by Jillian Hart
“These will be gone within the hour, I’ll warrant, for the ladies are always asking after fresh butter, and this looks nice and yellow, even through the cheesecloth. Your cow must be producing a goodly amount of cream for you.”
“It’s a Jersey, and she’s a good milker, sure enough,” Elizabeth said, pride in her voice as she spoke of the cow she held in high esteem.
“I’ll put down the amount in my book for you, ma’am, and you just go on ahead and look at whatever it is you have in mind. Is there a special occasion we’re celebrating?”
“Yes, Toby’s birthday is coming up and we need to find something very special for his gift.” She took the boy across the store and they stood before the counter where shoes and boots were lined up in boxes, trousers and shirts in glass cases on the wall behind the long countertop.
“Ma’am? I’d surely like a pair of boots for my birthday. Do you think they’d cost too much money?” Toby’s eyes were fastened on the larger boxes, where boots were kept in a variety of sizes.
“If that’s what you want, Toby, I don’t see any reason to look any further. Although I’d like to buy you a new shirt to wear to church on Sunday. Do you remember that we spoke about going and you said you didn’t have a best shirt to wear?”
He grinned up at her. “I don’t, ma’am. Have a good shirt, I mean. And yes, I’d like to have one, if you want to pick one out for me.”
She turned to Harvey Klein, calling him by name, and when he approached, she mentioned the shirt issue to him. He laughed and took down two different glass cases, both of them containing neatly folded shirts in sizes to fit young boys. He drew one forth and held it up.
“I think that’s a bit small,” Elizabeth said, looking from the shirt to Toby and back, at which Mr. Klein refolded the garment and found another a bit larger.
“Let me see that one,” Elizabeth said, and held it up to Toby’s shoulders and back, brushing it down to see if it would be the right length. “Do you like this blue one, Toby? Or would you rather have one of a different color? Perhaps white, or brown?”
Toby jittered around a bit, obviously excited about the choices available to him. “I kinda like the white one, ma’am. Would that be all right? Pa’s good shirt is white, I know.”
And it was important to look as much like his father as possible. Elizabeth nodded, and Harvey set aside the white shirt in the proper size. “And now for boots,” Elizabeth said, looking at the pile of boxes.
“Perhaps I’d better tend to that part,” Harvey offered, coming around the counter to usher Toby to a bench obviously provided for just this purpose. He sorted through the boxes and opened several, showing boots to the boy, waiting for an opinion and then opening another box.
“I think these will fit,” he said, slipping Toby’s shoe off and kneeling before him. The boot in question slid onto the boy’s foot readily and Toby stood and looked down at his heart’s desire, his grin so wide, Elizabeth wondered if his face would ever be the same again.
Mr. Klein felt the toes of the boot, his long fingers moving then to the sides where he pressed inward to see how the boot fit. He sat back on his heels. “How does that feel, son?” he asked.
“Could I try them both on, sir?” Toby asked, his voice almost a whisper. At which the storekeeper slid the other boot into place and stood.
Mr. Klein waved a hand at the boy. “Walk across the floor, son, and see if they stay where they belong. We don’t want them sliding up and down on your heel.”
The door of the store opened then and Elizabeth heard Toby’s indrawn breath. She looked past him to where Amos Rogers was sauntering slowly in her direction. “I thought I saw you coming into town, ma’am,” he said politely, his eyes gleaming with purpose.
Mr. Klein had gone back to his business at the counter and was writing in his account book as Amos spoke. Elizabeth looked to one side, where she’d laid her gun on the front counter near Mr. Klein, and was angered at her lack of caution. Fortunately it was only a matter of three steps or so and her hands were on the weapon. She lifted it, trembling slightly, and pointed it as steadily as she could in Amos’s direction.
“I’m not a terrific shot, Amos, but I’m sure I can hardly miss from here. I’d suggest you hightail it out of here right now.”
He laughed, a cruel sound as he eyed her from where he stood. “I doubt you’d shoot me, Elizabeth. You don’t have enough nerve.”
