The Brides of Chance Collection

by Kelly Eileen Hake,Cathy Marie Hake,Tracey V. Bateman

  He pulled away as voices from the others came closer.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  Her lips trembled. “Titus Chance, I love you, too.”

  Tears clogged her throat. There was no choice now. She had to leave him before she lost the power to do so. With difficulty, she maintained a normal demeanor throughout the rest of the day.

  That night after everyone had gone to bed and she was reasonably sure they slept, she rose and dressed with trembling fingers. Then she grabbed her coat and reticule and wrote a note for Titus, promising the return of his horse. Quietly she left the cabin amid Daniel and Titus’s snoring and made her way to the barn. Ten minutes later, she knew she’d made the biggest mistake of her life as two riders blocked the path in front of her.

  “Amos, it looks like this is our lucky night.”

  “It sure is, Bart. It surely is.”

  Titus jerked awake. Something didn’t feel right. The fire had gone out, but that wasn’t it. He stood and walked around the room. Glanced outside. Everything seemed quiet enough. Stepped back inside.

  “What’s wrong?” Gideon’s sleepy voice asked.

  “Not sure.” He lit the lamp on the table and knocked on the post next to the bedroom. “Miriam, Alisa?”

  “What are you doing, Titus?” Gideon was on his feet. “Miriam needs her sleep. Don’t go waking her up on a hunch.”

  She appeared, clutching her robe about her, her face white. “Alisa’s not here.”

  A lump lodged in Titus’s throat. “We’ve got to go after her. If those two hurt her, I’ll—”

  “Titus, she left a note. She wasn’t kidnapped.”

  He looked down at the paper she pushed into his hand.

  “It’s for you.”

  “Let’s get you back to bed,” Gideon said to his wife, but Titus knew they were giving him the chance to read the letter from Alisa in privacy.

  His heart sank as he read the words:

  Titus,

  These last few months have been the happiest of my life. God used you as a sort of knight in shining armor to rescue me and bring me to the ranch. I don’t know what I would have done without you. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Falling in love was the last thing on my mind, but I don’t suppose we have a choice where our hearts are concerned. For I do love you, my Titus. I hope to return to you soon, but if I am not back within a year, I beg of you to forget me.

  Yours,

  Alisa

  Forget her? How could she even suggest that was possible? No matter how many years went by, he’d never forget her. Didn’t she understand that? Panic swelled his chest. Where could she have gone? He pulled on his boots and grabbed his hat.

  She’d gone to turn herself in. And if she was right, her worthless father would see that she hung.

  Oh, Lord. Help me find her.

  He saddled Logan’s horse, a stallion and the fastest of the horses on Chance Ranch since Raven had been stolen. Titus rode hard, the rising sun at his back. He only prayed she wasn’t too far ahead for him to catch her before she turned herself in.

  Chapter 15

  You men could have saved yourself the trouble. I was going back to turn myself in anyway.”

  Alisa knew she should probably keep her mouth shut, but she couldn’t help goading the two bumbling thieves.

  “Maybe so, sister, but I know a man who’s willin’ to pay five hundred dollars to see you handed over,” Bart snarled. “And that’s what we’re gonna do.”

  Five hundred dollars? It could only be Robert Worthington. But why was Robert, rather than the law, offering a reward for her?

  “How did you two find out about me?”

  Amos reached into his filthy coat pocket and produced an equally filthy paper. He pushed it toward her. She scowled and lifted her bound wrists for his perusal. “My hands are tied; you’ll have to open it for me.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he muttered. He unfolded the greasy paper.

  Alisa’s eyes went wide at the sight of her image staring back. “This isn’t an official wanted poster, though?”

  “Nope.” Amos refolded the paper and replaced it in his coat pocket. “How come you’re thinking the law’s after you? You steal this feller’s money or something? Looked like he has a lot of it.”

  “That’s none of your business.” She averted her gaze to let him know she was through speaking with him.

  “Spunky little thang, ain’t ya?”

  “Not really.”

