‘I heard not all went according to plan.’
‘Please do not patronize, Sheriff Lewis. What happened was a case of brutal kidnap and the criminal must be caught.’
‘I hear you, Counsellor. But I have a sheaf of statements from guests and catering staff to the effect that the young lady co-operated in mounting the horse and that she had had a love affair with this young man, the horse-rider, before. That looks to me more like an elopement.’
‘Weasel words, Sheriff. If the girl had wished to break off her engagement there was nothing to stop her. This girl was snatched with physical force. The criminal committed trespass to get in here, kicked two of Mr Braddock’s staff in the face and did an impressive amount of malicious damage to private property. Mr Braddock intends to press charges. Will you bring this hooligan in, or shall we?’
Sheriff Lewis did not like being threatened.
‘I hope you and your client are not thinking of taking the law into your own hands, Counsellor? That could be most unwise.’
The lawyer ignored the counter-threat.
‘Mr Braddock is deeply concerned for the safety of his daughter-in-law. He is within his right to search for her.’
‘Was the wedding ceremony complete?’
‘Was it what?’
‘Are your client’s son and Miss Pickett actually married in law?’
‘Well . . .’
‘In that case she is not your client’s daughter-inlaw. She is no relation.’
‘Until further information she is still my client’s son’s fiancée. He is acting as a concerned citizen. Now are you going to bring this hooligan in? There is always Helena.’
Sheriff Lewis sighed. He knew how much influence Bill Braddock had with some legislators in the state capital. He was not afraid of that either. But this young man, Ben Craig, had undoubtedly committed offences.
‘As soon as he can be traced, I’ll be there,’ he said. As he put the phone down he thought it might be wise for him to get to the lovebirds before Braddock’s men. His helicopter pilot came on the line. It was nearly four, with two hours to go before sundown and the fading of the light.
‘Jerry, I want you to find the Bar-T Ranch. Then fly south towards the Pryors. Keep an eye open in front and to both sides.’
‘What am I looking for, Paul?’
‘A lone rider, heading south, probably for the mountains. There’s a girl mounted up behind him in a white wedding dress.’
‘Are you putting me on?’
‘Nope. Some saddle-bum just snatched the fiancée of Bill Braddock’s son from the altar.’
‘I think I like the guy already,’ said the police officer as
he left the Billings Airfield area.
‘Just find him for me, Jerry.’
‘No sweat. If he’s there I’ll find him. Out.’
The pilot was over the Bar-T five minutes later and set his course due south. He maintained 1,000 feet, low enough to give him a good view of any moving rider below him and high enough to cover a ten-mile-wide swathe to left and right.
To his right he could see Highway 310 and the rail line running south towards the village of Warren and on into Wyoming via the flat country. Ahead he could see the peaks of the Pryors.
In case the rider had tried to evade detection by veering west across the road, Sheriff Lewis asked the Highway Patrol to cruise down the 310 and keep an eye open on both sides of the road for the torso of a rider above the prairie grass.
Big Bill Braddock had not been idle. Leaving his staff to cope with the anarchy on his lawn, he and his security men had gone straight to his office. Never a man known for his good humour, those around him had still not ever seen him in such a towering rage. For a while he sat at his desk in silence. There were a dozen grouped round him, waiting for orders.
‘What do we do, boss?’ asked one eventually.