Winter Promise

by Martha Rogers

  “I don’t know. I heard one gunshot and someone yelling about the bank being robbed. I came running because I know a little about bullet wounds. I was a soldier once and saw lots of ‘em on the battlefield.”

  “You did a good job and most likely saved his life.” The bleeding had stopped, and Elliot applied a bandage over it.

  “Uh, something else happened, Doc Elliot. They took that librarian girl with them.”

  Elliot’s heart skipped a beat. “They took Abigail Monroe?”

  “Yes, that’s what they did. I heard her scream, but then she stopped.”

  Before Elliot had the chance to digest the news, Kate hurried into the bank with two men carrying a stretcher. “We have only the one, so who needs it?”

  Elliot staggered to his feet and pointed to the bank president. “Kate, they have Abigail.”

  Kate whirled around, her mouth agape. “They have what?” She looked over his shoulder and hollered to her husband. “Daniel, they have Abigail.”

  He rushed to Kate’s side and enveloped her in his arms. “Yes, I know. Cory and the sheriff took a posse to go after them.”

  All the breath escaped from Elliot, and he grabbed the teller’s counter for support. Cory had gone after her. He cared about Abigail and wouldn’t come back without her.

  Kate trembled in Daniel’s arms. “They have to find her. She’s not big enough to fight them off like I would. They’ll squash her like a fly.”

  Elliot gasped for breath. He had to get out. He clutched his throat and ran outside and gulped in as much fresh air as he could. His stomach roiled. It was happening all over again. Someone he cared about was in danger, and he could do nothing to save her.

  Mr. Weygandt had been loaded onto the stretcher, and the two men headed for the infirmary. Elliot slumped against the wall as Doc came out of the bank followed by a man carrying Mr. Fuller.

  His uncle grabbed his arm. “Come, Elliot, we have wounded to take care of. The posse will find Abigail and bring her back safe.”

  How could he be sure of that? Nothing was certain where outlaws and guns were involved. What if she was badly injured and Cory couldn’t save her either? No, he wouldn’t think about such a thing. He pushed off from the brick wall of the bank and hurried after Doc.

  Keeping busy with patient care would help keep his hands busy, but his mind strayed to thinking and worrying about Abigail. Lord, if You remember me, hear my prayer and keep Abigail safe. Why he prayed he had no idea, but it seemed to be the logical thing to do. It probably went no higher than the rooftop, but he had to utter the words. If this prayer went unanswered, then Elliot would know God was sending more punishment.

  Inside the infirmary, he took over the care of Mr. Weygandt from his uncle and examined the wound more closely. The bullet remained in the man’s flesh, but Elliot could see that it had hit mostly fatty tissue and missed any major organs.

  “Mr. Weygandt, I’m going to give you ether to put you to sleep so I can remove this bullet. You’ve lost some blood, but you’ll be fine once I get it out and sew you up.” He motioned to Kate to come help.

  “What do I need to do?”

  “Give him some ether while I wash up good. We need to get that bullet out of his side.”

  Kate began her task, and Elliot scrubbed his hands up to the elbows at the basin. Lucky for him, Mr. Weygandt had substantial girth, and the bullet had lodged in fat first. This was something he could handle without thinking, but he wanted no slipups.

  “If he’s under, go wash so you can assist me.” He unwrapped a towel of instruments then turned to the banker. Kate had removed his shirt to expose the wound more clearly and wiped it with alcohol.

  He breathed deeply then probed in the hole with small forceps. It took only a minute or two until he clamped on something hard. He pulled out the bullet. Sweat beaded on his brow and dripped to his nose despite the coolness of the air.

  Kate immediately sponged the excess blood so Elliot would have a clear field of vision for the sutures. Ten minutes later he and Kate both removed their bloody aprons and washed their hands.

  “Soon as we can get someone to help us, we’ll move him to one of the beds.” He nodded toward the closed door to the waiting area. “Didn’t I hear his wife talking to Doc?”

