The Lumberjack

by Kelli Ann Morgan

  “It’s a shame,” the man said, his voice a grating, nasally tone, “we don’t have time for me to break you, the same way I broke your sister.” He sounded educated, though as someone trying to fit as an upper classman instead of born and bred that way.

  Who is he?

  A creak came from the stairs. Whether their company was friend or foe Hannah had no idea as she didn’t know if this Cadman character had brought cronies with him onto the ranch or if he acted alone.

  Eli had heard the sound too and slipped quietly down to the end of the hall with his back up against the wall. He peered quickly around the corner. After a moment, his chest heaved, then lowered, his head resting back against the wall in visible relief.

  Friend.

  She returned her focus to the room.

  “How exactly do you expect to get out of this house, Cadman?” Maeve’s voice was steady. Even. “You have no idea what you have walked into. Do you have any idea who lives here?”

  Hannah pushed against the door one more time, cringing when it squeaked, but wasn’t prepared for the meaty hand that reached out, entwined in her hair and yanked her inside the room, throwing her to the floor as he peered outside into the corridor, a gun focused on little Mirabelle.

  He looked both ways down the hall.

  She held her breath.

  Her brother was smart. So was Eli.

  When Cadman stepped back into the room, apparently satisfied no one was out there, Hannah breathed a momentary sigh of relief that they’d likely seen him grab her from the hall and ducked out of sight accordingly.

  The intruder closed the door tightly, before turning around to face her, then jerked his head back in surprise at the gun Hannah pointed in his face. His eyes narrowed and his lip curled.

  Fear flashed across the children’s faces.

  Hannah was grateful that their parents had never allowed locked doors on any of their children’s doors. Her hand shook, but she squared her shoulders and met his lascivious leer without fear.

  The man was of average height and thin. The color of his hair was difficult to distinguish in dim lantern’s light, but the style was quite unremarkable. However, Hannah was surprised to find him dressed as a gentleman in brown herringbone trousers, a double-breasted vest, and a black cravat. The small tear of the pocket and mud on his pant cuffs did not escape her. By his ill-refined language and villainous speech, she’d half expected him to have a twirled moustache, protruding belly, and a long-sleeved knit shirt with suspenders, but by most standards he would have been considered handsome.

  The thought made Hannah sick to her stomach.

  “The bad man found us, Miss Hannah,” Mirabelle said.

  He snorted. “Bad man? Is that how you talk to me after all this time?” He took a step toward the bed, the young girl cowering, and Hannah stepped between them.

  “See,” Cadman said, “the lady thinks she’s outsmarted me.” He took a step toward her, but before she could warn Maeve to get away from him, he’d grabbed her friend from behind, one arm on top of her shoulder across her neck and body, and the other with the gun jabbed into her side.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Maeve mouthed at her.

  Hannah noticed the movement of light and shadow on the threshold. Their salvation waited just outside that door and she needed to be ready when they came barreling in.

  The two counterparts moved as if in some sort of dance until they’d switched positions in the room—Hannah closest to the door with Cadman, still clutching Maeve in his arms, now in front of the open window.

  Mirabelle had seen the bad man through the window and her fear had been justified.

  Why hadn’t she taken it more seriously?

  He must’ve climbed the tree to get in undetected.

  “There’s nowhere for you to go,” Hannah taunted. She knew the man wouldn’t want to shoot as it would draw attention from everyone on the ranch to Will’s old room.

  Cadman cast his eyes about the space.

  “Why don’t you just set that pretty little revolver down right there on the bed.”

  Hannah glanced over to where he pointed next to Archie. She raised her hands shoulder height, the gun dangling against her palm, her finger off the trigger, but instead of setting it so close to the kid, she set the weapon on top of the dresser instead. She’d seen the look of hatred that mingled with the boy’s tears and feared that he might try to be the hero and would get himself killed in the process.

  “Now, bring me those curtain ties,” he said, motioning toward the window.

  “You don’t want to use the rope?” she asked, glancing over at the coil on top of the dresser.

  “That is our way down,” he said. “Just do what I say.” The look in his eyes was growing wilder and Hannah worried what he would do if he felt trapped.

  “If you will all just cooperate, no one else has to get hurt.”

  Hannah glanced over at Brant’s body, lying on the floor a few feet in front of Will’s oversized window as she untied the curtains, watching as they slipped down to hang straight without their decorative bindings.

  She swallowed hard, not allowing herself yet to grieve. She shook her head and took a deep breath.

  “I understand you want to take the children with you.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why? You obviously don’t care for them.”

  “Because they’re my meal ticket. Charles de Clare wants his grandchildren and I’m going to give them to him.”

  “You can shoot me, Cadman, but neither Hannah nor any of the Redbournes will ever allow you to take these children, especially to the likes of my father.” Maeve turned to face her. “Promise me, Hannah.”

  She nodded.

  As time passed, his situation became more dire and Hannah could feel his agitation grow. She handed one of the cloth cords to him. He wrenched Maeve’s arms behind her and she cried out in pain as he worked to bind her wrists together, his gun flailing with every twisting motion.

