Prisoners of Love Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Hutton , Callie

  “Have you ever been in a tornado before, Miss Nellie?” Miranda’s voice shook as she looked wide-eyed at their chaperone.

  “Once. Not an experience I want to repeat.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “If either one of you are the praying type, here’s your chance.”

  Becky closed her eyes and prayed as the wind gusted around them, branches and leaves flying in the air.

  * * *

  Mace fought the wind buffeting his body to the get to the prisoners’ wagon. He stuck the key into the lock and pulled opened the door. The wind blew water into his face, the sting of hail hitting him like tiny daggers. “Tornado coming. I don’t care if you live or die, but it’s my Christian duty to give you a chance.”

  “You gonna untie our hands and feet?” the oldest man asked as he awkwardly climbed out of the wagon.

  “Not a chance, and don’t think about running.” He could barely hear his own voice over the howling of the wind and the crash of thunder “I’ll shoot you and leave your body for the animals to feast on.”

  “Like we could run with these things on our legs,” one of them shouted.

  Mace shrugged. “Your problem, not mine.” He sprinted back to where he’d left the women. The noise of the wind had grown much stronger, roaring like a train passing right overhead. He dove into the ditch, covering the women with his body and wrapping his hands around his head as the cracking of tree branches sounded and pieces of wagons flew overhead. The rain continued to pound down on them, and they all jumped when lightning struck a nearby tree.

  “Are y’all breathing all right?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Miss Becky’s shaky voice could barely be heard.

  After only a few minutes which seemed like hours, the noise stopped, the wind eased, and the rain turned to a soft drizzle. Mace climbed off the women and helped them up. The much lighter rain worked to wash the mud from their clothes. Mace wiped the water off his face and looked around.

  Several of the wagons had been torn apart, but both the ladies’ wagon and the prisoners’ had been spared. The other travelers crawled out of the ditch and surveyed the damage. The sound of crying filled the air from some of the women and children in the group.

  Easton made his way down the line, asking about injuries. Apparently, there were only a few minor bumps and bruises among the travelers, he told them, but three wagons had been busted up. As they all helped gather up the belongings that had been thrown about, the rain slowed even more and eventually stopped, giving way to sunshine, common after a severe storm.

  Mace left the women to inspect their wagon and walked to where the three prisoners lay tangled up together in another ditch. He stood, feet apart, his hands on his hips. “So, the tornado didn’t kill you. A pity as it would have saved me the trouble of hauling your sorry asses to Santa Fe. Y’all look like a mass of squirming snakes.”

  “Yeah, well, Big Time Sheriff, just get us the hell out of here,” one of the prisoners shouted, glaring at him over another prisoner’s shoulder.

  “All in good time. I have things to do right now.” He walked away, whistling, knowing they weren’t going anywhere all knotted up like that.

  * * *

  Becky stumbled her way over to their wagon. She’d never been in a tornado before, although she certainly knew about them. They had been very fortunate that their wagon was still in one piece. Not so for everyone else.

  “I’m thinking we should get out of these wet dresses, but we first need to help those whose wagons have been destroyed. We’ll only get muddy picking up belongings anyway.” Miss Nellie held her hands out to the side, looking down at herself.

  “I agree.” Becky smoothed the hair back from her face. “We should help.”

  The next few hours passed with gathering belongings and finding their rightful owners. Sheriff Jensen popped into her view a few times as he helped the other men put the fractured wagons back together.

  Weary from the work, Becky spotted a fallen tree near the ditch and wandered over to take a short break. Once she sat, a voice next to her said, “Hey, lady, help us out of the ditch.”

  She jumped at the sound and looked down to see the three prisoners lying in a heap. “What are you still doing there?”

  The oldest man twisted his neck to look at her. “The sheriff put us in here, but I think he forgot about us. Can you help us out?” He offered a smile, a few stained teeth left in his mouth.

  “You mean help you out of the ditch?” She had always thought of herself as strong but lifting three men was a bit beyond her strength. “I don’t think I can do that.”

