by Bobbi Smith
Will gave a low, frustrated growl and rolled over. There was no denying that he desired her, and he wondered how long he would have to wait before he could make her his. He hoped it wasn’t too long. He wasn’t the kind of man who liked to wait for his pleasure, and he knew he was going to find much pleasure in her arms.
Chapter Four
Sarah Wilson lay huddled under the covers, pretending to be asleep as her husband, Boyd, climbed into bed with her. He had been in town drinking for most of the day, and she didn’t want anything to do with him. Liquor turned him into a cruel, savage man. She hoped that if he thought she was sleeping he would ignore her and eventually pass out.
“Woman!” Boyd bellowed in a slurred, drunken voice. “I’m needin’ a ride! Get over here so I can mount you!” He laughed at his own crudity.
She stiffened, but didn’t respond to him. She silently prayed that the liquor he’d drunk would render him senseless very soon. Only then would she be able to relax.
But it wasn’t to be.
“Damn it, woman! When I tell you I want somethin’, you damned well better see that I get it!” he roared, grabbing her shoulder and dragging her toward him.
His grip was bruising, and she immediately struggled against him. She knew what was coming and she couldn’t bear it again. “Don’t!”
“You tellin’ me no, woman?” Boyd snarled as he rose up above her on the bed and pinned her to the mattress.
“Let me go, Boyd! Don’t!”
With all his strength, he backhanded her, bloodying her lip and snapping her head sideways. She continued to fight against his domination, but he wasn’t about to let her up. His touch was punishing as he tore her gown from her body and took what he wanted without preamble or gentleness. The fact that her body was not ready to accept him didn’t stop him. With force bordering on violence, he took what he believed was his to do with as he pleased—and he pleased to take her right now. She was his wife. It was her duty to submit to him. He pounded into her, battering her with the power of his drunken need. He wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied.
“You love it and you know it.” He panted as he bit at her neck and pawed at her breasts.
Sarah tried to squirm away, to escape his touch. Angered by her efforts, he hit her again and put his hands at her throat to choke her into submission.
“Don’t fight me, Sarah. It might be the last damn thing you ever do!” he told her as he continued to thrust into her.
Sarah could taste blood in her mouth from his blows, and tears traced forlorn paths down her cheeks. She was helpless before his drunken strength. In silence, she began to pray that it would soon be over. She vowed to herself then and there that she would never suffer another beating at Boyd’s hands again. He was her husband, but the vows they’d exchanged had been pledges to love and cherish one another. This wasn’t love. Boyd had never loved her. She knew that now.
Sarah lay still. She forced her thoughts away from the present. She suffered his assertion of his conjugal rights without any more resistance. Her cheek ached, and every inch of her body cried out from the pain he was inflicting. When at last he finished and rolled off her, she did not move. She feared that it would rouse him again. She knew from past experience that if he came at her another time, he would be even crueler. Long minutes passed. She waited until she heard him snoring before she slipped from the bed.
Ten minutes later, Sarah escaped from the house with only one bag of her belongings. She knew what she had to do, and she was going to do it. It didn’t matter anymore what the preacher-man had told her when she’d gone to him desperate for help—that she was Boyd’s wife, and if he was beating her, then she wasn’t doing what she was supposed to do to keep her husband happy. He’d sent her back to Boyd telling her to work harder at pleasing him. When Boyd had learned what she’d done, he’d beaten her even more severely.
Now there would be no more. Sarah had made up her mind. She was leaving and she was never going back. She couldn’t. Not now. Not with her child growing inside her. She wanted a new life, and she was going to have one. She was going to have a life filled with love and gentleness, not one of terrifying drunken abuse.
Sarah was frightened. She knew it wouldn’t be easy to make it on her own. But she was going to do it for the sake of her unborn child.
There was only one person in town who could help her get away unnoticed, and that was Tessa Sinclair. Sarah was going to her now in the middle of the night. She’d heard about all the kind things Tessa did for people, and she hoped she could help her. Everyone was always talking about how Tessa was an angel in their midst. She worked with the orphans, and she helped down-on-their-luck miners. She helped homeless people find places to stay, and she never judged or criticized anyone. And right now, Sarah knew she needed all the help she could get. It wouldn’t be easy getting out of Durango, but she was going to do it. She had no other choice but to flee for her own life and that of her child.
Tessa had been grateful that the weeks following Michael’s death passed quickly and quietly. Things seemed to be running smoothly enough at the mine, and she kept herself and her mother busy running the boardinghouse.
It was past midnight when Tessa was awakened by someone knocking softly on the door that opened to the back alley. Tessa was surprised that anyone would come to the house at this time of night, but she also realized that it must be important for someone to come to see her now.
Tessa got up and pulled on her wrapper. Taking her bedside lamp with her, she made her way quietly to the back door. No one else in the house was stirring, and she was glad. Whoever this was, she was certain her visitor wanted privacy.
Opening the door, Tessa found a young woman standing before her. Her face was battered, one eye swollen completely shut and her lip swollen to twice its normal size. It took only one look for Tessa to realize that this was serious.
