by Kelly Dawson
I gathered my courage. “Shane and Roscoe will find me.”
There was that evil grin again, but wider this time, the grin of someone who knows he holds all the cards, and he can play it out however he wants to.
“No they won’t,” he told me, shaking his head as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “They’ll be fighting the fire for the whole day. It was well and truly ablaze, threatening the whole town. I made sure of it.”
He looked so proud of himself and something inside of me snapped.
“You disgusting bastard!” I yelled, fighting against my restraints. I’d never uttered such a word in my life and it felt so wrong to say it now, but so right at the same time. Satisfying.
He just nodded and puffed out his chest, pleased with himself. His stance sickened me. What kind of monster was he? Even Mr. Yates wouldn’t be so cruel as to endanger innocent people, would he?
“I got rid of Coleton and delayed those two. Now I will take you back to Philadelphia where you belong, to take your rightful place as Roger’s wife.”
I gasped. The color drained from my face. I felt sick. He killed Coleton?
“Mr. Mallone died of a… uh… nasty accident,” my captor told me, touching the toe of my boot with his foot. I pulled my legs back, bent my knees, brought my heels as close to my bottom as I could. The tree trunk scraped against my back as I moved, rubbing me raw.
“How?” I whimpered, confused. How did he find Mr. Mallone? I’d been so careful. Mrs. Whittaker had been watching too, and we’d been sure I hadn’t been seen.
“How did I kill him?”
“No!” I shook my head frantically. No, I didn’t need to hear those details. It was bad enough that I knew the poor man was dead. I did not want to know how he met his sad demise. Especially not when I felt somewhat responsible for his death. If I’d stayed in Philadelphia where I belonged, Mr. Mallone would still be alive.
“How did I find him?” my captor guessed again.
“Yes,” I ground out through gritted teeth.
“Oh it was easy,” he declared, taking a small step back. “It’s amazing what someone will tell you when they have a knife at their throat.”
“You held Mrs. Whittaker up at knife point?” My voice was barely above a whisper. I was so horrified I could hardly form the words. What a despicable man! My hatred for this man, and for my brother and Mr. Yates, grew deeper with every second that passed.
“No, no, not me.” He shook his head. “I live here in Montana. Mr. Yates did, and sent me instructions.”
Somehow, knowing that the man standing in front of me hadn’t been the one to threaten Mrs. Whittaker made me feel slightly better. But knowing that Mr. Yates had been the one to do it, scared me even more. Was there nothing the man would stop at to get his way?
“You’ll have to make it up to him when you get home,” my kidnapper told me almost gleefully. “The whole town knows you left him, you realize. He was quite upset. He’s a very proud man, as I’m sure you know, and he doesn’t take well to being crossed. John promised you to him, and he means to have you.”
From the little I knew of Mr. Yates he didn’t take well to anything, but I held my tongue. It would do no good to bring up his reputation now.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to make sense of everything. It seemed Mr. Yates’ cruelty knew no bounds. I struggled to understand why he wanted me so badly he would order the death of a man he didn’t know, just to prevent my marriage, stop my escape. If he was willing to go to such lengths, what would he do to me when he discovered he’d lost; I was already married?
“But why?” None of this made sense. “Why does he want me so badly? There are plenty of other women who would marry him, with all his money. Why me?”
The despicable man at my feet looked me up at down, perhaps deciding how much to tell me. He shrugged carelessly. “You’re pretty,” he said, as if that explained everything. But it didn’t.
“So are other women,” I pointed out.
“Your brother owes Mr. Yates a lot of money. You’re payment for that debt and Mr. Yates means to collect.”
I stared at him, aghast. “So he would order the killing of an innocent man?”
My captor didn’t reply.
“Why does he not just shoot John? Even things up?”
“Your brother is worthless. It’s you he wants.”
