by Karen Kirst
Juliana slipped out of his grasp and sprinted away, uncertain which direction to take. She found herself following the hard-packed dirt trail on which they’d just traveled.
Her bonnet hung by its strings around her neck, and her hair, loosened by the jarring ride on horseback, un-coiled now to stream down her back.
Heavy footsteps sounded close behind and a small scream escaped her lips.
Faster! She pushed her legs to take longer strides. Her temples throbbed. Her side ached. The chase was over as suddenly as it began.
Bands of steel encircled her waist and down she went. Her captor twisted beneath her and she landed on top of him, his body a cushion against the rocky ground. The wind was knocked from her lungs. His arms locked around her.
“That,” he puffed angrily, “was a stupid stunt.”
Using her hands on his chest as leverage, she arched away from him, trying to break free of his hold. Her struggles were useless against his brute strength. He held fast. With a grunt, he rolled over so that he hovered above her, hands pressing her shoulders into the dirt. His face was inches from her own, his breath mingling with hers.
“Listen to me,” he warned through gritted teeth, “if you want to survive the night you’d better do exactly as I say.”
His dark blue eyes turned stone-cold and the look on his rugged face bordered on menacing. She trembled involuntarily.
“I’m not the one you need to worry about. Fitzgerald and the others will not have patience with your antics. They would’ve shot you dead the instant you bolted. In fact, I’m going to have to do some fancy talkin’ to explain why I didn’t.”
At her swift intake of breath, his voice gentled somewhat. “I’m not trying to scare you into cooperating. I’m trying to keep you out of trouble. Understand?”
Juliana nodded.
“No, I wanna hear you say it.”
“I understand,” she managed.
“No more stunts?”
“No more stunts.”
“I sure hope you mean that, lady.”
He stood and pulled her to her feet. Then he marched her back to where his horse stood grazing and guided them both into the woods.
Twigs cracked beneath their boots. Far above them, birds twittered a cheerful song in their nests. Juliana was grateful for the shade. Her neck was damp from the weight of her hair, and the bodice of her dress clung to her skin. Her heart thumped against her rib cage. He’d frightened her there at the last, more even than when he’d aimed a gun at her. His forbidding expression still burned in her mind.
When she finally saw the stream up ahead, she resisted the urge to run and lie down in it.
Two of the bandits turned to stare at them. The skinny one seemed nervous, his gaze shifting between her and the other two. The man she assumed was Fitzgerald looked hard at her. He was not an unattractive man, average really, and built like a bull.
Juliana resisted the urge to hide behind Harrison.
“I thought you said you could handle her.” The words came out as an accusation.
“She didn’t get away, did she?” Harrison shot back.
“We’ll have to get rid of her at some point, you know. She knows too much.”
The cruel words, spoken so casually, washed over her like a wave of icy water.
“Not yet.” Harrison stole a glance at her. “I want some time alone with her first.”
Juliana faltered, suddenly sick to her stomach. After all his promises to get her to safety, she hadn’t expected that. She lowered her gaze to the ground.
Fitzgerald barked a laugh. “Good for you, Harrison. I was beginning to wonder about you. Six months on the trail and you never once joined us at the saloon.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve always been a sucker for Irish beauties.”
Juliana’s head shot up, but he kept his face averted from her searching gaze. A red flush climbed up his neck, indicating what? Embarrassment? No, that would mean he possessed a conscience.
Moving to dig in his saddlebags, he brought out a small tin cup and held it out to her without sparing her a glance. It chafed to have to accept anything from him, but thirst drove her. Careful to avoid his fingers, she grabbed the cup and hurried to the water’s edge to fill it. The cold, crisp water washed away the film of dirt coating her throat.
“Take this.” He appeared beside her with a bulging handkerchief. “We’re only going to be here about fifteen minutes, so if I were you I’d eat fast.”
“I don’t want it.” She stood abruptly and stepped back, wary of his intentions.
“Take it.” He closed the distance between them and loomed over her. “You’ll need your strength.”
