by Linda Broday
His rage exploded. He landed a right fist to her jaw, followed by the left to her throat. Excruciating pain shattered inside her and spread through her body. She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs refused to take in air. For several long moments, she gasped and struggled to keep the stars twinkling at the edge of her vision from closing into utter blackness.
When she was able to drag in air and blink away the darkness, she realized she was being stretched, her joints crying in agony. Ezekiel had untied her wrists only to lash her hands, arms, and legs tightly to the cross. Her shoulders were on fire, and she wondered if he’d pulled them from their sockets. Immense pain blinded her. She couldn’t move when he dragged her, bumping over the uneven ground, to the wagon bed and propped the symbol of Christianity against the wooden gate. Now that her full weight rested on her ankles, Addie screamed with the unbearable pain.
Through it all, her mother never moved a muscle, never seemed to blink.
Maybe Ingrid Jancy had gone as mad as Ezekiel. His cross erected, he calmly reached for a second full bottle of whiskey and guzzled it.
Oh God, where was Ridge?
A few minutes later, Ezekiel staggered to the dilapidated shack, ripped off more boards, and built a fire, after which he must’ve remembered Ingrid. “You may get down from the wagon now, Wife!” he yelled, raising the bottle again to his lips.
Silently, her mother climbed down and moved stiffly to the fire as though she were a puppet carved from wood. After a while, with no mention of food, both Addie’s parents laid down on opposite sides of the fire.
Don’t sleep tonight, her mother had whispered.
Addie didn’t know what that meant, but she had no intention of closing her eyes. A prayer on her lips, she went to work on the ropes binding her. The night progressed as quiet as a monastery, but despite all her efforts, the ropes held firm with little to show for her work except blood growing slick over her wrists. Her whole body was a raw mess, from Ezekiel’s rough treatment, the battering from the wagon ride, and the splintered wood she lay on. The largest pain came from her jaw and throat, and only time would tell if she’d bear permanent damage.
It scared her to death that she might lose her voice again, that even if she ever saw Ridge again, she might not be able to tell him that she loved him. To never have the chance to tell him again would be her greatest regret.
The campfire sank to ash and went out, plunging her into thick gloom. Not long after that, the rustle of clothing alerted her to someone’s approach in the moonless night. Her father? She prayed it wasn’t Ezekiel but tried to ready herself for more torture.
The form stealing toward her materialized from the darkness, and Addie breathed easier. Though her mother jumped at the slightest noise, she kept coming. What was Ingrid’s plan?
She pulled out a knife and climbed into the wagon. In moments, she began sawing through the ropes. Her voice was quiet and resigned. “I’ll have you free soon. Run as far and fast as you can, Adeline. I won’t be able to hold him back once he wakes.”
“He’ll kill you, Mother. You know that.” This was the first time she’d spoken since Ezekiel had punched her in the throat, and she was relieved to still have her voice.
Ingrid’s dirty hair fell over her face and her eyes were dull. “I’m already dead. Have been for a very long while. This way someone can put me in the ground. Please forgive my failings and try to think of me with kindness.”
Ezekiel muttered something and made a gravelly sound. Both women froze.
Please don’t let him wake up now.
He coughed once, then rolled over. Every nerve and muscle taut, Addie couldn’t bring herself to relax.
Finally, the last of the ropes fell away. Addie stood and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Come with me. We can both escape him. I don’t want to leave you behind.”
“It’s too late for me. Now go.” Ingrid slipped the knife in her pocket. “Go.”
Addie glanced around. She didn’t know where she was or what direction to run. She only knew she had to pick one. She grabbed her mother’s hand. “Run away with me.”
“I can’t. I’ll hold you back. Go.”
Wasting precious seconds arguing was crazy. Addie turned her mother loose, made out the wagon ruts, and began to retrace the path toward home as fast as she could. Her heart pounding, she’d taken only a few long strides into the brush when Ezekiel roared awake. “Where is she? You stupid, stupid woman!” he hollered.
