Blood poured from the tip of Beck’s nose. “Little bitch,” he repeated with a scowl, reaching for a handkerchief in his jacket pocket. Holding the cloth to his nose, he bent down on one knee to look her level in the eyes. “You just wait and see what I’ve got in store for you,” he growled. Then his wicked laugh filled the chamber. “In your case being desired will be a mixed blessing.”
“Enough!” Langley yelled. “We haven’t the time for this.” He marched out of the chamber and returned with a large trunk. After opening the lid, Langley pulled her to her feet. “Get in,” he demanded.
She hesitated as she looked down at the faded floral lining, stained with blood. The large crate wreaked with a mixture of urine and another horrible stench...death. She covered her nose with her bound hands, fighting the waves of nausea washing over her.
“So sorry, sweetie,” Langley sarcastically apologized. “I didn’t get a chance to fumigate it since it was used last.”
“Why do you need to put me in there?”
“Your departure will be less conspicuous this way, my sweet. Can’t have others seeing you walk out of here with your hands tied and dried blood upon your face, now can we? Besides, this way there’s nay a chance of you trying to escape,” Langley explained.
“But I won’t—don’t dare to or else you’ll kill my family,” she bargained. If she could leave on her own two feet, perhaps she’d have a chance to catch the eye of someone she knew. Maybe even Oliver would come looking around town for her when she didn’t meet him as she was scheduled to do at the ally. It was a slim prospect, but a slim chance is better than no chance at all.
“I said, get in!” Langley grabbed her by the hair and threw her head first into the trunk. Again he slapped her on her upturned bottom, harder this time, and laughed. “A good spanking now and then never hurt anyone, my mum would always say.”
Beck joined in with his sinister cackle. “My mum would say it builds character.”
Which did nothing for you. She rolled away from his abusive hand and onto her side. As she curled her body into a ball, she glanced up at her kidnappers.
“Rest nicely, my sweet.” Langley shut and locked the lid.
The darkness and the stench surrounded her. It was like being buried alive. A chill ran down her spine at the thought that indeed this trunk might have been someone’s coffin. The panic rose to choke her, as did the rancid stench, and she gulped for air.
Air, where am I getting air from?
As her gaze darted around the dark, tiny cubicle, she spotted light coming from a hole. Maneuvering her face nearer, she stretched her neck to get an eye even with the small opening.
Pain again ran down her spine, but she persevered in spite of it. If she were able to look out, see where they were taking her, then should a chance come for her to escape, she’d know where to run for help.
There wasn’t enough room to bend her head in position, so she did the next best thing. She stuck her nose out the hole and took a cleansing breath. If she could inhale fresh air, instead of the stink that confined her, she wouldn’t vomit all over herself.
Besides, there was always the hope someone would see two men carrying a trunk with a nose sticking out of a hole. And perhaps they would question them, force them to open the trunk, and she’d be saved.
Perhaps that would happen.
Perhaps it will happen...there’s always a chance.
Chapter Nine
As Gabriel—along with Simon and Oliver—watched two Sea Patrol officers carry a trunk through the back door of the old hotel, he spotted a hole that marred one side of the large chest. And poking out from that hole was the tip of a nose. Although he could not see if the nostrils were of a delicate shape or if a spray of freckles dotted the bridge, he had a hunch the nose belonged to Riley and no other. When he pointed it out to his companions, Oliver stood and tried to break from where they now crouched behind several trees.
He caught the younger man by the scruff of his neck before he had a chance to give away their observation point and pulled him back into hiding. “You want to destroy any chance of rescuing Riley?”
“She’s in that trunk, right there in front o’ us. All we need to do is take on the two in the red jackets, which shouldn’t be ’ard since there’s three o’ us and only two o’ them, and set ’er free.” Oliver tried to rid himself from Gabriel’s grasp.
“Have you heard nothing being said?” He released the young man so quickly he landed on the ground. Just his luck he had to rely on this boy for help in order to save Riley.
