Charlotte nudged the scowling woman on the floor with the toe of her shoe. “Speak up, Josephine, before my trigger finger gets itchy.”
“In the ceiling, in the room at the end of the hall.”
“Be careful of a trap, Luke,” Aaron cautioned, still holding a weakened Bessie in his arms. “I don’t trust either of these two as far as I can throw them,” Luke nodded vaguely, barely acknowledging his warning as he rushed down the hall. He did hear Aaron bark orders to two of the deputies who arrived at the top of the stairs. “Jeremy, come take Bessie, she needs to see Doc. Roberts, come tie up these two. I want them locked up before Luke and I get back.”
He joined him a moment later, right as Luke located the attic panel in the top of a closet. Yanking the pull cord, he lowered a set of telescoping stairs and peered into the blackness. “Not even a light, damn them to hell. Wisteria!” His voice held a rasp of urgency as he climbed. Halfway up, he ducked down, saying to Aaron, “I can’t see a thing, hand me up a lamp.”
The kerosene composite lamp Aaron passed him cast a small circle and didn’t reach into all the dark corners of the low-ceilinged room. He lifted it higher, squinting into the blackness as he climbed the rest of the way. What he could see was filthy, the air was musty and damp. He saw the reflection of light in small beady eyes as rats scurried back into the shadows and away from the glow of the lamp.
“Wisteria, baby,” he called desperately. “Are you up here?” Getting no response, he crawled on hands and knees into the attic, the space too cramped for him to stand upright. He spotted what appeared to be a pile of wadded-up sheets in the corner. Moving toward it, he pushed the light along as he went, squinting to get a better look. He cursed in both anger and relief when the lamp light glinted off dark hair. “She’s here,” he called to Aaron, scrambling across the filthy, vermin-infested floor to reach her.
Pulling the sheet away, he uncovered her chilled body, lying on her side on the hard bare floor in nothing but a thin cotton chemise, her hands bound behind her back. As he rolled her toward him, she didn’t move. Luke became more concerned when he saw the bruises and swelling on her cheek. Carefully, he pulled her into his arms and pressed his fingers to her throat, letting out the breath he’d been holding at the presence of a slow steady pulse.
“She’s alive, thank God, but unconscious, and she’s been beaten. I want to kill them, brother. As for the woman, it was all I could do to keep from breaking her neck, but it rubs against the grain.”
Aaron put up no argument, moving up into the attic behind him.
As Luke hugged her small body close, rocking her gently, she let out a little whimper. The small, woeful sound was like music to his ears. He lifted wet eyes, meeting Aaron’s gaze across the dimness of the cramped space. Silently supportive, Aaron moved closer, pulling out his pocket knife and cutting through the ropes at her wrists, while Luke held her.
The red raw marks on her fair skin stood out even in the low light. “I take it back. I’m gonna kill the bitch with my bare hands.”
“You’d be justified, brother, but let’s get her before Judge Wilson instead. Death is too good for what she’s done. She deserves to suffer—greatly—and from what I know of the territorial prison, she’ll do that, praying for death every day.”
He wasted no more time getting Wisteria down the stairs and out of there. Heath joined him at the front door. “The deputies shackled the lot of them, including the madame and her muscle man. They’re being escorted to jail as we speak.” He glanced worriedly at Wisteria’s still form. “Doc is attending a birth a few miles out of town. We’ve sent word, but it could be a spell.”
“Take her home to Silverbend,” Aaron urged. “Janelle will know what to do.”
Feeling she’d be better off in Janelle’s skilled hands than Doc’s anyway, Luke didn’t argue and was through the door and down the front steps. To mount, he handed off his unconscious wife to Heath. Before she was passed up to Luke, Aaron took off his duster and wrapped it around her. As Luke gathered her into his arms, he was never so glad to have their support. These two brave, caring men always had his back. All his life they’d stood by him, no matter what, especially now.
He spurred his horse and rode like the devil possessed him. His soul purpose to get his wild, impetuous wife home to his family and his sister-in-law’s care. Usually so full of life, she lay limp and insensate in his arms. Feeling helpless, he did the only other thing in his power, something he’d done often in the past twenty-four hours. He prayed.