She was hungry. Snatching the bundle from him, she marched over to the nearest tree and, moving beneath the branches into the shade, sank down in the soft grass and smoothed her dress to cover her pantaloons.
She watched Fitzgerald and the young outlaw, who were crouched downstream and cramming food into their mouths as if it were their last meal. Harrison didn’t join them. With clean, precise movements, he crouched and dipped his canteen into the stream. Lifting it to his mouth, he swallowed long and deep, his corded neck muscles visible. After refilling and capping the canteen, he retrieved his lunch from his horse’s saddlebag and ate standing up. His hat hung on the saddle horn, providing Juliana with a clear view of his profile.
She noted his strong jawline, stubborn chin and grim mouth.
He wore his sleek, ebony hair short. The conservative style suited him. His clothes weren’t of the finest quality but were in good condition. No missing buttons in the black cotton shirt, no patches or holes in the black pants. The fact that he was dressed in black from head to toe seemed to fit his personality.
He was, in a word, formidable. Impenetrable. Hard. Callous.
He glanced her way and caught her studying him. Juliana felt her cheeks flame, and she immediately dropped her gaze to the food in her lap.
Her lavish breakfast seemed so long ago, although in reality it had only been about five hours. The sun was almost directly overhead, so she guessed it was nearing noon. Unexpected tears came to her eyes as she ate the slabs of ham and hard biscuits, and she had a difficult time swallowing.
Today was to have been a day of celebration. Instead, it was a nightmare!
Why, Lord? I don’t understand. What is to become of me?
Her mother’s birthday was ruined. Ruined!
Certainly there would be no celebration now. All that hard work wasted! Fifteen-year-old twins Jessica and Jane had put in more hours than anybody, preparing various meats, pies and, of course, the birthday cake. How disappointed they must be!
She wondered if Megan had gone into town to search for her. Of her four sisters, Juliana was closest to nineteen-year-old Megan. She was the quiet, thoughtful one. The bookworm, her head filled with all sorts of romantic notions Juliana liked to tease her about. Poor Megan. Even she’d have a hard time putting a romantic spin on this situation.
What if Sheriff Timmons had sent someone out to the O’Malley farm to relay the awful news? They would be frantic with worry!
If it hadn’t been for this trio of wastrels, especially Harrison, the scoundrel…that greedy, no good—
Dusty black boots appeared in her line of vision, and she looked up to find the blackguard staring down at her, his brow furrowed in question.
“What’s wrong? Aren’t you hungry?”
“What’s wrong?” She tossed the remainder aside and jumped up to face him squarely. He was tall, but then so was she. Tilting her head back a fraction, she glared at him. “Oh, let me see… I’d intended to go shopping but instead interrupted a robbery. I had a gun held to my head. I was forced to ride for hours with strangers to an undisclosed destination. To put it in simpler terms—you kidnapped me. Tackled me. Threatened me. Tore my favorite dress.” She indicated the hem with a sweep of her hand. “And worst of all,” her voice wobbled, “you made me miss my mother’s birthday.”
One rogu
e tear slipped down her cheek, and she blinked fast to dry her eyes.
Before she could comprehend what he intended, he lifted his hand to her face and ever so gently wiped the tear away with the pad of his thumb. His touch was as delicate as a butterfly’s wing.
“I’m sorry.”
Juliana couldn’t move. Was that regret darkening his eyes? All coherent thought evaporated. She hadn’t a clue what to think or say. Him? Apologize?
He didn’t give her a chance to respond. The next moment he pivoted on his heel and strode away, making her wonder if she’d imagined the tender moment.
“Time to go,” he called over his shoulder. Apparently he was confident she wasn’t going to try to run away again. And why shouldn’t he be? He’d already proved she didn’t have a chance of escaping him.
She eyed his holster. Her cousin Josh had taught her a lot of useful skills, one of them being how to shoot.