  “Can’t we just keep her, Bart? I really like this one. She ain’t so pretty as the one with all the curls, but at least she don’t scream and cry like that one did.”

  Stung by the negative comparison to Prissy’s painted beauty, Alisa felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She resisted the temptation to defend herself and concentrated on staying atop the horse despite her bound wrists—which were beginning to chafe along with other parts of her anatomy. She had never ridden before coming to the ranch and had only had a couple of lessons as it was. That she’d managed to avoid falling headlong to the muddy ground was a miracle indeed.

  “You heard what Worthington said. No one touches her.”

  Robert didn’t want her harmed? Surprise and gratitude combined inside of Alisa to form a tender spot in her heart for her father.

  “Yeah, but he wants her back pretty bad if you ask me. I’d bet my half of that reward that he’d take her however he can get her.”

  From his place in front of the two of them, Bart turned in his saddle and glared at Amos. “Keep yer hands off her, or I’m gonna put a bullet through yer heart. I ain’t takin’ a chance on losing five hundred dollars because of somethin’ you can get at just about any saloon in San Francisco.”

  Heat flared in Alisa’s cheeks as she listened to the two argue, knowing there was nothing she could do about her predicament at the moment and praying fervently that Bart kept the upper hand on the other man.

  Droplets of water splashed from the sky and hit her hands and her head. Soon the sprinkles became a soaking rain. A miserable rain that wouldn’t let up. With muddy conditions being added to the already soft road, the ground soon became difficult for the horses to trudge through, and the going became nearly impossible.

  Finally, Bart muttered a loud oath. “We’re gonna have to hole up somewhere.”

  The thought of being “holed up” anywhere with these two immoral men made Alisa sick to her stomach. “I need my hands untied if I’m going to handle this horse without falling off,” she said.

  Her words were met with silence as the two concentrated on keeping their own horses upright.

  “Bart!” Her voice shot through the steady stream falling from the sky. “I can’t ride in this with my hands tied.”

  “Untie her so she’ll shut up.”

  The other man made no move to obey.

  Frustration and a real fear she was about to fall emboldened Alisa. “Bart!”

  “Amos!”

  “I can’t. My horse ain’t doin’ so well.”

  “Fine,” the brute growled. “Take my place at the front of the line. I’ll untie her.”

  He maneuvered the animal around and rode back to Alisa’s position. Amos moved carefully ahead, fighting for control. Alisa stopped her horse and held out her bound wrists.

  Bart’s dark gaze focused on her with an intensity that made her want to shrink back. Pure evil lurked beneath the surface of that gaze, and she silently prayed for protection. This man might be keeping Amos in line, but when he stared at her and roughly took hold of her clasped hands, she had trouble thanking the Lord for him. He brandished a ten-inch blade and sliced through the ropes. Alisa gasped as the knife’s edge nicked her. Blood trickled down her hand toward her fingers. She winced at the pain. With a scowl he made a grab for her skirt.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, outrage suddenly eclipsing fear or pain.

  He sliced a patch of the muslin and handed it to her. “Wrap this around that cut. And don’t flatte
r yerself. Ain’t no woman alive worth five hundred dollars—not to me anyways. I’m warning you,” he snarled. “If you take off, I’ll come after you and let Amos test that theory that Worthington’ll take you however he can get you back. Understand?”

  Unable to speak for the terrifying image conjured up by his words, Alisa nodded and grabbed on to the reins.

  After another tense hour of concentrating on keeping the horses from slipping and falling, the trio spotted a farmhouse in the distance.

  “We’ll hole up in the barn,” Bart announced.

  “We can’t just ride up to a person’s barn. Someone’s gonna see us.”

  “If you don’t act stupid, no one’ll suspect we’re anything more than three travelers needin’ a dry place to rest. I’m gonna knock on the door and ask.”

  Relief swept over Alisa at the thought of getting out of the rain. But along with the relief came the worrisome thought of spending any time alone with these two. On the other hand, if the people who lived in the farmhouse knew she was there, perhaps she could somehow convey her predicament and find a rescuer.

