Prairie Wife (20 page)

At the threats, she took a step back.

"Fast!"

With one last look at Rachel, Amy turned and fled out the kitchen
door. Heart hammering, eyes streaming tears of fright, she ran toward the
stables. Her head whirled with panicked thoughts. She could save herself and
tell someone—Pitch or Hermie or anyone in the stable. Except for what might
happen to Rachel. And her baby.

She entered the double doors and hollered. "Hello!"

A voice answered. "Right here."

Amy quickly dashed the tears from her face and hurried forward.

Pitch appeared from a stall. "What's on your mind, Miz
Shelby?"

"I need a wagon right away. I have to make a trip to the
mercantile. It won't take me long, but I have to hurry."

His shaggy brows rose. She occasionally took a wagon to the store,
but never unplanned and never in a hurry.

"I, uh, have bread in the oven and I want to get back before
it's done."

He shook his head as if women were unpredictable creatures and
moved as quickly as his bowlegged stride would take him. Amy had perspiration
under her arms and down her spine by the time he finished and she climbed onto
the seat and took the reins. She still wore the coat she'd pulled on when she
headed for the fruit cellar.

"You'd best wear a hat, ma'am," Pitch said. "Wind's
a might chill today."

"I'll do that. Thank you."

"See you at noon."

She drove the wagon toward the house. If anyone saw her now,
they'd think it odd that she was pulling the wagon so close, but she could be
loading butter or eggs or something for trade, so her actions weren't entirely
suspicious.

Desperate ideas raced through her mind. Once she had the man in
the wagon with her, she could just drive him right up to the stable or the barn
and jump down and run screaming. But he would likely start shooting—and who
knew what else could happen, who else could be hurt? Was there a safer scheme
than leaving with him? She didn't know what he would do to her or where he
would take her.

She could get the horses running, then leap off the wagon, letting
it carry him away. That sounded like the best plan. That way she'd be getting
him away from the station and she could alert the men to go after him.

The scheme was definite in her mind when she stopped the team. She
studied the door with trepidation.

Instead of seeing the back door opening as she had expected, she
saw the man creep from the side of the house, dragging a coat-draped figure at
his side. The skirt hem, bound ankles and shoes were plainly visible as his
prisoner was hauled across the dirt. Horror crept up Amy's spine.

Fear rippled anew through Amy. She'd believed Rachel would be safe
left behind, but he'd reneged on their agreement. Had she really thought she
could trust him?

The man heaved the covered form over the tailgate and dropped the
bundle on the wagon bed. Amy winced at the action and the muffled cry. He
climbed in and covered himself and Rachel with the tarp.

Amy wanted to cry. Or scream. She'd wanted to keep Rachel safe.
Now she couldn't let the team run away with the wagon, not while Rachel was
tied helplessly in the back. She should have known he wouldn't give her an
opportunity to thwart his plans.

"Go!" he ordered. "No tricks or your friend is
dead."

Feeling as helplessly trapped as Rachel, Amy faced forward and
clucked to the horses. They pulled the wagon with a
creak,
and she
guided them toward the road.

As she passed the barns, she watched for someone to spot her,
someone she could signal for help. But no one was watching and no one came out.
In the far corral several men were working horses, but their labor and their
own noise prevented them from hearing the wagon.

Jesse,
she thought.
Where are you? Will I see you again?
She
fought down rising panic in order to think rationally. A level head was
imperative. What was the wisest and safest thing to do?

"Just keep going," the man called. "And don't look
back. Head straight to Baker's place."

For reasons unknown to her, this man wanted to go to her father's.
It had something to do with that wretched Eden. Did he plan to lie in wait for
her father? For what purpose? Jealousy? Should she lead him elsewhere?

After playing out several scenarios in her head, she could only
pray that taking him to Sam's was the best choice. Should her father come home,
he would see the wagon and know something was wrong. And she prayed for someone
to notice she and Rachel were missing.

The trip had never gone so quickly. Amy dreaded pulling into the
door yard at her father's place and learning what this man, whoever he was, had
in mind.

She led the team to within thirty feet of the house and reined
them to a halt. "We're here."

"Who else lives here?"

"No one."

"If you're lying, you're going to regret it."

"Why would I lie? I don't even know what you want."

The tarp moved and their captor threw it off and stood. He
surveyed their surroundings, apparently assured they were alone. He drew out
his gun, pointed it at Amy and then used the barrel to gesture. "Come get
her and take her inside."

She tied the reins around the brake handle, climbed over the back
of the seat and moved to where Rachel lay. The frightened girl stared at her
wide-eyed.

"It's going to be all right." Amy helped her sit, and
then moved to lower the gate so Rachel could awkwardly scoot herself to the
edge. "I'm going to have to untie her ankles so she can walk."

He nodded.

She fumbled with the knots until they were loosened. Once Rachel
had her balance, Amy helped her to the ground. Wrapping her arm around Rachel's
waist, she led her toward the house.

Inside, the man pointed to the table and chairs. "Sit."

They obeyed. He yanked open drawers until he found towels and
aprons, then tied the two women to the chairs. He wasn't gentle or careful, and
he pulled the bonds tight, impairing circulation. Once he had them both
secured, he turned his attention to opening drawers, overturning tables,
rifling through everything he could find in a single-minded frenzy.

Amy met Rachel's brimming eyes. The young woman grimaced behind
her gag and bent her head forward. A moan escaped through the cloth.

"Are you all right?"

Rachel shook her head.

"What is it?"

A tear rolled down Rachel's cheek.