“You might be surprised, sir.” Her words were clipped, her tone angry as she lifted the shotgun to aim directly at his chest. As if he thought better of it, Amos turned and left the store.
“Figure my purchases, please,” she said to Mr. Klein, the weapon tucked against her body. “I’ll have Toby carry them to the wagon for me. He can wear the boots. Just put his shoes in the box.”
“Will you be all right, ma’am?” the storekeeper asked, peering past the front door as if seeking out the presence of Amos.
“I’ll be fine. I know how to shoot the gun, and I’m not afraid to do it,” she said firmly.
Toby grasped the packages by the string Mr. Klein had tied them with and headed for the door, Elizabeth at his heels.
They climbed into the buggy and Elizabeth turned the vehicle toward the road leading back to the farm. She didn’t spare the horse any, but urged the animal on quickly. When they arrived at the farm, she looked in all directions, then helped Toby carry in his birthday gifts.
“Run out and find your father,” she told him, feeling apprehensive about Lucas being out beyond the barn.
Toby was gone in a flash. His small body disappeared around the side of the barn, and then she caught sight of him running through the meadow where the horses grazed. Apparently Lucas was farther from the house than she’d thought, but no matter, she decided. He’d be here in no time. She went into the pantry, reaching to place the birthday gifts on the top shelf, and turned back to the kitchen.
There in the doorway, a grim look on his face, was Amos Rogers.
“I followed you, Elizabeth, on the other side of the trees where you couldn’t see me. And now we’re going to take a little trip. Just the two of us.”
Her gun was in the buggy, and she cursed silently as she realized she’d left herself unprotected.
He stood before her now and his hands were harsh as he tugged her against him. “Come on, Elizabeth. Out the door with you.” He was stronger than she’d thought, for she could not escape his hold, and he wrestled her onto the porch. One hand dipped into his coat pocket and in seconds he’d brought forth a hypodermic needle. With no hesitation he plunged the tip into her arm, through her sleeve and deep into her flesh.
She felt a hot flush envelope her, and then a weakness such as she’d never known came over her. When Amos lifted her from the porch onto his horse’s back, she fell face-first over the saddle. “Don’t go wigglin’ around, Elizabeth, or you’ll fall off and get hurt,” he warned her, and then she knew no more as a cloud of darkness fell upon her.
Toby ran across the pasture as quickly as his short legs would take him, shouting hoarsely for his father as he went. He’d looked back just as Amos rode away, and he was scared. In the distance he caught sight of Lucas and Josh, stretching fencing across the back of the meadow, and even though his chest hurt from the physical strain, he ran on.
“Pa! Pa!” His voice was that of a small child and it was long minutes before Lucas heard him call.
He dropped his hammer and headed quickly toward the child, recognizing that Toby was out of breath and could barely speak. “What is it, son? What’s happened?”
“Miss Lizzabet—I saw that man take her away.”
Lucas felt his heart twist within his chest. He’d not looked for her so soon, or he’d have been back closer to the house. Now he searched the horizon, finally spotting a horse crossing the town road and into the field beyond. It carried a full load, for it looked as if the man sat behind the saddle, and a figure was lying atop the leather. He saw a skirt flying in the wind a
nd knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was Elizabeth.
“You boys go in the house. I’m going to saddle my gelding and find Elizabeth. Understand me?” The two boys nodded quickly and Josh ran ahead, into the barn, where he located Lucas’s saddle and had it on end when his father came in, leading his mount. It took but seconds to saddle the horse and slip his bridle in place, and Lucas was atop his back and shouted at Josh.
“Find me my rifle, Josh. Quickly.”
“It’s in the pantry,” Josh hollered back, even as he sped toward the house.
“Pa, Miss Lizzibet forgot to take the shotgun in the house when we got home,” Toby cried, tears running down his cheeks.
“That’s all right, son. The rifle is what I need right now.”
And even as the words were spoken, Josh came out the door, rifle in hand. The gun was loaded, for Lucas kept it ever ready in case of emergency. Josh lifted the rifle high, handing it up to Lucas without a word. Then he put his arm around his brother’s shoulders and led him into the house.
