CantrellsBride

by Suzanne Ferrell

  “Just see that she doesn’t leave here for any reason. I don’t want her getting it into her head that she needs to try to keep me or Micah safe.” He sighed, then grinned. “You’ll find my sweet-mannered wife can be as stubborn as a mule in July and prone to lose her temper without the slightest provocation.”

  Nathan joined his wife and son in the bedroom for the night. Laura had pulled a drawer from the dresser and laid it on the floor by her side of the bed. William was tucked securely in the center, nestled in his blankets. Nathan paused to study his son in the moonlight. He leaned in and tucked the blanket over his tiny fists.

  A son. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he’d have another child after Rachel, and certainly not a son.

  He stripped out of his clothes and slid beneath the covers. The feel of Laura’s smooth skin against his surprised him.

  She was completely naked.

  “Mmm… I didn’t think you were ever coming to bed,” she murmured. Turning over, she nestled her head on his shoulder and stroked the stubble on his face.

  “Laura, it’s been so long,” he groaned. He tightened his arms around her and kissed her as if he were a man quenching his thirst after a long stay in the desert. Enjoying the changes her pregnancy had brought in her body, he let his hand wander across her skin.

  When he rubbed her breasts, she let out a small sigh of pleasure. His lips followed his hands and he sucked on the taut nipple that still tasted like the milk that had been in it.

  Arching her back to give him better access, she caressed his abdomen in slow, circular motions, inching downward until she encircled his engorged shaft. Lightly she stroked him, laughing softy as his growl of need filled the room and he reached down to still her hand.

  “Darlin’,” his voice was a harsh whisper, “it’s been too long. If you keep that up, I’ll not be able to keep from hurting you.”

  He shifted his other hand between her thighs to stroke the folds that held her heat. Surprised to find her mound already moist, he looked into her face to see her eyes wide with need. Her tongue licked her parted lips.

  She laughed, her voice thick and husky. “I told you I was over having the baby.”

  That was all the invitation he needed. He rolled over, positioning himself between her thighs, and entered her with one gentle thrust. His groan of satisfaction mixed with her sigh of pleasure. She lifted her hips as he thrust in and pulled out of her, helping him go deeper each time.

  When she clutched him to her with her arms and legs, signaling she would soon explode into small convulsions, Nathan covered her mouth with his, kissing her and absorbing the sound she always made when her release came. His own body answered hers as he poured his seed and soul deep inside her.

  Slowly they drifted back to reality. Nathan lifted his head and placed small kisses along her sweat-covered neck, tasting the salt of their union, eventually kissing her with tenderness. He wanted her safe before he’d feel secure in telling her what was in his heart.

  “Nathan, I miss Rachel,” she whispered once he had her tucked up against his side again.

  “I miss her too, but it’s not safe for you to be in town right now. We’ve been over this before.” He knew she was being stubborn on the matter and it irritated him.

  “I don’t mean that I should go to town. You’ve made your point that I need to stay here for my protection and William’s.” She casually stroked her hand over his chest. “I just thought maybe she should come out here and be with me. Then you’d have us all in one place and no one would have to keep an eye on her because I would be doing it.”

  “She’d be too much for you to handle right now,” he explained, a quiet weariness creeping into his voice. “Besides, Blackwood’s been in the store when she’s been there. Everyone in town knows she’s staying there while we’re gone. If someone notices she’s suddenly not there and says something, it will tip our hand and then he’ll know to leave town.”

  She sighed.

  Easing himself onto his elbow he looked down into her face, pushing a small strand of damp hair off her cheek. “I don’t want to put her or you in any more danger than necessary. You know I’m right.”

  She was silent for a few minutes and he’d thought she’d drifted off to sleep.

  “Why are you taking such good care of me?”

  “Because you’re my wife and my children’s mother. No one threatens my family.”

  “Family,” she murmured. “I haven’t been a member of a family since I was eight. It’s a good feeling.”

  “Darlin’, you’ll always be a member of this family.” Nathan kissed her on the forehead. You don’t know it yet, but you’re its most important member.

