Charlene wiped a drop of sweat from her upper lip as she swung her head from one side of the trail to the other, eyes darting behind every tree and branch. She urged her horse forward at a slow walk, letting him pick his way through the overgrown trail. The branches brushed across her trousers and long-sleeved button-up work shirt. Lips pinched in a thin line, she observed her horse's ears twitching about. Skittishness was not its normal behavior.

Somewhere up ahead, Leland's life was hanging on his hope that the plan would play out as expected.

Had the ambush already taken place? She hadn't heard any gunfire so that was a good sign. But if it had happened, she would have expected to have heard something. A skirmish or at least a horse neighing in confusion. She wasn't that far behind, after all. The forest was thick here and the trail, if you could call it that, was narrow. Trees were dense overhead and the birds had been plentiful as they pursued their never-ending quest for food.

Her heart skipped a beat as she realized she wasn't hearing any bird song. No noise of any kind really. Had something already happened up ahead to quiet them?

Something erupted from her left, knocking her from her saddle, pitching her into a clump of scrub oak. A calloused hand clamped across her mouth and nose, followed by the quick insertion of a foul-tasting rag shoved deep. Dazed, she brought her hands up in an instinctive attempt to ease her breathing only to discover both arms efficiently pinned behind her. Meantime, somebody had roped her legs and had now grasped her ankles, tying them together quick as a cowboy on branding day.

A thinly-mustached narrow face thrust itself up close. Foul breath let loose on Charlene's recovering senses as a wicked grin spread across the man's features. She caught a glimpse of another man's back as he grabbed the reins of her horse and spoke softly to settle it down. The whole episode had started and ended in a few quick seconds.

"Hey there, Red," chirped Charlene's captor. He had a Mexican accent. "Carmondy told us you was la belleza but I think 'ee was holding back on us."

"Shut up Reymundo," said the other man. Charlene could see now that he had long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. "Gotta keep quiet, at least 'till we get her back to the house."

"But I wanna see the dress. Carmondy said she wore a dress that made 'ees eyes water." His voice trailed off though and turned into a mumble to himself as he worked to finish tying up Charlene's wrists.

She attempted to pull an arm free but was immediately punished by a sharp yank at her elbow. It felt like she'd pulled her shoulder from its socket. Rendered helpless, she ceased her struggles and tried to focus on her surroundings, memorizing every detail she could of the two men. But then a burlap sack was thrust down over her head, dashing all hopes of gathering more information, at least by sight. But her ears still worked. She still hoped Leland was out there and could come to her rescue. More likely he had been taken as well. She would have to bide her time and try for an escape when she could. Waiting, however, was never her strong suit.

Leland made his way back to the wagon at the gold camp as swiftly as he dared. Something had gone wrong, that was certain. He had meandered his horse up and down the trail hoping to get ambushed but either he was in the wrong place or Padgett had come up with something else. His worry compounded when he failed to encounter Charlene anywhere on his back trail.

So now his plan needed to adapt. To evolve. Leland had been a teacher of mathematics before his current vocation and he liked the precision of that profession. On the other hand, he would be the first to admit that his plans, as his granddaughter had recently pointed out, often went awry. To evolve a plan was not a foreign concept to Leland. But to evolve a plan, one needed to know the new constants and variables. And right now, all he had to work with were variables.

He still had the small vials of his sleeping draught with him. He had intended to drug Padgett's water or food following his own ambush and capture but now he would need additional tools. He began to gather some basic ingredients.

Digging through the contents of the wagon he located a cast iron pot, a small wooden box, some empty tin cans, a mallet, and several other components. He carefully measured out three parts saltpeter to two parts brown sugar and added this to the pot. Outside the wagon he built a small campfire and then began to heat up the pot, stirring the mix with an old wooden spoon. He noticed some leftover crusted tomato soup stuck to it and hoped it wouldn't affect the blend.

It was hard to take his time and make a proper job of it but haste wouldn't help. While stirring intermittently, waiting for the saltpeter and sugar to completely melt, he started to pound out the tin cans, flattening them with the mallet. He arranged the pieces inside the box to act as a protective shield against the mixture he was cooking. At the same time, he couldn't help but let his anxious mind ponder the current situation. What had gone wrong? Where was Charlie? If she had been captured it seemed likely they would take her to their ranch house. But what fate awaited her there? Leland didn't want to ruminate about that too much. And what about Billy? Was he still acting in his role of Tandy, the infamous bounty hunter or had he been taken or killed as well? Too many variables.

The handle of the cast iron pot brought Leland back to his task. It had heated up so much now that Leland had to grab it using the bottom portion of his shirt to keep from burning his hand. The concoction was beginning to caramelize and had taken on a blackish brown color. It had also started to smoke a little so he removed the pot from the flames for a bit. Couldn't overcook it or let it catch on fire. It was nicely melted now anyway so he added a tablespoon full of baking powder. After stirring that in, he moved the whole pot over to the tin-lined box and carefully poured in the mixture.

Once again, Leland darted into the wagon and returned, this time with a combustion delay fuse. He had always made sure to have these on hand since the beginning; one never knew when they would come in handy. It consisted of a compressed column of black powder wrapped in thick paper. This particular one was a ten second type. That had better be enough.

Jabbing the fuse into the mixture, he was thankful that he hadn't delayed any further for it was already starting to harden. It would take a good hour or so before it was hard enough to use but he had no notion of waiting around that long. He needed to get back to that ranch house before something happened to Charlene. He refused to let his mind think that it may already be too late.