“Lock the door,” Lucas shouted as he turned his gelding toward the town road.
The man he followed seemed to be heading across country, in the general direction of town, but obviously not using the road so often traveled. Lucas urged his gelding into a gallop and leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the target he sought.
Firing at Amos Rogers from this distance was too dangerous to be considered, for it would be too easy for a bullet to go astray, perhaps hitting Elizabeth. He knew he stood a good chance of catching them, for his horse was fresh, and obviously the mount Amos rode had already been driven hard for at least five miles today.
His quarry disappeared behind a grove of trees and Lucas kept his eyes peeled for the man to reappear, for the trees thinned out just ahead. If he had the chance, he’d fire once he got a hundred yards or so closer, he decided. Then Amos appeared again and looked over his shoulder, catching sight of the man following him. He pulled his horse up sharply and dropped to the ground, lifting his own weapon to his shoulder.
He’d never have a better chance, Lucas decided, pulling on the reins and leaping to the ground, rifle in his hand. He lifted it, held it steady and his finger eased against the trigger. His heart was pounding in his chest and he took a deep breath as he saw Amos stagger when the bullet hit him. Amos spun sharply and flew backward, hitting the ground. The gun he’d held landed eight or ten feet away, and Lucas watched carefully as he remounted his gelding, lest the man should crawl toward the weapon. But by the time he’d traveled fifty feet or so, he realized that Amos was unconscious. Blood stained his shirt, a crimson patch readily visible even from where Lucas traveled, his horse almost upon the man now.
He rode next to the horse upon which Elizabeth lay, jumped to the ground and drew her carefully from across the saddle. Lowering her to the ground, he felt her throat for a pulse. It beat strongly—a bit slow, but she was alive and that was all that mattered.
His horse would hold two with no problem and he lifted her to the saddle, holding her there as he put his foot in the stirrup and swung into place behind her. Her body was totally limp and he held her across his lap, one arm beneath her head, the other on the reins. It took only a few minutes to gain the back porch and he shouted loudly for Josh to open the door.
The boy did as he was told and then stepped out onto the porch. “Oh, Pa,” he cried, jumping to the ground and standing beside his father’s gelding, “is she hurt? Is Miss Elizabeth alive?”
Lucas nodded, an abrupt movement of his head as he slid from his saddle, holding on to the woman in his arms as best he could. He lifted her then and carried her through the door, past the kitchen and into the parlor. The sofa held her nicely, and he knelt beside her.
“What can I do, Pa?” Josh said.
“Get me a clean washcloth and rinse it in cool water. Wring it out good and bring it here.”
Without speaking, the boy ran to the kitchen and returned in moments with a cloth, his hands trembling as he handed it to his father. “Now get on my horse and go to town, quick as you can, Josh. Get the doctor and tell him it’s an emergency. Hurry, now.”
In mere moments Lucas heard the horse’s hooves hitting the earth as Josh galloped past the parlor and down the long lane to the road. Toby stood anxiously by his side, his hand reaching for Elizabeth’s hair, his fingers tangling in the dark locks as tears ran down his cheeks.
“She’ll be all right, Toby. Do you know what happened? Did you see Amos Rogers in town?”
“He came in the store while we were there and Miss Lizzibet aimed the shotgun at him and told him she’d shoot him if he didn’t get out of the way. He kinda laughed at her, but I think she really would’ a shot him, Pa, if he hadn’t gone out of the store.”
“She probably would have,” Luc agreed, hardly able to contain the grin that begged to curl his lips. His Elizabeth was a corker, that was for sure.
As he wiped her forehead and then her hands, soiled from being dragged about, she opened her eyes a bit—not fully, for she seemed to be in a fog of sorts.
“He used a hypoder…a needle on me,” she said, her words tangled as she spoke.
Lucas cursed aloud. “Damn him to hell,” he said, his voice filled with hatred for the man for what he’d put Elizabeth through.
