Well, goddamn! What next? A Biblical wave of locusts in their path? Or maybe a tornado to wipe out the tracks? Wordlessly, Thaddeus helped Ellie down off the horse, and they both stretched.
"Now what?" Ellie asked, walking around in circles to get the cramps out of her legs. "How far to the next station?"
He peered up and down the track. "About eight miles in either direction, but we're not budging. We'll wait. The train'll blow its whistle as it gets to that bend," he pointed into the distance, "and then we'll be ready to jump on."
Disappointment lanced through him. He'd been looking forward to buying two tickets and getting on the train with Ellie like respectable people. Or at least, he hadn't anticipated having to toss in their bags before doing a fast run and grab, while scooping up Ellie and hauling her onto the train at the same time.
They barely spoke while they waited, both feeling antsy. In less than an hour, the whistle of a train heralded its approach. In another few minutes, they could feel low rumbling underfoot and a cloud of steam billowed in the distance. Thank the Lord Almighty! He wanted to get this over with.
Patting Lucky on her neck, Thaddeus acknowledged a pang of regret—he hated to lose this horse, but that was the price of train travel. Hoping that once set free, Lucky would plod across the tracks and wander into the town to be claimed, Thaddeus had a hand on the saddle buckle when another rumble thundered in the distance.
With a sickening feeling, he knew what the sound was—horse's hooves. Sure enough, on the southern horizon, four men approached. Not Biblical locusts, but equally dangerous. The Indian had brought more of Stoddard's men, sure as a coyote forms a pack to hunt.
In a split second, Thaddeus realized what he had to do.
"Ellie, listen to me."
She might be listening, but she wasn't looking. Frozen in place, she stared at the approaching riders. At least, they weren't shooting. Yet.
"Ellie," he said again, giving her a little shake. "You're gonna do what I say." At last, her crystal blue eyes locked on his, and she nodded.
He could feel the shaking of the ground as the train got closer.
"I'm going to help you get on this train, and then I'm going to draw those men away from it. Me and Lucky, OK?"
"You're leaving me?" Her big blue eyes seemed to get even larger, and his heart ached—he would do anything to erase the fear he saw.
"I'm going to divert those men, and I'll meet you in Boston. I promise. You can get there easily once you get on this train. You're smart, you can do it."
Time had oozed like molasses for days. Now, it advanced at a fast trot. He jumped on Lucky, simultaneous thoughts firing in his brain of what they had to do in the next few seconds.
"Get your bag. Toss it to me."
She did as he told her, and he caught it, nestling it between his legs. "Now, use my stirrup and get on up behind me. Come on, Ellie," he urged her as she stepped into the stirrup with her dainty foot and let him haul her onto the horse. In the unfamiliar position, she slipped her arms around his waist and pressed against his back.
"Hold on," he said.
The train steamed toward them, and like an answer to his prayers, one of the boxcar doors stood wide open, offering sanctuary within its shadowed recesses. The locomotive slowed to go under the empty coal loader and past the abandoned station. Digging his boot heels into Lucky's flanks, he urged her into a smooth gallop. As they rode alongside the train, Thaddeus leaned the horse in as closely as he could.
"Grab the handle," he shouted to Ellie. "We'll keep steady. You can swing right on in."
She didn't let go of him. "No, I don't want—"
He cut her off by pulling her hands apart at his waist and extending her left hand toward the boxcar. She had no choice but to grab hold of the iron handle. Her left foot followed, stretching toward the boxcar's runner. In the next instant, she lifted off the saddle behind him and stepped aboard the train, diving to safety inside.
"Good girl," he called out, keeping Lucky even with the boxcar. He tossed in Ellie's bag, at the same time hearing their pursuers start to yell. Someone shot off a round, perhaps in frustration.
"Empty?" Thaddeus yelled to her.
She looked around the car, then stuck her head out again. "Yes," she yelled back, her voice thin.
The train began gaining speed as the track straightened, and he and Lucky, unable to maintain the pace, fell behind. With a lump in his throat, Thaddeus pulled the horse to a skidding stop and held up his hand in farewell, watching as she did the same.
