by Londyn Skye
“What the hell you haulin’ back there?” Jethro questioned, looking equally as intensely at Gideon.
Gideon felt his blood pressure peek, causing beads of sweat to begin accumulating on his brow. Still, though, he forced himself to remain calm as he quickly came up with a lie. “I got a wagon full ‘a medication and medical supplies for a doctor friend ‘a mine up north. Took me all day to find what he needed and load up this here wagon, and now I’m runnin’ behind. He’s expectin’ these supplies by mornin’. So, I’d appreciate it if you fellas would let me be on my way.”
James’s heart was in his throat. It beat so loudly, he was certain they could all hear it.
“Well, if ya’ see James, you might wanna keep y’ur distance and get a hold ‘a the authorities,” Jethro warned.
“Yeah,” Willard agreed. “’Cause we’d certainly hate for a fine, upstandin’ doctor like y’urself to get tangled up with a criminal. Don’t wanna give reason for folks to turn their noses up at ya’.” Both men snickered after throwing out the sort of passive insult that Gideon had become used to since marrying Carolyn.
Gideon had calloused himself to such rhetoric, though. He simply tipped his Stetson and replied, “have a good evenin’, gentlemen. Good luck with your search.” He then snapped the reins on his team of horses and proceeded on his way.
“What the fuck was that noise?!” Willard suddenly asked.
“Shit!” James mumbled under his breath.
Sweat suddenly began to roll down Gideon’s temples; he had heard the noise too. At the worst possible moment, Lily had coughed and groaned lightly after the sudden jerk of the wagon. It was the first time she had reacted to pain in hours. Under normal circumstances, James would have been overjoyed about the fact that the medication might be helping her slowly emerge from her comatose state. But with two Ghost Riders having overheard her, he began to panic.
Willard suddenly aimed his rifle at Gideon’s back and cocked it. “Stop this goddamn wagon, or I’ll blow y’ur fuckin’ head off old man!”
With adrenaline pumping full speed through his veins, Gideon did as he was told and called his horses to a halt again.
“Put y’ur hands up in the air!” Willard demanded, acting again as if he was the law.
Having yet to turn around and face the double barrels that were aimed at him, Gideon raised his shaky hands in the air.
Jethro prompted his horse to trot up beside Gideon. He, too, cocked his rifle and aimed it at Gideon. “You gonna answa’ my friend here? He asked, what the hell that noise was?”
“I-I didn’t hear anything?” Gideon lied.
“Sounds to me like y’ur haulin’ more than just medical supplies.” Jethro motioned his head to Willard, prompting him to check inside of the covered wagon. Willard dismounted his horse and walked around to the back of the wagon with his pistol drawn. He then began climbing his way up.
Gideon began to panic. “Look, I-I don’t know what the two ‘a you thought you heard, but…”
“Shut the fuck up old ma-…” Jethro’s insulting words were cut short by the bullet suddenly lodged in his head.
“GO!” Gideon heard James yell. Before even having a chance to wipe Jethro’s splattered blood off his face, Gideon snatched the reins and prompted his team of horses into a gallop. Willard was in the act of climbing onto the back of the wagon to peer inside, but the sudden jolt caused him to lose his grip and fall. He fell flat on his back and dropped his pistol but popped up quickly and tried to grab it. The moment he got his hands on it and turned to fire, three bullets lodged in his chest cavity, immediately incapacitating him.
The gunfire ringing out sent another surge of adrenaline pulsing through Gideon. Not sure which way the bullets were flying, he snapped the reins hard again. The sudden jolt of speed from the horses nearly caused James to fall out of the wagon, as he glared down at his second bullet-riddled casualty. When he regained his balance, he looked up over the rise of a hill and saw the soft glow of two torches far off in the distance. As the torches closed in, the unmistakable flapping of two more white robes on horseback became easily visible in the moonlight. The sound of the brief gun battle had garnered the attention of the two nearby Ghost Riders and guided them toward the fugitives they were in search of.
“Shit!” James exclaimed, quickly trying to figure out what to do. He thought for a second and then scurried to the front of the wagon to speak to Gideon again. “We’ve got two more on our tail!”
“For Christ’s sake! You gotta be shittin’ me!” Gideon replied, sounding hysterical. He pulled the reins right and drove the horses around the bend of a hill into a patch of trees, hoping to make them a less easy target. The maneuver temporarily took them out of sight.
“I’m sorry, Gideon. I neva’ meant to get you stuck in the middle ‘a this shit!”
“Yeah well, we’re both stuck in it now! Let’s just do what we have to do to get out of it alive!”
“I’m gonna do all I can to see to that!” James yelled back over the beating sound of the horse’s hooves. “You go on as planned. When I’m outta sight, go back to the main trail and follow the map I gave you to the spot with the X…”
“What?! Where the hell’re you goin’?!” Gideon asked, still in a state of hysteria.
“I don’t want my fatha’s henchmen anywhere near this wagon! They’ll riddle it with bullets. I’m gonna try to lead ’em on a chase away from you and Lily. It’s me my fatha’ wants more than anything. If they want me, they’re gonna have to be willin’ to lose their lives to catch me. I’ll take one ‘a their horses and catch up to ya’ as soon as I can. If I don’t make it back, just rememba’, there’ll be a man at the trade-off spot named Samuel. He’ll take Lily from there. If for some reason you can’t find ’em, get ’er to a friend ‘a mine named Harrison Mitchell in Athens, Ohio. He has the only big white house on Post Road near Raccoon Creek on the outskirts ‘a town. He’ll know what to do.”
“Got it! I’ll be prayin’ for ya’, son.”