* * *
The rumbling of galloping hooves and the jarring motion of their rapid pace roused her. Weakly, she tried to open her heavy eyelids, but the pounding in her head made even the pale light of the moon hurt too much.
“Luke,” she moaned, feeling disoriented, as well as helpless and scared.
The strong arms tightened around her as a heavenly voice whispered, “I’ve got you, baby.”
Forcing her eyes open, she fought through the cobwebs of her confusion, straining to see his beloved face. She sobbed, wanting to reach for him, but unable to lift her arms, trapped in a swath of heavy cloth. “You came for me.”
“Of course I did, darlin’. That was never in doubt.”
“Micah?” she managed to ask, before lucidity eluded her.
“Safe at the ranch being looked after by ma, Janelle, and Jenny, which is where I’m taking you.”
“Thank you for saving us,” she whispered, as the overwhelming relief allowed her to fade once more into the beckoning grayness.
Chapter Twenty-One
Home was the main house where she got a brief glimpse of Micah, safe and sound in Jenny’s arms. She also saw the concern on Henry’s and Letty’s faces before Luke whisked her away, taking the stairs two at a time, and rushing down the hall to his old room with Janelle on his heels.
The next few hours were a blur. She slipped in and out of wakefulness, rousing more fully when the persistent nausea penetrated her hazy stupor, or the ache in her muscles made her writhe in discomfort on the bed, unable to keep still. Once she awoke trembling as a cold sweat rolled off of her, soaking her clothes and the bed linens. Through it all she had a foggy awareness of Luke by her side. By turns, he sponged her body with cool cloths when she was drenched and shaky, as the chemicals purged from her system, or bundled her snugly when chills overtook her body and shook the bed beneath her. The whole while he murmured soft words of comfort that it would be over soon and that Micah, who she asked about frequently, was safe in his bed down the hall.
Janelle force-fed her water in between sips of ginger tea for the nausea. Although it tasted awful and she soon felt waterlogged, the worst part was the incessant itching, which her sister-in-law assured her was merely a neuraxial opioid-induced pruritis. To Wisteria, it sounded like gibberish, only making sense when she heard her explain to Luke that itching was a common side effect of the large doses of opium she’d been given. Wisteria didn’t understand much of it, but she could attest to being plagued by creepy-crawly sensations, as if hundreds of ants marched across her skin. She wiggled, squirmed, and scratched to no avail, at one point throwing back the covers and clawing at her clothes, which seemed to be making it worse. All of it, she experienced through a cloud of transient consciousness.
One moment of that long night came to her very clearly. It was when Luke scooped her up in his arms, growling that he’d watched her suffer long enough, and carried her down the hall to the bathroom. He’d proceeded to strip off her damp clothes and set her in a tub half-full of tepid water. Letty came bustling in, barely pausing to knock, and added a concoction of finely ground oats, dried lavender, milk, and Epsom salts to the bath water. As Luke sluiced the soothing water over her back and shoulders, she rested her cheek upon the rim of the tub, getting a true respite from the awful itching for the first time in hours.
Her mother-in-law tried to shoo Luke out and tend to Wisteria herself, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Instead, he knelt on the floor b
eside the claw-foot tub and gently bathed her as the healing bath worked its magic and calmed her irritated skin.
When she was close to nodding off, he lifted her from the cooling water, bundled her in a thick towel, and patted every inch of her dry. Then he slipped a clean gown over her head and put her back to bed. As she settled into the soft, warm, safe bed, she felt his presence beside her, watchful, protective, and nurturing as he held her hand gently. Her last memory before she at long last fell into a restful sleep was of his lips brushing across her forehead as he whispered reassuringly, “Sleep, baby. When you wake, you’ll be better.”
* * *
The next morning, when her eyes fluttered open and she glanced around, she learned he’d been right. Blessedly, the obtunding fog was gone. Drawn to the light brush of air wafting across her skin, she turned her head toward the window to see morning sunlight streaming in and the blue pleated curtains flapping in the breeze. Although she felt better, waking lucid and even a little hungry, she didn’t like being alone. She was anxious to see Luke and Micah. Sitting up, she was swinging her legs over the side when her husband walked in with a tray. He paused in the doorway, his worried gaze seeking hers.
