Elaine nodded before dashing back inside. That happened so fast Beatrice didn't even get the chance to stop her. Fortunately, she returned quickly.
"Where on Earth did you go?" Beatrice snapped in a hushed voice.
"I had to make sure all the doors were locked."
That was actually clever of her. Beatrice was certain it wouldn't stop the man from entering, but it would definitely slow him down. And every minute counted.
"It looks sturdy enough," was Elaine's only comment.
Beatrice prayed that was the case.
"You go first," she told her governess, but the old woman started shaking her head before she even finished the sentence.
"No, child. I'm too old for that climb, but you have to go and now." And as if she needed to emphasize her words she gave Beatrice a little shove.
"I can't leave you here," Beatrice rebelled instantly.
"Not in here? Fine. How about here?" the assassin taunted, while breaking doors on the upper level.
Was he really that mad? Drunk? Or both? Beatrice wondered. Not that it mattered.
"There is no time for arguments." Elaine was adamant. "Go and bring help," she instructed.
Bring help! That sounded logical. "All right, I can do that. But what about you?" Beatrice was still sick with worry. Leaving the only person she cared about in the hands of a clear madman was pure torture for her.
"Don't worry about me," Elaine said wryly. "I learned more than cloth making and waulking in the Highlands. When our men weren't around, we had to protect ourselves."
Beatrice gave her a hug, not being able to help herself. Elaine patted her on the back. "Go, now," she urged.
Picking up the hemline of her nightgown and tying it around her waist, Beatrice tried really hard not to think about what her mother would say about such loose behavior as she grabbed hold of the railing and propelled herself over.
Her heart was located someplace in her stomach while doing that. I can do this, she repeated to herself like a chant or a prayer. She successfully went over, standing still on the small ledge. It was actually quite fortuitous she was barefoot because it provided her with better footing. So far so good.
"Locked door!" The man laughed. "I told you I would find you, girlie."
"Hurry," Elaine urged.
Not the encouragement she needed at the moment; still, Beatrice stretched her right arm and grabbed hold of the decorative vine her mother insisted on planting. She thought it would give their house a certain charm, and as always, she was right. Thinking about her deceased mother made her heart hurt so she pushed those thoughts away.
Beatrice gave it a little tug, and when it resisted her, she felt confident enough it could withstand her weight. The plant was hard and prickly, but Beatrice still held on to it with all her might as if her life depended on it. Because it actually did.
Oh, dear Lord, have mercy on my poor soul, she prayed and with that completely let go of the banister and jumped onto the vine. The plant shook vigorously from the assault but persisted.
Thank you, Lord.
The small branches cut deep into the delicate soles of her feet and she let out the quietest of whimpers before she started to descend.
Her arms and legs were full of scratches, some of them bleeding and they were burning as well with the demonic fire as she climbed down. And no matter how much distance she crossed, the ground still felt unnaturally far away from her.
Knowing that was all an illusion concocted inside her mind out of fear, helped not to reach it faster. Eventually, with divine assistance, she was low enough to attempt to jump down. Thinking only about the woman she left above to deal with the killer on her own, Beatrice let go.
Once her bruised feet touched the wet ground Beatrice allowed herself one moment of repose to grab her bearings. She instantly looked up but couldn't see Elaine anywhere. Beatrice prayed that meant the old woman found a place to hide and wait out this storm.
I will come back for you, she vowed before she started running. Running fast like her feet weren't already aching and bleeding.
"Help!" She started screaming from the top of her lungs until her throat started to burn like the rest of her. Naturally, she was going toward the Thompson residence.
"Please, can somebody help me! Hel…" And then all air was violently knocked out of her lungs as Beatrice fell backward with a rough thud.
Looking up at her assailant she was startled to see a very familiar face looking down at her.
"Captain," she breathed out in surprise.
In front of her stood none other than Captain Jack Archer, soon to be the fiancé of her best friend Marigold. Captain Archer immediately jumped forward to help her rise.
"Miss Beatrice, are you all right?" he asked in alarm. "I was just… I was in passing when I heard you…" It was clear he was struggling with words since he was apparently having a secret, unsupervised rendezvous with Marigold, but Beatrice cared not about that at the moment. This was no time for pleasantries or forced social etiquette; lives were at stake.
"It's so fortunate I stumbled upon you. You must come with me at once. Someone is at my home, trying to harm me. I managed to escape but Elaine stayed so I could bring help. She is alone and in grave danger, please help," Beatrice said all in one breath and had to stop simply so she could take a deep breath again. It would be so unfortunate if she fainted after everything she went through.
As a soldier and a gentleman, seeing a woman in distress was all that it took to put Captain Archer on high alert. He pulled his pistol out, ready to face any enemy.
"I will go alone and investigate," he informed her. All the worry or warmth that could be detected in his voice before was gone. He was a warrior now. "You should move on to the Thompson residence at one."
"Please be careful," she wished before she started running again.