The compulsion to comfort her, to tell her something, anything, burned in his gut, but he didn't know what. He wished he'd had time to give her a proper goodbye kiss to let her know how he felt. That would be the first thing he'd do when he saw her in Boston—kiss her until she couldn't stand.
He watched her a moment longer before turning his attention to the problem at hand.
Stoddard's men were still about two hundred yards away—the Indian, Bart, and two others. If they rode hard, they could catch the train the next time it reduced speed on a curve. It would be easy for two of them to jump in the boxcar, right from their horses, and abduct her, or even stop the train by placing their horses on the track. He had to make sure they focused on him and not her.
"Sorry, ol' gal," he muttered to Lucky, as he spurred her once more into a hard gallop, while shooting off a couple rounds in the riders' direction, not bothering to aim but desperate to distract them.
Seconds later, a barrage of bullets whizzed past his ears as Stoddard's men returned fire. Goal achieved!
Riding west, in the opposite direction to Ellie's train, he found himself sorely missing the Colorado terrain as he scanned the flat land around him for some place to take a stand and pick off the pursuers, one by one. He saw no good vantage point, no rocky overhang, no mountain pass, no nothing except a cluster of shrubby trees.
He followed the land as it rose ever so slightly toward the trees. Reining in Lucky behind the buckeyes, Thaddeus climbed right from his saddle into the lower branches. He kept ascending until he found a stable spot from which to watch the rapidly approaching men. Though not nearly as good a shot with his left hand, he drew both weapons and prepared to open fire. Thaddeus took no pleasure in killing, but he'd do whatever it took to keep Ellie safe.
Aiming at one of the men, charging on horseback, Thaddeus was distracted by movement just past the man's shoulder. That's when he saw her—his pretend wife, his longtime obsession, the bane of his goddamned existence—jump off the train in a flurry of skirts and flailing limbs as it decelerated at the next curve.
"No!" he yelled involuntarily. What in the hell was that woman doing?
He watched her roll a few feet, her bag and all, then get up and brush herself off. Thankfully, she didn't seem hurt. His heart moved back down out of his mouth and into his chest where it belonged. But four ruthless men on horseback now stood between him and her.
At least, for the moment, they didn't know that.
"Thaddeus," she screamed.
And now they did! Shit!
Turning as one at the sound of her voice, Stoddard's men spied their vulnerable prey, unarmed and on foot. Apparently, she was a more valuable captive than he was, even with what he carried in his bag, for they yanked their horses around and surged toward her, like floodwaters over a dry creek bed.
He gripped the handles of his guns so tightly his knuckles hurt. He wanted to close his eyes against the frightening scene that was unfolding before him, managing to get only a single shot off that clipped one rider's arm. Then they were out of range, and he was stuck in a tree.
Ellie shrieked again, not his name this time, just a yelp of fear, before she was silenced by Blackheart Bart, who slid from his horse and clamped a hand over her mouth.
Feeling sick with helplessness and dread for her, Thaddeus watched her kicking and struggling, but in a moment, she was hogtied and tossed over Bart's saddle, where he rested his hand on her buttocks, letting
her head hang down one side and her feet the other.
"I swear to God," Thaddeus murmured, focusing on Bart's ugly black hat, "I will kill you."
A moment later, after one of the other men retrieved her bag, and the Indian offered him the briefest of backward glances, they rode away.
He wanted to scream, loud and long. He didn't. All he could do was drop out of the tree onto Lucky's back and start trailing along behind at a respectable distance, stewing on the mass of emotions roiling in his gut—cold fear for Ellie and what Stoddard would do to her, mixed with white hot fury at her for jumping off the train and wrecking his sound plan.
Jack Stoddard had her, but Thaddeus aimed to get her back. And he realized with certain clarity, that Stoddard's men knew if they took Ellie, Thaddeus would follow—and Stoddard would surely get them both.