“How is he going to get any money out of me?” My head was spinning. None of this made any sense. My brain was fuzzy and I knew I wasn’t thinking clearly but thinking straight or not, I didn’t understand why Mr. Yates wanted me so badly. Surely this wasn’t just about his damn foolish pride? Would he really go to such great lengths just to prove to the world that he got whatever he wanted? The people of Philadelphia already knew that. Hunting me down and forcing me back to Philadelphia wasn’t going to change anything for him. “I don’t understand,” I mumbled.
There was a chuckle above me, like the answer was really obvious and he couldn’t believe how stupid I was that I couldn’t figure it out.
“Oh I do believe he will get his money’s worth out of you,” he told me, licking his lips lasciviously.
Bile rose up in my throat and I felt sick to my stomach, like I wanted to vomit. Now I understood. Mr. Yates wanted me in the same way my husbands had claimed me. Except I had willingly given myself to my husbands, I’d enjoyed their attentions, delighted in the feel of their fingers, mouths, and cocks doing delicious things to me. I would not give myself to Mr. Yates. Not ever. But as I looked up at the man shadowing me, I knew that it would not matter whether or not I consented. Mr. Yates would do with me as he wished and there wouldn’t be anything I would be able to do about it. Everybody knew a wife was to do her duty. Except that I wouldn’t be his wife.
I looked up at my captor, squinting my eyes against the bright sunlight.
“How much is Mr. Yates paying you?” I asked.
“Five hundred dollars” he told me proudly. “To be delivered the day you become Mrs. Roger Yates.” He folded his arms across his chest and looked down at me arrogantly, as though he was already a rich man. What was he going to say when he found out all his efforts had been in vain?
“You’re too late,” I told him. “I’m already married.”
He looked at me in horror for a fleeting second then, with a roar, he rushed at me. I shriveled back against the tree, desperate to protect myself, needing to get away. But there was nowhere to go. I was held fast. He raised his hand above my head then slapped my cheek. My head slammed back against the trunk of the tree. Stars swam in my eyes. Then I saw nothing but blackness.
15
ROSCOE
* * *
I reined my horse up, signaling to Shane to stop. I held a finger to my lips, telling him to be silent, and pointed. I could see something just up ahead but I couldn’t make out yet what it was. There were two horses, hobbled, grazing some distance apart from each other, heads down eating without a care in the world. I froze. We were completely out in the open with no cover at all. So far, the horses hadn’t raised the alarm but that would happen soon enough. Behind them stood a solitary tree. A makeshift camp had been erected nearby, smoke curled from a fire. Someone squatted by it. We edged closer.
The person by the fire stood up. Even from this distance, it was clear he was big. Tall. Solid. And then I saw her – Elise. Sitting against the tree, slumped sideways, looking for all the world like she was just having a rest. Was she hurt? Was she tied up? Relief and anger fought for dominance inside me.
I nodded to Shane but he could see her too. Anger darkened his features and his body stiffened. I watched as he pulled one of the Colts from its holster and cocked it, resting it against his leg. Slowly, I eased the rifle from the scabbard and held it across the front of my saddle, ready to aim and fire, if needed. Together, we rode side by side into the camp. There was nowhere to hide, no way to ambush him, so we just rode straight in. His back was to us and so far he was unaware of us,
so we had the element of surprise on our side.
There was no time to come up with a plan of attack. Not here, out in the open, with no way to avoid being seen. I swallowed angrily, annoyed at how woefully unprepared we were. We had to lure him away from camp somehow. If we went storming in, all he had to do was run to Elise, use her as a shield and we would be powerless. There was no way we would risk harming our bride, and he would know it. If he held a gun to our wife’s head we would do whatever he asked to save her life. Even if it meant letting her go.
The horses! They would be our distraction. Right now the man who had Elise hadn’t seen us, and he wouldn’t know who we were. He’d figure it out soon enough, but right now he wouldn’t be certain. No hail had fallen out here, the ground was dry, so he would think we were still fighting that fire. We would be too, if the hail hadn’t saved us. The hail that ruined my crop, I thought bitterly, but I pushed that thought away. Now was not the time for bitterness.