  Think, Hannah. Think.

  “Cadman, that’s your name, right?” she started, taking one small step toward him, her mind racing for answers. “Why...um...why don’t you let me do that?” she volunteered. At least, that way his gun would not fire a stray shot haphazardly into the room.

  “No need. Aha!” He laughed in triumph as he completed the task.

  “Now, you.” He took the remaining cord from her, and this time, with more confidence and precision than he’d had before, strapped her hands together behind her and shoved her down onto the bed.

  When he looked down at her, a sickening smile twisted his chiseled features into something laced in evil. He tucked his gun into the back of his trousers, placed a foot on the edge of the bedframe, raised his pantleg, and pulled out a long, spear-like dagger in its place.

  “I’m done with our little game, Hannah.” He spat her name as if it soured his tongue. “And I’m afraid I will have to be going. I can’t have either of you following me or telling anyone who I am.”

  “Archie,” Hannah said, twisting her head sideways to look at the children, “Mirabelle, I need you both to close your eyes for just a few minutes, can you do that for me?”

  Mirabelle immediately did as she was instructed, placing her hands over her eyes and tucking her face into her brother’s chest, but Archie shook his head.

  “That’s my boy,” Cadman said. “Best you learn now that this is how you break a woman who doesn’t obey you.” Then, he leaned down and licked Hannah from her chin to her forehead.

  The foul stench of putrefying flesh stung Hannah’s nostrils as the man’s hot breath grazed over her face. She gagged, forcing herself not to retch in front of the children.

  “No. It’s. Not!” Archie yelled, standing up on the bed, one of Levi’s metal bookends in his hand, and he slammed it hard over Cadman’s head.

  The man stumbled backward, his fingers wiping at the red substance that now dripped down one side of his head. As he raised his arm to backha
nd the boy, Hannah jutted out her knee as hard as she could and nailed him in the groin.

  He heaved over, his face pinched into a satisfying grimace.

  Hannah sat upright, scooting toward the edge of the bed until her feet could touch the ground. As she got to her feet, she tried kicking him in the shin, but in that fraction of a second, he’d grabbed his gun, bringing her to a halt.

  Cadman stood up, though slightly off center. He strode over to a large canvas potato sack sitting on the dresser next to Hannah’s gun.

  “Get in,” he instructed Archie.

  The boy stood there, his arms folded across his chest, shaking his head.

  What is taking them so long? Hannah wondered. Eli and Rafe should have broken through that door before now.

  She pushed aside the worry that something had happened to them. They had to have a good reason.

  The man stretched out his gunned hand until the barrel of his gun rested mere inches away from Hannah’s face, then cocked it.

  She closed her eyes, completely at the mercy of her Maker.

  “Wait!” Archie yelled with resignation. “I’ll do it.”

  Hannah opened her eyes as the boy picked up the large canvas bag and stepped in, one foot at a time and pulled it up around himself.

  “Now, Mirabelle, you need to get in there with your brother. ‘Can you do that for me?’” he asked, imitating Hannah’s earlier plea in a voice that mocked her.

  “I’m scared, Archie,” the little girl said as Archie lowered one of the sides to allow his sister in.

  “Everything is going to be all right, Mira,” he said, one eye fluttering closed and his face contorting with the effort.

  Odd.

  Cadman then cinched the sack over their heads, tossed them up onto one shoulder, and carried them to the open window, where he placed them down onto the roof.

  “Don’t do this, please. They are just children,” she pleaded on deaf ears.

  He turned back to her with a satisfied smirk.

  “You are crazy if you think you’re going to get away with this.”

  “DON’T,” he said loudly, then with an eerily calm voice continued, “ever call me crazy.”

  “One of my brothers is the deputy in town and another is the best bounty hunter there is. They will find you.”

  When he turned back to face her, Eli’s head popped into sight just outside the bedroom window. He captured her gaze, then nodded, offering hope in the looming darkness.

  Hannah had never been so happy to see anyone in her life.

  The children are safe.

  “Not if they don’t know who I am,” he said in a tone that belied a scarcely concealed threat. He walked over to the dresser and picked up the coiled rope, then strode to the window.

  Hannah’s eyes opened wide and she tilted her head to the side with two concise strokes and held her breath as Eli disappeared from sight.

  Cadman sat the rope out onto the roof next to the bag, then whipped around as Brant stirred.

  Maeve dropped to her knees next to her husband, tears streaming down her face as she fell onto his chest.

  Hannah couldn’t help the relieved chuckle that escaped her lips. Brant was alive.

  “That’s right, Maeve,” Cadman said, “kneel down next to the man you gave up everything for.” He flipped the knife around in his hand, then turned his attention to a now groggy Brant. “You should have stayed dead.”

  “No!” Hannah screamed as he lifted his arm to attack.

  Chapter 21

  Eli could not climb the tree fast enough, his recently dislocated shoulder be damned. He needed to get up onto that roof before anything happened to Hannah, Maeve, or either of the children.

  Rafe would wait for his signal, but what if they were too late? There was no time to clue anyone else in on the plan, so he focused on one branch at a time as he climbed. His foot slipped on the newly slickened bark and the gun he’d carried fell like an anvil to the ground.

