Rocky Mountain Dreams & Family on the Range

by Danica Favorite

  Look at his past.

  He’d held Sarah in his arms after Abby died. Instead of running for the doctor, he’d worried and fretted. Rocked her tenderly, but she’d lost the will to live and, letting the pneumonia have its way, slipped away quietly the same night.

  O’Leary thought God had led him to Lou, but after losing his family that way, Lou had trouble believing God cared.

  Yet Josie believed God had used him to find her in the desert. He swallowed hard now, feeling the rough wood of the house against his bare arm. It was solid and real.

  Why couldn’t he feel God that way? Had he ever?

  Watching the Silver place for movement, he let his mind stew on the thought. Maybe he hadn’t felt God the same way he felt this house at his side, but he sure felt some kind of presence when he’d gone to that church picnic with Mary.

  Years ago, Sarah and he used to pray together, and there’d been a certainty inside that the God he talked to was real and cared about him. Thoughts jumbling, he blinked at the emotion encircling his chest. How could he have been so wrong then if things had felt so right?

  And did that mean he was wrong now, despite how he felt?

  He glanced at the sky for an answer. Swollen clouds greeted him. Back in the desert the air would be dry, ripe with the scents of rock and sage. He missed that. Selling the ranch had seemed like a good idea months ago, but suddenly it felt like the wrong move.

  He scoffed at himself.

  Dwelling on feelings changed nothing. They shifted like the clouds above, always at the whim of change. Just as he’d moved on...away from God, from faith.

  The thought hit him square on.

  He’d left God. Said goodbye and refused to let Him near.

  An automobile moved into his line of vision. Classy high-end car. Black. He noted the rims and distinctive chug of the engine as it drew to a stop outside the Silversʼ gate. Arrogant Langdon was on the move, but how was he supposed to follow him?

  Hissing between his teeth, he rose from his position and sauntered onto the sidewalk. He couldn’t follow, but he could intimidate. Langdon rushed out the front door. Lou stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle.

  Langdon jutted to a stop and, despite the distance, Lou saw anger in his movements. He waved, throwing his hand up and letting it flow casually above him.

  “See you at the docks,” he called out.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Escapes surely put a cramp in Mary’s stomach. She bent against the neighbor’s manicured, thorny bushes, Josie at her side.

  “See you at the docks” a voice called out. Lou? She peeked through the leaves and saw a man waving at a fancy automobile as it sped past. Then the man put a quick pace to his steps and started up the sidewalk. Definitely Lou. She’d know that swagger anywhere.

  “It’s Mister Lou,” Josie whispered excitedly. “Let’s go get him.”

  “No.” Mary shushed her, thoughts racing. She could do this. She could rescue herself and Josie without a man’s help.

  The lady means nothing to me.

  Her mouth tightened. He’d proved that and more. Selling the ranch out from beneath everyone. Always following his job wherever it took him. She had no right to be miffed, and she really didn’t want to be, but at the same time, thinking about his actions gave clearer insight to his character.

  He didn’t want chains. He didn’t want commitment.

  But now she knew she did, and that changed everything.

  Chin up, she beckoned Josie to stand. “Let’s go. Your uncle left in that vehicle, so we should be safe for a while.”

  “Where are we going?”

  They stepped onto the sidewalk, Josie’s hand fitting snugly within hers. She wanted to smile and reassure her, but her lips refused to relax. “I’m not sure, sweetheart.”

  She could go to the police, but what would she tell them? Please help me save this little girl. Her uncle is a rich ogre who has had an obsession with me. Or perhaps they could disappear and she could find work elsewhere?

  A solid plan, but could she break the law that way? Maybe Langdon had lied to her about Josie’s family. What if she had loving relatives who wished to take her in? The idea stabbed Mary’s heart, but she must face the fact that she wasn’t the only one who wanted Josie.

  She might as well admit the only one who could help her now was on his way to the ports. Her best recourse was to follow him. Josie couldn’t go with her, though. Maybe waiting at the hotel might prove a better solution.

