Once Upon a Mail Order Bride

by Linda Broday

  Discouraged, she lay there listening for anything that might tell her what was going on.

  How far did he intend to drive before darkness fell?

  To take her back to New Zion would require days of travel. No, he wouldn’t wait that long to try to whip her into obedience. Or, failing that, kill her.

  He’d also eventually figure out that his son wasn’t that far away.

  Addie gave up trying to apply logic. There was none inside the head of a madman. God help her.

  * * *

  The hot sun signaled the noon hour, and Ridge hadn’t been able to shake a bad feeling in his gut. He laid down the sledgehammer he’d been using to break up the boulders and wiped the sweat from his face. He couldn’t think of anyone else who could have him in their sights.

  Nothing but random lawmen and bounty hunters.

  But Addie had her own danger. Maybe? Cold sweat drenched him.

  Jack came toward him, waving an envelope. Ridge went to meet him. “What is it?”

  “Heard from the judge’s clerk. You have to appear in court in Mobeetie.”

  Ridge’s knees tried to buckle under the startling news. Finally. “When?”

  “Don’t know. They haven’t set a date yet.”

  Why wasn’t Jack smiling? He should be happy. Shouldn’t he? “What are you not telling me?”

  Jack was silent for a moment. “If the judge throws out Shiloh Duke’s statement, you’ll be arrested on the spot. Then there’s the matter of the judge. Ever hear of Horace Greely?”

  Ridge’s stomach twisted. “Hanging Horace? Every outlaw around here’s heard of him. Dammit!” Just his luck to get Greely. Hellfire and damnation! The cards were already stacked against him.

  “Are you willing to roll the dice?”

  This was the reason for the gnawing in his belly and the sense of doom. His experience with dice was that they always came up snake eyes. Only Ridge’s luck stood between hanging and freedom, and Hanging Horace sat smack in the middle. He didn’t have a good feeling.

  “I’ll have to think about it and talk to Addie, of course.”

  “It’s a big step with an unclear outcome.” Jack laid a hand on Ridge’s back. “Let me know what you decide.”

  “Thanks for all you’re doing. You’re a good friend, Jack.” Ridge strode toward the corral and Cob, his thoughts whirling. He had to get home. Why hadn’t he considered that this might not go his way? If Addie wasn’t in the picture, he wouldn’t hesitate to try. But she was there now, and he wouldn’t trade her for any piece of paper proclaiming his innocence. All the way home, he worried over what he was going to say to Addie. He wouldn’t worry her, but neither would he lie if she asked directly about his chances.

  “I’ll tell her the bare minimum,” he mumbled to Cob. “No more than that.”

  Only the farm was too quiet when he rode up—eerily so. He rode around back and dismounted, his gaze on the vat of water sitting on cold ashes. The basket of dirty clothes sat nearby.

  His heart hammered as he ran for the back door. “Addie! Addie, where are you?”

  Miss Kitty gave him a scolding, but there was no other sound in the house. His mouth bone dry, he tore through the rooms, but she was nowhere to be found. The gnawing in his gut that morning hadn’t been for him. It had been sending a warning about Addie.

  Maybe she’d gone for a ride with Bodie. Only Bodie was with his friends. Riding on her own? Not with the laundry sitting out. He hurried to the barn to find King there in his stall. Where was she? Ridge jerked off his hat and fisted a handful of his hair, staring into the distance—hoping, praying to see movement.

  Calm down and figure this out.

  Minutes ticked by as he studied the ground, reading what it was telling him. A man’s large boot prints stood clear in the dirt, along with Addie’s small ones. There’d been a scuffle. From there, only one set of footprints—large ones—led away. What happened to Addie? Panic crawled up Ridge’s throat. The assailant must’ve picked her up and carried her.

  Jamming on his hat, he lifted Cob’s reins and followed the footprints to where a wagon had sat. He mounted up and began the hunt. The ruts left gashes in the dirt that he could see from Cob’s back. Hopefully, they’d lead him right to the kidnapper—and Addie.