“I need far more than prayers right now,” James grumbled under his breath as he quickly retreated to the back of the speeding wagon. He grabbed a handful of what he felt was currently more important than prayers and placed them in his pockets to reload the chamber of his six-shooters once they were empty. He then glanced out the back opening of the cover on the wagon. With the treeline in the way, he could no longer see the two Ghost Riders, but he was certain they had seen them and were still in pursuit.
Realizing that his father had sent out an army of his low-life minions, James had to accept the possibility that he might not survive while trying to fend them off alone. In case he was not able to lay his daughter to rest, James opened the tiny shoebox that was her coffin to say goodbye. With the pain of her loss shooting through him like wildfire all over again, he kissed her now cold little cheek one last time. “Bye, baby girl,” he told her, unable to stop himself from becoming emotional again. “Your daddy’ll always love you.” He closed her coffin, wiped his eyes, and went over to where Lily lay, still unconscious, but now groaning softly from time to time. He caressed her battered face gently and leaned down to kiss her tenderly on the lips. “Don’t you die on me, Lily Adams. You keep fightin’, ya’ hear?” he demanded of her as he rested his forehead against hers. “I love you,” he whispered, kissing her one last time. He then scrambled to the front of the wagon. “Whateva’ you do, Gideon, don’t stop this damn wagon!” he said before jumping down out of the back, ready to lose his life for his wife, if need be.
James stumbled a bit when his feet hit the ground, but he quickly regained his balance. He ran and took cover behind a tree and waited impatiently to kill the two cowards hiding their identity under hooded robes. He prayed to God that one of the cowards in disguise was his brother, J.R. After getting lost in thought about what J.R. had done to Lily, James suddenly felt as though a bullet was too easy a death for his despicable brother. The barbaric side that James had inherited from his father suddenly began to mak
e visions of vengeful retaliation against J.R. erupt in his mind, images so gruesome that Jesse would be the one suffering from nightmares for the rest of his life after witnessing such torture.
James’s barbaric visions evaporated when he finally heard horse’s hooves beating over the hill and down into the valley near the wooded area where he was hiding. The two masked marauders had slowed their horses’ pace a bit as they descended the hill, but then had them pick up speed again once they saw Gideon in the distance. Just as they reached the bottom of the ravine, though, one horse suddenly found himself without a rider after three bullets ripped through the man’s chest. Red painted the pure white robe of the Ghost Rider as he slumped in a lifeless heap from his horse. After waiting patiently for a clear shot, James had emptied the chamber of his Smith & Wesson, hitting the man’s torso with fifty percent accuracy. He threw the empty weapon down and aimed the one that was still fully loaded at the remaining Ghost Rider, who had immediately changed direction and began shooting toward the location of the gunfire. James took cover behind the tree again, feeling the impact of the bullets as they hit the tree trunk with force. When the Ghost Rider emptied his rounds and reached for another pistol, James took the opportunity to fire back. He shot three times, missed, and ducked behind the tree again when bullets, once again, began ricocheting off the tree, scattering tree bark everywhere. James switched to the left side of the tree, kneeled, and fired the rest of his ammo. Still, the remaining Ghost Rider galloped at him at full speed, nearly right on top of him. “Fuck!” James yelled after hearing the clicking sound of his empty pistol. With no time to reload, he took off running deeper into the wooded area, adrenaline immediately propelling his legs at top speed.
The Ghost Rider suddenly slowed his horse enough to dismount while it was still in motion. He snatched his hood off, dropped to a knee, raised his pistol, squinted one eye closed, lined James up in his sight, and fired at him with the last bullet in his chamber. He let out a mucus-filled cackle when he saw James grab at the back of his right leg and fall.
Despite the bullet from the lucky shot having ripped through the muscle of his thigh, James was still desperate to escape. He dragged himself slowly through the dead leaves on the rough terrain. He ceased movement, though, when a heavy boot stomped hard on his back and held him in place. He then rolled over and was looking at the mangled face of his Uncle Duke Dixon. “The fuck you think y’ur goin’, you nigga’ lovin’ son of a bitch?” Duke asked while looming over his pseudo-nephew. After the way James had broken his nose in Gideon’s examination room, Duke was eager to rearrange his pretty face. Duke grabbed him by the hair and began pistol whipping him repeatedly, grunting with every brutal connection he made to his nephew’s skull. After several heavy blows, James completely blacked out. The sight of his filthy, hunchbacked uncle standing over the top of him, was the very last memory James had of the night that he lost not only his child but his beloved wife, Lily, as well.
TO BE CONCLUDED
IN
THE PRODIGY SLAVE,
BOOK THREE:
THE ULTIMATE GRAND FINALE
About the Author
Londyn Skye is a comical, 43-year-old mother of two, ex-all-American collegiate athlete, million-mile lady trucker phenom, and a romance novel junkie! When she was a child, Londyn began creating stories in the fantasy world of her mind as a way to escape life’s troubles. As an adult, she decided to challenge herself to turn her comforting fantasies into a novel. That challenge led her to write The Prodigy Slave trilogy. Wanting the utmost quality for her readers, she has diligently worked to balance the saga with humor, drama, romance, unpredictable plots, and devious, neurotic characters that are equally as captivating as the erotic love scenes between the fascinating heroes and heroines. She has painstakingly painted her fantasies with words that she hopes will help readers to see the images just as beautifully as her unique mind does. Most importantly, she hopes that everyone will feel just as emotionally moved and inspired by the heroes and heroines in her love story.
Connect with Londyn at
www.facebook.com/AuthorLondynSkye