  Yes.

  She’d do that.

  Feeling more secure in her decision, she smiled at Josie and hummed a little ditty she’d learned as a child. Josie picked it up and together they walked to where she knew a streetcar passed. The money she’d brought from home helped immensely. She might even have enough to bring both herself and Josie back to the ranch...although that presented a new set of problems. Namely, kidnapping charges.

  Right now she could defend her actions as a rescue. Possibly. She frowned. Things were altogether confusing.

  “Excuse me, ma’am?” An automobile pulled up beside them. A man leaned out the passenger door. His scruffy features sent a frisson of apprehension through her, prickling the skin of her palms.

  She stopped reluctantly, placing Josie behind her. A fat droplet of rain splashed against the shiny hood. “Yes?”

  “Thought you might need a lift. You and that young’un.”

  “No, thank you, we’re quite fine.”

  “Well, now, we weren’t asking.”

  The flurries in her stomach took flight and Mary pivoted forward, causing Josie to emit a squeak as she strode away from the vehicle. The bushes beside her seemed too thick to dodge across and the next house sported a forbidding wrought iron fence.

  From behind, a hand clamped on her arm and spun her around, jerking her toward the car. “You’ll be coming with us, Miss Mary.”

  “Let the girl go,” she gasped, her arm aching beneath the force of the man’s grip.

  “Nah, we’ll be taking her, too. Langdon has plans, and I’m not fool enough to interrupt them.”

  The driver opened the back door, and her captor shoved her in. Josie came next, Mary’s body breaking her momentum and cushioning her against the side of the vehicle. She hugged the girl close, pulling her onto her lap. Josie buried her face in Mary’s shoulder, and she felt the trembles rippling through her.

  Fright filled her, too. She tightened her hold on Josie.

  The scruffy man hopped into the front of the vehicle. “Let’s go,” he told the driver. “Looks like it’s about to rain, and I don’t fancy getting wet.”

  The ride took forever, a confusing maze of twists and turns. She kept eyeing the latch on the door, but the way the driver sped through the streets disabused her of the notion to jump out. She’d never forgive herself if Josie was hurt.

  But they had to get away somehow.

  “Excuse me,” she shouted above the noise of the engine and whip of the wind. This type of automobile had a roof that only covered the backseat. She hoped it rained on her captors. Served them right.

  The men in front ignored her. Worrying her bottom lip, she peeked out her side. Vehicles swerved around her, proving a jump out that side would be foolish. She shifted and glanced toward the passenger side. The sidewalk had disappeared when they’d left the residential neighborhood.

  The air felt thicker, laden with the odors of water and fish. Would anyone at the docks help her? Knowing the rough elements as she did, possibly. Many men working in these conditions were honest and didn’t care to see a child come to harm. Then again, many drank too much and had allowed their morality to emulate the tide, coming and going as it pleased.

  The driver finally swerved to a stop on a street hugged by ramshackle warehouses. The man in the passenger seat jumped out to o
pen their door. “Slowly now,” he warned. “I’ve no patience for uppity women.”

  Despite the fear curdling her stomach, she stifled a snort and the tart reply she wished to give him. Josie refused to move off her lap, so she scooted across to the passenger door. “Tell the girl to get down,” the man ordered.

  “I shall hold her,” she said, daring to meet his eyes.

  He shrugged, a leer on his lips. “Your choice. I’m just the deliveryman.”

  As she moved over, the driver made an odd sound. She whipped him a glance. He’d removed his cap and she had to swallow her surprise. His blue eyes were familiar. The bowler-hat man from the alley? He met her look and winked so quickly she almost missed it. “All will be well, miss,” he said with his familiar brogue. “Follow directions, okay?”

  She nodded and continued out of the automobile, trying to keep her balance on the broken sidewalk. Josie clung to her but she managed to hold her steady enough. Bowler-hat man pulled the automobile away, and she was left with the scruffy man.