“I’ve ’eard everythin’,” Oliver claimed, coming to his feet and brushing the dirt from his britches.
“If that were true, then you would have learned the key to getting these men arrested is finding where they keep the women at Lands End. We must find Suzanna Wellington and rescue her as well as Riley and any other women who are imprisoned there,” Gabriel explained.
Simon added, “Lady Wellington’s word, and that of her rich and influential father, is the only thing that will stand up to put the scoundrels away.”
“So, I would say, marching out and getting into a brawl with these men is not a very wise idea,” Gabriel concluded.
Oliver straightened his collar. “I don’t know ’ow ye do it...’ow ye can just stay back and watch ’er being ’eld captive in that trunk.” He inhaled sharply. “Can’t ye just imagine ’ow scared she must be? Aren’t ye worried she’s ’urt, or that those men might ’ave already...”
He seized Oliver by his jacket’s lapel. “Do not say another word.” The thought of Riley being compromised was something he could not bear and still remain sane enough to complete the mission.
Oliver’s glare locked with Gabriel’s.
“Of course I am worried. Do you think your thoughts have not run through my mind as well?” He pushed Oliver’s back against a tree trunk and held him there. “From the moment I learned of Riley’s abduction, I have been tortured by such possibilities,” he ground out with gritted teeth. “But if I make myself insane with such ideas, then I cannot do what I must do to release her from their clutches. And the longer they have her, the longer they can hurt and frighten her.”
Simon placed a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Calm yourself, mate. If we fight amongst ourselves, we can’t be united to help Riley.”
Gabriel paused a moment before he released Oliver, then stepping back, he ran his fingers through his hair. “You are right, my friend. Our focus must be on what lies ahead for us to do.”
“I’m sorry,” Oliver apologized. “It’s just that Miss Riley ’as been good to me.” His dark eyes softened. “She’s the only one who doesn’t think I’m a stupid mite who doesn’t deserve any respect.”
“Me thinks I detect a bit of fondness in your voice for the lady,” Simon teased.
Oliver blushed. “Ye need to stop thinkin’, then, Captain.”
Simon laughed. “Aye, my brother, Rafe has often told me the same thing.”
“Perhaps you should listen,” he grumbled.
For some strange reason, Simon’s words sent a wave of jealousy through Gabriel. Although Oliver was only a young man, his feelings could not be disputed. A young man’s heart could hold love just as dear as an older man’s. He fell in love with his wife when he was around Oliver’s age and stayed true to his feelings until the time came for them to marry. Gabriel shook his head to clear it from such thoughts and turned toward the wagon into which the Sea Patrol officers were now loading the trunk. “Enough talk. It is time we follow them to the river.”
Simon nodded. “I will have my carriage drop you and Oliver a few feet away from where the Sea Patrol’s craft is docked. While you find a way to sneak on board, I will head back to Wade’s Landing. Whereby I will incorporate my father-in-law’s help in securing a small, worthy vessel to make the journey to Lands End, staffed with adequately armed men to stand with us upon meeting you there.”
Gabriel patted the small pocket pistol in his coat
. Not as powerful a weapon as the Colt Peacemaker or Winchester Colt .45—preferred by the cowboys in Arizona—it packed light, along with the dagger in his boot. Both weapons would suffice, although he favored a bow and arrow or a spear.
“I know the mud-larks that work that end o’ the river. I can get them to cause some sort o’ uproar so we can board the ship without bein’ noticed,” Oliver offered.
He arched a brow. “You mean so I can board unnoticed.”
“But I thought I...”
“Well, you thought wrong,” Gabriel corrected. “I have enough on my mind without worrying about you. Besides, if anything happens to you, Addie will be out for my hide as well. So you will do exactly as you are told.” He narrowed his eyes at Oliver like Proud Eagle often did to him when driving home a point. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly,” Oliver grumbled.
The three of them then walked through the trees to the waiting carriage and followed the kidnapper’s wagon at a safe distance.
