by Bobbi Smith
“Steve?” Joe Webster hesitated at the back of the wagon.
“Yes?”
“Listen, there are a few of us who’ll be glad to ride with you in the morning if you want. There were at least two of them. You’ll need the help.”
“Thanks, Joe. I’d appreciate it.”
“We can’t let this kind of thing happen to our womenfolk and children. We’ve got to protect them and keep them safe.”
His words slashed at Steve. “I know.”
“I was wondering . . .” Joe had never been known for minding his own business. “What’s going on? Why would anybody want to take Sarah and Christopher?”
Steve’s grateful expression turned stony at the inquisition. “It’s personal.” There was no warmth in his tone, and his answer silenced the nosey Webster.
“Well, no matter.” He was embarrassed. “What time do you want to leave?”
“I’ll be riding out as soon as it’s light.”
“We’ll be with you.” Joe backed away from the wagon, still curious, and Steve drew a ragged breath, glad that the man was gone. He returned to his packing. He had never before invaded Sarah’s privacy by going through her belongings, but now he had no choice.
Sarah had told him the details of her life in Philadelphia, but Steve did not know exactly where she’d lived. The men who’d taken her and the boy no doubt had been hired by Marsden to bring them back. For that reason he sorted through their bags for clues to their past.
As he dug through Sarah’s clothes, Steve found the widow’s dress she’d worn to mislead Marsden’s men. His hands tightened on the garment. He remembered the kiss he’d given her on the boat and the guilt that had followed. He’d loved her even then, he realized, and his feelings had only strengthened in the time since.
The emotions that flooded through Steve were so fierce that he found himself crushing the black fabric in his hands. He felt impotent before the battering winds of fate. He was at the mercy of the night, and he knew his rage and frustration would continue until Sarah and Christopher were safe.
Steve’s mouth twisted bitterly. It hadn’t done them any good to be in his protection tonight. He’d been in camp the whole time and hadn’t even known that they were in trouble until it was too late.
The need to resort to violence grew strong within Steve. He’d never considered himself savage, but he’d never had his loved ones threatened before. A vicious curse exploded from him, and he vowed that he would save Sarah and the boy from the evil Marsden—no matter what it took.
With an effort, Steve drew upon his years as a gambler to formulate a plan. He had to think, to use his head.
He laid the widow’s dress aside and, with methodical precision, sorted through Sarah’s personal belongings until he found some correspondence that gave him an address in Philadelphia. He pocketed the letter but kept searching until he’d located the rest of her important papers and her money. Wrapping them carefully, he stowed them in his bag. Once he rode away from the wagon train, he might never come back, so Steve took all essentials with him.
As he started to close Sarah’s bag, Steve noticed a small oil portrait partially concealed at the bottom. He carefully pulled it out and stared down at three lovely women. It was an old picture, and Sarah looked barely fourteen years old, but there was no mistaking her expressive dark eyes and gentle beauty. She was in the center of the picture, flanked by two distinctive blondes. One was a child—Angel, he assumed. The other had to be Christopher’s mother, Elizabeth. They looked so happy and contented in the picture that it only increased Steve’s pain. He tucked the portrait into his bag for Christopher.
Steve left the haunting, lonely confines of the wagon to wait outside. Though he and Sarah had been lovers for only a few days, she’d branded his soul with her love, and he could not sit inside without thinking of her. They had shared nights of bliss on that small bed, and he couldn’t bear the anguish of reliving those moments of loving while she was in danger.
Sitting down before the low-banked campfire, Steve waited for dawn. His nights in Sarah’s arms had passed too quickly, but tonight each minute lasted an eternity.
Slidell and James rode steadily all night. With the coming of daylight, the woman and child had to be released from their bonds. James rode double with Sarah, but Christopher was astride a horse of his own. Freed from the shackles of ropes and gag, he weighed the odds of escape. James, one step ahead of him, kept his prisoners separated, suspecting correctly that one would not flee without the other.
“Don’t even think about trying to get away, kid. I’ve got your aunt right here. Your daddy doesn’t care much if she comes back or not. You’re the only one he wants, so it ain’t gonna matter if she lives through the trip.”
Christopher’s eyes narrowed at the threat, and he wished he were older and stronger and had a gun. He longed to take on these two the way Steve had in Kansas City. He ached to free Sarah from that vile man’s hold, but he had no chance of success.
His helplessness riled Christopher, but he remembered Steve’s poker lesson on bluffing. With an effort, he composed his expression, taking care to reveal nothing of the fury and hatred that filled him. They knew who he was and understood him enough to guess his thoughts and intentions. From now on, he would have to be very careful. Besides, Christopher tried to cheer himself, Steve would save them soon, and everything would be all right again.
“Hurry it up a little,” Slidell insisted. “That man she was travelling with is a mean one. I don’t want to meet up with him again.”
“All right,” James agreed, putting his heels to his horse’s flanks.
They continued at a rapid pace for most of the day and kept careful watch for any sign that they were being followed. They pushed the horses with no concern for their welfare, anxious to get far enough away so no one could catch them. Kansas City was close, and they would be there in less than two days.