Overwhelming emotions beset her suddenly and a shuddering, gut-wrenching sob escaped. He rushed forward, setting aside the tray and sweeping her into his arms as she began to weep uncontrollably. She clung to him, her arms gripping him tightly, as if she could meld herself to him forever within the circle of his strong arms and never be parted from him, ever.
“I was so scared.” Her words came out in a rush through shuddering, hitching breaths. “They had Micah and the note said for me to come alone.”
“I know, darlin’. I found it where you hid it under my saddle.”
“Don’t you see?” she appealed to him with tears blurring her vision as she tried to make him understand. “I didn’t dare tell you and risk losing him. Except they didn’t hold up their end of the deal. It was a godsend that you came when you did because they got scared, and thank heaven they left Micah.” Abruptly, she reared back, frantic. “Is he all right? Zeke was rough with him, threatening to snap his neck if I didn’t do what they said.” She began to struggle to free herself from his arms. “I want to see him. Please, Luke.”
“Hush, baby,” he crooned, drawing her more snugly against his chest, his lips pressing a kiss on top of her head as he began to rock her gently back and forth. “You’re safe, as is Micah. He didn’t have a scratch on him.” She went limp as relief washed over her. “You, on the other hand, have been through an ordeal. The best thing for Micah is for you to rest and do exactly as Janelle says so you can get your strength back. As for seeing him, he’s napping right now, under the watchful eye of his doting grandmother and a grandfather intent on spoiling him rotten.”
His calm reassurance allayed her fears such that she sniffled and let out a little huff of laughter, not doubting for a minute that Henry and Letty were hovering and catering to his every whim. They had taken to Micah in such a short time, as had all of Luke’s family. She knew he was in good hands; yet, she needed to hold her baby in her arms and make sure he was all right.
Luke must have sensed this because he added, “When he wakes, if you’ve eaten and feel up to it, I’ll bring him in for a visit.”
With her face tucked beneath his chin, she hugged him as tight as she could. In fact, they held each other for long moments as if neither wanted to ever let go. It wasn’t until Luke lifted his head and kissed her gently that her belly rumbled loudly and she remembered she hadn’t eaten in well over a day. He crossed the room to the tray, but instead of returning with it, brought her a cup of ginger tea, urging her to drink it all first.
“I hate tea,” she grumbled.
“It’s good for your stomach. Drink.”
She dutifully took a sip and grimaced. “If I never see another cup of this nasty stuff after this, it will be too soon.”
“I have peppermint, if you prefer,” Janelle said softly from the open doorway.
Wisteria smiled weakly at her friend, who was becoming more and more like a sister every day. “No, I think it’s already ruined gingerbread at Christmas for me, I’d hate to spoil peppermint stick candy, too. That’s always been my favorite.”
Janelle smiled back as she moved further into her room, coming to a stop at the foot of the bed. “You’re feeling better? No more fuzzy head or nausea?”
“No, thank goodness. It’s like I was trapped in a late summer morning fog that burned off with the rising sun. I’m actually rather hungry.”
“That’s a very good sign. How about your memory? How much do you recall?”
She felt the intensity of Luke’s gaze upon her and looked up to see the beautiful brown orbs were filled with worry, so much so it was palpable. Guilt like a deluge washed through her, knowing she was the cause. She’d brought so much grief and trouble into his life. Glancing away, she answered Janelle’s question, absently plucking at the covers, unable to sit still.
“I remember everything that happened at the cabin. There were three of them, not two as I expected. I’d forgotten all about Fordy. He was waiting for me in the woods, got the drop on me, and ruined any chance I had at bargaining. After that I was afraid if I didn’t comply they’d hurt Micah. Zeke threw me face down over his saddle as they rode off. From then on it gets rather fuzzy.” Glancing at Luke briefly, she felt heat creep into her face before continuing. “I’d ridden that way before, though not for so long and with much more consideration.”