Three loud cracks echoed through the night, telling her Ingrid’s torture had begun anew. For a moment, Addie almost turned back to help the woman who’d risked her life to save her. But now Ezekiel was tearing through the brush after Addie, hate in his heart, blood on his hands—and killing on his mind.
* * *
Worry crawled up Ridge’s neck like a big, black tarantula. Every second counted, and yet he had to keep backtracking because he wasn’t paying close enough attention or had caught himself dozing off.
With no moon, the night was one of the darkest in recent memory. The clouds hid the stars, so not even a sliver of light dotted the sky.
“Whoa.” Ridge reined to a stop. “We can’t keep going, Cob. I don’t want to kill you.” He wearily dismounted beside a large scrub oak and built a fire. A few winks while he waited for dawn would refresh him. Until he could read signs, pressing on blind wouldn’t do Addie any good. Hopefully, Ezekiel would sleep too and leave her safe for a few hours.
Feeling more alone than he’d been in his entire life, Ridge put his head in his hands. He whispered into the night, “Wherever you are, Addie, know this. Love for you spills from the deepest part of my soul. You’re worth more than all the gold on earth, and I will bring you home. Mark my words.”
Thirty-Three
Run faster! Oh God, he was coming! Addie gasped for air, her heart pounding against her ribs.
She turned to look behind her and ran into a mesquite tree. It knocked her backward, the thorny branches scratching her face and arms. Stinging pain ricocheted through her, taking her breath. A sob burst from her mouth. If only she could see! But the thick blackness of the night was as impenetrable as that hateful hood.
The thrashing in the branches told her the devil was closing in. She had to keep going.
Her legs burning from the mad dash, she struggled to her feet, wiping her nose. She squinted through the darkness for a place to hide but saw nothing nearby other than mesquite and cactus. Maybe she’d find a ravine or gully up ahead, somewhere to hunker down out of sight.
“Where are you, girl?” Ezekiel bellowed. “I’m gonna find you one way or another.” Voices carried a great distance at night on the prairie; still, he sounded very close.
A loud squawk on her right startled her. She must’ve leaped a foot high. Just an animal of some sort. She tried to calm her trembles, her heart racing.
A twig snapped behind her. Addie swung around, her fists clenched tight, but no one stood there. Maybe that noise was an animal as well.
She began to gather her confidence. She could escape. Ezekiel was behind her, and if she kept running, she could stay ahead. Three long strides carried her to the shadow of a thick group of saplings and a creek that wound through the plains.
Had they passed the creek earlier? Ezekiel had been muttering about not finding water. Had she somehow left the trail?
Addie stopped and strained to see through the heavy gloom. A rustle came from the right. She whipped around that way.
An arm shot from the night. Bony fingers curled around her shoulder in an unbreakable grip.
A mouth lowered to her face. “You thought you’d get away from me,” Ezekiel snarled. “You can’t escape the hand of God! You shall be punished for your sins!” The smell of liquor gagged her and made her stomach roil.
The spit dried in Addie’s mouth, and her tongue worked to speak, to say something, anything. F
inally, she managed words. “My husband is looking for me, and when he finds us, he’ll make you wish you’d never come to outlaw country. If you want to live, you’ll turn me loose. Now.”
“You’ll be struck down for your arrogance. You’ll beg God to save you, but it’s far too late for that.” He grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her. Where? Back to the camp?
Fiery pain filled her head and throbbed in her temples. She tried to twist her body around to kick him but found it impossible. She opened her mouth and let out the loudest scream she could, yelling until her throat ached. “Ridge! Ridge! Help! Help me! Over here! I need you!”
If Ridge was anywhere close, he’d hear and come running. But they made it back to the wagon with Addie’s prayers unanswered.
Her mother had crawled underneath the wagon. She didn’t move as they approached, so Addie didn’t know if she was alive or dead. All she knew was that her one, and probably last, chance to escape had met with failure.