  * * * * *

  In the alley next to the saloon, Micah stood in the shadows watching both the front and back entrances. If Blackwood left the building, he’d be ready to follow him. Earlier he’d been inside the saloon only briefly—enough time for a shot or two of whiskey and to see for himself what this man looked like. He’d sat at the table on the other side of the room and watched the dealer under the wide brim of his hat.

  During his years in the Confederate army he’d known several men like Blackwood—spoiled, arrogant, devious charmers. Slick on the outside, deadly on the inside. They loved killing others in battle just for the pure pleasure of killing. When he was on guerrilla patrol with them they’d search out their prey with their eyes, hardly moving their heads at all. Almost like snakes. Lust for killing gleamed in their eyes. They kept it under control in normal circumstances, but it always lay just beneath the surface, ready to strike given the opportunity. Blackwood had the same look about him.

  Tonight Bobby Bailey was to tell Zeke at the blackjack table that Nathan and Laura were going to be back in town tomorrow. Their plans set, it was time to put them in motion.

  Blackwood exited the rear of the building. He’d taken the bait. Noiselessly Micah sprinted down the dirt alley. The killer headed toward the northwest end of town. Now Micah wondered what he was up to.

  Once Micah realized Blackwood’s destination, he took the shortcut behind the Jensens’ place and hurried on to Nathan’s farm. He settled himself in the shadows made by the root cellar’s entrance and watched the road for Blackwood’s appearance.

  Nigel found the farm easily from the description he’d gotten from the storekeeper’s brat. He worked his way across the yard, taking shelter behind trees and fence posts just in case anyone was staying at the farm. With each stop he listened for any sound of the owners. Finally he crossed the porch and stood with his hand on the door handle. He glanced around in the darkness.

  Nothing moved. All was silent.

  Apparently the family hadn’t returned early from their trip. Good. He’d have time to set his trap. He’d silence her and her husband, and be long gone before anyone in town knew they’d returned.

  He lifted the latch and opened the door with the quietest of clicks. Pushing it aside, he stepped into the house and paused. Still no sound. He moved past the kitchen table. Stopping at the fireplace, he picked up some needlework left lying on the chair. He fingered the stitches as he studied the room.

  Then his fingers froze. He stared at the pink stitching on the white linen fabric, his fingers very slowly tracing each letter. Suddenly he dropped the needlework back onto the chair and hurried through the house.

  At the top of the stairs he stopped at the first bedroom. The man and his wife shared this one. Both of their belongings were scattered about it. He walked past a second bedroom. It had seen use recently, but looked as if no one slept in it anymore. A small wooden cradle sat next to the bed. Finally he stopped dead in his tracks at the door to the third room.

  A slow smile formed on his lips. He stepped inside and caressed the bed sheets. He studied the room a few minutes, then turned and started back down the stairs. This time he wasn’t as quiet about walking across the farmyard. He walked over to the barn and looked inside at the animals stabled there. Two stalls
remained empty.

  He turned on his heel and headed back toward town. The smile turned into a grin.

  Micah stepped away from the shadowed doorway of the root cellar. Once he was sure Blackwood had traveled a good way down the road, he entered the farmhouse.

  Something wasn’t right. He felt it deep in his bones. The house lay still. When he left the house, Blackwood had walked away as if he’d gotten the upper hand. Something inside had filled the murderer with arrogant confidence.

  The man knew something, but what? What had caught his attention? What?

  Micah searched all over the house, upstairs and down, but couldn’t come up with a clue that might give Blackwood the upper hand. Nathan might have an idea. He hoped so.

  Suddenly he felt as if the balance had just shifted in the Englishman’s favor and he didn’t like it. No, he didn’t like it one little bit.

  “I’m telling you he found something, Nathan.”

  Nathan watched Micah, seated on the floor of the dark farmhouse the next night, sharpening his Bowie knife.