  Her first instinct prompted her to run, even with Josie in her arms. Her captor must have seen the impulse on her face because he grabbed her arm and propelled her toward a large, nondescript building. The road steeply declined toward the Willamette, whose muddy waters lapped lazily against the docks. Dockworkers rushed from boat to boat, making her dizzy.

  Or maybe it was panic at this man’s manhandling. He stopped at a building only feet from the river and thrust her through a narrow doorway. It took several seconds for her eyes to adjust. The sound of the port dulled in this place, replaced with a muffled stillness that swathed the shadows. No movement. If she could reach her pocket, then things would be solved quite neatly. She’d have to put Josie down, though, and make her move quickly.

  “Come on,” the man growled behind her. His grip dug into her arm as he plowed ahead. If she was going to run, she must do so now. She yanked her arm back, causing the man to let out a startled oath. “What’re you playing at? Let’s get moving.”

  “We are not going with you.” She yanked again, and he was so shocked by her words that her arm slid from his fingertips, albeit painfully.

  “I’ll not be having any of this,” he snarled. He reached for her, but she dodged his hand and backed up.

  “We must run,” she whispered into Josie’s ear. The little girl’s head moved imperceptibly in a nod before she wiggled out of Mary’s grasp.

  The man reached for her again, but she whirled away, dragging Josie with her. The door behind them had shut and so she opted for scuttling near the wall. Darkness closed around them as they moved farther into the shadows of a corner.

  The man’s heavy breathing filled the space, combining with the dank odors of mold and rotted wood. As far as she could tell, he wasn’t following them. And how could he? The lack of light served her well. She ran her fingers down Josie’s cheek before grabbing her hand again.

  “I’m going to find you,” their captor said suddenly, his voice grating in the silence. “And when I do, it won’t be pretty.”

  They crouched in the darkness, every breath seeming a siren to her, but still, no movement to be heard. After an interminable wait, a scraping to her right made her catch her breath. One hand gripping Josie’s, she used her other to slide the derringer out of her skirt pocket.

  The metal fit coolly into her palm, comfortably. Just imagine he’s a target, she told herself. A wooden target, like the kind she and James practiced with. Drawing a steady breath, she willed her heartbeat to slow.

  She’d just achieved a sort of eerie calm when something flew into the room, startling her. Her captor as well, for he made a noise, followed by the loud pop of his weapon. The sound echoed through the room, filling her ears. And then out of the shadows, he lunged toward them. All she saw was his shape before instinct took over and pulled the trigger.

  * * *

  Lou arrived at the docks minutes after Langdon. He’d been fortunate in that Portland traffic’s heaviness slowed the man’s automobile enough for him to hop a streetcar headed in the same direction. If Langdon saw him, he gave no indication.

  Now he stalked to the port, weapon at the ready. He spotted O’Leary pulling away from the curb near an old, broken-down building. Careful to be inconspicuous, he gave O’Leary quick eye contact, only to be surprised by the undercover agent’s swift chin jerk toward the building before speeding away.

  Hmm. Lou tapped the pockets of his blue jeans. He probably should have stopped in at the office and set up some sort of operation. For now he would just observe. Hopefully, he’d see enough to get a warrant later. Plan in place, he edged up against the building. Filth covered the panes of glass.

  He peered in anyway, but saw nothing. Moving forward, he kept his back to the building and his eye on the docks. Only feet away, workers bustled and moved. No sign of Langdon, but the name of his vessel should be obvious soon enough.

  The rough wood of the building behind him scraped at his shirt. A man pushing a wheelbarrow toward him gave him a wary look. Stifling a groan, he jammed his hat more firmly in place. People in these places had no use for authorities.

  Looking like a policeman closed more mouths than if he waltzed in with his badge flashing. Maybe he should lose the hat. At the least.