  Ezekiel Jancy. The man had found her. And now he’d exact his retribution. She’d sworn never to reveal the boy’s whereabouts, but if she didn’t, Ezekiel would torture her. Ridge was sure of that.

  In that case, Ridge would have to kill her father. He’d never taken pleasure in snuffing out the light in a man’s eyes, but when it came to someone hurting Addie, he’d take particular pleasure in sending them to hell. Jancy didn’t deserve mercy, nor would he get any.

  There would be no turning the other cheek.

  The timing was deep irony. He’d just received what was likely to be his only chance to clear his name, and now he was riding toward a man who had no right to take up breathing room on this earth. What he meant to do when he caught up with Jancy would definitely end his chances for a clear slate. It would put Ridge back on the run.

  Dammit! When would the killing stop? When would he be able to live in peace? Maybe a man like him was destined to always live with a target on his back and the law on his trail.

  Ridge urged Cob into a gallop. He had to get there in time. She shouldn’t suffer at Ezekiel’s hands for one more second.

  The miles flew by under Cob’s hooves, and the memory of the welts on Addie’s back hovered in the forefront of his thoughts. He struggled to draw air and urged the gelding faster. “Come on, boy. We’ve gotta find her. She’s everything to me.”

  The ruts in the dirt were easy to follow for a while, but in areas where the ground had hardened too much and resisted any trace, Ridge had to dismount and search until he picked the trail up again.

  All of it ate up the hours, time he didn’t have to spare. And he was ever mindful of the sun slipping lower and lower. He should have caught up with them already. A lumbering wagon was forced to crawl, whereas Cob was fleet of foot. Yet he didn’t overtake them. Was it possible he’d followed the wrong set of tracks?

  Where was his quarry?

  Ridge rode to the top of a high escarpment and stared down at the world below.

  But he saw no wagon. No travelers. No Addie. Nothing but endless desolation and an empty horizon.

  Thirty-One

  “Are there no tall trees, no water in this godforsaken part of Texas?” Ezekiel hollered. The wagon stopped, and the springs protested as someone—Ezekiel, Addie supposed—climbed down from the seat. “What am I supposed to use?”

  Short cedar trees and thorny mesquite from the rough terrain they’d just traversed had badly scratched her arms. Her skin stung, but she couldn’t rub them or even see the damage. Relying on her ears to tell her what was happening had become difficult at times.

  Her mother said nothing, as usual. Addie pictured her sitting impassive, staring straight ahead. Reduced to a beaten-down shell of a woman.

  Would her mother ever find her voice, take charge, and step into life? A bit too late for that. A person had to have courage and determination, and if Ingrid had possessed any, it had been crushed years ago. This was Addie’s situation to manage. And now she had yet one more pressing need. It could be to her benefit though—and possibly provide a chance of escape.

  “May I please take care of some personal business?” Addie asked in a firm, clear voice. “I don’t require long, but it is urgent.”

  “No.” His voice came from quite near on her left side. He was probably leaning against the wagon, staring at her. The gurgle of liquid told her he was drinking, and a sinking feeling knotted in the pit of her stomach. “You don’t get any favors.”

  “I can feel you staring. I know you’re looking at me. Why?”

  “Trying to figure out ho
w God wills you to die. Your death has to be in accordance with how you’ve chosen to live. You shall suffer for your sins, and they are many,” Ezekiel spat. “So too shall your punishments be many.”

  The silence stretched, and Addie heard a quiet sob. Her mother?

  “The wicked shall burn in an everlasting fire!” Ezekiel shouted, startling her. “You’re an abomination unto the Lord! God said, ‘If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out and cast it from thee!’ I have been commanded to rid the world of an unclean soul. You, Adeline Jancy, will be cast away and burn in the deepest pit of hell for your sins.”

  Terror gripped her. What was he going to do? Torture her first? “If I’m to die, I request time to relieve myself first. Mother can take me. Or don’t you trust her either?”

  Again silence. Had he walked away? At last he spoke, and the sound revealed he hadn’t moved. “Very well.”

