Married by Christmas (20 page)

Nausea swirled. Fists clenching, his gaze slammed to Becca’s paper-white face. Her wrists were bound with thick rope, and he could see the reddened, chafed skin beneath it. He did a rapid inventory—her hair wasn’t mussed and her dress didn’t appear wrinkled. There were no other marks on her exposed skin.

A second man, short and slender, moved from his spot in the corner to stand directly behind her, gun barrel glinting in the low firelight. “She’s not much of a talker.” His hand encircled her neck, and she flinched.

Lunging across the coffee table, Caleb landed on the cushion beside her and shoved the man in the chest, knocking him into the wall.

“Do that again, and I’ll shoot you in the other leg.” The man from the kitchen was suddenly looming over them, menace twisting his craggy features.

“What’s stopping you?” Caleb growled, muscles trembling with fury.

“Please don’t,” Becca whispered in his ear. “I’m okay.”

“Well, you see, we have a bit of traveling to do, and I’d rather not do it with an injured man.” His teeth flashed. “I will if I have to, though.” To his companion, he said, “The lady will ride with me. He’ll ride alone. Don’t drop your guard again, John.”

“That’s not fair, Wendell—” John rubbed his sore head.

“Shut up.” He waved the gun at them. “Time to go, you two. The boss lady will be real happy to see you. Impressed, too, seeing as how she has no idea I left camp.”

Wendell. As in, the man who’d accompanied Samantha to Becca’s house. The one who’d frightened her with his attention.

Fear coiled like a viper in his belly. If they left the farm, there was a mighty good chance they wouldn’t be returning.

“She will only slow us down, you know,” he pushed out. “Leave her here, and I’ll go willingly. I’ll tell Samantha everything I know, and who I’ve told it to.”

Reaching around Caleb, Wendell snagged Becca’s arm and hauled her over to him. Her dismayed gasp speared through him, and it took every shred of self-control not to reach out to her.

“She’s going. And the next time you take it into your mind to rebel, O’Malley, she’ll get the punishment. Understand?”

Jerking a nod, he tried to tell her with his eyes that somehow, some way, he’d get them out of this mess.

Chapter Twenty-Four

R
ebecca was going to be physically ill. With each passing mile they traveled farther from the O’Malley farm, the lower their chance of rescue became. Night cloaked the silent, massive forest. Behind her on the hulking horse, Wendell took advantage of the situation to pin her close, his arm a manacle about her waist.

She didn’t dare risk a glance at Caleb. The last time she’d done so, she’d been tempted to do something rash like vaulting off the horse. Anything to reach him. To comfort him. Her husband had managed to look furious and ill with terror at the same time.

Bringing up the rear, John’s whistling pierced the stillness, the jaunty tune at odds with the gravity of their predicament. Things certainly weren’t in their favor. In fact, there was a good chance tonight might be their last.

Grief snatched her breath away. Caleb would never know how much he meant to her. He could very well die thinking she didn’t want him around. She squeezed her eyes tight. Why had she led him to believe a lie? Why insist on sticking to that agreement when the thought of not being with him made her die inside?

I’ve made a huge mistake, God. I’ve lied to myself and to my husband because I was too frightened to take a chance. Too scared to give in to these feelings.

“If you’re sleepy, little lady, feel free to rest your head on my shoulder.”

Snapping her head up, she ignored the low growl from Caleb. “I’m not sleepy.”

“I am.” John stopped whistling. “When are we gonna bed down for the night?”

A sigh heaving his chest, her captor pulled up on the reins. “Next time, you’re staying at the camp. Not sure why I let you talk me into letting you come. Should’ve brought Vance.”

“I’m not useless,” the younger man protested. “Besides, I’m the boss’s nephew. That gives me the right to be here.”

“It’s after midnight, anyway.” Wendell guided his horse to a level clearing on their right. Caleb followed and, sliding off his horse, strode to help her down before the other man could. At his reassuring touch, Rebecca blinked back tears. Then Wendell dismounted and shoved Caleb away.

“Tie him up,” he ordered John.

“Where’s Samantha?” Caleb demanded, brown eyes almost black with loathing. “How far away is your camp from here?”

Ignoring him, Wendell tethered the reins to a tree branch and reached for his canteen.

Rebecca edged closer to Caleb as John secured the ropes, shivering when she noticed his wince. Her own wrists burned from the friction.

“We’ll get there tomorrow around suppertime,” Samantha’s nephew told them amiably, as if he was some sort of mountain guide instead of their captor.

“Start the fire, John,” Wendell snapped. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

When Wendell had stomped off into the forest, lamplight dwindling, Caleb brought his face close to hers. “I’ll find a way to get you out of here. You have to promise to do what I say.”

Tangling her fingers with his, she whispered fiercely, “You mean
us.
I’m not leaving you.”