  As if reading her thoughts, Bart curled his lip. “Don’t make me slice your throat.”

  She swallowed hard and nodded. Only God could get her out of the situation. As long as Bart was in charge, she felt reasonably safe.

  The next seconds seemed as a dream. As Bart urged his horse forward, the animal lost its footing in the mire. The burly outlaw’s arms flailed as he went down. He landed with a thud, and the mount landed atop him, then quickly righted itself. But Bart remained where he’d fallen. Alisa dismounted quickly and slogged through the mud until she reached him. Her stomach roiled at the sight of his leg, twisted under him in an unnatural position. One didn’t need to be a physician to recognize the severity of his broken leg.

  “You gettin’ up, Bart?” Amos called. “Yer the one who said we need to get goin’.”

  “He’s badly hurt. He won’t make it without our help.”

  Amos cursed and dismounted. He stomped back to where Bart lay. His face drained of color. “This is bad, Bart.”

  “You ain’t sayin’ nothin’ I don’t already know,” Bart grunted, then clenched his teeth.

  Alisa stared at Amos, waiting for him to instruct her as to how they would get his partner the next couple of hundred yards to the farmhouse. Confusion spread over his face.

  “We’ll have to help him,” she prompted.

  Amos scowled. “I know that!”

  Obviously threatened by her instruction, the man turned his attention once more to Bart, who was beginning to lose consciousness. Alarm filled Alisa. She knew it would be difficult enough to move Bart with his help, but his dead weight in these conditions would be next to impossible.

  “Bart,” she said, kneeling beside him, “try to stay with us. We’re going to need your help supporting part of your weight while we move you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Without opening his eyes, he nodded. “I’m tryin’.”

  Compassion rose inside of Alisa. “I know you are,” she soothed. “I’m going to try to straighten your leg.” She glanced at Amos. “Is there anything he can bite down on to help control the pain?”

  “Ya mean like chewin’ tobacco?”

  Alisa sighed. This idiot would be no help. “No. I mean something hard that he can’t bite in two. Like a heavy branch or something.”

  Amos slogged to the nearest tree and luckily had the presence of mind to hack off a branch thick enough for their purposes. He whittled away the leaves. “Will this do?”

  Nodding, Alisa took the heavy stick. “Open your mouth, Bart. I want you to clamp down on this while we straighten your leg.”

  Fear lit his eyes, but he nodded and did as she instructed.

  “Will you help me?” she asked Amos.

  “He’s gonna kill me if I hurt ’im.”

  “He’ll be grateful you cared enough to help him.”

  Amos sneered. “Don’t think this nursin’ business is gonna make us let you go. ’Cause it ain’t.”

  “That’s the last thing on my mind. Let’s get Bart out of this mud for now.”

  A scream of agony tore from Bart, and the stick fell to the ground as he passed out. Despair filled Alisa. How on earth would they get him to the barn now?

  “We’re going to have to go for help.”

  “No, we ain’t, girlie.” Amos grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. “Leave ’im. He’s more than likely gonna be dead by mornin’ anyways.”

  A gasp escaped her throat. “We can’t leave him. What if it were you? Would you want us to leave you?”

  He gave a short, bitter laugh. “Mark my words. If I was dumb enough to fall off my horse, Bart’d leave me without lookin’ back.”

  Alisa had to admit to herself that he probably had a point. Still, she had to try to make him see reason. “Amos, Jesus said we are to do unto others as we would have them do unto us. If you were hurt, you’d want Bart to help you.”

  He frowned as though the words were too much for him.

  Help me, Jesus.

  “If you had fallen off your horse, I would be interceding for you just as I am now for Bart. Please reconsider.”

  “Stop yer yammerin’.”

  Alisa’s shoulders slumped in defeat, until none-too-gently Amos hefted Bart up and slung him over his shoulder. She nearly gasped in surprise at the strength he demonstrated. She followed as he muscled Bart over the horse, who seemed not to be injured from the ordeal.