“Did you shoot him?” she asked, her tongue fumbling with the words. Her eyes kept closing as she spoke and he took pity on her, brushing her hair back from her face.
“Close your eyes, sweetheart. You’re safe and sound. He apparently drugged you with something in that needle he used. The doctor will know what to do when he gets here. Just sleep, Lizzie. I’m here and I won’t leave you alone again.”
“Me neither, Pa,” Toby said in a frail voice, his eyes still red from the tears that would not cease.
Lucas tugged the boy closer and held him tightly. “You’re a good boy, Toby. I’m proud of you, running all the way across the pasture to get me.”
“I was so scared, Pa,” the boy cried, his words fractured by the sobs he could not withhold.
“She’s safe now, Toby. You did well, son.” And together they waited by the sofa, their eyes on the precious woman who had so nearly been taken captive by Amos Rogers.
The doctor showed up before too long, his buggy wheeling up to the porch, the man himself leaping from the high seat to run through the back door, black bag in hand.
He came into the parlor and his eyes tangled with those of the man who rose to meet him. “Is she all right? Your boy said to come quick, and Harvey Klein ran out from the store when he saw all the commotion in the street. He said the stranger in town had accosted your wife in the emporium, and she threatened him with her shotgun, chasing him out the door. What did he do? Follow her home? And then grab her?”
Even as he spoke the doctor approached the sofa and knelt beside Lucas, his hands reaching for gauze in his bag, then he poured a good measure of alcohol on the pad and wiped his fingers and hands with it. “This oughta do for now,” he said, his fingers on Elizabeth’s pulse, his eyes meeting Lucas’s as he nodded.
“He didn’t hurt her?” he asked, even as his hands ran swiftly over her arms and hands, then down her legs beneath the skirt she wore.
“I don’t think he had a chance, Doc. But she said he put something in her with a hypodermic needle.”
“Where is he?” the doctor asked quietly, aware of Toby listening as they spoke.
“About a quarter of a mile from here, in the field across the way, past the grove of maple trees. His horse is there, too. Although I suspect it belongs to the livery stable. He must have rented it when he set out to chase down Elizabeth and Toby.”
“You want to leave her here for the night? Or can you carry her upstairs?”
“I could carry her for miles if need be,” Luc told the medical man. “I’ll take care of her. But tell me first, what did he shoot into her arm? She was awake long enough to tell me he used a needle on her.”
“From
the way she’s sleeping, I’d say laudanum. But if she’s already roused enough to speak to you, I wouldn’t worry about her. She’ll get a good night’s sleep, that’s for sure.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Luc said, reaching to take the other man’s palm in his own. “I appreciate you coming out here. Maybe you’d better take my wagon and haul Amos Rogers back to town with you. I’ll go with you to pick him up if you like.”
“Naw. I’ll just sling him across the back of my horse and deliver him to the sheriff.”
In moments he’d closed his bag and taken his leave. Toby and Josh sat on kitchen chairs and waited until their father came out to speak with them.
“I’m gonna carry Elizabeth upstairs to bed,” he told them. “I want you both to run out and feed the chickens and gather up the eggs. I’ll milk after I finish in here.”
Both boys nodded vigorously, more than willing to help in any way they could. “Pa? Is she gonna be all right?” Josh asked, his voice trembling. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to our new mama.”
Lucas nodded and touched the boy on his shoulder. “She’ll be fine. Just needs a good night’s sleep, the doctor said.”
And as his sons went to the chicken coop to do their chores, he lifted his wife in strong arms and carried her up the stairs. The love in his heart added strength to his muscular arms and he could only be thankful for each breath she took as they traveled up the stairs and into their bedroom.
He stripped her quickly and tucked her beneath the sheet and quilt, aware that she’d be upset to find herself in the altogether in the morning. But no matter, he’d keep her warm and comfortable tonight, and explain matters as best he could when the sun rose in the east. And in an hour or so, he crawled into the bed beside her and lifted her into his embrace, his mouth finding her cheeks, her forehead and lips and the place on her throat where her soap had left a sweet scent for his pleasure.