  “Just reach down and pull my younger brother here up.”

  Becky looked around, trying to find Sheriff Jensen in the crowd. He was nowhere to be seen. She worried her lower lip, feeling sorry for the men lying the mud but unsure if she should help them out.

  “I can go find the sheriff and remind him you are still in the ditch.”

  “No!” The oldest man said. “We don’t want to stop the sheriff from helping the needy people.” He offered a grin that was more frightening than most people’s scowls. “Just pull Bobby up.” He used his chin to gesture to the younger man.

  “Our hands are tied. What trouble can we cause? Just help us out of this ditch, and we’ll sit quietly on that log and wait for the sheriff.”

  They really did look uncomfortable. She supposed just helping them out of the ditch would not cause problems. As he said, their hands were tied. “All right. I’ll help one, but you’ll have to get the other two out. I can’t lift all three of you.”

  She reached in and grabbed the top man by his arms. “You’ll have to use your feet to help push yourself up. You’re too heavy for me to pull you all the way out of the ditch.”

  The man grunted, and with him pushing and her pulling, he climbed out. “Thanks, lady. I appreciate it.” He turned and said, “But my hands are still tied so I can’t help my brothers out.”

  She shook her head. “No, I can’t lift them. They’re much bigger.”

  “Maybe you should untie my hands.” He hurried on when she backed away. “Just for a minute or two so I can get them out, and then you can re-tie them.”

  They must have truly thought she was an idiot. She didn’t mind helping them out of the ditch for comfort’s sake, but she certainly had no intention of untying them. “No.” She shook her head. “I don’t think so. If you can’t get them out with your hands being tied, then they will just have to stay there.”

  The man flashed her a smile. This one had a better set of teeth. “I know what you’re thinking, little lady. You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” He shuffled his feet closer to her, and she backed away.

  “I think I’ll go get the sheriff, and he can get the other two out.”

  “No. Don’t bother the sheriff. He’s busy.” The prisoner looked down the row of people working hard to restore the wagon train. “See. He’s right down there, helping that old man with his stuff.” He turned back to her. “How about the two of us try to get my brothers out? You can’t do it alone, and I can’t do it alone.” He nudged her, turning her stomach as he came close and she got a whiff of his breath. “Partners. We’ll be partners.”

  She continued to back up, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. Getting even the one man out had been a bad idea. “No. I think not. In fact, I’m probably needed myself. So, if you will excuse me.”

  In one swift move, the man threw his tied hands over her head and pulled her against his chest. “No, little lady. You ain’t going nowhere.”

  Becky elbowed the man in his stomach, but he merely grunted and pulled her closer against him. “Don’t do that again, girlie. Even with my hands tied, I can choke you to death or break your neck.

  “Now, you and me, we’re gonna take a stroll in the mud here and find the sheriff. I’m sure he’ll be only too glad to let us go to keep you from being killed.” He tugged her closer again and leaned down to speak in her ear. “Why, I think he’s hoping to f
ind his way between those sweet legs of yours.”

  Becky swallowed the bile that rose to the back of her throat, all the blood leaving her face. She moved her head to the side to avoid the man’s breath and saw Sheriff Jensen stop in the middle of picking up a board and stare in their direction. Slowly, he placed the board on the ground, said something to the man next to him, and with his hands resting on his guns, he walked toward them.

  “Well, well, looks like we got your man’s attention.” The prisoner dragged her closer to the ditch and looked down at the other two men. “Here comes the sheriff, boys. We’re almost free.”

  * * *

  Mace almost lost his meager breakfast when he looked up from where he was helping the Carters, an older couple whose wagon had been damaged. One of his prisoners was out of the ditch and had his arms around Miss Becky.

  He laid down the piece of wood and walked slowly toward the man. As he grew closer, he saw the other two were still in the ditch. The way Bobby held Miss Becky, he could move his hands up and snap her neck or strangle her. He slowed his breathing down and forced himself to relax.