  “Thank you, Amos. You did the right thing.”

  He grunted. “Probably the dumbest thing I ever done. Get back on your horse, and let’s get goin’.”

  Fingers of fear crawled up her spine as his gaze slid over her. A slow smile lifted his mouth.

  What was she going to do when her only protection was injured and unconscious?

  Titus spoke gently to the horse, urging it forward. “I know you want out of this rain, and I don’t blame you. Fact is, so do I. But Alisa needs me, and I’m going to find her. And you’re my partner.” It hadn’t taken long on the trail for him to realize that though Alisa had started out alone, two other riders had quickly joined her. He felt nearly strangled by the thought of who those two men most likely were. They were ruthless men, and he prayed for strength not to act out of vengeance if they hurt Alisa.

  He knew the danger of plodding on in this mud and rain, especially now that night had fallen. All day he’d seen signs of the three horses trying to stay afoot. But he knew the outlaws would have to hole up eventually. And that was when he planned to make his move.

  Father, lead me to her.

  Alisa smiled and handed the middle-aged woman a tray containing the swept-clean plates. The gracious couple who owned the farm had helped set Bart’s leg and had offered Amos and Alisa a place in the house for the night. Amos had declined, stating the foolish lie that he and Alisa were on their honeymoon and preferred to be alone in the barn. Mortified, Alisa tried to be impassive, but she was almost certain the woman’s eyes flickered with concern. If only there was some way to clarify her position as a hostage without taking a chance that Amos might harm the couple.

  After lighting the lantern, the woman, whose slightly graying hair was pinned neatly into a bun at the nape of her neck, smiled. “Well, I brung you some extra blankets. I set ’em over there in the corner. Wish I could offer you some dry clothes, but my only other dress is wet, too.”

  Alisa smiled. “I appreciate all you’ve done. You’ve been very kind.”

  The woman flushed. “Ain’t no more’n anyone else woulda done. Yer welcome to stay ’til it’s safe to travel in this mud.” She glanced at Amos. “If you’d like to follow me to the house, I can spare a fresh shirt of my husband’s.”

  A grin stretched Amos’s mouth. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  Resisting the urge to beg her to stay, Alisa watched the woman slip through the barn door with Amos on her heels.

  Bart moaned from
his bed of hay at the end of the barn. Amos refused to allow even Bart to stay in the house. “I’m in charge now,” he boasted. “Bart ain’t gettin’ no soft bed if I ain’t.”

  Alisa hadn’t reminded him that he’d had his chance for a real bed and turned it down. She didn’t want to encourage his memory as to the real reason he was sleeping in the barn.

  She lifted a blanket from the stack and spread it over Bart’s shivering body. If they could have built a fire, she would have insisted he get out of the wet clothes, but again, no sense giving Amos any ideas.

  She sat back against the wall and watched Bart’s white face and trembling body. He needed a doctor. Had the horse’s landing on him injured more than just his leg? He’d begun to awaken by the time their hosts had begun the task of setting the leg, and the woman had offered laudanum, which Alisa had encouraged. Now Bart slept and didn’t have to endure the pain.

  It was almost certain that Amos would leave him behind. She prayed the five-hundred-dollar reward would be enough to discourage Amos from keeping her captive. She stood on legs wobbly from the day’s ride. Why hadn’t she snuck out when Amos left? Hurrying toward the door, she paused only a minute to grab an extra blanket. Heart in her throat, she reached the door and flung it open. She stepped into the night. She gasped as Amos’s stubbly face loomed in front of her like something from a nightmare.

  “Get back inside,” he ordered.

  Silently she obeyed, tentacles of fear clutching her belly.

  “You know what I want, girlie. And Bart ain’t in no position to keep me from it.”

  “Amos, please,” she croaked, backing up. “Don’t do this.”

  “Save yer breath,” he snarled. In a flash, he grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly to him. Alisa fought wildly, flailing her hands and feet. She screamed. Amos clamped his hand over her mouth. She twisted and shook her head until his hand slipped enough for her to bite down.