“Come in, please.”
“Thank you,” Sarah said in a voice barely above a whisper as she hurried indoors and out of sight. Only when Tessa had closed and locked the door behind her did she breathe a bit easier. She’d been in terror ever since she’d crept from the house, fearing that Boyd would awaken and come after her in a drunken rage. She never wanted to face that again.
“My name’s Sarah Wilson, and I need your help,” she said quickly. “I have to get away. I have to . . .”
Sarah’s tears started then, and she couldn’t stop them. When Tessa slipped a supportive arm around her, she sagged wearily against her and gave in to her misery. It was long moments before she was able to pull herself together.
“Are you all right?” Tessa asked, truly worried about the young woman.
“Now that I’m with you, I am,” Sarah said, managing to give her a smile.
Tessa smiled gently at her as she took her hand. “What happened? Should I call for Marshal Trent?”
“No!” Sarah trembled at the thought of having Boyd arrested. She knew he’d be released right away and come after her again. “I just want to get out of town. I have to get away.”
“Who did this to you?”
“My . . . my husband,” she whispered in humiliation.
“Have you tried to get help from your minister?” Tessa knew that sometimes when a minister talked to a husband he began to understand how precious his wife was.
Sarah quickly told her everything she’d done since marrying Boyd a few months ago. She told her, too, about her unborn child. “I knew he drank when I married him, but I never dreamed he’d beat me. I never thought he’d be so cruel to me. I didn’t tell him about the baby. I was afraid of what he might do.”
Tessa patted her arm reassuringly. “Don’t worry. If you don’t want to go back to him, you don’t have to. Do you have family anywhere? Someone who can take you in and help you?”
“My brother is in Denver. I can go to him. I think he’ll help me,” she said, clinging to her only hope.
“Let me see what I can do. You come with me.”
<
br /> She led Sarah up to an unoccupied bedroom on the second floor.
“Stay here for tonight. Try to get some sleep. In the morning I’ll check both the stage schedules and the train schedules. I’ll arrange the quickest passage out of town for you. Is that all right?”
“Bless you, Miss Tessa. It’s no wonder everyone calls you ‘the angel,’ ” Sarah said.
“They do?” Tessa had not heard that before, and she gave the other woman a surprised look.
“You didn’t know that?”
“No, but I’m honored by it.”
“There’s nobody else like you, Miss Tessa. There’s nobody else who will help out the way you do. That’s why I came to you. I knew you would understand. I knew you would help me.”
Tears burned in Tessa’s eyes at her kind words. “I’m just glad I can help you. Now, you try to rest for a little while. Would you like something to eat or drink?”
“No. I’m too nervous to think about food.”
“Well, let me get you a basin and some water. Maybe a cool compress will help with that swelling,” she said, concerned. She remembered how badly her own cheek had ached after the stage robbery.
“Thanks. That would feel good.”
“I’ll be right back.”
She hurried off to get the water and a cloth for Sarah. After she’d brought it to her and made her comfortable, she turned to leave.
“Miss Tessa?”
Tessa glanced back at the young woman.
“Please . . . I want you to be careful—real careful. If Boyd ever finds out that you’re the one who helped me, he might come after you, and he’s one mean man.”
“We’ll just make sure he never finds out where you’ve gone or who helped you get there,” Tessa said confidently, not wanting Sarah to worry any more than she already was.
“Thank you.”
* * *
When Tessa had gone, Sarah sat alone in silence, cherishing the quiet and the feeling of peace and security that surrounded her there. Before she finally dozed off, she offered up a prayer that she would be able to get out of town safely. Her rest didn’t last long, though, for Tessa came back for her shortly after sunup. The knock at the door jarred her from her troubled sleep, and Sarah opened the door to find Tessa and her mother standing there, Tessa with a tray full of hot, steaming breakfast food.
“Good morning, Sarah. This is my mother,” Tessa said as she entered the room and set the tray on the bedside table.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Sinclair.”
“Maggie will do, dear,” she said warmly.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You can leave on the eight o’clock stage,” Tessa told her. “Do you think you can be ready in time? That’s barely an hour.”
“Oh, yes. I can be ready. I want to be out of town before Boyd wakes up. He’s mean when he’s drunk, but when he’s hungover, he’s even worse. I don’t ever want to see that man again.”
“I can understand why,” Maggie said, seeing how badly she’d been beaten. “Tessa tells me you’re going to have a baby.”
“Yes.” Some of the fear that had shown in Sarah’s face disappeared at the mention of her unborn child. She seemed more in control, more mature suddenly. “That’s why I came here, Miss Maggie. That’s why I’ve got to do this.”
“I understand, child. From this day on, you take care of yourself. Don’t let anyone treat you badly ever again. You don’t deserve that. You seem to be a wonderful person, and you’re going to be a wonderful mother.”
Her kind words bolstered Sarah’s tormented soul. “I’m going to try.”
“Well, right now, eat some breakfast. We have to get you to the stage depot by eight. I’ll go over now and buy the ticket. That way all you have to do is show up and get on the stage.”