With the gun in his possession, he had the upper hand. But if she should ever get her hands on it…
Juliana determined right then and there to stay alert and watch for her chance to get that gun. It was her only hope of escape.
Chapter Two
“I’ve never understood why some people choose to live on the wrong side of the law,” Juliana said. “Doesn’t it bother you that you’re harming innocent people?”
Harrison didn’t acknowledge the question. No surprise there. Her attempts at conversation had been met with stubborn silence all along.
They were moving deeper into the Smoky Mountains, in the opposite direction of Gatlinburg and the larger towns of Pigeon Forge and Sevierville. The foursome had traveled through lush forests and meadows, beauty she would’ve appreciated in other circumstances. The air here beneath the soaring canopy of tree branches was cooler than in the open countryside, and for that Juliana was thankful. Midsummer temperatures in East Tennessee could quickly become unbearable.
It was late now, though, and the sun’s heat had lost its bite. A soft breeze teased her hair and cooled her skin, rustling leaves whispering secrets above her. The forest was darkening, the shadows lengthening as they trudged on.
Juliana was having a hard time keeping up with Harrison. The trail had long since disappeared, and they were dodging trees and gnarled roots poking out of the ground. Twice she’d stumbled but managed to catch herself before hitting the dirt face-first.
“Poor Mr. Moore,” she said. “I can’t imagine how he reacted to being robbed at gunpoint. I hope he doesn’t have a heart attack.”
“Has he had one before?”
“No, but he isn’t well. Don’t tell me you’re actually concerned?” When he didn’t respond, she continued, “You did steal all his money, you know. What if he’s forced to close the mercantile? I know for a fact he doesn’t have any living relatives, so there’s nowhere for him to go. He’s such a kind, generous man, too. I don’t want to even think about what he would do if he lost the store.”
“If he’s such a fine human being, then I’m sure someone would be willing to take him in.”
“That’s it?” she demanded, her breath coming in puffs. “That’s your solution? You take away a man’s livelihood and the best you can come up with is to let someone else take care of it? What about all the other people you’ve hurt? Do you ever stop and think about the damage you’ve caused?”
The skinny outlaw, whom she now knew was called Art, slowed to match their pace. “I think about it all the time. Even see some of the folks’ faces I’ve robbed in my dreams.”
Harrison’s lips turned down at this, but he remained silent. Juliana studied Art’s features. “Aren’t you a bit young to be keeping company with ruthless criminals?”
“I’m seventeen,” he said matter-of-factly. “Old enough to make my own choices.”
The same age as her sister, Nicole. “Don’t you have a family? Brothers? Sisters?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do,” he responded softly, resignedly. “But my momma ain’t got no idea where I am. Better if she thinks I’m dead than knows the truth. She’d never forgive me…”
Her heart ached for him. “Oh, Art, I’m sure you don’t mean that. Were you and your mother close?”
His chest puffed out. “Yeah. I’m her oldest boy. She always said how proud she was to have me for a son.”
“You know what I think? Your mother won’t care what you’ve done as long as you’re home, living an honest life.”
Art was silent a moment, his brown eyes troubled. “You really think she’d take me back? And forgive me for up and leaving and joining this gang?”
“Yes, I do. But more than your mother’s forgiveness, you need God’s.”
“My momma believes in Jesus. She read aloud from her Bible every morning and prayed with me before bed. But I—” He shook his head in shame. “I didn’t always listen. I daydreamed a lot. Thought I was too young for religious stuff.”
“And what about now?”
His earnest expression startled her. Here was a young man searching for the truth.
“More than anything, I want peace. I haven’t had that in a long time.” He lowered his voice. “I hang with a dangerous crowd. Ain’t no tellin’ when a bullet might find me. I’ve been thinkin’ a lot lately about death. Trouble is, I don’t know where I’m headed when I die.”
“Art, I—”
“Enough yakking.” Fitzgerald scowled over his shoulder. “Harrison, if you don’t shut her up, I will.”
With a shrug, Art moved away. Beside her, Harrison shot her a warning glance.