Chapter 7
The trail before Thaddeus stretched endlessly, all the way across the state, clear to the Mississippi River, and he could scarcely believe he was heading once more in the opposite goddamned direction to any of his goals, Boston or Chicago. And all the while that he was on Lucky, his body clamored for Ellie's proximity, missing her more than he could have believed possible, considering the brevity of their time traveling together.
Thaddeus spent most of the long days swearing or praying, and hoped Stoddard's men were treating her well. They wouldn't hurt Ellie on purpose, he was sure of that, because, after all, she could still claim status as Jack Stoddard's wife. But that didn't mean she wouldn't suffer.
He knew he couldn't hope to rescue her, not while they were still on the move. Whereas Stoddard's men could take turns keeping watch during the few night hours that they rested, he hardly closed his eyes for fear that one of them would double-back and kill him while he slept.
By the time the Mississippi River popped up on the horizon like a glinting black snake in the distance, Thaddeus felt wrung out to dry. He skirted the bustling port town of Hamilton with its many buildings, both brick and wood. Heading south a mile, Thaddeus was familiar, too familiar, with the way to the cleared riverbank and private dock at which was moored Stoddard's gambling business, and also his home—a bright white riverboat with black and gold trim.
He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw it. At last, this nightmare chase was coming to an end. All he had to do now was wait for Stoddard's goons to turn their backs, sneak aboard the riverboat, and nab Ellie. Easy as pie. Sure, it was.
This was no desolate, unobtrusive boat either; people came and went in a constant flow, eager for the gaming that was enlivened by music and dancing girls, as well. Not too many of these riverboats remained, not after the war with the South. Gambling had come to a halt as the army commandeered the boats to carry soldiers and supplies, rather than hard-luck gamblers. After the war, the boats were sold off or left to rot.
Everyone knew that Jack Stoddard had taken full advantage of a certain scarcity in the area and refitted an old boat to be the belle of the river, though it never moved from its mooring. With only two enclosed decks above the waterline and an open deck on top of those where a number of men strolled with women in Stoddard's employ, it wasn't the largest boat that had ever been made by any means. However, right here in Hamilton, even with its bright red paddlewheel dead in the water, it remained the liveliest.
Stoddard would expect him to come in alone. And generally, that would make it easier for him to maneuver. He'd realized that fact when traveling with Ellie. But for this occasion, he needed a partner to divert attention from himself, and Thaddeus knew exactly the person to help him.
He crossed the river via the bridge, grumbling at the exorbitant cost of 15 cents, and passed the hospitals that had been set up for the Union soldiers but which were now mostly empty. Heading to the northern-most street in Keokuk, Thaddeus dismounted, tied Lucky to a post, and climbed the outer steps to a second-floor balcony next to a sign that read "The Pork and Swallow."
The door was locked so he climbed through the open window of his favorite local saloon, right into Josephine's bedroom.
The dark-haired beauty with the birthmark on her cheek shrieked, then laughed when she recognized him.
"Teddy, you about near killed me with fright."
"Don't call me that," he said, by way of greeting. He allowed no one to call him that except his sister, but Josephine had found it amusing to say it in the throes of amorous congress, and now she did it to tease him.
"Jo, I need a favor."
She rolled to her feet from her reclining position, wearing something black, lacey, and sheer, and approached him.
"No favors, sweetie. You have to pay like everyone else." Parting her barely-there robe, hand on her hips, she displayed all her generously proportioned wares. Then she laughed in that same husky timbre.
"I'm jesting, Teddy. You've been so generous in the past. For you, a complimentary roll in the sack."
He kept his hands firmly at his sides and tried to look anywhere else but at her luscious body. She had the looks to drive any man wild—any man but him at present. He had a taste for only a certain petite blonde woman, and Jo was the opposite. Raven-haired, busty, curvy, and tall, she was someone a man could grab onto and ride. And he had done so, many a time, but not tonight. Especially not tonight.
"Cover up, Jo. It's not that type of favor."
She arched a dark shapely eyebrow and sat down on the bed, defiantly remaining uncovered.
"All right, then, what is it?"
"First, for the love of God, give me a cigarette."