Just a few minutes before eight, Tessa accompanied Sarah, disguised as a widow, from her house. She was wearing a black dress and a heavy veil so no one would be able to recognize her. Tessa escorted her to the stage depot and pressed an envelope into her hand.
“What’s this?”
“Some money to help you get settled,” Tessa told her.
“But . . .” Sarah realized she had no way to pay Tessa back for all the expenses of her ticket and the extra cash.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“But I will worry. How can I ever repay you?”
“Don’t even think about repaying me. Just pass along the kindness. That’s all I ask of you—that, and a promise you’ll take care of yourself and your child.”
Sarah impulsively hugged her close. “You are my angel—my guardian angel,” she whispered in her ear. “Bless you.”
With that, she climbed into the stage and the driver closed the door.
Tessa remained at the depot, watching until the stagecoach had traveled out of sight. Knowing that she’d done everything she could to help Sarah, she started back home. She prayed that the young woman would find safety and happiness. She deserved it after what she’d been through.
Boyd woke up late in the morning. His mood was ugly and his head was pounding.
“Sarah!” he bellowed.
When no response came, he rolled himself to a sitting position and looked around the bedroom with bleary eyes. There was no sign of her there, so he got up and staggered into the front room. Finding that empty, too, he headed for the kitchen.
“Damn it, woman, where are you?” he shouted.
Boyd wanted her there right that minute, waiting on him hand and foot. But there was no answer to his calls. The house was silent.
“When I find the bitch, I’m going to beat her within an inch of her life!” he swore out loud as he stumbled back into the bedroom and sat back down on the bed.
Boyd groped on the nightstand for the open bottle of whiskey that he’d left there, and, finding it, he took a deep swallow. There was only one thing that helped his hangovers, and that was another drink. He chugged down a few more gulps and then lay back to wait for the liquor to take effect. Once his head stopped pounding, he was going to get up and find his useless wife. He didn’t know where she’d gone, but once she came back—and he knew she would be back; she always came back—he was going to make sure she never went anywhere without him again.
It was midafternoon before Boyd actually started looking for Sarah. It wasn’t like her to stay away this long. She’d hidden from him in the past, but she’d always come back eventually. Trouble was, she hadn’t shown up, and he was getting madder by the minute. It angered him that he had to get up and go look for her. When he did find her, she was going to get another taste of his temper for putting him out this way.
The pounding on the door took Tessa by surprise. She was home alone and wondered who could be so frantic to get in.
“I’m coming!” she called, hurrying down the hallway.
Tessa would never know how she managed to keep her expression calm as she opened the door and found herself face-to-face with Boyd Wilson. Her breath caught in her throat as she forced a smile.
“Why, hello, Mr. Wilson. What can I do for you?” She deliberately stepped outside, not wanting to be alone in the house with him.
“I came for my wife!” he said angrily, trying to look past her into the house. “Where the hell is she? I know she’s here somewhere!”
“You’re wife? Sarah?” Tessa wondered how he’d found out that Sarah had come to her. Someone on the street must have seen her coming into the house last night and told him.
“Yes, my wife, Sarah! I heard tell she came here and talked to you last night. I want to know where she is!” He towered over Tessa, a big, ugly, powerfully built man. His features were contorted by his fury, making him look even uglier.
Tessa studied him for a moment and understood why Sarah had fled. She could see no trace of kindness or gentleness in this man. She didn’t know what had happened to him to make him so vicious, and she didn’t want to know. Each and every person made the choice of how he was going to b
ehave, and Boyd Wilson liked beating up other people. Tessa was sure it made him feel powerful and in control. Sarah had been right to leave when she had.
“I don’t know where she is,” she answered with dignity.
“You’re lying!” he challenged, taking a threatening step toward her.
“I don’t lie,” she answered, looking him straight in the eye. And it wasn’t a lie. At that particular moment she did not know where Sarah was.
“Miss Tessa? Is something wrong?”
Tessa had never in her life been so glad to see her boarder Sludge Phenning coming home from work. Sludge was not a very bright man, but he was big and strong and gentle of spirit. He worked for David Forsyth at the stables, and Tessa liked him a lot.
“Well, Sludge, you’re home right on time tonight. Mr. Wilson stopped by for a visit, but he was just leaving,” Tessa said as Sludge came to stand with her. “Good-bye, Mr. Wilson.” It was a dismissal.
Boyd was a big man, but Sludge was at least three inches taller than he was. Sludge stood protectively by Tessa’s side like a guardian angel.
“You ain’t seen the last of me!” Boyd said in a low, threatening voice as he turned away, cursing.
Chapter Five
Tessa went inside and Sludge followed her in. She closed the door behind them and was tempted to lock it, but, with Sludge back and the others due home soon, she reasoned she was safe.
“Thank you,” she told her boarder.
“For what?” Sludge asked innocently.
“There’s something about that man I don’t like—and you know I don’t say that very often.”
“He’s mean,” he answered simply. “I’ve seen him with his horses. I don’t like him.”
She smiled up at Sludge, seeing the complete truth of what he was feeling in his expression. “You’re a very good judge of character, Sludge Phenning.”