His forehead pressed against hers, warm breath caressing her face. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. When he put his hand on your neck...” He shuddered. “Did they do anything—”

“I’m unhurt. John’s not the one I’m worried about.” Something in Wendell’s eyes made her skin crawl.

His fingers tightened on hers. “We have to try and escape before we reach camp and the other men.”

“I wouldn’t let Wendell catch you two whispering together like that,” John called, tossing another stick onto the growing pile. The single lamp did little to dispel the night’s shadows.

“He’s right.” Caleb sighed before disengaging his hands and moving away. The cold crowded in again, and she was grateful that at least they’d been allowed to wear their coats.

“Do you have a wife, John?” Caleb approached the smoldering fire.

Wiping his hands on his pants, he shook his head. “Nah. There’s a girl I’m sweet on back home. My aunt needed my help, though, and I haven’t been back in nearly six months.”

“What’s her name?”

“Hannah” His smile bordered on innocent. What was this boy—he looked all of eighteen—doing with roughened criminals?

“Think she’s waiting for your return?”

“She said she would.”

Caleb studied the other man with narrowed eyes. “What do you think she’d say if she knew you stood by while your aunt gunned down an innocent man?”

He put his palms up. “I wasn’t there the night Sheriff Tate was killed. I stayed back at camp.”

“But you knew what she was going to do, didn’t you?”

“No,” he protested. “All I knew was that she was planning to confront him.”

“What did Tate ever do to deserve such a fate?”

A stick snapped, announcing Wendell’s return. “What is this? A tea party?” Jabbing a finger in Caleb’s direction, he snapped, “You. Over there on the grass. And you, little lady, over here on my side of the fire. Bedtime.”

Caleb’s cheeks flushed with anger. “She’s sleeping beside me, you filthy—”

“Wendell, be reasonable,” John interrupted. “They’re married. What’s it gonna hurt?”

“Stay out of this.” His hand went to his gun.

“I’m getting kinda tired of you treating me like a child.” John squared his jaw. “Keep in mind that my aunt will be expecting a report.”

His lip curled in obvious disdain. “I’m Samantha’s best man.”

“But you’re not family, are you?” To Rebecca, John turned surprisingly sympathetic eyes. “Stay with your husband.”

Thank you for this small kindness, God.
Limp with relief, she hurried to Caleb’s side. His eyes burned with a fierceness she feared would get him into trouble. “Let’s just try and get some rest, okay,” she murmured, lowering to the stiff grass and lying on her side to face the fire.

After a brief hesitation, he followed suit, scooting behind her so that his big body sheltered her from the occasional frost-scented breeze. They didn’t speak. Not until Wendell had bedded down and his snores rent the night. Having taken the first guard shift, John was sitting against a tree trunk doodling in a book and humming a tune she didn’t recognize. How could he act so nonchalant?

An owl hooted in the distance. Far above, the forest canopy blocked the night sky. Would they live to see the stars? Or was this truly their final night on earth?

The ground’s dampness seeped into her body, and she shivered.

Caleb scooted close. Until that moment, she’d wondered if he slept. He’d been so still and silent. His breath stirred the hair at her ear a second before he pressed a light kiss to her throat. “I’d give anything to be able to put my arms around you right now.”

Try as she might, she couldn’t stop the hushed sobs from escaping. In this moment, she desired more than anything a chance to be a true wife to him. She wanted a future with him, wanted to experience it all with him. The joy and laughter, the arguments, the highs and lows.
Too late. I was too stubborn to admit I loved him until it was too late.

“Please don’t cry, Becca,” he begged, voice raw. “It’s not over yet. We still have a chance.”

Snuggling into his long length, she tried to take comfort in his strength, tried to block the looming terror. “I don’t see how...”

“Hey.” He lightly rested his chin against her hair. “Where’s the brave woman I married?”

“Gone.” Lifting her bound hands, she attempted to swipe the moisture from her cheeks.

“I don’t believe that for a second, Rebecca O’Malley. You’re the strongest, spunkiest woman I’ve ever met.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I’m gonna need you to hold on to that strength in the coming hours.”

“You have a plan?”

“Not yet. I’m thinking John might be of use to us. The most important thing we can do right now is pray and ask God to give us a plan.”

Startled, Rebecca pushed onto her back and gazed up at him. While he’d accompanied her to church and she’d seen him reading his Bible in recent days, she hadn’t expected him to suggest such a thing. “Do you mean that?”

The flames cast his eyes in shadow, highlighting his jutting cheekbones and firm mouth. “Your frequent speeches about forgiveness spurred me to search out the evidence for myself. One particular verse in 1 John stuck with me. ‘If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins.’ What I take away from that is forgiveness doesn’t hinge on me, because clearly I don’t deserve it. He chooses to forgive because of His innate goodness.”

For the first time since this ordeal began, Rebecca smiled. “I like this one from Psalms. ‘He does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him.’”

