by Janet Dean
“What you doing? Praying?” He snorted. “Waste of time. I ain’t letting you outta here. Not until I get paid. I don’t care if Gabriel and his hoard of angels come for me. I need that money. All those riches you’re enjoying are about to be mine.” He snarled. “Your father thought he’d hold me off forever. That ain’t smart. You’re my bargaining chip, to bring in what I’m owed. All of it this time.”
Elizabeth shook her head, fought at the gag, trying to explain they had no money, but her words caught behind the muslin.
Vic smirked. “I don’t care ’bout your problems. Got enough of my own.” He planted his hands on the wall alongside her head, the gun clattering against the plaster. “If I don’t get this money, my family’s tossed out on the streets. All because your brainless father wagers money he don’t have.”
Papa had done this to them. A heavy weight squeezed against Elizabeth’s chest. No, she’d brought this trouble to Ted. To this town.
Lord, help us. Please. Before it’s too late.
Ted gave his children a kiss then plopped Henry on Dan’s lap and helped Anna scramble into the bed of the wagon between the Harper brood. None of the children appeared to grasp the significance of what had happened at the café. Thanks to Rebecca’s quick action, they hadn’t heard much. “Thanks for taking Anna and Henry home with you. If it’s not too late, I’ll pick them up later.”
“Wait until morning. Give yourself a chance to…”
Had Dan been about to say, to repair your marriage? If so, Ted couldn’t see how. But he knew God could change his wife’s heart, as he’d changed Ted’s one momentous night.
Rebecca patted Ted’s arm. Give her time, she mouthed.
He nodded and tried to smile, but his lips wouldn’t cooperate. He waited until Dan turned the wagon and drove north toward the Harper farm. Once they were out of sight, he strode to the mercantile where Seymour waited.
He’d asked Elizabeth’s father for a chance to talk to him. The Sorensons had offered their store as a meeting place then gone home. Ted dreaded facing Seymour’s wrath. Not that he blamed him. If Anna ever married a man with Ted’s past, he’d feel the same.
If only he could talk to Elizabeth. But both Jacob and Rebecca had suggested he give her time. “Let her calm down,” Jacob had said. Ted had seen that chilling anger in her eyes. She hated him. Was it already too late for them?
A man who loved God should know better than to deceive. He was a fallen man, a miserable creature who failed God at every turn. What made him think he should pastor a church?
God had.
Well, if God wanted him to pastor, Ted needed His power to resolve this mess.
One step in the mercantile door and Seymour started in on him. “You aren’t worthy to lace my daughter’s boots, Logan! I want you out of her life. Out of Robby’s life.” He jabbed a finger into Ted’s breastbone. “You hear me? Before you destroy my children—”
“Like you did.”
There, he’d called a spade a spade. Not to retaliate, but to push Seymour Manning to face the truth. To face how his conduct, the mistakes he’d made had wounded his family.
Ted’s gaze swept the back wall hung with every imaginable tool, many used to dig, to break up, to cultivate the soil. The time had come to examine the choices he and Seymour had made, even if that excavation unearthed a shovelful of regret.
Seymour paled. “I’ve changed.”
“Then why can’t you believe I’ve done the same? Nine years ago, I made a clean break with gambling. I won’t go back. Once Elizabeth’s had a chance to calm down, I’m hoping she’ll find it in her heart to trust me.” He swallowed against the lump forming in his throat. “But, even if I lose her, lose everything—I won’t go back to that life.”
If only he could get Seymour to understand God could change a man overnight, as He had Ted. “I love God, Seymour. I want to obey His teachings. I want to do His will. I want to fulfill His purpose for my life.”
Seymour scowled. “Why should I believe a word out of your lying mouth?”
“Why would I want that life? I have my children, my—” his voice caught “—wife. I cherish them. I don’t want them to be ashamed of me, as I was of my father, as I was ashamed of myself for following in his footsteps.”
Ted leaned his hands on the table. Before him lay the bolts of material Elizabeth had selected that first day. He smoothed a hand over the blue gingham, seeing her in that dress, and then paused at an unraveled bolt of black stripe. “Except for God, nothing is more important to me than keeping my family together,” he said quietly.
