as he looked at the woman on the bed.

During the ride, he had been looking closely at the woman. Without doubt, she was a beautiful woman. He guessed she was in her late thirties or early forties. Her body was still in perfect shape. In his circle of friends, he didn’t come in contact with women like this. Later that evening, when all had settled down, the large man walked over to the woman. Cutting her free from her bonds, he caught her by the hair and pressed his knife against her throat. She thought she was going to throw up, but somehow she kept the sickness down. Half dragging, half pulling her, he threw her through the door into the smaller room adjoining the main cabin. The boy struggled to get off his bed, crying and pleading, but the woman shouted at him.

No, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon, she said.

The large man kicked the door shut behind him with his foot and looked at the woman, smiling wickedly.

Okay, bitch. You want to do this the hard way or the easy way? It’s your choice. This is going to be a daily routine, so I’d rather not have to work up a sweat each day knocking you around, and if that doesn’t get your co-operation, I’ll castrate your fucking whelp or I will give him to my partner. He like’s young boys and he hasn’t had one for a long time.

The woman opened her jacket and shirt so that her breasts were partially revealed. She then opened her belt buckle, pushed her jeans down and stepped out of them. He looked at her with his mouth open. She had full round breasts and brief, dark-blue underpants. His hands went to his crotch and unzipped his trousers. He nodded at her to remove the panties. Awkwardly she put her tied wrists in front of her panties and pushed them down and over her feet. He now had his cock out, and it was already hard as he rubbed it. She had long legs, he noted, as he moved toward her with a leering face, reaching out to grab her breasts. Unexpectedly, she brought her knee up between his legs, aiming for his crotch. But she was a split second too early. As he turned sideways, her knee caught him on the side of his leg. Turning swiftly, he hit her across the face with his open hand, sending her crashing against the small bed in the corner. As she struggled to rise, he hit her again. Then, grabbing her by the neck, he forced her onto her back. His fingers were biting into her neck and she was now gasping for air. She tried to struggle, but very slowly she was beginning to see darkness. Suddenly, he slackened his fingers a little and whispered - his head close to her face. I’ll castrate the little fucker now. What’s it to be bitch?

She stopped struggling and lay panting. Her eyes focused straight ahead - on a small chink in the wooden ceiling - that only she saw. She closed her eyes as he climbed on top of her and pulled her shirt and jacket open exposing her breasts. Entering her immediately, he began thrusting in and out. She gritted her teeth against the pain, but she didn’t make a sound, or a move. She lay completely motionless; the man didn’t seem to care. Very quickly, he let out a loud moan, ejaculated inside of her, then pulled out and started putting his cock back in his trousers.

Oh fuck yeah! You are one hot bitch. I sure am going to enjoy giving it to you every chance I get. Who knows, maybe you might even get to like it. He laughed. Now put your fucking clothes on and get back inside.

Once she was dressed, he pushed her back through the door and again tied her to the bedpost, when she reached the bunk. The boy looked at his mother with terror in his eyes; he was old enough to guess what had happened in the adjoining room. She spoke to him with her eyes and barely moving her lips, she murmured, It’s okay; I’m all right. The boy cried silently.

The next morning, all was packed up and everyone slowly moved out - onwards and upwards along the winding trail. Here and there, they began to see patches of frozen snow between the trees, and from time to time, a large clump of snow would fall to the ground, resulting in a loud crash through the forest, as it broke through the sagging branches. The man, who seemed so familiar to the woman, was leading, followed by Red and then the woman. In between the woman and the boy, were Blue and Black. They were riding drag, turning every now and then in the saddle, to look behind them. Topping out on a small ridge, the group stopped on Green - the guides’ - orders, to give the horses a breather. The large man spoke.

Okay. Our plan has worked perfectly up ’till now. The rest of you can ditch the fucking masks. It doesn’t matter who sees who from here on in.

Black immediately removed his mask, which had obscured features as ugly as the large man’s. He had a small round face with pig-like eyes, and was almost bald except for a few bits of long hair around his ears. Green had still not removed his mask when the large man added;

That goes for you too, whiner. I said, ditch the fucking mask.

Green slowly removed his mask, and as he turned sideways, to put it in his saddlebag, the woman couldn’t hide her shock when she saw his face. Her heart sank and an awful darkness fell on her as she whispered to herself, Oh Jesus! Oh Jesus no!

Chapter 3

Just around the time the gang topped out on the ridge with the woman and boy, over four thousand miles away, across the Atlantic Ocean, Wyatt Dillon awoke to the sound of the cockerel crowing in the little yard at the side of his ranch house - just fifteen miles outside Riverton, Wyoming. Throughout the year, the cockerel sang his daily song, as soon as the sun appeared from behind the Rocky Mountains. Usually, Wyatt loved the sound, but right now, he was in a mind to take his revolver from beside his bed, where he always kept it, and put an end to this daily tune. This was a special day, and for the first time in months, he had no plans. He lay there listening to the stillness, basking in the comfort of the old wooden bed, which he had made many years before. He yawned, and stretched his arms above his head, disturbing the blankets slightly, which made the woman beside him, turn faintly. Mandy had been beside him now for almost ten years, and each time he looked at her, she was more beautiful. He watched her breathing softly, her full mouth was slightly open and her long, dark eyelashes that covered her closed, bright- blue eyes were partly covered with a lock of her dark hair. He lifted the sheets and looked at her sun-browned body. She was tanned all over. This came from a combination of free hours spent in her garden, lounging in a hang mat which he had put up for her many years before and from her occasional visits to the local sun centre in Lander, with her good friend Jeannie Prescott - who was the wife of a neighboring rancher - up near Fort Washakie.

She had the most beautiful breasts he had ever seen, not very large, but as she used to say - ‘a nice handful’. She was completely naked, as she had been, every night since they first had shared a bed. He smiled to himself. Before she met him, she had always slept in an old pair pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. She lay slightly curled, with her knees drawn up like a child, her left hand under her pillow and her other hand clasped between her legs. He bent over slowly and kissed her shoulder, then her breast, and the side of her face. This brought a little murmur from her. She took her right hand from between her legs, put it around the back of his head and pulled him closer. Her eyes remained closed. He pulled her against him and felt the warmth of her body against him as she stretched her legs, putting one leg over his. This brought the usual excitement, and he could