  Without saying a word, he continued toward the pair

  “I have your girlfriend, Sheriff,” Bobby boasted. “My, she feels good pressed up against me.” He shifted his hips, rubbing up against Miss Becky. “Yeah, she feels mighty fine. Is that how she feels under you?”

  Mace did not react, didn’t say a word, just kept walking toward them. The prisoner’s smile dimmed, and he backed up. “Stay where you are, Sheriff, or I’ll strangle her.”

  Mace kept moving. He could see the sweat on Bobby’s face.

  Once he was within three feet of the pair, Mace slid his gun from his holster and took a few more steps up to the surprised prisoner.

  “I’ll strangle her, Sheriff.” His breathing increased. “I will.” He looked around wide-eyed. His two partners watched from the ditch.

  Mace placed the serious part of the gun against Bobby’s temple. “Very, very slowly, raise your arms and step away.”

  The prisoner didn’t move. Mace cocked the gun. “Now.”

  The boy swallowed a few times and then did as Mace said.

  “Becky, get behind me.”

  She ducked and scurried away and ran behind him. Mace eased the gun away from Bobby’s head and motioned toward the prisoners’ wagon. “Move.”

  “I didn’t mean nothing by it, Sheriff. I wasn’t really going to strangle her.”

  “Shut up.” His stomach was still in knots, thinking about Becky that close to being hurt. Once they reached the wagon, Bobby stepped onto the first step, and Mace shoved him in the rest of the way. He slammed the door and headed back to the other two prisoners.

  Becky stood where he’d left her. He looked over at her. “Don’t move, not one inch. We have something to settle.”

  Her eyes grew wide, but he was mad enough at the danger she had put herself into that he didn’t care if he scared her. He shoved the gun into his holster, leaned over the ditch, and pulled one prisoner out, then the other one.

  They quietly walked over to the wagon where he shoved the last two in. While he locked the door, he said, “If any of you try something like that again, I’ll shoot you between the eyes.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked over at Becky. She was pale and trembling.

  Good. He hoped she was scared to death. Taking a deep breath, he strode over to her. “What in blazes were you thinking of to get that close to a prisoner?”

  She twisted her fingers, her eyes filled with tears. He refused to back down. He had to make sure she understood how very dangerous her actions had been. He wiped his hand down his face and took a deep breath. “Let’s start at the beginning. How did you end up here and Bobby out of the ditch?”

  “I, um.” She stopped and swallowed. “I came over here to rest on the log.” She pointed to the small log next to the ditch where he’d left his prisoners. “They were complaining about being all tangled up and said you had forgotten about them.”

  When he said nothing, she continued. “One of them asked if I could help him out of the ditch, and then he could help the other two.” She stopped and studied him. If she thought he was going to let this all slip, she was crazy.

  “Go on.”

  Becky cleared her throat and continued. “Then I helped him out, and then he wanted me to help the other two, but I said no.” She gave him a slight smile. “That was good, right?”

  God, she looked so young. So innocent. It was killing him, knowing he was putting that look of fear on her face. All he wanted to do was grab her and hold her close and tell her he would make sure nothing bad ever happened to her. She’d had it hard most of her life and needed a strong man to look after her.

  But not him.

  “Yes, that was good. But you should never have even spoken to them, let alone put your hands on them or help them in any way.” He took off his hat and rubbed his short hair. “You have no idea how dangerous those men are. What could have happened to you.”

  Two tears ran down her face. “I know. It was a stupid thing to do. I’m sorry.”

  The tension had finally left his body, and his shoulders slumped “Let’s sit over here.” He motioned to the fallen tree. It was hard sitting next to her, feeling her warmth, with the soft scent of something flowery drifting from her to his nose.

  “Becky, those men are dangerous outlaws.”

  She nodded.

  “The young boy who had his arms around you, who complained about being uncomfortable?”

  “Yes.”