It was over. Ridge was not coming. Tears bubbled in her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She’d show no weakness.
And now she was entirely at the mercy of New Zion’s madman.
* * *
Ridge awoke with a start, someone calling him in his dream. Addie. The dream seemed so real. He scrambled to his feet. “Addie! I’m coming!”
He kicked dirt on the fire and leaped into the saddle, straining to listen. “Let’s go, Cob. Let’s go find her. She’s alive, and she needs us.”
The bit of shut-eye he’d gotten had helped, and the sky had begun to lighten. It would be dawn soon.
Then God help the man who’d taken his wife.
Ridge pulled one of his Colts from the holster and checked the cylinder. Full. He then checked his twin Colt and found it the same. Now he was ready for whatever he encountered. Someone was going to die. God willing it wouldn’t be him, but if it was Ridge’s time to go, he was taking Ezekiel with him.
The screams came again. Surely, he hadn’t imagined the pure terror. But wait a minute. Red foxes could sound like a woman screaming. Was it only that? Dammit! He clutched his head.
Minute by minute, the sky was changing from dark to gray. He had no trouble seeing the trail. Steadily, he rode across the unyielding terrain that at times stopped him cold, praying, willing that Addie be all right. If he found her dead…
He drew in a shuddering breath and blinked hard. “I won’t. She’ll be alive,” he ground out into the wind. Addie was a tough woman, and she was calling for him.
He would not disappoint her.
* * *
Addie’s chin quivered as she sat waiting for whatever came next. Ezekiel had bound her hands again, then tied a rope around her neck. He gripped the end of it in one fist and held a loaded gun in the other.
He’d dozed off and on through the last of the night but never slept for very long. Her mother still had not moved under the wagon.
The sky lightened to a shade like silver pearl, and fear lodged in Addie’s heart for what the morning would bring. Whatever new trials loomed on the horizon, she prayed for the strength to meet them with grace and courage.
This was her Armageddon. If she had to battle Ezekiel by herself, so be it.
Her raw, bloody wrists stung, and she could scarcely breathe with the rope so tight around her throat. She closed her eyes and pictured the face of the man she loved. Memories of their time together washed over her, calming her nerves. Lying in his arms, his lips on hers, she’d found great peace and happiness.
He’d taught her to forget the past, to focus on the things she could change and keep her eyes on the future. She knew she had a reason and a purpose for being in the world. That she had an obligation to leave things in better shape than she’d found them. She hoped she’d left something good and lasting in the short time she’d had.
The cool morning air made her shiver. She wished for a fire instead of the gray ashes. Squawking overhead drew her gaze toward the dawn, and there in formation were three or four dozen geese flying south for the winter. As she stared, they made a design, a loose heart in the sky above.
Ha! Now she was seeing things. Maybe pain and hunger had messed with her head.
As though he’d read her mind, Ezekiel got up and yelled toward his wife. “Woman, cook me something! Have it ready when I get back.” Then he swung his attention to Addie. “We’ll get to the Lord’s business now.”
Panic gripped Addie. Her heart beat so hard it tried to jump out of her chest.
Her mother roused and climbed out from under her shelter. Addie winced at her black eye and new bruises. Ingrid didn’t meet her stare but kept her eyes down as she’d been taught. The man of the house was always superior and must be obeyed with no questions.
Silently, Ingrid lugged a box from the wagon, pulled out a skillet, some potatoes and onions, and a can of lard. Ezekiel kicked her, but not all the blows landed. Ingrid had gotten pretty good at dodging his feet.
She needed to relieve herself but knew not to ask. No, he’d show her no favors. She was an outcast, a sinner of the worst sort, and doomed to die by his hand any moment.
Ezekiel stared at her, picking his teeth. “I found me some water last night while I was chasing after you, girl. The Lord’s commanded me to baptize you, make you clean before we get to the rest. You’re a filthy heathen!” He stood and towered over her with a raised fist. “Living with a bunch of murdering, thieving outlaws. Laying up in bed with one. Letting him touch you and more. Do you carry his whelp?”