“That sounds like a story for another time,” Janelle remarked with a twitch of her lips, obviously fighting a smile.
“Or not,” Luke said dismissively, undoubtedly recalling their wild ride through the storm the night Micah was conceived. He took a seat next to her with his back against the headboard, his hips and long legs crowding her. She scooted over to give him room. With something different in mind, he stretched out a long arm and hauled her back, pinning her to his side as he settled them both onto the soft pillows. With a good, firm squeeze, he murmured, “Tell us what else you recall, darlin’. Only if you’re feeling up to it, though.”
“I remember everything leading up to the brothel. Once inside, Josephine left me no choice except to inhale her drugged smoke.” Her voice dropped. Not wanting Luke to imagine her in such a place, tied to a bed, and completely helpless, she left that part out. “I remember breathing in that sickening smoke. It worked almost instantly, making my brain muddled and I became disoriented. Everything from that point on is a jumble of bits and pieces that don’t make a whole lot of sense. I don’t really remember anything until I woke up in your arms on the ride here.” And that scared her too. She was helpless. They could have done all manner of things to her while under the influence of the madame’s awful drugs.
She curled into Luke’s chest, trying to block out the awful thoughts that flooded her head, but flinched when her breasts, achy and tender from not nursing Micah in so long, rubbed along his hard, unyielding chest muscles. She wrenched away, drawing out the neckline of her gown and peering down in curiosity. She choked on a gulp of air when she saw the ugly purple marks in the shape of fingers on her pale skin. Instantly, she remembered Zeke’s brutal hands as he displayed her to the brothel owner like a horse up for auction.
“He brought me there to…” It was almost too awful to say. “They were going to sell me.”
“Thank heavens three big strong heroes rode in on their white horses to rescue you and she didn’t get the chance,” Janelle informed her.
Wisteria frowned as she struggled to make heads or tails of flashes of memory. “I don’t remember very much.” She turned to Luke as if he had the missing pieces. A look of pain crossed his face as he silently met her gaze. That caused her to worry more.
“Certainly it’s a blessing that you don’t, honey.” Janelle shuddered delicately before offering a soft smile.
“I want to know everything.”
“You don�
�t need to know everything,” Luke said firmly, his tone decisive. “Suffice it to say that those involved will never touch you or Micah again.”
“Or eat solid food for a very long time,” Janelle added with a nod of approval.
“What?”
“Luke broke Zeke Sanders’ jaw,” she explained. “Heath broke Virgil’s nose and Fordy is missing several teeth thanks to Aaron. None of them will hold much appeal for a cell mate when they get to prison, which is more than any of them deserve.”
Wisteria turned wide eyes up at her husband.
Bit by bit, Janelle let the story unwind. “Charlotte did a number on that bitch Josephine, from what I’m told.”
“Janelle.”
She ignored Luke’s warning and barreled right along. “I’m just sorry after she gut-punched her that she didn’t really snatch her bald.”
“Charlotte punched the madame?” Wisteria gaped in disbelief. “You’re pulling my leg!”
“That’s enough, Janelle. You said she needs rest, not get all riled up.”
“Oh, but this is making me feel vastly better, Luke. I remember Josephine and she wasn’t nice at all.”
“You can hear all the gory details after you drink your tea and eat your lunch.”
Janelle shrugged in response to Luke’s censorious frown, looking far from apologetic, though she murmured, “Sorry, Luke.”
“At least tell me they’re all in jail?” she persisted, breathing easier when Janelle vigorously nodded her head.
Luke shot his sister-in-law one of his most disapproving frowns, who promptly bit her lip and stayed quiet, although she didn’t look intimidated the least little bit. He shook his head slowly, muttering, “The three of us are going to be white-headed by the time we’re thirty-five.”
Janelle grinned, winking slyly at Wisteria. “Ooh, silver-haired foxes, lucky us.”
Luke gave up and answered Wisteria’s question. “Judge Wilson hears the case first thing Monday morning and with Aaron’s recommendation, a lifetime of hard labor is in their very near future.”
Wild Wisteria Page 23