There was a small park between the two estates, and she navigated through it with ease, having done so many times in the past.
Reaching her desired destination, Beatrice immediately started banging at the front door.
"Please open up. It's me, Beatrice Foster. I need your help." The whole household was up and on their feet in a jiffy. After telling Mr. Thompson everything she told the captain, he gathered all the men available, and armed, they joined in on the search of the assassin that tried to end her life.
Alas, they found no one at the house, apart from Elaine, who was alive and well. Although there were clear signs someone broke in and caused havoc.
It was strange, returning to the only home she knew and loved and finding it not only in the state of disarray, but her sentiments about it had changed as well. Suddenly she felt like a complete stranger visiting some other person's house.
It was not enough that vile person robbed her of the only two people she cared about in this world, but now he took the sanctity of her childhood home as well, because there was not a shadow of a doubt inside her mind that the two incidents were related. She would know that even without the madman's taunts.
Elaine was first to point it out and she was right. Someone was trying to finish the job. Yet the question remained the same as before.
Why?
And then she remembered something else. The reading of the will happened two days ago, and Beatrice became the sole heir of her father's fortune, including the newspaper. Since she was of age, no legal guardian was appointed, although Uncle John offered generously.
Is that motive enough for this heinous crime? Money? Beatrice felt sick to her stomach just thinking about it.
"We will catch whoever did this, Miss Foster," Constable Newine promised.
He was a kind man, she knew from before thanks to her father, a bit short, gaunt, but with a big belly. And Beatrice was certain he never caught anyone is his entire life. Instantly, she felt guilty for having such cruel thoughts.
"Thank you, Constable Newine, for all your hard work," Beatrice replied instead. "I feel safer knowing you will be looking after m
e." He flushed a little, clearly not used to such high praise.
"Miss Foster, let me express again how terribly sorry I am about your parents. Such fine people, it's a shame…" Beatrice inclined her head.
"Thank you for your kind words. They will be missed."
Once all the circus stopped, Beatrice stripped out of the dress Marigold had lent her to wear since she inappropriately ran for her life only in her nightdress and put one of her simple ones in return, feeling more comfortable instantly.
Being left alone at last, Elaine and Beatrice sat together in her father's study, conversing. "It was foolish of me to let all the household go to visit their families at the same time," Beatrice chastised herself.
"You couldn't have known," was all Elaine had to say about that. She also didn't say what happened once Beatrice escaped, and she was left alone, and a part of Beatrice didn't want to know.
They were both here now and safe, that was the only thing that mattered. Still, will that last? She had to wonder.
"We can't stay here, my dear," Elaine added, mirroring Beatrice's thoughts perfectly.
"I know," Beatrice replied in a small voice. "But where are we to go?" If this killer was that adamant, he could track them down anywhere.
"Somewhere where no one is prone to look for us, and I know just the right place," Elaine replied confidently.
Still, something was nagging Beatrice in the back of her mind.
Even though she knew this was a smart thing for them to do, a part of her truly wanted to rebel. How could she possibly leave? Her parents must be avenged, killer caught and brought to justice. Only then could Beatrice move on with her life. And for that, she needed to stay in New York. And that wasn't all.
"What about the paper?" She wondered out loud. "So many people depend on it running. They depended on my father, and now on me."
I cannot simply vanish into thin air.
"Nothing will matter anyway if you're dead," Elaine countered in her usual manner.
Beatrice sighed. "So, we will leave, but only for a little while," she hedged. "Once the situation settles, I want to be of assistance and do everything my father wanted me to."
Elaine nodded in return, settling the matter. And that put Beatrice at ease.
"I'll start making arrangements," Beatrice said after a short pause and Elaine looked at her as if she just lost all of her mind.
Beatrice asked herself how she had not lost it, after everything she'd been through. It is a mystery.
"We need to go at once, tonight even. We can't give your assailant any more opportunities to strike," Elaine explained like she was a small child again. "And we need to go in secret."
Yes, the situation was that grave, yet Beatrice felt nothing. She lost all her senses after last night. I must be in shock, she concluded.
"I will start packing at once," Beatrice replied in compliance.
"Only the essentials," Elaine warned.
Beatrice nodded. "I know the combination of my father's safe." They could always buy everything they lacked with the available currency.
Elaine waved with her hands. "We can't bring currency with us. It would look suspicious."
"At all?" Beatrice was appalled.
"Only a small amount, so not to stand out," Elaine was resolute.
Even though Beatrice understood the logic behind it, it still didn't sit well with her.
"What about jewelry?"
Elaine looked at her funny. "Same thing."
"What if I sew them in our garments?" Beatrice challenged and Elaine smiled, petting her cheek.
"You were always a clever girl," she complimented. "I will go and buy us tickets for the first train ride available while you prepare us for the journey."
And then something occurred to Beatrice. "You still haven't told me, where are we to go?"
"To your uncle's ranch."
And Beatrice was very much surprised to hear that. That was the last place on her mind, yet that was precisely the point.