  “He shot and killed a young mother, in front of her child, during the bank robbery.”

  “No!” She covered her mouth with her hand, shaking her head. “No. That’s terrible.”

  “Yes, it is. That’s the sort of man who came this close”—he held up his two fingers about an inch apart—“to strangling you. And he would have done it, too. Neither he or his brothers would hesitate to strangle, shoot, or stab you to death. They have no respect for human life. None.”

  Becky covered her face with her hands and cried. Against his better judgment, and despite the warning voice that had taken up residence in his head since he’d met Becky, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest.

  Heaven. And hell.

  5

  Becky had been crying for a few minutes before she realized she’d soaked the front of Sheriff Jensen’s shirt. She pulled back and wiped her cheeks with her hand. “I am so sorry. Look what I’ve done to your shirt.”

  She attempted to move out of his arms, but he seemed reluctant to let her go. Eventually, he dropped his hands and stood. “This shirt has been through a rainstorm and a tornado. I believe a few tears isn’t going to destroy it.” His grin lifted her spirits as he reached out his hand to help her up.

  “I guess being almost strangled by a prisoner was bad enough, but when you told me about that poor mother, the tears just came.” She shrugged. “I guess I’m just a ninny.”

  “No, Becky. You are a soft-hearted woman who has seen a lot, been through a lot, and still keeps her compassion for others.” He raised his hand, as if to touch her face, but stopped mid-movement, and stepped back. “I need to get things done,” he mumbled as he turned and left her standing there.

  Before he’d taken more than five steps, he turned back and pointed his finger at her. “Don’t ever do that again.” His soft words made much more of an impression than if he’d shouted them. But then again, that was the way he’d spoken to the man who had held her when he told him to release her. Sheriff Jensen speaking quietly was a powerful force.

  As she followed him back to where the travelers were still putting their wagons to rights, she realized he’d called her Becky and not Miss Becky.

  “What did you do that had the sheriff all riled up?” Miss Nellie used her sleeve to wipe the sweat from her forehead. “He came stomping back here looking fit to kill someone.”

  Becky sighed. “It’s
probably me he’d like to kill. I got myself into trouble with one of his prisoners.”

  Miss Nellie looked closely at her. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve been crying.”

  “Yes. I’m fine. I was just being foolish, I’m afraid.” Foolish in more ways than one. Having Sheriff Jensen’s strong arms around her while she cried felt so darn good. His warmth and closeness made her feel safe. Despite all the work he’d been doing, he smelled of good things. Fresh air, horses, and leather. Very few men in her life had ever hugged her like that.

  Even Pa Davidson, for the wonderful father he’d been to her, was not the hugging type. She had no idea how comforting having strong arms around a body could be.

  “Well, I’m about ready to clean up and change out of these filthy clothes.” Miss Nellie looked at her and Miranda. “Do you gals want to join me in a quick dip in that creek?” She pointed to a what was no more than a brook on the other side of the ditch they’d all hidden in during the storm. Although narrow, it was full of fresh running water from the recent storm.

  “Yes, that looks very inviting,” Becky said. They all three trooped over to the wagon to gather soap, washcloths, and drying cloths. They wouldn’t be able to remove too much of their clothes with everyone from the wagon train in view, but they could at least wash whatever skin they could uncover before changing into clean, dry clothes in the wagon.

  * * *

  Becky’s first glimpse of her new town was on a rainy Saturday afternoon. From what the wagon master had told them, rainy days were not too common in Santa Fe. Despite the dreary weather, she was excited to be finished with the rocking of the wagon, the walking in the heat, and no baths.

  “Where will we be living until we find husbands?” Becky’s head swung from side to side as they rode down the main street. They passed a mercantile, a bank, a bootery, a small schoolhouse, and a livery. The main street extended for a few blocks, but Miss Nellie stopped their wagon in front of the De Vargas Hotel.

  “Right here,” Miss Nellie said in answer to Becky’s question.