Charlene wiped a drop of sweat from her upper lip as she swung her head from one side of the trail to the other, eyes darting behind every tree and branch. She urged her horse forward at a slow walk, letting him pick his way through the overgrown trail. The branches brushed across her trousers and long-sleeved button-up work shirt. Lips pinched in a thin line, she observed her horse's ears twitching about. Skittishness was not its normal behavior.

Somewhere up ahead, Leland's life was hanging on his hope that the plan would play out as expected.

Had the ambush already taken place? She hadn't heard any gunfire so that was a good sign. But if it had happened, she would have expected to have heard something. A skirmish or at least a horse neighing in confusion. She wasn't that far behind, after all. The forest was thick here and the trail, if you could call it that, was narrow. Trees were dense overhead and the birds had been plentiful as they pursued their never-ending quest for food.

Her heart skipped a beat as she realized she wasn't hearing any bird song. No noise of any kind really. Had something already happened up ahead to quiet them?

Something erupted from her left, knocking her from her saddle, pitching her into a clump of scrub oak. A calloused hand clamped across her mouth and nose, followed by the quick insertion of a foul-tasting rag shoved deep. Dazed, she brought her hands up in an instinctive attempt to ease her breathing only to discover both arms efficiently pinned behind her. Meantime, somebody had roped her legs and had now grasped her ankles, tying them together quick as a cowboy on branding day.

A thinly-mustached narrow face thrust itself up close. Foul breath let loose on Charlene's recovering senses as a wicked grin spread across the man's features. She caught a glimpse of another man's back as he grabbed the reins of her horse and spoke softly to settle it down. The whole episode had started and ended in a few quick seconds.

"Hey there, Red," chirped Charlene's captor. He had a Mexican accent. "Carmondy told us you was la belleza but I think 'ee was holding back on us."

"Shut up Reymundo," said the other man. Charlene could see now that he had long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. "Gotta keep quiet, at least 'till we get her back to the house."

"But I wanna see the dress. Carmondy said she wore a dress that made 'ees eyes water." His voice trailed off though and turned into a mumble to himself as he worked to finish tying up Charlene's wrists.

She attempted to pull an arm free but was immediately punished by a sharp yank at her elbow. It felt like she'd pulled her shoulder from its socket. Rendered helpless, she ceased her struggles and tried to focus on her surroundings, memorizing every detail she could of the two men. But then a burlap sack was thrust down over her head, dashing all hopes of gathering more information, at least by sight. But her ears still worked. She still hoped Leland was out there and could come to her rescue. More likely he had been taken as well. She would have to bide her time and try for an escape when she could. Waiting, however, was never her strong suit.

Leland made his way back to the wagon at the gold camp as swiftly as he dared. Something had gone wrong, that was certain. He had meandered his horse up and down the trail hoping to get ambushed but either he was in the wrong place or Padgett had come up with something else. His worry compounded when he failed to encounter Charlene anywhere on his back trail.

So now his plan needed to adapt. To evolve. Leland had been a teacher of mathematics before his current vocation and he liked the precision of that profession. On the other hand, he would be the first to admit that his plans, as his granddaughter had recently pointed out, often went awry. To evolve a plan was not a foreign concept to Leland. But to evolve a plan, one needed to know the new constants and variables. And right now, all he had to work with were variables.

He still had the small vials of his sleeping draught with him. He had intended to drug Padgett's water or food following his own ambush and capture but now he would need additional tools. He began to gather some basic ingredients.

Digging through the contents of the wagon he located a cast iron pot, a small wooden box, some empty tin cans, a mallet, and several other components. He carefully measured out three parts saltpeter to two parts brown sugar and added this to the pot. Outside the wagon he built a small campfire and then began to heat up the pot, stirring the mix with an old wooden spoon. He noticed some leftover crusted tomato soup stuck to it and hoped it wouldn't affect the blend.

It was hard to take his time and make a proper job of it but haste wouldn't help. While stirring intermittently, waiting for the saltpeter and sugar to completely melt, he started to pound out the tin cans, flattening them with the mallet. He arranged the pieces inside the box to act as a protective shield against the mixture he was cooking. At the same time, he couldn't help but let his anxious mind ponder the current situation. What had gone wrong? Where was Charlie? If she had been captured it seemed likely they would take her to their ranch house. But what fate awaited her there? Leland didn't want to ruminate about that too much. And what about Billy? Was he still acting in his role of Tandy, the infamous bounty hunter or had he been taken or killed as well? Too many variables.

The handle of the cast iron pot brought Leland back to his task. It had heated up so much now that Leland had to grab it using the bottom portion of his shirt to keep from burning his hand. The concoction was beginning to caramelize and had taken on a blackish brown color. It had also started to smoke a little so he removed the pot from the flames for a bit. Couldn't overcook it or let it catch on fire. It was nicely melted now anyway so he added a tablespoon full of baking powder. After stirring that in, he moved the whole pot over to the tin-lined box and carefully poured in the mixture.

Once again, Leland darted into the wagon and returned, this time with a combustion delay fuse. He had always made sure to have these on hand since the beginning; one never knew when they would come in handy. It consisted of a compressed column of black powder wrapped in thick paper. This particular one was a ten second type. That had better be enough.

Jabbing the fuse into the mixture, he was thankful that he hadn't delayed any further for it was already starting to harden. It would take a good hour or so before it was hard enough to use but he had no notion of waiting around that long. He needed to get back to that ranch house before something happened to Charlene. He refused to let his mind think that it may already be too late.