A numb fear gripped Amy's chest. Rachel had been terrified,
handled roughly. "The baby?" she asked softly.

Rachel nodded.

"Do you have a pain low in your belly—all the way through
your insides?" Again she nodded.

Oh Lord, not this. Not now. Amy prayed for help— divine or
otherwise would be just fine by her. She'd done her usual best to ignore the
fact that Rachel would be giving birth to a baby soon. She didn't know what
she'd thought would happen. Leda would come to attend her—a midwife would be
called. But Amy had never wanted to be a part of it.

From the one other room came crashing and banging sounds. What in
the name of goodness he was looking for, she couldn't imagine.

The silence that followed was equally unnerving. She strained to
listen.

Suddenly the intruder crouched in the doorway, startling her with
his silent presence. He studied the floorboards, making a minute scrutiny of
each board, perhaps checking for a loose one. He performed the same tedious
investigation of the entire room in which they sat, even under the table and
their chairs. Contact with the table leg knocked his hat off, but he didn't
pick it up—just continued his search.

Rachel bent forward again, making a sound of discomfort.

Amy's head buzzed with the enormity of their situation.
"Please untie her and let me help her. She needs to lie down."

"Shut up, lady."

"She needs help. Please."

He swore impatiently and sat on his haunches, studying his
surroundings.

Amy had her first good look at him then. His hair was fair and
neatly cut. He'd abandoned his coat somewhere, revealing a black suit and vest
with a crisp white shirt. As he focused his attention on the rafters overhead,
Amy noticed the scar that spliced one of his fair eyebrows in half.

A scar over his eye. The man the detective had described. Eden's
partner. Amy tried to remember his name, but couldn't.

Eden. Once again that despicable woman had brought suffering to
Shelby Station. Amy should have snatched her hair out when she had the chance.

"If you tell me what you're looking for, maybe I can help.
You can get it and go."

"I doubt that."

The detective had mentioned Eden taking more than her share from
one of their scams and running from this man. "Did Eden take something of
yours?"

He ignored her and poked around the back of the stove, checking
the floor, the wall. If she had hidden something, she'd craftily chosen a place
where it was unlikely it would be discovered. The rooms at the boardinghouse
changed guests regularly and were cleaned daily. The shelves fell under his
anger, and he tossed dishes and bins to the floor with resounding crashes. In
obvious frustration, he kicked through the rubble.

The sight of a small velvet pouch brought a gleam of satisfaction,
and he bent to pick it up. Making quick work of the drawstring, he dumped the
contents into his palm.

From fifteen feet away Amy saw the gleam of gold and the sparkle
of gemstones. Diamonds, emeralds, rubies. He held what looked like several
elaborate sets of jewelry. Apparently worth chasing down, worth threatening
their lives, worth whatever it took to get them back.

Anger replaced some of the trepidation coursing through Amy's
veins. Eden had used her father, tricked him into thinking she had affection
for him in order to hide these stolen goods.

She turned away from the man's gloating expression to the pain and
fear obvious in Rachel's. "You've found what you want—now you can leave us
here and head out. Untie me."

He seemed to be thinking over her words, when a shout came from
outside. "Amy!"

Jesse's voice.

In the confusion, she hadn't heard anyone ride up. Or perhaps he'd
ridden in silently. Lord, don't let him walk through that door and make himself
a target for this greedy man. "Jesse, stay out!" she shouted.

Their captor shoved the jewelry back into the pouch and stuffed it
inside his coat. In the same instant he had the gun in his hand and lunged for
the window, where he used his elbow to shatter the glass and his sleeve to
scatter it away from the frame. Standing to the side so he wouldn't be a
target, he aimed through the opening and fired.

Immediately shots were returned, splintering the window casing and
hitting the wall.

Rachel made a noise behind the fabric of her gag.

"If you want your women back alive, get on your horses and
ride back out!"

"You're trapped in there," Jesse called. "Let them
go."

"What kind of fool do you think I am? They're my ticket
out."

Amy's heart felt as though it would hammer right through her rib
cage. The man was desperate to escape now. He had what he'd come for and he
wanted to get away with it. She and Rachel were still his best advantage. Jesse
had to know that too.

Their captor lunged across the room and used the knife to cut the
fabric and free Amy's legs. He hauled her up, her arms still bound behind her,
and dragged her roughly to the window.

"Shoot now!" he shouted behind her ear.

From her position at the window, Amy focused her attention until
she spotted the locations of at least four men, hidden in various spots. If
she'd seen those, there were undoubtedly more concealed at the side and rear of
the house.

"Let them go, you bastard!" The unmistakably English
accent was Jack's.

"You've made a mess of things, Shelby." The man who held
her was stiff with tension as he shouted a response. "You know I can't let
them go and get myself out of here. I need another choice."

"Jesse!" Amy called. "Do as he says. Rachel is
ready to have her baby and she needs help."

"I'm not leaving you, Amy!"

"Please, Jesse!"

The man shoved her back into the room.

"Let me help her." Amy turned her back, making her tied
wrists available to him. "Untie me so I can get her into the bed and help
her. So far you haven't hurt anybody, but you let her or her baby die and
you'll hang for sure."

"God, I'm fed up with bossy women."

She waited, her head growing light.

Finally, she felt a tug and her bonds were cut away. She ran
forward and untied Rachel. As she removed the gag, the young woman's cries
broke her heart. Rachel could barely walk, and Amy had to support her weight
and practically carry her into Sam's bedroom. Her skirts were wet and she was
perspiring.