That is brilliant.
Uncle Tom Foster lived in a remote place, on his ranch, near a small town called Helena. Most people didn't know, and the rest forgot Benjamin Foster had an older brother since uncle Tom led such a quiet life. Elaine was a genius.
"So be it."
It was a mystery what new troubles could be waiting for her there, but Beatrice wasn't about to fret on it this early. Whatever fate waited for her in Helena, she would face it head high, as always.
Chapter Four
Helena, Montana, 1886
"The sun has no mercy on us plain folks, this mornin'," Josef complained, while helping Nathan fix the part of the fence that broke down after the last big storm they had.
"It's the same as yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that," Nathan replied calmly as if the heat didn't bother him. Because truth be told, it never did.
He was born and raised in these parts; the sun was a part of him as much as everything else in Helena was. Which was a bit ironic, considering his fair complexion and fiery red hair.
His family came from Ireland to settle here and never left anywhere else. His grandfather decided to relocate his family after a great famine. It was a crazy, dangerous journey, yet from what Nathan heard from his father, that was Granddad Shamus in the flesh. At the end his daring decision saved the Walsh family.
They roamed about for a bit but Shamus Walsh fell in love with the Rocky Mountains at first glance, and that was how they stayed in Helena. So, this land was all Nathan knew and was comfortable with since they connected him with his family.
"Did you hear what I just said?" Josef prompted.
"Pardon me, what?" Nathan replied, frowning.
"I said we need more nails and lumber if you want us to fix everything before bringing back the herd." Nathan let his herd roam freely most of the time, but there were some troubles as of late, and he wanted to bring them all down, closer to home, but only if he could keep them in the first place.
Discovering his right-hand man was correct, Nathan's frown deepened. Usually, he was more on top of things, yet as of late felt a bit distracted. And he couldn't quite fathom why.
Josef never missed the opportunity to poke fun at him about having the spring love ailment. But that's ridiculous, and certainly was not the case. Nathan was simply overworked, not that he minded.
"You are right," Nathan said eventually. "Let's hop to town and get some more supplies."
"Why not send Jimmy?" Josef wanted to know.
"No need to trouble the lad, we can do it," Nathan replied instantly.
Josef grimaced. "Why, oh why, did I even say anything!" he whined. Nathan could barely keep a straight face.
He loved Josef deeply, considered him a brother. Yet, he was highly entertaining when he got like this.
"I am so very happy to have more work on top of my actual work."
Nathan chuckled, then turned so Josef wouldn't see the grin on his face. Despite his constant complaints, Josef was one of Nathan's best workers on the Old Oak Ranch, and certainly one of his best friends.
Life on the ranch was never easy, so Nathan was fortunate enough he had him by his side. Because Josef loved the land and the farm life as much as Nathan did. It was a dandy bonus he could easily taunt him.
"Then I am very much happy to oblige," Nathan countered, barely keeping a straight face while Josef scowled at him.
"Last one, old man," Nathan announced, picking up the supportive beam they needed to pound into the ground. Luckily, they already had the holes ready from before. He loved heckling Josef despite the fact they were almost the same age.
"And then we rest until tomorrow?" Josef countered, faking cheerfulness. But Nathan knew that was all for show.
"No, then we are going to town to visit Mr. O'Connor, but if you stop wasting that mouth of yours. maybe I can buy you a drink before we head back."
That instantly cheered him up. Just as Nathan knew it would. Josef started to say something in
return, then thought better of it, and simply nodded before returning to his task in silence. And then, Nathan simply couldn't handle himself and started laughing out loud.
Once the job was done, or as much done as was possible without additional supplies, the two men picked up their tools and took Nathan's one-horse carriage to the nearby Helena, a small town near the Rocky Mountains.
It was a rather picturesque, delicate place, settled in a plain surrounded by blue mountains, which was in complete contrast to the hardness of its people. Nathan was not to imply the townspeople were bad in any way. It was just that hard life in the west made hard people. It was a badge of strong character if you asked him, and he admired that the most.
As he said before, Helena was home and that meant everything to him.
Nathan's family kept herds of sheep since the beginning, but a few years back Nathan decided to switch to cattle. So he sold every last one he had and bought some rather prime livestock. That was a move many considered not only risky but foolish. Yet, Nathan never listened to other people's advice over his own instinct. And his gut was telling him then how he made the right decision.
And so far, it still didn't disappoint him.
Yes, there were some rocky times, but the rewards were then so much sweeter.
"Good day, Nathan," an old clerk greeted him once Nathan stepped inside the store.
"Good day, Mr. O'Connor," Nathan greeted back.
Josef stumbled in the shop after him. "It's not a good day," he simply had to jump in, wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. "It's hotter outside than in devil's furnace."
The old man O'Connor looked at him. "You don't know what hot is, boy. I was born in the Sonoran Desert. Now, that's hot. This is mild spring weather in comparison."
And Nathan stiffened a laugh while Josef pouted.
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