“We need His compassion right now.”

They grew quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Or perhaps emotional exhaustion was kicking in. “Caleb?” she ventured, suddenly shy.

His face suspended above hers, his gaze returned to hers. “Hmm?”

“I wish I could hold you, too.”

* * *

Caleb was rudely awakened by a boot in his shin.

“Get up,” Wendell ordered, waving his hat toward the dawn-streaked sky. “Time to get a move on.”

The burly man had bags beneath his eyes, and he was sweating. John, on the other hand, appeared almost cheerful as he readied his saddlebags. Plainly the lack of sleep hadn’t bothered the younger man.

Amazed he’d slept at all, Caleb gently shook Becca’s shoulder to rouse her. She bolted upright, blinking the sleep from her eyes, features wan with apprehension. Her mass of dark hair had long ago tumbled from the pins, bits of grass clinging to the ends. Dirt smudged her cheek where she’d rested her head on the ground. Yet she was more beautiful, more precious to him, than ever before.

He wished he could reveal what was in his heart, but their predicament silenced him. He had to focus on keeping them alive. Besides, she’d made her feelings plain. She was determined to stick to their original agreement. A confession wouldn’t change anything, particularly one made when the threat of death hung over their heads.

When Caleb had helped her to her feet, John walked over with a canteen and a small bundle. “Breakfast.” His breezy smile irked Caleb.

“How are we supposed to eat?” he retorted, lifting his bound wrists.

“Right.”

He set the bundle on the ground and, whipping out his pocketknife, sawed through Becca’s ropes first. The inexperienced outlaw did it quickly, roughly, as if unaware of her pain. Caleb ground his teeth. John had finished cutting his ropes when Wendell burst out, “What are you doing, you fool? That was the last of our rope! What are we supposed to tie them up with now?”

“Oops. Sorry, I didn’t think.”

The guilty surprise on John’s face didn’t quite match up with the hard look in his eyes, which aroused Caleb’s suspicions. He’d be watching this one more closely.

Handing them the water and bundle of food, he returned to his horse, seemingly unaffected by his cohort’s continued rant. Caleb offered Becca a piece of bread and ham.

“I can’t eat.” Grimacing, she pressed a hand to her stomach.

“You have to try,” he murmured. “You need to keep up your strength.”

Nodding, she reluctantly nibbled on the ham while casting anxious glances at their captors. Unlike Becca, he was ravenous. His last meal had been at lunchtime the day before. Not knowing when they might have need of rations, however, he forced himself to eat only half a piece of bread and return the rest to his coat pocket. A couple of sips of water helped ease the hunger.

“How’s your leg?” Worry tugged her brows together as she studied him closely.

“A little sore,” he admitted, “but holding up better than expected.”

Taking a drink from the canteen, she handed it to him. Pink splashed across her cheeks. “I have to take care of a private matter.”

For a moment, he considered telling her to make a run for it. But they were miles from town, and the possibility of her getting lost was too high. Not to mention she had no weapon to defend herself against wild animals. “I’ll tell John.”

When she’d slipped away, Caleb begged God for guidance. He needed assistance, needed to know when and how to act. Because if he screwed this up, it was their lives on the line.

Lord, please don’t let me be the one to cause her pain again. Help me to be the man she can trust to take care of her, to keep her safe.

Becca returned after five minutes. His request that she ride with him was laughed off. Watching Wendell pull her onto the horse and imprison her in his arms while not being able to do a thing about it was the hardest thing Caleb had ever had to endure. Hot and cold shifted through his body, the fiery heat of rage shadowed by icy dread.

Vaulting into the saddle and nudging his mount into motion, he kept his gaze trained on the mountainous terrain instead of the horse in front. Familiarizing himself with the area helped keep the rage contained.

By midmorning, the sun had burned off the fog and raised the temperature to what felt like the high forties. Wendell abruptly halted his mount, causing Caleb to jerk on the reins to avoid a collision.

“What’s the matter?” John called.

Sliding to the ground, the burly man dished something from his saddlebag and started for the forest, gait uneasy. “Wait here.”

Becca twisted around to look at Caleb, her big eyes dark with anguish. Misery tugged at her generous mouth.

He said over his shoulder, “Mind if we stretch our legs a bit?”

“Why not?” John said, remaining in the saddle, one hand on his gun handle and manner watchful.

Becca sagged against Caleb the instant he reached her, her arms locked around his waist. He buried his face in her hair, the slight scent of lilac still clinging to the silky strands. The words
I love you
hovered on the tip of his tongue, but he clamped his mouth closed.

Wrong timing, O’Malley.
Wrong place, wrong situation. Wrong man.

She admired men like Adam—sensible, dependable. Safe. Not men who made stupid mistakes that hurt the ones he loved.

“I can’t stand this,” she bit out, her breath heating his cold neck.