  He took it off his head and inched toward the door to the building. He pressed it open and poked his head in. Met nothing but stink. Perfect. He whipped his hat into the dark room and then stiffened when a muffled oomph issued from the depths.

  Before he could draw his weapon, a volley of gunfire blasted out. He dropped to his stomach, revolver at the ready.

  The noise ended abruptly.

  He drew his knees up under his stomach and held still, listening. Someone groaned from inside.

  “Bureau of Investigation. Hold your fire,” he shouted into the room. A crowd was gathering across the street, but he ignored them.

  The sound came again, and then a scuffling sound...or was it sniffling? Crying? He rose to his feet slowly. “Come out, weapons down, by order of Lou Riley, special agent to the Bureau of Investigation.”

  “Lou?”

  It felt as if his gut dropped to his feet when he heard Mary’s voice. She appeared in the doorway, Josie in her arms and a small Remington derringer clutched in her fingers. She blinked as she came out of the dark.

  The sound of police drawing near scattered the crowd, most of them having no desire to be seen in this vicinity.

  Lou couldn’t take his eyes off Mary.

  Her eyes were huge, shocked. Filmy spiderwebs clung to the mussed strands of her hair. Josie was nestled in her arms, her shoulders shaking with the force of her fear. He swallowed, his throat tight and dry. Carefully, he reached for Mary’s hand, prying the pistol from her cold fingers.

  Her eyes met his. “I shot him,” she whispered.

  Local police pulled up behind him. Taking his gaze from her, he flashed his badge, introduced himself and gave them the details. He put his arm around her shoulders and steered her and Josie to the side, away from the open door and closer to the end of the building.

  She felt tiny and frail beneath his hands. What had happened in there? How had she come into possession of a pistol? He had a million questions, but seeing the look on her face stilled them all.

  No tears. Just a blank heaviness.

  He knew exactly what that felt like.

  He tucked his fingers beneath Josie’s ribs, but she wouldn’t let go of Mary.

  “I’m okay,” Mary said, her voice quiet and flat. “You should check that man....” Her voice trailed off and her gaze dropped.

  Lou pulled her to him, pressing her hair against his chest, dropping his lips to her and Josie’s heads, cradling them and warming them. This shouldn’t have happened. Just like before. Just like Sarah and Abby. He’d been too busy working.

  He should have bee
n here for them.

  And where had God been?

  Absent, as usual.

  A hot anger started in his stomach and spread through his chest. He tightened his grip on them as a vow worked through his blood. Langdon would pay.

  No matter what.

  He would pay.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Mary had killed a man.

  Feeling numb, she watched Lou pace a few feet away, engaged in discussion with a man in a wrinkled suit, maybe his superior. The crowded, busy office of the bureau wasn’t what she’d expected. The rooms bustled with business. Telephones rang and rang, adding to the flow of conversation and creating an atmosphere of bare walls and cacophony.

  She and Josie waited on a hard bench while Lou tried to straighten out their situation. Beside her, Josie sipped hot chocolate a kind man had brought for them a few minutes ago. Her legs swung in a pendulum rhythm and she didn’t smile.

  Mary gripped her own cup of chocolate, an immense pressure compressing her heart. This was her fault. If only she hadn’t taken Josie from that house. She should never have tried to do things her way. If only she’d prayed for wisdom this afternoon instead of going with her instincts...

  Because of her foolishness, someone lay dead. Not only that, but Langdon was missing and a little girl had been through far too much. The blame for Josie’s fright rested solely on her shoulders, and that knowledge crept through her like a slow poison. She swirled her hot chocolate, watching the curves in the liquid disappear and then reappear.

  If onlys never changed anything. She wished they could.

  Movement at the corner of her vision drew her attention from the cup to the center of the room. Lou threw his hands in the air and stalked away from the man he spoke to. His agitation shook Mary even more. She blinked hard, her lids burning and gritty. How had this happened?

  But she knew exactly how.

  Thinking she should manage things on her own. Leaving no room for help, not even from her Savior.