****
Riley shut her eyes, trying her best to remove herself from her closed quarters. The idea helped a bit for her to catch her breath...along with pressing her nose through a hole at one side of the trunk. She felt the men lift the crate off the floor and carry it away.
Away to where, and what fate awaits me then?
She fought to keep her calm. Panicking wouldn’t help the situation, but it could sure make it worse.
Anita always told her there is something to be said for showing others your strength. If anyone knew that to be true, it would be her grandmother. The woman lived daily by sheer willpower alone. Even in desperate times, which were more the norm than not, Anita Noble Flanders found a way to rally, come through for her, and raise her to be proud, smart, and independent.
Riley would have to use all of those learned resources to the best of her abilities if she wanted to walk away from this situation alive. These men were ruthless. She knew this was true as soon as she’d seen the one called Beck stab Naomi and Tom to death.
Her body jarred when the men dropped the trunk. Then she was moving, slower at first, then faster. The trunk slipped from side to side, and she rattled within it. She could distinguish the sound of a horse running, wagon wheels turning. They were taking her away...far away from London.
Tears filled her eyes. When she left Collins Stead this morning, she had no idea she wouldn’t be returning. She wasn’t going to share the evening meal with Gabriel, ask Jane how her day with Charles transpired, or read to Lucinda a few of the forty love poems in Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnets of the Portuguese before she retired. How, in the blink of an eye, could her life be so changed?
Riley pressed her nose further out the hole and inhaled sharply.
Right now she needed to concentrate on keeping her wits about her, and breathe...breathe...breathe.
Chapter Ten
Gabriel spotted the Sea Patrol’s steamer docked on the River Thames about fifty feet to the left from where the carriage he shared with Simon and Oliver came to a halt. Another fifty feet ahead of them was the wagon that housed the trunk where Riley was being held captive.
The unceasing clip-clop of horses’ hooves and carriage wheels making their way down the busy boulevard, the constant clang of the muffin-man’s bell, the cries from street peddlers selling their wares, and river workers bustling with the usual day’s activities carried on, unaware of the two patrol officers unloading the large chest from their wagon and making their way with it to the waiting craft.
As Oliver opened the carriage door, Gabriel placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Remember, your only job is to create a diversion so I can slip unnoticed aboard the steamer. Then you are to leave the area and take yourself back to Collins Stead,” he said.
“I thought I might stay on with the captain, see what sort o’ ’elp I can be to ’im,” Oliver said.
Simon arched a brow. “Did you now?”
Oliver nodded. “I know most of the steamer captains, the deck ’ands and mud-larks. I could be o’ great use to ye.”
“Or is it you’re just trying to prolong the birching your auntie has waiting for you at Collins Stead?” Simon teased.
Oliver’s face reddened. “I’m wantin’ to ’elp Miss Riley, but surely ye can’t blame me for ’opin’ to get out o’ that sentence, Captain.”
Simon stifled a smile. “Nay, I can’t, but you need to take your punishment like a man.”
“Nay, not by ’er. I am too old for that,” Oliver protested.
“Then tell Addie I will beat your backside instead, when I return,” Gabriel said, annoyed so much time was being wasted. One thing he had learned about the English is they could discuss, debate, and dissect a subject to death and still never arrive at a conclusion. “But you go back to Collins Stead where it is safe.”
Oliver nodded, seemingly satisfied with this new arrangement, and jumped down from the carriage step. Both Simon and Gabriel watched him walk over to another boy, about his age, that was working on a tangled rope not far from the Sea Patrol’s steamer. The two young men held a short conversation before making their way to the officer’s wagon.
The other boy picked up a stick from the ground and poked around a pile of trash, then scooped something into his hand before he and Oliver made their way to the horse.
“What in blue blazes are these two plotting?” Simon wondered.
“I do not care what scheme they come up with,” he confessed. “As long as it gives me enough time to slip unnoticed aboard the steamer.”
Then Oliver steadied the horse and nodded to the other boy.