“I’d be happy to have his child. Ridge Steele is my husband by anyone’s law, and I love him—” A brutal kick cut her words short. She took the pain inward, swallowing a cry. She stared up at him, her chin raised. “Get it over with. Whatever you have planned, just do it.”
Taunting him might not’ve been the wisest thing to do. He yanked her up by the rope around her neck. The violent wrenching strangled her for a long moment before he loosened the taut hemp cord.
Her mother never spared them a glance, but kept her head down, slicing and stirring.
“It’s time!” he yelled, pulling her along behind him. “God has willed you to die, and die you will. I am His right arm, a light in the wilderness, a brother.”
“You’re crazy!” Addie screamed back. “You’re a crazy, vengeful lunatic!”
She struggled with all her might to stay on her feet. He’d not stop if she fell. Her frantic heartbeat and rapid breathing sent her body into shock. Her head swam, and the ground whirled around her. Where was Ridge? Didn’t he care about her? Was she just someone he’d whiled away time with?
No, he loved her. He’d said so many times. Ridge Steele loved her.
Don’t descend into Ezekiel’s madness.
They reached a pool of water fed by the creek she’d seen the night before. Ezekiel didn’t stop. He walked straight into the pool, pulling her after him. The water only reached his chest by the time he got to the center. If she could stay on her feet, she’d be all right.
But the water inched higher and higher up her chest, and fear held her in its grip.
“Adeline Jancy, I, the New Messiah, cast out this devil that’s inside you.” With that, Ezekiel put his hands on her head and pushed her under.
Addie held her breath, twisted and turned to escape his clutches, but found it impossible to break his hold. Her starved lungs exploded, sending pain through her body. She put her shoulder against his chest and pushed but couldn’t get a grip or budge him.
She worked her wrists with feverish desperation, trying to free them. Her strength was fading. Her air had almost run out.
This watery grave held her bound as sure as quicksand.
She had been born Adeline Jancy, daughter of New Zion’s false messiah. Here she would die. The wife and equal partner of Ridge Steele.
Thirty-Four
The su
n’s first rays glistened on a wagon up ahead, the horses still hitched to it. Gun drawn, Ridge raced into the clearing, his glance collecting the dying fire, a half-empty box of supplies, and a decaying shack that someone had once called a home.
Then his gaze fastened on something else that sent horrifying alarm whirling inside his head. He dismounted hoping, praying that his eyes were playing tricks on him.
A crude cross rested on the ground. Lengths of rope. A clump of golden hair. Blood.
He picked up the hair and tested the satiny texture between his thumb and forefinger, then held it to his lips. Roses. Addie.
A low cry rose in his heart, and Ridge sank to his knees. He was too late. He’d arrived too late to save his beloved Addie.
Slowly, his thoughts settled enough to allow logic. If she was dead, where was her body? There should at least be a grave, even a shallow one. Making sure he hadn’t overlooked loose dirt, he took a long moment to listen to what the land, the birds, were telling him.
Evil, dark and deadly, permeated the air and the soil. But not death itself.
Strange that no one was around. A noise alerted him. Someone or something was scurrying through the brush. From the way they were moving, a person, not an animal. Maybe they had Addie. He wanted to call out to her, but he had to remain silent and it cost him dearly.
His heart hammered in his chest and sweat dotted his forehead.
Gripping his Colt, he kept low and rushed toward the sound as quickly and quietly as he could. He knew this place, a watering hole fed by a stream. He’d been here before.
Loud voices reached him. A woman’s voice—and a man’s. Angry, threatening yells. Curses.
Breathing hard, Ridge burst through a ring of saplings that rimmed one side of the pool, his eyes on a thin woman standing on the bank. She was battered and bruised; her straggly hair and slovenly appearance made her look like a vagabond of some sort.
“Did I give you permission to leave the campfire? Get the hell back to the wagon!” thundered a man in the middle of the water. “You know the rules!”