  “Yes, and I’ll go tell her he’s going to be OK.” She pushed through the doors, and he heard Mrs. Weygandt asking about her husband. This time they had good news for the family. Elliot savored the few moments of victory before thoughts of Abigail intruded again.

  How he wished to be riding with the men trailing her, but his first responsibility lay with those who needed treatment. But then Abigail could be badly injured herself and need a doctor when they found her. He cursed inwardly. Why did his profession always keep him from saving those he really cared about? His medical skills served the general public. But they doomed the one he loved.

  He could no longer deny the feelings growing in his heart for Abigail. If he didn’t have so much trouble of his own, perhaps he’d have a chance with her. After today, that likely wouldn’t happen. If Cory saved her and brought her back, he’d be her hero, not Elliot. Jealousy reared its head once again, but this time he did nothing to squelch it.

  Cory kept a keen eye toward the ground and spotted the marks almost as soon as Hawkeye did. Horseshoe prints here, bent twigs there, a broken limb ahead all pointed to the robbers having gone this way. From what he could see, there had to be at least four men.

  He rode up alongside Hawkeye. “Looks for certain that they came this way.”

  Hawkeye’s dark brown, almost black eyes, looked ahead. “Yes, and I count four different sets of prints. The young woman must be riding with one of them. See how those prints are a little deeper in the dirt there? That most likely indicates extra weight on that horse.”

  With no rain for several months, dirt tracks were all they had. A good rain with marshy ground would have given clear prints to follow, but the dust was deep enough for the shoes to leave their marks. Hawkeye spoke again and spurred his horse onward. “They’re not riding hard, but they’ll get ahead of us if we don’t get going.”

  A noise broke through the brush and trees to the right of Cory. He drew his gun and waited in a clump of bushes. Marshal Slade rode into view. He spotted Cory and rode toward him. Cory slipped his gun back into its holster. “How did you find out about the robbery?”

  “I got into town a little after you left and followed. They told me the men have a hostage.”

  “Yes, it’s Abigail Monroe, the librarian and Daniel’s sister. Hawkeye says there are four of them, and one of them is carrying Abigail on his horse.”

  They rode up ahead to join the others. Sheriff Rutherford pulled up his horse. “Glad to see you, Marshal. We can use all the help we can get. Any news about the two bankers?”

  “Yeah, they’ll be OK. I told Daniel we’d find his sister, so let’s get to it.”

  Cory’s heart lightened knowing the lawman would be with them. He’d made a promise to Daniel and Kate, and he planned to keep it. Who was he fooling? It was a promise to himself too.

  Abigail’s head throbbed with pain much worse than when she’d been clipped by a horse at home. She opened her eyes a slit, but images were hazy. Something covered her mouth so she couldn’t speak. Where was she? Angry voices argued across the room. One of them cursed and asked why they had brought the woman with them.

  The woman would be her, and the memory of the bank robbery, the shooting, and then being hit in the face came back in a rush of color and sound. She moved slightly and realized both her feet and hands were bound. Her teeth clamped down on a gag that tasted of dirt and sweat and sent her stomach into turmoil.

  A chair scraped on the floor, and footsteps came close. She lay as still as possible, hoping he’d think she was still unconscious. A voice she recognized from the bank laughed. “I know you’re awake. Don’t try to pretend.” The toe of his boot poked at shoulder.

  Despite her desir
e to keep quiet, she winced in pain and a moan escaped her throat. “Now we have to decide what to do with you.” His footsteps faded, and once again the chair scraped.

  The haze cleared enough for her to see four men at a table. Two she recognized from the bank, and the other two must be the others she saw coming into town before the robbery. The skinny one with the mean look in his eye had shot Mr. Weygandt. She closed her eyes and tried to erase the memory of his blood-stained shirt. Something had happened to Mr. Fuller too. Her whole body ached to the point she couldn’t think straight. She didn’t have the strength to fight any one of them, much less four.