Sarah and Christopher had no chance to speak to one another during the bone-jarring ride, but they both kept praying for Steve to appear and rescue them. As mile after mile passed and there was no sign of him, their spirits began to sink. Sarah realized what awaited them at the end of their journey, and as they rode farther from Steve and closer to Michael, she prepared herself for the confrontation. A few months ago, she would have felt powerless before Michael’s charismatic personality, but not any more. She would be ready to deal with him.
They did not stop until late, and even then they did not light a fire. Both men were determined to get to Kansas City and make connections with a steamer heading for St. Louis quickly. The faster they delivered the kid and his aunt, the sooner they received their reward money.
Slidell made sure that Sarah’s and Christopher’s hands were bound in front of them again as soon as they made camp. He handed them a canteen to drink from and thrust plates of cold food at them.
“Eat it,” he told them. “That’s all you’re gonna get tonight.”
They ate in silence.
“I’ll sit first watch,” James offered, standing beside his partner. “You go ahead and get some sleep. I’ll wake you after midnight.”
“All right, but keep a sharp eye out. I don’t trust ’em.”
“Don’t worry. We got ’em now. The only place they’re goin’ is back East with us.”
Sarah and Christopher ignored them, and when Slidell bedded down and James went to keep watch, Sarah and Christopher huddled together under the one thin blanket they’d been given between them.
“Aunt Sarah, what are we going to do?” Christopher worried.
She hugged him with a reassurance she did not feel. “I don’t know. It doesn’t look like Steve is going to get here in time.”
“I’m scared.” They’d fought a hard battle, and they’d lost. “Aunt Sarah?”
“What is it, sweetie?”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed down at the creek so long. I should have remembered.” Christopher was miserable.
/> “Oh, Christopher, don’t blame yourself,” Sarah said softly. “It’s not your fault. None of this is. Besides, Steve can’t be far behind. It may take him a while to find us, but he’ll get here. I know he will.”
The boy’s mood improved at her encouraging words. “Steve will come. He won’t let them take us back.”
“But while we’re waiting for Steve, let’s try to figure out a way to escape on our own.” Sarah knew that they had little chance to get away. Still, it didn’t hurt to be prepared.
“I’ll do anything.”
“Good boy.”
They hunched together against the cold. And prayed.
It was just barely dawn, the second day out. Steve was up and dressed and ready to ride even though darkness still claimed the land. He faced this second day with grim determination as he tightened the cinch on his saddle. He had to find Sarah and Christopher. He had to! Steve wasn’t surprised when Joe Webster and the other men from the train who’d accompanied him joined him by his horse.
“We hate to do this, Spencer, but we’ve got to turn back. Our own women and children are defenseless back with the wagon train.”
“I know,” he told them, understanding. “I appreciate your coming with me this far.”
“I wish we’d caught up with them.”
“So do I.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“I have to keep going. There’s nothing else I can do,” he told them flatly.
“What about your wagon?”
“Take it on with you. If I manage to find them, we’ll join you within a week, ten days at the most. If we’re not there by then, use what you need, but save the personal things.”
“But Steve—” Joe protested.
“Take it. If I don’t have my family, I don’t need to think about settling down in California.”
The men still longed to find out why his wife and child had been taken, but they did not force the issue. Spencer was a private man; and after spending a full day riding with him, they knew he was a dangerous man, too. If he hadn’t told them his story by now, he never would.
“We’ll plan on seeing you and your family in a week,” Joe told him, trying to sound positive.
Steve nodded and watched as they mounted up and prepared to head back to the wagon train. As they rode off, Steve answered Joe’s statement in his heart. “In a week. God, I hope so. ”
He turned to the east, into the rising sun. Somewhere, Sarah and Christopher were being held against their will, but Steve vowed to find them. If he had to, he would go straight to Michael Marsden. Nothing was going to separate him from his family. Nothing.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“What the hell are you two trying to pull?” Michael exploded in anger as Watkins and Darnell deposited Lucky in front of his desk.
“What are you talking about?” Watkins stared at him in confusion.
“You said you had Christopher. Where is he?” Michael demanded, jumping to his feet. He eyed the defiant boy.
“This is.” Watkins indicated the boy, who looked smug and amused. Michael, however, was unquestionably irritated. A sudden sickening feeling settled in his stomach, and Watkins looked at his partner.
“Your son?” Darnell finished cautiously as he, too, glanced from the boy to Michael.
“I’ve never seen this boy before in my life.” Michael spat indignantly as he glared at Lucky. “Where did you get him?”
“He was traveling with the blonde woman in the portrait. We followed them all the way to Texas before we managed to catch up with them.”
“You fools! Don’t you realize Angel led you on a wild goose chase?!” While he was raging at the two for their incompetence, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of admiration for Angel and her daring. “I don’t know who this boy is, but he’s not my son.”