  He cursed silently, then looked up, determined to achieve his goal and once again he began to climb, barely able to maintain his grip over the snow crusted branches, until he’d finally reached the thick shoot that hung over the roof in front of the bedroom window.

  He inched his way along the live wood, willing himself to forget the pain, and praying it would not splinter under his weight.

  Once his feet touched the hand-split shingle-covered gable roof, he crawled up next to the window. His chest heaved from exertion and he took a moment to collect himself before daring a peek inside the children’s room.

  Hannah sat at the edge of the bed, glaring straight ahead, a stoic expression on her face as the intruder held a gun to her face.

  Eli’s heart thumped fiercely inside of him. His fists clenched together, his breath now coming in ragged heaves as he tried desperately to gain her attention. To let her know he was there. That everything would be all right.

  Even at the thought, he knew he could not make that promise, he could only hope it was the truth.

  The sound of the cocking gun nearly tore his heart from his chest.

  Hannah’s eyes closed.

  “Wait!” Archie yelled. “I’ll do it.” The boy stepped into what looked like an oversized potato sack and pulled the sides up around him. When he twisted backward, he spotted Eli.

  Finally.

  His eyes nearly popped from his head.

  Eli placed a finger over his near puckered lips and Archie nodded discreetly.

  After Mirabelle climbed into the sack, the man cinched it closed.

  Why did I have to lose my gun?

  He shoved his hands through his too-long hair.

  He grunted, biting his lip at the sudden jolt of pain in his shoulder.

  The intruder plopped the canvas bag down on the roof just outside of the window and Eli raised his eyes heavenward in thanks.

  He placed his hand toward the top of the bag where he guessed was Archie’s shoulder.

  “It’s going to be all right,” he whispered. “I’m here. Just stay still and stay quiet.”

  The window behind him opened, startling him, and his foot slipped. He caught himself before sliding too far down the sloped roof, then twisted back to see Jonah standing inside another bedroom on the opposite side of the overhanging branch.

  “I thought this might be a little easier,” he whispered.

  Eli laid back against the roof and closed his eyes, his hands overlapping on his chest as he willed himself to breathe.

  That would have been a great plan ten minutes ago.

  And he cursed himself for not thinking of it earlier. It would have saved him a mountain of pain. And he swore that if anything happened to Hannah or the others because of that, he would never forgive himself.

  He shook his head and sat up, reaching once again for the bag.

  Hannah would be worried sick. He needed to let her know he was there, that the children would be safe, so he darted his head in front of the window again in the hopes of getting Hannah’s attention this time. To his relief, the man’s back remained to him long enough that Hannah finally caught him staring at her.

  Relief washed visibly over her face and she took a deep breath and nodded. Then, with a quick warning jut of her head, Eli realized that the brute was returning to the window, so he ducked from view, his back pressed up against the side of the dormer.

  The intruder’s hand popped out of the window as he placed a coiled rope at the head of the children’s sack.

  Without wasting another moment, Eli slipped his hands below the bag and slid it toward him, out of the immediate view of anyone in their bedroom. He heaved the bag up into his arms and handed it to a waiting Jonah. Once the children were safely inside the house, Eli returned to the window in time to see the assailant raise his hand with a knife, ready to strike out at a living, breathing Brant.

  “Now!” Eli cupped his mouth with his hands and yelled loudly through the window.

  The bedroom door burst open,
slamming against the back wall.

  CRACK!

  Eli wasn’t prepared for the intruder to be hurled through the window like a stone in a catapult, but there he was, sliding down the newly storm-soaked slope of the roof. He reached out in attempt to grab hold of the man’s arm, grazing the tips of his fingers, but it was too late. His body washed over the side of the house and plummeted to the ground below.

  Eli sat down on the roof, his elbows on his knees, and dropped his head, taking a moment to collect himself.

  It was over.

  He exhaled through his mouth, then breathed in deeply the crisp evening air.

  It was over.

  He couldn’t wait to see Hannah. To hold her.

  Without another moment’s hesitation, he climbed in through the bedroom window.

  It appeared as if Rafe had already removed her bindings, and she stood next to the bed, rubbing her wrists. When she looked up and caught his gaze, she smiled, then slowly made her way toward him until she stood mere inches away.

  She stared at him as if searching for something in his eyes.

  “I said no—”

  That was all Eli needed to hear. He closed the small distance between them in an instant, dropping his head toward her, and, as if in one fluid motion, he cradled the side of her face, his thumb caressing her cheek, and wrapped his good arm around her back, both pulling her upward to meet his kiss.

  When their lips parted, he still held her close, his forehead resting against hers.

  “I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you again,” he said, pulling her a little tighter against him.

  She pulled away from him enough to look up into his eyes, her arms still holding him close.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she said with a smile.

  “Hannah Redbourne, you continue to amaze me. I thought I knew what love was six years ago when I let you go, but you’ve shown me just how wrong I was to let you walk away from me.”

  “Actually, you pushed me away from you,” she reminded him with a smile as she wove her arms beneath his.