  “He came out of here completely confident—strutting like a dammed peacock.” Micah shook his head. “No matter where I looked, I couldn’t figure out what he discovered in here to make the change in him. I have a feeling whatever it was told him something. Something important we both missed. I don’t like it. It doesn’t feel right.”

  Nathan’s pulse pounded in his ears. This wasn’t good. If Micah felt uneasy, he could only describe himself as frightened. He couldn’t explain why Micah knew things, he just did. During the war those feelings had kept both of them alive on more than one occasion. He’d stopped trying to figure them out back then. He just accepted them. Something in this house had put Blackwood on to Laura’s scent—of that he was sure. Now they had to find out what.

  He glanced around the room. Nothing appeared out of place to him. The chairs were just as they’d left them. Very little firewood lay in the fireplace, as if no one had been here for quite some time. Several pieces of Laura’s needlework lay exactly where she’d left them. He picked one up, tracing the letters with his fingers. R-A-C-H-E-L. He stopped. Looking at Micah, he fingered the letters once again, slowly. R-A-C-H-E-L.

  “Oh my God.” He dropped the material and jumped to his feet. He sprinted up the stairs with Micah following closely on his heels. He raced past the first two bedrooms and came to a dead stop in the third doorway.

  Rachel’s toys lay scattered around the floor. Lace pillows lay on the bed. Two dresses Laura had made her hung on the pegs he’d mounted within a child’s reach.

  Now he knew what Blackwood had figured out. Rachel was the key to finding and taking Laura. He walked back to the second bedroom and saw the cradle he’d made for the baby.

  With a growl of pure rage, Nathan sped back down the stairs and out into the night. Micah caught up with him in the barn as he threw the saddle onto Blaze’s back. Micah followed his lead and saddled his paint. Not waiting for Micah, Nathan hurled himself into his saddle and sped out the barn door for Frank’s house. Micah’s horse pounded the ground behind him as they raced across the frozen earth.

  Please, God, don’t let him have her. Nathan repeated the words over and over as he sailed past trees and rocks.

  They arrived at the darkened home, tethered their horses and awoke the sleeping Jensens with their pounding on the door.

  The barrel of Frank’s shotgun greeted them. Both men immediately calmed.

  “Nathan?” A confused Frank lowered his weapon as he recognized them. “What the blue blazes are you doing here at this hour?”

  “Is Rachel here?” Nathan forced his way into the house.

  “Of course she’s here.” Frank set his weapon in the corner by the door and pulled up his suspenders. “Put her to bed myself.”

  “Are you sure?” Not waiting for an answer, Nathan climbed the ladder to see for himself. He just had to be certain she was safe.

  “He’s sure, Nathan,” Sarah said sleepily from below him. “What’s going on?” She turned to Micah, who stared intently at the loft opening.

  “Maybe nothing,” was his dark reply. “Maybe everything.”

  The deep growl of pain and anguish from the upstairs sent the three adults in different directions. Micah headed back out the front door. Frank hurried to their room and grabbed his shirt and shoes, then his gun from the corner. Sarah climbed the ladder. Nathan stood at the top waiting for her to clear the last rung, then nearly flung himself down it again. Sarah looked into the girls’ side of the loft and saw what he had.

  An empty bed where Rachel had been put down for the night.

  “Dear God, no.”

  She hurried back down the ladder and out into the cold night. All three men were hunched around the ground below the only window to the upstairs. Micah walked in the direction where the tracks led in the snow.

  “The Circle B,” he said in that ominous, dark tone he had.

  “Oh Lord,” Sarah prayed they were wrong, even though she knew Micah’s skill as a tracker was legendary.

  A sick dread crept over Nathan. “He knows about Rachel. He knows about the baby. And I’ll bet he knows where Laura is.” He sprinted back to his horse with Micah on his heels.

  Sarah watched as the two men rode out of the yard, then turned to see Frank and her two sons mounted and galloping behind them. The only sound in the night was the thud of horses’ hooves slamming against the frozen, snow-covered ground.

  “Please, God, protect Laura and the children,” she prayed as the men all rode out of sight.