  One of the men started talking, but his voice didn’t carry to Abigail. She strained to hear even one word to give her a clue as to her whereabouts. Her fate lay in the hands of these men, and from what she’d seen, they’d shoot her and leave her here if she made a move. Determination and anger coursed their way through her blood, but no amount of pulling and tugging loosened her bindings.

  Death was not an option she’d accept. She had too much life yet to live and too much work to be done. She twisted her hands behind her again in an attempt to free them, but the cord or rope or whatever it was only bit into her wrists and caused more pain. Abigail clenched her teeth against the rag and almost retched at the foul taste.

  She waited for her stomach to settle again and went back to twisting her hands. Pain she could endure if it meant loosening whatever bound her. One of the men turned and glared at her. The evil in his eyes slammed into Abigail’s chest. These men would never leave her alive.

  Cold air blew through cracks in the walls, and Abigail shivered. Somewhere along the way she’d lost her shawl. She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her forehead on them. The voices and arguing continued, and she could make out only a few words about what to do with her, how much money they had, and how soon they had to get out of here—wherever here was.

  Cory and the sheriff must be on their way to find her by now. All she had to do was be quiet and wait, unless the men decided to leave now and kill her. Abigail shuddered at the idea of her body being found by Cory. Daniel and Kate would be heartbroken, but one thing for certain, if these men did kill her, Daniel wouldn’t rest until they were found and hanged.

  Once again footsteps drew near. “Not as spunky as ya were, are ya? All the fight gone out of ya?” He yanked her to her feet. “You’re going with us. Sweet little thing like you oughta bring us a pretty penny from a pa or a brother or even the sheriff.”

  The other three laughed, and the sound sent more chills through Abigail. Somehow she had to get away. Where was that posse? What if they couldn’t find the trail? Then if they did catch up, how were they going to negotiate with these men? She didn’t trust them one bit.

  “We’ll be leaving soon, so jest make yourself comfortable.” He shoved her back into the corner against the rough boards.

  He returned to the others, and she gazed around the room. The room was small and had only one door. This must be one of those shacks she’d heard the cowboys talking about. No light shone through the window, so it must be late in the evening. She’d been unconscious since it all began around noon. How long and how far had they traveled?

  A kerosene lantern flickered on the table giving eerie shadows to the faces of the robbers. Abigail hunched over in an effort to warm her body. Please, God, help Cory and Sheriff Rutherford find me. Protect me from these horrible men.

  God was her only hope now. He’d guide Cory and the sheriff to her. She had to believe that and hang on to it with all her strength.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  AS DAWN PAINTED the sky, Cory and the posse approached an abandoned shack. A few miles back they had found the shawl Abigail had worn yesterday, and the trail led here. The robbers would have had to stop for the night just as the posse had, and this was the most likely place for them to hide.

  No signs of life arose around the cabin, but the sheriff still approached it with caution. The cabin was one room with one door and one window, so if they were in there, they’d have to come out that door. Marshall Slade positioned the men in the trees facing the door.

  The sheriff kicked in the door then turned and shook his head. “No one’s here, but it looks like they were. Must have left just before we arrived.”

  Cory’s heart sank. Where to now? They had to find the men and get Abigail away from them. He held her shawl up to his face and let the rosewater scent wash over him. Her bright eyes and warm smile danced behind his closed eyes. Please, God, we have to find her.

  The sheriff mounted his horse. “Which way, Hawkeye?”

  The former Indian scout studied the ground around the cabin then pointed east. “That way. Four horses.”

  Marshall Slade spurred his horse. “They’re headed for Louisiana. We gotta get them before they reach the river.

  “The posse moved, following Hawkeye to the east and the Sabine River. If the men got across and into Louisiana, their trail would be more difficult to pick up. Cory remembered the river being low this time of year because of the lack of rain in the summer. If the gang stayed in the river before exiting the other side and heading to Louisiana, the posse could waste valuable time trying to find where the exit might be.

  Carthage lay to the east, but the men would most likely skirt around the town. Whether north or south of it became the question. Hawkeye pulled his reins and held up his hand. “They came through here, but it’s getting harder to follow. Looks like they went south.”