  “And I wish to see. Remove my hood, please.”

  “You’re in no position to make demands or requests. Wives must submit themselves unto their husbands, children to their fathers. For I am the holy one.” Someone grabbed Addie around the arms, and she found herself yanked from the wagon onto the ground. “Ingrid, you may get out of the wagon now. Take Adeline to the bushes for decency’s sake, but cross me, and you’ll share her fate.”

  Lighter footsteps came toward Addie, and the bindings were removed from her hands. As she sat and rubbed her wrists, she heard Ezekiel mutter to himself, “Why aren’t there any rivers? I should’ve crossed one at some point. I must make Adeline obey my commands as the Almighty ordained.”

  Gentler hands taking charge of her belonged to her mother, and they silently moved away from the wagon. A mesquite branch caught Addie’s face, the thorns delivering a stinging scratch to her cheek through the fabric. Tears sprang to her eyes, but after blinking several times, she discovered a tear in the black hood that let in light and allowed her a limited view.

  “This is good.” Her mother stopped her and pushed her down.

  Addie obeyed. For now. Her brain was whirling. She would try to get a clear picture of where they were before she escaped. Until then, she had no idea which way to run. “Mother, please remove this hood. We can both leave, and you can be free of this miserable life. You can’t be happy with him. He treats you worse than an animal.”

  Her mother stayed silent. Ever dutiful. A caricature of the person she used to be.

  “In fact, he cares more for a nasty cockroach than he does you.” Addie finished and stood. Angling her head, she was able to see her mother through the hole in the hood, and what she saw made her blood boil.

  Ingrid Jancy’s battered face and black eye told the story of her latest beating at the hands of a man who’d once sworn to love her. But then, he’d never loved anyone other than himself.

  “I’m sorry for you, Mother,” Addie said softly. “I wish I could’ve saved you, but I could barely save myself. You’ve taken the brunt of his anger far too long and it’s time to end this. You can if you want to. For years, he’s convinced you that you’re weak, but you’re not. Be strong and stand up to him. It’s the only way we can survive.”

  Her mother’s expression didn’t change from the impassive blankness. If she heard, she chose not to listen.

  They turned to head back to the wagon, and Addie picked her way across the rocky ground, grateful to be able to see out of the small hole. The wagon sat near a crumbling one-room shack sitting in the dusky light. Ezekiel had picked up some boards and was nailing them together. What was he doing? Something said it involved her and his plans to end her life.

  “Hold your tongue,” her mother whispered. “And don’t sleep tonight.”

  The quiet warning surprised Addie. Maybe there was hope for Ingrid, hope for them both, after all.

  “Thank you, Mother.”

  They went the rest of the way in silence. Then, in a move that Addie hoped was for Ezekiel’s benefit, Ingrid shoved Addie to the dirt at his feet. She cried out and rolled to escape a kick. Her mother resumed her silent place on the wagon seat. Slowly, Addie stood.

  Ezekiel’s lips curled into a sinister smile as he whipped her around. In a flash, he bound her hands again, so tightly it sent sharp needles of pain through her arms.

  When she could get her breath, she spat, “I’m not afraid of you. You rule over everyone through fear, but even as a child I saw your weakness. You can’t take what’s truly mine. That’s what you hate in me. I won’t let you tell me what to think, or how to feel.”

  “Shut up!”

  “You’ll never take control of my thoughts. You make people believe you’re God, but you’re nothing but Satan. I see it, and so did Jane Ann. That’s why I will never ever let you have your son.”

  A jarring slap forced her head to the side, and her teeth sank into her lip. Shards of pain crawled along her body, stealing her ability to breathe.

  “I said shut up.” Ezekiel picked up a hammer and brandished it.

  While she hated letting him think he’d won, she acknowledged the danger in continuing. She sat down to watch him, and soon fear crawled up her throat, strangling her.

  He was fashioning a large cross out of the scavenged boards from the shack.