  Chapter Nineteen

  At the edge of the front corral of the big ranch, Nigel sat on his horse with the silent, raven-haired girl seated in front of him. He uncovered her head so the woman in the house could see her in the torchlight he held. As the woman walked out onto the porch, he smiled.

  “Please let her go,” the woman begged from the porch. “It’s me you want, not her.”

  “I can’t comply with your wish, my dear. You see she’s my guarantee that I’ll have your complete cooperation.” He stroked the small girl’s hair and watched the woman shiver with fear. He really wished he had time to enjoy her terror. “I want you to have that old man behind you saddle your horse right out here so I can see every move he makes. Tell him if he thinks about doing anything other than what I’ve requested, I’ll kill the child immediately. Tell him.”

  “David, he means what he says.” Laura laid her hand on the rancher’s arm, causing him to lower his weapon. “Please, you have to do as he asks. I can’t let anything happen to her. She’s already been through too much. I have to go to her.”

  “I’ll get Nathan as soon as you’re gone, Laura. I promise,” he whispered. He stepped off the porch, cradling his shotgun in his arm and pointed at the Englishman as he walked to the stable.

  “Get your things, madam,” Blackwood directed her from where he sat at the edge of the woods. “I don’t like to be kept waiting. You’ve kept me waiting long enough. Oh,” he called as she stepped into the house, “leave your brat here. I don’t care to have two of them with us.”

  Afraid to provoke him, she quickly complied with his demands. When she exited the house, she mounted the horse David had waiting for her. She’d packed an extra blanket, not knowing what if anything Rachel’s tormentor had provided for her.

  “Take care of my son, David,” she said as he handed her the reins.

  “I slipped my wife’s old derringer in the saddlebag,” he whispered. “If you think you can fire it, then use it.” He backed off, allowing her to ride out to the trees and Rachel’s captor.

  When she drew within reach, Blackwood grabbed on to the mare’s reins and turned both horses into the trees. He wove the animals in and out of the trees, unmindful of the branches snapping into Laura’s face. They exited the forest onto the range at the foot of the mountains surrounding Doverton on the west. He set the horses into an open gallop.

  Laura wished there were some way to slow
him down so Nathan and Micah could catch them. But his threat to harm Rachel kept her paralyzed from doing anything while they rode. He could easily throw her from the galloping horse and leave her to die alone on the range. Until she had a chance to protect Rachel, she wouldn’t do anything to provoke him.

  She kept a firm grip on the mare’s saddle while focusing all her attention on Rachel’s pale face up ahead of her. She willed hope and strength to the frightened child. Somehow, no matter what else happened, she would save her daughter from this snake.

  When they reached the trees at the mountain’s upward slope, Nigel began his ascent to the abandoned silver mine he’d scouted out weeks before.

  Once he’d determined the woman was hiding in Doverton, he’d wanted to cause as little suspicion as possible among the local residents. By staying in the mine between visits to town, he’d created the illusion that he had frequent business in the area and wasn’t just a stranger passing through. While searching the hills, he’d found the old shaft and set it up as his temporary base camp. Now it would serve as the perfect place to dispose of the woman and child.

  He wished he had more time to make the woman suffer. He’d so enjoy making her pay for keeping him out in this uncivilized land for such a long time. Perhaps he’d take her in front of the child, then slowly cut them both until they bled to death. His member came to life at the mere thought of their slow torture. He enjoyed the feeling for a short while then settled his thoughts on the plan ahead. Losing his life over a trifle bit of pleasure wouldn’t do at all.

  Just as the pinkish-gray light of dawn began to filter through the trees, the wooden-framed opening of the mineshaft came into view. Nigel stopped outside to dismount and pull the child along with him. Her strange silence once again surprised him. He thought by now she’d be kicking and screaming, or at the very least crying.

  It had been so easy snatching her from the storekeeper’s home. He’d entered the upstairs window by standing on several crates until he could reach the sill. Pulling himself in had been the hardest part of the entire event. There wasn’t a lock anywhere. People out West trusted their neighbors entirely too much.