  Sheriff Rutherford scanned the area. “That makes sense. The river flows into the state line there. Just keep looking for marks.”

  The others agreed, and Cory fell in line to follow them. If the gang didn’t stop at all, they’d be at the river by tomorrow. This reminded him of when they chased the rustlers last year, but caught up to them before they crossed the cattle over the Sabine. His father had been hurt, but by a steer and not a gunman. He prayed this trip would have no injuries.

  The sun rose higher in the sky with low-hanging clouds partially blocking its rays. The air smelled of approaching winter. The temperatures hadn’t dropped considerably in the past few weeks, and the area was due for a good blast of cold air from the north. Cory hoped that wouldn’t happen until they had Abigail safe at home.

  Kate and Sarah must be worried sick by this time. It would soon be twenty-four hours since the abduction. How he wished he could ride back into town right now with Abigail safe in his arms. She had spunk and wouldn’t go without a fight, but as Kate had reminded him, Abigail wasn’t big enough to overpower one man, much less four.

  Hawkeye stopped up ahead and waved to the sheriff and marshal. Cory followed them The scout pointed to the ground. “Looks like they came this way and stopped. See the prints here, and then the prints of a man and a woman. They go a little beyond the trees here.”

  A smaller footprint was definitely that of a woman, and from the imprint, she wasn’t heavy and didn’t need help. It could only be Abigail. He dismounted and followed the prints to the trees. He found a fragment of cloth clinging to a branch. He snatched it off and gripped it in his palm. It was the same color and material as the skirt Abigail had worn yesterday. His heart pounded in his chest as he scanned the area for more clues. Nothing there. Time to get on with the hunt.

  He climbed back on his horse and rejoined the men. He handed the piece of cloth to Hawkeye. Maybe she had done that on purpose and would do it again later on the trail.

  Hawkeye had also dismounted to study the area for prints. He glanced at the cloth then back to the ground. “Tracks indicate they’re headed down river to that shallow section. They’re almost an hour ahead of us.” He remounted and turned south to set out again.

  Cory turned his horse to follow. If the gang stayed south before crossing over, the chances of catching them were slim to none. If it weren’t for the density of the trees in the area, they could move faster, but the same trees slowed down the robbers. Still, they needed to make up the dis
tance between them.

  Abigail kicked and squirmed until she was slapped again. These men had no respect for a woman, and would do worse the next time they stopped if she didn’t be still. She whimpered and said, “I . . . I must stop a minute. Please.”

  The outlaw helped her down and followed her to a larger tree then stood watch while she tended to her personal needs. She bit her lip and tore off a another scrap of her skirt to leave behind. She prayed the posse would find her clues.

  The leer on her guard’s face sent icy chills down her spine and added to the discomfort of being cold and using the forest ground as a privy. He yanked her up and pulled her back to his horse. When she was in the saddle, he climbed up behind her and wrapped his arms about her body.

  She cringed at his touch and tried to shrink into herself, but his hold only grew tighter. His hot breath warmed her neck and at the same time caused her stomach to recoil in disgust. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think of her family.

  Then the breath became damp as his lips touched her skin. She jerked away, but he only laughed.

  Where were Cory and the sheriff? They had to be coming to get her. She’d rather die than go on with these men to the river. Maybe they planned to stop there and wait for the posse then make a deal or something for her release. But she’d also heard tales of what happened to women who had been kidnapped by men like this, and it caused her throat to fill with bile. With one great heave, she leaned over and expelled the contents of her stomach.

  His hand grabbed her. “Now see what you’ve done! Made a stinkin’ mess on yourself and me. We’ll just have to stop and clean you up at the river. Won’t be long now.” One gloved hand came up to caress her cheek.

  It may as well have been a snake for the revulsion filling her. What had happened to that courage and bravado she’d always had? It had to be buried down deep somewhere. For the first time ever, she realized there was nothing she could do. She could only pray. Would that be enough?