The other boy then held up what he had been holding...a mouse by the tail.
“By Jove, I don’t believe my eyes,” Simon hissed. “They’re going to...” but before he could finish his sentence, the other boy dropped the mouse on the horse’s head. The horse reared, throwing its head back. The scream issuing forth from the animal was one Gabriel would never forget, nor ever believed a horse could make. Then it bolted, leaving the roadway and racing down the causeway to the dock.
The two Sea Patrol officers and five other men ran from the steamer. The boy and Oliver motioned for Gabriel to follow them.
“God speed, mate,” Simon called after him, as he raced from the carriage, following the two younger men to the far side of the steamer.
“Alls ye gotta do is climb this ’ere ladder.” The river boy pointed to a row of steps mounted to the side of the steamer. “Once ye’re over the side and onto the deck, ye’ll see a portal to yer left. That’s a storage ’old. Since everythin’ for this voyage ’as already been loaded, there’s a good chance nay a soul will bother to go in there ’til after the boat docks.”
“What is your name, boy?” Gabriel inquired.
“Joseph, sir,” the river boy said.
He extended a hand to the younger man. “I thank you for your help.”
Joseph wiped the palm of his hand down his britches before he accepted Gabriel’s handshake. “I ’ope ye save them all, sir.”
“Then Oliver has explained to you why I need to get on this steamer unnoticed?”
“Aye, sir,” Joseph said. “I’ve seen the men bringin’ the trunk aboard many times. I know what’s locked in it, and I know what’s goin’ on. But for the fact nay a soul would listen to a poor river boy without proper means, I’d ’ave gone for ’elp myself.”
The frightened horse continued to run in circles, hampered by the small wagon to which it was harnessed. A wheel flew from its axle, the back of the wagon shattered...the whole episode making quite a commotion and continuing to occupy the five men trying to bring it all to bay.
Simon’s carriage had departed, and help would soon be rallied. All that was left was for him to climb aboard the steamer and hide in the storage room until the vessel docked at Lands End.
He gave Joseph a pat on the back, then turned to Oliver with a farewell glance before making his way up the steamer’s ladder. Once his fe
et hit the wooden deck, he sought the storage room’s door and slipped inside.
If not for the light coming from a very small outside portal, the room would be as black as coal. Once the sun went down, which it was soon to do, he would not be able to see his own hand before his eyes. Taking advantage of what observation time he had left, Gabriel studied his surroundings.
Crates of all sizes were stacked against the walls, as well as rolled carpets and sheets of lumber. He walked over to a crate and pushing aside a loose slat, discovered bottles of whiskey and rum inside. At another crate he did the same. That one carried weapons, hand guns and small daggers. It seemed selling women was not the only business venture the Sea Patrol dabbled in.
Just as he was about to investigate another crate, the inside portal’s latch moved. Gabriel hid behind a stack of larger crates in a far corner. He hated being so trapped. The only way to exit the small chamber was either out the portal, which he could never fit through, or the door, which would be blocked by whomever entered.
He crouched low and removed the knife from his boot. Though the pistol in his pocket would most definitely put down the intruder faster, it would also create enough noise to call attention to his whereabouts. Staying hidden throughout the duration of this voyage and being able to follow the officers to where they held the woman was essential at all costs.
The door opened. Someone stepped into the room. A raspy whisper filled the tiny space. “Mr. Eagle, are ye in ’ere?”
He raised his head and glared over the crate at the younger man standing with his back to him. The shabby coat, the shaggy haircut, there was no mistaking who looked for him. Gabriel stood and crept behind the boy with panther-like steps. Then grabbing him by the hair and bending his head back, Gabriel brought the blade of his knife beneath the boy’s throat.
Oliver stiffened with a strangled gasp.
He brought his mouth to the boy’s right ear and whispered, “I thought I told you to go back to Collins Stead.”
Oliver relaxed against him. “Thank God ’tis ye. I almost soiled my britches.”
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