“I tried to tell ’em, but they wouldn’t listen,” Lucky finally spoke up. When the men had first kidnapped him, he’d been scared, but after he realized they weren’t going to hurt him, his fear had turned to anger. During the course of their travels to Philadelphia, he’d tried several times to escape. He was sure Angel and Blade were right behind them, and he wanted to do everything he could so they could catch up. It hadn’t worked, though, and now he was facing the man Angel had told him about. He could understand why Angel and her sister had taken their nephew and run. This Michael Marsden had the same cold, unfeeling look in his eyes as the people who’d run the orphanage.
“Shut up!” Watkins snarled, backhanding him. He’d restrained himself from laying a hand on this obnoxious kid. He’d tolerated his wild escape attempts and wretched pranks, but now there was nothing to hold him back. If he wasn’t Christopher Marsden, it didn’t matter. Lucky barely flinched at the man’s brutal blow. He stood before him, his lip bloody and swelling, glaring at him with hate-filled eyes.
“I get a turn after you,” Darnell put in with pleasure, his hands itching to punish the boy who’d put burrs under his saddle.
“Enough!” Michael raged. “Get out of my sight, both of you!”
“But what about our money?”
“The reward money was for the return of Christopher Marsden.”
Watkins and Darnell were livid. Darnell grabbed Lucky by the collar, hauling him from the room. He intended to beat the boy senseless. It was bad enough that they’d had to put up with him for the entire trip, but now to find out that they’d made a mistake and grabbed the wrong kid, he wanted to take his anger and frustration out on him.
“Hold it!” Michael commanded. “Leave the boy.”
“He’s not your son. You said you didn’t want him, so he’s ours now.”
“Here’s a hundred dollars for each of you. Now get out!” Disgusted, Michael threw the money at the thugs.
It took Watkins and Darnell only a few seconds to realize the money would ease their frustration more than hitting Lucky would. They snatched it and rushed from the room, glad to leave the little troublemaker behind.
Michael circled around from behind his desk, never letting his icy-blue regard shift from the boy. Angel’s ploy had been brilliant. The boy was of the same size and weight as Christopher and had the same brown eyes. His hair color was darker and his features bore little resemblance to his son’s, but that didn’t matter. Assuming he was Christopher would be an easy mistake for anyone to make who hadn’t met the Marsden heir face-to-face. Michael smiled wryly at her ingenious plan.
A tremor of apprehension went down Lucky’s spine. He’d made it this far with little trouble, but now came the real test. He was alone in Philadelphia and at the mercy of this man—a man Angel knew to be a killer. Girding himself, Lucky faced him with all the courage he could muster.
“Tell me, young man. What is your name?” Michael asked, keeping his tone conversational and civil. It was a tone that didn’t match the look in his eyes.
“My name’s Lucky.”
“Well, Lucky,” Michael said slowly. “I think you and I can come to some kind of ‘gentleman’s’ agreement here, don’t you?”
“What d’ya mean?” He was alert for trickery and did not trust Michael Marsden.
“I mean, you tell me where my son Christopher is, and I’ll see what I can do about your future.”
“I never met your son. I don’t know anything about him.”
“You were with Angel and yet you say you never met Christopher?” The tension rose in his voice as he took a threatening step toward him. “I don’t believe you.”
Lucky tried to look indifferent. He was being stalked, and the street wisdom told him not to back away.
“Why were you with Angel, and where were the two of you heading when those men caught you?”
Lucky stayed silent. He would not reveal anything to this man. He realized that Christopher was safe for the moment, but if he told Marsden what he knew, he could endanger the other boy.
“Well? I’m waiting?” Michael’s patience was nearly at an end.
“
I told ya. I don’t know anything about it.”
Michael erupted in anger. He grabbed Lucky by the arm and gave him a bone-rattling shake. “Listen to me. I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. All I care about is finding my son! I could kill you right now, and no one would know the difference! No one would care!” His eyes glazed with a terrifying coldness.
“Angel would!”
“Oh, she would, would she?” Michael shook him again.
“She’s coming after me! Blade is, too! They won’t let anything happen to me!”
Michael gave a triumphant laugh. “So! the lovely Angel is coming after you. Good. Very good.”
He eased his grip on the boy. It wouldn’t do for Angel to return and find this boy, whomever he was, bruised and battered. He would not give his meddling sister-in-law any ammunition that she could use against him. She couldn’t prove a thing and he wanted to keep it that way. “Who’s Blade?”
“He’s Angel’s friend.” Lucky offered no more.
The news that Angel had a “friend” didn’t sit well with Michael. She was his. She just didn’t know it yet. “Well, in that case, we’ll have to be waiting for both of them when they come looking for you, won’t we? I offer you the comfort of my home until Angel arrives.”
Michael kept his hold on the boy as he pulled him from the study and dragged him up the steps to the third floor. Lucky fought but was no match for him. Michael opened the door to the windowless, empty room at the far end of the hall and shoved him forcefully inside. Lucky sprawled on the dirty floor.
“There’s no way out of here except through this door. No one will hear you if you scream, so you can forget about trying to escape.” He could see the fear in the boy’s eyes and felt a surge of power. “Perhaps I’ll let you out once Angel returns and tells me where she’s hidden Christopher. Until then, I suggest you relax and enjoy your accommodations.”