She reached over to her bedside table; delicately choosing a cigarette from a pink glass bowl, handing it to him with her Dangerfield match case in shiny silver metal.
He slid the case's button forward and a match emerged, flaring into flame as it popped out past the striking mechanism. Lighting the cigarette, he took a long drag and sighed.
"I need you to come with me, no questions asked."
"Where?"
"That's a question," he reminded her. "But fair enough. A friend of mine is in trouble right across the river."
"What kind of trouble?" She crossed her legs and settled back as if she intended to have a long conversation.
"That's another question, Jo." He ran a hand through his hair, feeling frustrated. "Can you agree first, come outside, get on my horse, and we can talk on the way?"
She eyed him without answering.
"I'll make it worth your while," he added, puffing on the cigarette.
She smiled wickedly, palming each of her own breasts before sending him a pouty smile.
He swallowed hard. The woman oozed sensual appeal. "I meant with money, darlin'."
She shook her head. "I've got money." Then she cocked her head. "Is it dangerous?"
"Maybe. Probably. Yes." Would she say no?
"I'm in." She jumped up excitedly, and he chuckled despite the seriousness of the situation. "I'm bored as sin, Teddy, so I'll do it."
However, when Jo sauntered close again, he stopped laughing. "Are you sure we don't have time for a little fun first?" She rubbed herself against him and looked up into his unsmiling face.
He frowned at his body's treacherous reaction; it was coming to life, not wholeheartedly, but definitely showing some attention. Some of the best sex of his life had taken place right here in this room with this passionately uninhibited woman. Now, it didn't seem worth getting undressed.
He wanted solely one woman at this point in time, not only for her body but for the way she made him feel whenever he got near her. Something inside of him sort of melted, like candle wax, whenever he was in Ellie's presence, and that warmth sparked into flames when she smiled. God, how he wanted to see her smile again.
"Sorry, Jo. I've gotta keep moving. But you'll like this adventure. Not only is it dangerous, but I need you to dress in your best bib and tucker. Only real stimulating, if you know what I mean—not your Sunday best. Something that'll keep all eyes on you."
She narrowed her gaze at him, perhaps st
ill stinging from his rejection of her erotic offer. But then she managed a smile.
"All eyes but yours, right?" She disappeared behind the screen that housed her vast wardrobe.
A few minutes later, during which he paced the room and imagined every scenario, good and bad, which could play out that night, Jo emerged.
The cigarette almost fell out of his mouth. He grinned. He'd definitely come to the right woman. Josephine's crimson red satin gown hugged every one of her generous curves. It plunged low to show her ample cleavage and the slit over her right thigh came up to her garter straps. It would more than do the trick.
She pinned a matching crimson hat onto her silky dark hair, checking her mirror to make sure the long black feather rode seductively on its brim. Pulling on black satin gloves up to her elbows and matching black shoes, lastly, she grabbed a red beaded purse and posed for him.
"You are an amazing woman," he said. "But can you ride a horse in that getup?"
Her catlike smile appeared. "How about we use my quick little buggy instead? We can tie your horse to it if you like."
And just like that, they were speeding back to Hamilton in Jo's gaudy red and purple trimmed buggy, with her lightning fast gelding cantering along the miles. Lucky was being dragged behind but gamely kept up. Thaddeus would need her later for the getaway. At least, he hoped so.
"That's highway robbery," he exclaimed as the price of crossing the bridge went up to twenty-five cents for the one-horse buggy and the second horse in tow. "If I lived here, I'd get a small boat," he added sourly.
Briefing Jo on what he hoped to accomplish with her help, he sent her across the gangplank while he remained in hiding behind empty beer barrels. Close enough to see men's eyes popping out of their heads, he noticed jaws dropping and conversations coming to a momentary halt. Then, as if the riverboat's inhabitants gave a collective swallow, everything came back to life, except all eyes remained on Jo.
She sashayed from the gangplank to the entrance to the carpeted floor, making eye contact, smiling her mysterious smile, waving as if she knew people. In a moment, she had a drink in one hand and at least three ardent admirers on the other.
An Inescapable Attraction Page 10