Silently, I slid down from my saddle and ran towards the hobbled horses. There was no time to explain anything to Shane, I would just have to trust that he understood. Somehow, I got to the first one without being seen and I crouched beside it and undid the hobbles. I sent it on its way with a slap on the rump. The second horse whinnied, disturbed by the commotion and a shout rang out from camp. “Hoi! You there!”
I stood up, letting him see me. I cursed myself for leaving the rifle on my horse, but it had been too cumbersome to carry while I ran to the horses. If I needed a firearm I would have to rely on the two pistols I wore. He ran towards me and I couldn’t hide my grin. This was going exactly as I had planned! Out of the corner of my eye I could see Shane galloping towards Elise, but I didn’t turn my head away from the man running towards me. I was the decoy – I would do my best to keep him distracted until Shane had Elise safely in his arms.
I ran to the second horse and crouched to undo the hobbles. The giant of a man was bearing down on me, getting closer and closer. I would have to act fast. With a tug, I wrenched the hobble free and gave the horse an almighty slap, sending it after its mate.
The man was almost upon me. I watched as his feet left the ground and he launched himself into the air and I rolled out of the way just in time, narrowly dodging his tackle. He was bigger than me but also much older, and his movements were slower. My speed gave me an advantage and I used it. With a roar, he leaped at me again but this time I sidestepped, stood myself up to my full height and withdrew my gun. “Hold it right there mister,” I ordered.
For just a second he froze, then he realized what was going on. He spun around to face the camp he’d run from just in time to see Shane running for his horse, Elise in his arms. Before he had a chance to react I raised my gun hand high and brought the butt crashing down against his temple, watching as he staggered then fell to the ground, blood trickling from the gash.
I stood for a moment, in silence, trying to take in the scene around me. It had been easy; too easy. The man had been an incompetent fool and his arrogance, his apparent belief in his infallibility, had been his downfall. Stooping to pick up his feet, I dragged him back to his camp and dropped him under the tree. He’d be out to it for a while, but at least he’d have a fighting chance, being in the shade rather than out under the full sun. I propped his canteen up next to him for when he woke up. Then I stamped out his fire and walked back to my waiting family: to my best friend and the wife we shared.
“You shoulda killed the bastard,” Shane snarled when I got close enough to hear him but I shook my head. There had been enough destruction today. I did not want to add to it. We had Elise back, that was what mattered.
I looked at Elise. She was slumped in Shane’s arms, her head flopping to the side. I gently righted it, brushing a stray lock of hair back off her face with my fingers and as I did, I noticed the graze on her temple and the bruise coming up on her cheek. The fading outline of a handprint covered the other side of her face. It was easy to figure out what had happened – that bastard had hit her, and the force of the blow had bashed her face against the tree trunk he’d tied her up against. What else had he done to our beautiful bride? I inspected her clothing – nothing was torn. Nothing was out of place.
“Did he?” I nodded at the spot between her legs, that precious place that we had claimed and filled over and over, hoping against hope that he hadn’t violated her.
Shane shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. Her clothes aren’t ripped. If she was being taken for that bastard back east, he wouldn’t want her used. Her virginity would be the most important part about her.”
I nodded. That made sense.
We were both silent for a moment, trying to accept everything that had just happened; wanting to understand it.
“Where the hell are we?” I asked.
“There’s a town about four miles that-away.” Shane pointed.
“That’s closer than Bridgewater,” I said. “Let’s take her there. She’ll need a bath, get her cleaned up and a good feed into her.”
Shane passed Elise to me while he mounted his horse and as I took our bride in my arms she slowly opened her eyes and blinked, looking around in confusion. Terror reflected briefly in her eyes but then her gaze settled on my face and she smiled. Not a proper smile, just a partial one, full of pain, but still, it was something.
“You’re safe now sweetheart,” I assured her gently, bending to kiss her temple. “Just rest for now, there will be time for talking later. Here, I’ll pass you up to Shane.”
I passed her up and her arms immediately wrapped around his neck and she snuggled against him, relief evident in her every pore. She’d obviously been so frightened. Anger coursed through me again and I wished, just for a moment, that I had killed the bastard when I had the chance.