  * * *

  Ridge retraced his path to the last clear set of prints and squatted to study them as the last of the daylight fell around him. He’d failed. He tore off his Stetson and held his head in his hands. Where was the woman he loved more than life itself? He’d sworn to keep her safe. What good was a promise if he couldn’t keep it?

  The light breeze bore the scent of wild roses, the flowers that she loved best. Or maybe that was his imagination, a fantasy caused by his incessant longing to see her. Hold her. Kiss her.

  He straightened and jammed his hat back on. A cry tore from his lips, followed by an agonizing yell. “I don’t know what to do! Addie!”

  Silence answered back.

  Cob nuzzled his shoulder as though offering sympathy. The sorrel kept it up until Ridge stroked Cob’s neck. “I know. You miss her too.”

  Finally, Ridge wearily wiped his eyes and painstakingly followed the wagon ruts back the way he’d come, only to discover he’d taken the wrong fork in the road at first. He’d wasted precious time that Addie didn’t have. The left fork took him down into a cedar brake and he found a trail left by a wagon breaking through the overgrown thicket. The person driving the wagon would’ve found it very difficult going, yet somehow by the looks of it, they’d persevered.

  Darkness fell, and he kept riding through the night, driven by the horrors of what Addie was having to endure.

  One time he let his eyes drift shut and almost slid from the saddle, catching himself at the last moment. Fear set in that he’d missed another turnoff on the trail, and he’d had to backtrack to make sure. After that, each time he felt his eyelids start to close, he slapped himself awake. He couldn’t afford any mistakes.

  Coyotes howled nearby, a reminder of the constant danger of night predators. They sharpened Ridge’s senses and he moved with caution, driven on by one thought.

  Addie needed him. She was depending on him to rescue her, and he wouldn’t let her down. The conversation they’d had the night of the dance haunted him now. “If I do vanish, will you come looking for me?” Addie had asked.

  Ridge repeated his answer to her aloud, “Better believe it, lady. No one had better try taking you away from me. No one. I will find you, Addie.”

  He meant that more than anything he’d ever uttered.

  But when would he make good on the promise? Would he be too late?

  Thirty-Two

  No moon traveled the sky that night and it seemed fitting. Ezekiel hammered the last board onto the makeshift cross, and Addie shivered at the cold hardness of his stone features. Fear, stronger than anything she’d experienced before, slid over her like the bon
y fingers of doom. Fear that was amplified by the liquor he’d consumed as he worked.

  He stalked to her through the darkness, his black frock coat flapping like a crow’s wings. “This can all be avoided if you tell me where my boy is. I’ll give you one last chance.”

  She moved slightly to look at her mother through the hole in the hood covering her head. Ingrid Jancy remained motionless on the wagon seat where she’d sat for hours. Every bit of life inside her mother had shriveled and died. It appeared she awaited her own death now. It was impossible to think this was the same woman who had warned her a few hours ago.

  Addie curled her mouth. “I’ll tell you nothing, so whatever it is you mean to happen now, let’s get it over with.” She desperately worked at the ropes binding her hands, as she had been doing all along. But they still refused to loosen even slightly.

  “And the fire of God came down from heaven!” Ezekiel yanked her violently to her feet and dragged her to the homemade cross, the width of which could support her. “Lay down on it,” he snarled.

  “No.”

  His fingernails dug into the tender flesh of her arm. “I. Said. Lay. Down.”

  Before she could form a reply, he shoved her backward onto the rough boards and sat his full weight on her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t see.

  “Call me Messiah,” he ordered, his nose touching hers, his breath foul, and the hate emanating from him rolling over her in waves. “Say it!”

  “You haven’t the power to make me lie. You will never be the most holy. Not even close.”

  Ezekiel whipped the hood from her head and she stared into the face of a man who’d clearly gone mad. The rage pouring off him terrified her.

  Where was Ridge? He’d vowed to come after her if she got taken. He always kept his promises. Though Addie’s mouth was parched, she worked her tongue. “I hate you more than I thought I could ever hate anyone. You’re evil.”