Seymour rubbed a shaky hand over his eyes. “You’re right.” He sighed. “All these years, I’ve hidden from the truth. It’s far easier to bluff.” His distant gaze filled with regret. “I blamed you and all those I lost money to,” Seymour said. “It was easier than blaming myself. Now my children are paying for my mistakes.”
“I believe God has a plan for us, a purpose.”
Seymour snorted. “What purpose?” His hardened face dropped away, and a whisper of vulnerability wavered in his eyes, like a man searching for something.
Peace? Forgiveness? Grace? Exactly what Ted had craved before he’d found God.
“You think a man like me has a God-ordained purpose?” Seymour said. “After everything I’ve done?”
Ted laid a hand on Seymour’s shoulder. “I think everyone—”
The door of the mercantile slammed open with the impact of a gunshot. Ted and Seymour jerked toward the sound.
Red faced with exertion, Cecil Moore leaned against the frame, panting. “Someone’s got Elizabeth!”
“Who?” The question echoed from Ted’s and Seymour’s lips.
“A man.” Cecil sucked in another breath, a third. “Says he wants money to free her.”
Someone has Elizabeth. Oh, God, no. His heart twisted. His wife was in danger. His mind scrambled to make sense of the threat. “Money, what money?”
Cecil turned to Seymour. “Said you’d know how much.”
The color drained from the older man’s face. “It’s Vic,” he said, his words a horrified whisper.
“Who’s Vic?” Ted grabbed Seymour’s arm. “What’s this about?”
“Vic’s someone I…” The pallor of Seymour’s face gave way to crimson, then resignation. He dropped into a chair and appeared to collapse into himself. “I did this. I…”
And then Ted knew. This was about a debt—a big one. How many times had he witnessed these disputes? How many men had he seen lose their shirts, their horses, their homes? But this involved his wife.
Ted wanted to shake Seymour, demand how he could be so foolish as to lead this Vic to New Harmony, to practically lay a breadcrumb trail to Elizabeth. But Seymour’s eyes had filled with pain, regret and bone-deep worry.
Ted reined in his anger. For now, he and Seymour were on the same side—
The side that would save Elizabeth.
Lord, protect my wife. Show me what to do.
Ted met Seymour’s gaze. “Vic’s here to collect?”
Seymour nodded. “I have nothing to give him. There’s nothing left.” A sob tore from his throat. “He’ll…hurt her.”
Not if Ted got to him first.
The tick, tick, tick of the wall clock chipped away at the tenuous hold Ted had on his composure, an unnerving warning that, while he and Seymour talked, Elizabeth was in peril. He turned to go then stopped, as a memory hit him. “Seymour, what’s this Vic look like?”
“Swarthy, short…” Seymour hesitated then turned toward Ted. “Oh, and he has a scar on his face.”
“Right about here?” Ted traced a finger along his left cheek.
“That’s him.”
It had been years, but some men stuck in your mind. Ted could still picture Vic as clearly as if it were yesterday. “Victor Hammer. Gambler, small-time operator.”
Ted had thought him more pathetic than frightening. But get him mad enough and Vic was capable of anything.
>
He’d once seen him knock over a table and pull a gun when the cards hadn’t gone his way. But Ted wouldn’t say that aloud. Not to Cecil. Not to Seymour. Not to himself.
Seymour slumped forward. “If only she’d married Parks.”
Fire shot through Ted’s veins. Didn’t he care that Elizabeth despised the man? “What does that have to do with any of this?”
“Vic threatened my children if he didn’t get his money. I had to do something to protect them. When Parks agreed to pay the debt in exchange for Elizabeth’s hand—”
“What kind of a father would barter his daughter?”
Seymour jerked to his feet. “A frightened father! Do you think I’d force my daughter to marry that old codger unless I had no other choice?” He threw up his hands. “Wouldn’t you do anything to protect your children?”
“I would do anything but put my children’s lives at risk.” Ted shook his head. “I’m sorry. We’re both worried and my temper—”
“No, you’re right. I gambled away everything that mattered.”
“It’s not too late for a second chance.” Ted laid a hand on Seymour’s shoulder.