Frustrated with the interruption, she prayed for another opportunity to speak with Art about Christ. She couldn’t help thinking perhaps he was the reason she’d been placed in this situation.
“How much farther?” she whispered.
Harrison wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “A quarter of a mile. Maybe more.”
Ugh. While her new boots were great for defense, their stiffness tortured her feet. Blisters were already forming. She sighed.
“Take a drink.” He paused to lift a canteen from the saddle. “I don’t want you passing out from dehydration.”
He made it sound as if he was more worried about her possibly holding him back than her health. Scoundrel. Her thirst overrode her distaste at sharing a canteen with a stranger. She took a long swallow of the cool liquid and handed it back to him.
“Watch your step,” he advised. “The last thing we need is a twisted ankle or worse.”
Juliana noticed he slowed his pace after that. When full darkness enveloped them, he lit a lamp to light their path.
God, I don’t understand why You’ve allowed this to happen. I know You love me, but I’m having a hard time believing I’ll ever get home. Please keep me safe. And comfort poor Mr. Moore. Somehow give him his money back. And my family, Lord, give them peace.
In all likelihood, every person in Gatlinburg had heard the news of her abduction. No doubt many of the church members were even now gathered at the church to pray. The thought brought her a small measure of comfort.
Had Sheriff Timmons already organized a posse to pursue her kidnappers? Her uncle and cousins were surely taking a lead in the mission to rescue her. But how long had it taken for someone to discover Mr. Moore?
Since she had no way of knowing what was going on back home, she comforted herself with the fact that at some point her captors would let down their guard, and she would be ready to spring into action.
Time passed more slowly than a snail in a windstorm. Juliana tried not to dwell on her bruised toes or aching calves. Nor did she attempt to start another conversation. What was the point? She would only be rebuffed.
“We’re here.”
The sound of Harrison’s deep, no-nonsense voice in the darkness startled her. In the distance a tiny yellow light flickered. The cabin?
Juliana’s steps slowed as reality slammed into her. There would be more outlaws in that cabin. She was alone. A single, unprotected female at the mercy of a g
ang of hardened criminals. A relentless procession of unhappy scenarios flashed through her mind, churning up the acid in her stomach. Every cell in her body screamed at her to flee.
She glanced at the enigmatic man walking beside her, recalling his vow to get her to safety. Had he meant it? Or had he said that to keep her from running again?
Her face flamed as she remembered his comments about liking feisty women and being attracted to Irish beauties. What were his true intentions? She was having trouble deciding what to believe.
Harrison must’ve sensed her unease, because he curled his fingers around her wrist and held fast. She glared at him but didn’t try to free herself. Her muscles were weak from fear.
Fitzgerald and Art reached the cabin first. After securing their horses beneath a nearby tree, they waited for her and Harrison.
“Art.” Harrison stopped before the young man. “I want you to stay out here with the lady.”
Art’s eyes bulged, his mouth flopping open like a dead trout. “Me?” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “I don’t know—”
“It’s simple,” Harrison interrupted, his tone meant to instill confidence. “Stand right here beside her and whatever you do, do not let her out of your sight.”
He released her wrist but didn’t move away. Tucking his thumb beneath her chin, he eased her face up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he reassured her in a surprisingly gentle tone. “Don’t try anything foolish.”
Juliana stared mutely at his rugged face, wreathed in shadows. So immobilizing was her fear at this point that stringing two words together seemed like an impossible task.
The cabin door banged open then and half-a-dozen men spilled into the yard, their greetings tapering to a deafening silence when they caught sight of her.
Evan stepped in front of Miss O’Malley to shield her from the men’s predatory gazes. Young, innocent and beautiful, she was a lamb amid ravenous wolves. As they strained to get a glimpse of her, he could almost see them salivating in anticipation.
God, please help me get her out of here.
He stilled, stunned by the spontaneous prayer. He hadn’t prayed in months, not since the day his brother had been gunned down in cold blood.