16
ELISE
* * *
I could hardly believe it when I opened my eyes and looked up into Roscoe’s face. At first I thought I was dreaming. I half expected to wake up and see my captors face, not Roscoe’s, inches from my own. I was afraid fear was making me hallucinate and see things that weren’t there. But then he spoke, and kissed my forehead, his chapped lips so welcome on my clammy skin, and I knew he was real. Relief overwhelmed me. I was safe! My husbands had found me! Just like I’d told my captor they would. I tried to smile but my face hurt so bad, both from where I’d been hit, and where my face had slammed into the tree. My head was still fuzzy and waves of nausea racked my body.
I wanted to ask him about the fire, and what happened to the bad man who had taken me but I didn’t have the energy. I could barely keep my eyes open. My head hurt too much and all I wanted to do was sleep. I fought off the darkness but it engulfed me again, so when he told me to rest, I willingly obeyed him.
Roscoe lifted me up to Shane and my arms went around his neck instinctively. I was safe. His strong arms around me reassured me and although every single muscle in my body was sore, I relaxed. I didn’t have to worry anymore. Shane and Roscoe were here.
The rocking of the horse beneath us lulled me back to sleep again but I wasn’t frightened anymore. Each step was taking me closer to safety and home, not Philadelphia and Mr. Yates.
I don’t know how long we rode for but when I opened my eyes again we were riding into a tiny town, much smaller than the town I had stepped out into when I disembarked the train. Only a few buildings lined the single street and I could only see one horse tied to the hitching post outside the saloon.
“Where are we?” I croaked, for I knew it was not Bridgewater.
“We’re going to stop in a hotel for a bit,” Shane told me. “Roscoe has gone on ahead to get us a room and a bath. We all need one.”
“Oh.” I closed my eyes again. Nausea still plagued me and my head was still fuzzy, but I think I was improving. The rest definitely helped. I buried my face back in Shane’s shirt then wrinkled my nose in distaste. He stunk! Smoke, mostly. And he was covered in black soot. The fire! How had I forgotten about the fire? T
he event that had set all this off?
“The man who took me, he set the fire,” I told Shane.
Shane gasped and I felt him stiffen. His grip on me tightened.
“He told me,” I continued. “And he killed Coleton. Mr. Yates – the man my brother promised me to – was paying him to bring me back to Philadelphia.” A sob caught in my throat as I realized just how close Mr. Yates had come to getting what he wanted. I knew that already being married would not have saved me; if anything, it would make things worse. I would feel the full force of Mr. Yates’ wrath.
“You’re safe now love,” Shane assured me. His fingers dug into me so tight they almost hurt. Anger wafted off him like a cloud. I could tell he wanted to say more but he was a gentleman, and a gentleman watched his language in front of a lady. “Nobody is going to hurt you again, I promise. We won’t let them.”
“Good.” Despite the odor of smoke on his clothes, I snuggled tighter against him, finding protection in his strong arms.
Shane reined up outside a two-story wooden building at the end of the small, dusty street. I held onto the saddle horn while he dismounted, then he reached up and lifted me down, holding me tightly while I wobbled on unsteady feet. I clung to him and soon my legs found their footing and were able to take my weight although I still felt clumsy. I tucked my hand under his arm and followed him inside.
Up in the room Roscoe had arranged for us, a tub full of steaming hot water had been brought up, along with a washcloth, a towel, and a bar of scented soap. It had been a long time since I’d had such luxuries. When Father had been alive we had nice soap, of course. We’d had the best of everything, back then. But once John started gambling away our fortune we had to make do with the soap Cook made. I couldn’t help but smile at the fragrance.
Roscoe had already cleaned himself up, and while he helped me strip off my clothing, Shane splashed water into the washbasin on the stand against the wall and washed his hands and face, getting rid of the black soot that covered him. By the time he turned back to me, his wet hair slicked back, his sleeves rolled up exposing now-clean forearms corded with muscle, he looked a different man.