Seymour’s face crumpled. “I pray to God you’re right.” Tears flowed unchecked down his cheeks.
Ted gave Seymour’s shoulder one last squeeze then turned to Cecil. “Where’s he got her?”
“In the ladies’ club.” Cecil paled. “Ted, he’s got a gun.”
Ted’s mind sped through possibilities. “If I bust in on Vic, he might panic. Hurt Elizabeth.”
Seymour paced the room. He paused and veered toward Ted. “Where are your winnings? Surely you have some of that money left.”
If only he did. “It’s tied up in my farm.”
“Once Vic realizes he’s getting no money, he’ll kill her. He’ll kill my daughter!”
“Not as long as I’m breathing,” Ted vowed. “You and Cecil round up as many men as you can. Have them arm themselves—handguns, rifles, shotguns, whatever they’ve got—then cover the exits to the ladies’club. Don’t shoot unless I give the word.”
Ted clamped on his hat and strode to the door.
Cecil trotted alongside him. “Where are you going?”
“First to the church to ask Jacob to gather everyone he can to pray. Then to the ladies’ club.”
“You ain’t facing him without a gun, are ya?”
God keep her safe.
She needed—they all needed—a miracle. “I’ve got the power of prayer, Cecil,” he said, opening the door. “And the weapons God gave me.”
Ted’s long strides ate up the distance from the church to the ladies’ club. Around him, neighbors took up positions behind a wagon, from a rooftop, alongside a barrel. The town had turned out to help, either to offer up prayers or carry a loaded gun. As Ted knew it would.
Seymour crouched not far from the entrance, holding a pistol. Ready to do whatever he could to save Elizabeth. Even Cecil and Oscar carried shotguns, looking ready to blow Vic to smithereens. Ted’s stomach twisted. He prayed it wouldn’t come to that.
God, I love my wife. Help me get her out of there.
And he was sure that somewhere someone loved Vic. But if not, God did. Let no harm come to anyone, Father. Not even Vic.
Ted prayed his plan would work. A sense of calm eased the tension in his limbs. With God’s help, he would not fail.
He thought of all he knew about Vic. The man was a wretched gambler. He couldn’t sustain a poker face during a bluff. Or read tells—all the expressions, mannerisms and intonations that gave people away. But that hair-trigger temper of his posed a threat to his wife. He dared not underestimate the man.
Elizabeth’s life depended on it.
Ted banged his fist on the door of the ladies’ club. “Open up! It’s ‘Hold ’Em’ Logan.’”
Ted caught a glimpse of Vic at the lone window in the front of the clapboard building. But he couldn’t see Elizabeth. He covered his eyes with a hand to block the glare of the late-afternoon sun on the glass, searching for his wife. His stomach lurched. Where was Elizabeth?
“That’s my wife in there, Vic. Let her go.”
The man cursed. “Do you have the money?”
“I want my wife. I’m not showing my hand until I’m sure you’re playing fair.”
A pause. Ted’s heart dropped ten times in that moment.
“Guns are aimed at the exits, Vic. The men behind them aren’t in the mood to jaw. Now open up.”
More cursing from inside. Vic sounded close to losing control. Lord, calm Vic. Show him another way.
Armed men and a sense of God’s protection surrounded him. But where was Elizabeth? His heart stuttered in his chest. Had he hurt her? “I’m unarmed.” He’d speak the language Vic understood. “Face it, Vic. I’m the only game in town.”
Slowly the door inched open. Ted looked down the barrel of a revolver. “It is you,” Vic said. “Raise ’em.”
Holding up his hands, Ted stepped inside. While Vic checked him for weapons, Ted’s gaze swept the room. An overturned chair. The podium askew. Then he saw her.
In the corner next to the window, Elizabeth hunched on the floor, gagged, feet bound, hands tied behind her back. Her dress was torn and a section of her hair hung loose from its pins, covering part of her face, but praise God, she didn’t look hurt.
Frightened eyes locked with his. He yearned to run to her, to hold her in his arms, to tell her he loved her. But that would turn Vic’s attention onto Elizabeth instead of on him.
Vic found the deck of cards Ted had borrowed from the saloon. He cackled. “Looks like you’re prepared.”
“You all right, Elizabeth?” He’d tried to put all of his feelings for her in his tone, in his gaze, hoping she’d see and hear the depth of his love.
She nodded, made a sound he couldn’t understand.
Ted wanted to slap Vic silly for abusing his wife that way, for reducing his outspoken wife to grunts or nods.
Why hadn’t he told her he loved her before this? The truth rammed his gut. Hadn’t it all come down to his expectation that she’d leave him? Wasn’t that the real problem? One way or the other everyone, except God, had left him.
Vic finished his search. “I ain’t hurt her. Yet.”
Scowling, Ted leaned toward Vic, towering over him, every muscle geared to pounce. “If you’ve got a brain in that skull of yours, Hammer, you won’t take that gamble.”
Vic looked wild eyed, desperate, his fear palpable, though he tried to hide it with a smirk. “I’m not leaving till I get my money.”
Ted had bluffed Vic successfully before. Meeting Vic’s gaze with a steely one of his own, Ted crooked up the corner of his mouth. “Why not make this interesting?”
“Interesting? How?”
“You of all people should know what I’m talking about.”
“A game.”
Ted nodded again. “I haven’t played in, what? Nine years? But I reckon it’s like riding a horse. I’ll put up the thousand that’s owed you. And match it with another thousand. The bank’s just down the street.”
A crafty smile slid across Vic’s face. “Winner takes all.”
Elizabeth rocked her body, shooting daggers at him with those dazzling blue eyes of hers, now the color of stormy, wind-tossed seas. If he’d deceived his feisty wife into believing he’d returned to gambling, maybe he could do the same with Vic.
Struggling against her restraints, Elizabeth screeched, the sound muffled. Her eyes burned into him and her jaw worked against the gag, preventing her from giving him a piece of her mind.
If only she knew how much he loved her.
If only she knew she could trust him.
If only his plan worked.
Vic slammed his hand on the table and jerked Ted’s attention from Elizabeth to him.
“I ain’t got all day, ‘Hold ’Em’!”
Lord, help me divert Vic’s attention from the game to You.
“You’re right, Vic.
Your time’s running out.”
Cursing, Vic’s gaze darted to the door of the ladies’club. “What do ya mean? ’Cause if you’ve got a trick up your sleeve—”
“You worry too much.” Ted leaned back, crossing an ankle over his knee, trying to appear calm as every inch of him wanted to cross the room and help his wife.
If Ted hoped to succeed, he’d have to remember every ploy he’d used as ‘Hold ’Em’ Logan. Keep voice calm, demeanor nonchalant, gaze nonemotional. Vic must never suspect Ted had no money. That the only contest would be a battle for his soul. That was the only way to get through to Vic and to rescue Elizabeth without bloodshed.
Vic scrubbed a hand across his drawn face.
“You look tired, Vic.”
His right hand danced near the gun’s handle. “Not too tired to pull this trigger.”
“Don’t you get weary of courting Lady Luck?”
Vic snorted. “Luck ain’t no lady.”
God, give me the words. “So why do you do it? Why risk everything on the hand you’re dealt?”
“Same reason as you,” Vic said, glancing over his shoulder at Elizabeth.
Ted tensed, then relaxed when Vic swung his attention back to him. “I don’t gamble anymore. Lost my taste for it. Why not give it up? Find a new path.”
Vic hooted, the sound high-pitched, nervous. “Easy for you to say. You was a winner.” He toyed with the deck but didn’t deal. Could Ted dare to hope Vic was listening?
“I may’ve won pots, but I lost far more.”
Vic chuffed. “Like what?”
“My self-respect.”
“Crazy talk.” Vic waved the cards in Ted’s face. “I’d swap my good name, if I had one, for one big pot.”
“I did that,” Ted said. “I wouldn’t do it again.”
“Yeah, you say that now with the winnings in the bank.”
“You ever look a man in the eye after you’ve taken his last penny? Watched a young man fall apart right in front of you?” Ted shook his head, trying to dispel Alex’s face as he’d come after him. “The gamble isn’t worth the price you pay.”
Ted could see the wheels turning in the other man’s head. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on the table. “You’re losing far more than you’re winning, am I right?”
