An Agent for Phoebe

by Nerys Leigh

  Her chest spasmed in panic and she stared at the front of his shirt, desperately searching for any sign of movement. She almost cried in relief when the material expanded and contracted with his breathing.

  He was alive. They were both alive. For now.

  She shifted her attention to working out where they were.

  Her right cheek was pressed against something hard. Wood. And it was moving.

  Some kind of wagon.

  She swiveled her eyes up to where light filtered through a cream-colored cloth. Canvas.

  They were covered with a canvas sheet and lying in a wagon.

  Her hands were still bound behind her and her mouth covered with the bandanna. It smelled of stale sweat. They could have at least used something clean, seeing as they were about to kill her. Good manners were becoming so rare nowadays.

  She almost laughed out loud at that. There was a chance whatever they’d used to knock her and Jonah out had scrambled her mind.

  Shaking away the mild hysteria, she forced her still-fuzzy brain to concentrate. They were being taken somewhere to die. They had to get out of there.

  Edging forwards, she nudged Jonah’s forehead with her own.

  There was no response.

  She did it again, harder this time, and grimaced at the extra pain the impact set off in her head.

  He jerked backwards, his eyes springing open. He focused on her blearily, as if he couldn’t quite work out what he was seeing. It took his eyes several seconds to clear.

  He blinked at her then moved his eyes to take in their surroundings, as she had.

  She turned her head to rub the bandanna over her mouth against her shoulder, trying to work it free. Seeing what she was doing, Jonah did the same with his.

  Their captors had tied their gags tight and it took her a good half minute, but finally the material slipped from her mouth and she was able to edge it down and off her chin.

  Leaning in close to him, she whispered, “We need to get out of here.”

  He raised one eyebrow as if to say, ‘You think so?’

  For once, she didn’t want to slap it off his face.

  He continued to work at his gag, finally giving up and looking at her with pleading eyes.

  Her heart was suddenly pattering in her chest. Trying to ignore it, she leaned forward and took hold of the bandanna across his mouth with her teeth, having to tilt her head slightly so their noses wouldn’t collide.

  Which wasn’t at all like a kiss.

  So there were only a couple of layers of material between her lips and his, and she could smell his earthy, not at all unpleasant aroma. There was nothing romantic about the situation at all.

  They were in a life or death situation, for goodness’ sake!

  With a little more force than necessary, she pulled harder at the bandanna. His head jerked forward and their foreheads collided.

  Wincing, she mouthed, “Sorry.”

  Despite the fact that he had a pink mark on his head where she’d now hit him twice, his eyes shone with amusement.

  Rolling her eyes, she leaned forward to try again, this time pulling more gently at a different angle. The bandanna finally slid from his mouth and she moved back, just in case she was tempted to stay there.

  Which she wasn’t. At all.

  His eyebrow twitched. She narrowed her eyes, silently daring it to move.

  To his credit, it didn’t.

  “Turn over so I can untie you,” he whispered, so softly she could barely hear him.

  She nodded, grateful for the opportunity to put her back to him. Honestly, what was wrong with her? Perhaps the stress of the situation was getting to her.

  Yes, that must be it.

  Slowly, she wriggled onto her left side, trying not to disturb the canvas sheet above them and hoping the movement of the wagon would fool anyone watching.

  “This isn’t the way we took the accountant.”

  She froze at the sound of the voice coming from near the front of the wagon. It was Fletcher.

  “You really want to go back there and find his body? You have any idea what that’s going to look like after two weeks?”

  Fletcher paused. “Good point.”

  There was a lengthy silence during which Jonah’s fingers found hers and began to work on her bindings.

  “You think it was quick?” Fletcher asked.

  “I’m trying not to think about it at all. I still can’t believe you talked me into that. And that I’m doing it again now.”

  “Right. Yeah.” There was a pause. “But this time there’s a woman.”

  “So?”

  Phoebe silently urged Jonah to go faster. Any moment, their captors could discover they’d woken.

  “It just doesn’t seem right with a woman.”

  “You want it to be you?”

  “No.”

  “Then keep your mouth shut.”

  Her heart pounded. It was taking too long. They would be found out before they could escape.

  And then the pressure on her wrists eased a little, Jonah pulled at the rope, and suddenly she was free.

  Relieved beyond measure, she rolled back over to untie the rope binding his hands.

  He looked back at her over his shoulder as she worked. “I can–”

  The canvas above them flipped back.

  Bright sunshine glared into Phoebe’s face.

  A silhouette loomed over them. A silhouette holding a gun.

  “They’re awake.” The man’s eyes widened as he peered down at them. “And she’s loose! I told you to use more of that stuff.”

  The wagon slowed to a halt.

  “Any more and it might have killed them.” Fletcher climbed from the driver’s seat into the wagon bed.

  Phoebe looked around for something to help them. There were no other men that she could see, but there was nothing to help them either.

  “They’re going to die anyway. Hurry up and tie her back up, then knock them out again. If there’s anyone out here, we don’t want them seeing what we’re doing.”

  Fletcher picked up the rope she’d been tied with and pulled her hands back behind her.

  “You won’t get away with this,” Jonah said, squirming over to face her, his hands still bound behind his back.

  If only she’d been faster in untying him. Maybe together they could have done something.

  “We’re Pinkerton agents,” he went on, his voice steadier than she felt. “You’ll have other agents and the law swarming all over the mine. If you let us go, we can help you.”

  Fletcher didn’t answer. He also didn’t stop tying her hands.

  “You don’t have to do this,” she said as he finished. Maybe they’d listen to a woman. “Please. I don’t want to die.”

  Fletcher glanced at the other man. “Jones…”

  “Shut up, Fletcher.”

  “But…”

  “I said, shut up. We’re in too deep now.”

  Shaking his head, Fletcher pulled the small glass bottle and cloth from his pocket.

  He dripped some of the liquid from the bottle onto the cloth and jammed it over Jonah’s mouth and nose.

  “No!” Phoebe cried out, watching in horror as her husband’s struggles lessened and then stilled.

  “Please!” She hated pleading, but she had no other choice. “You can let us go and leave. We won’t tell anyone. We don’t even know who you are. Pl–”

  Her words were swallowed in the cloth Fletcher shoved over her nose and mouth. The same sweet, cloying scent forced its way into her lungs.

  “It’ll be easier on both of us if you don’t struggle,” he told her.

  As blackness claimed her once more, she wondered if it would be for the last time.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Phoebe? Phoebe! Phoebe, wake up!”

  She could hear her name being called, but she couldn’t answer. Why was it so difficult to wake up?

  “Phoebe!”

  She grimaced. “Not so loud.” He
r head was throbbing, even worse than before.

  “Oh, thank the Lord.”

  She opened her eyes to see Jonah sag back onto his heels beside her. His hands were still tied behind his back. It was only then that she noticed hers were too. At least the bandannas were gone. And the ground wasn’t moving so they were no longer in the wagon. She appeared to be lying on grass.

  “Am I dead?”

  Jonah gave her a small smile. “I hope not, because if you are, so am I.”

  She sat up, wincing when her head objected. “I have the worst headache. And I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

  “Me too. Must be the chloroform they used on us.”

  She looked around them properly for the first time. They were in the middle of a clearing surrounded by pine trees. There was no sign of the wagon, or Fletcher and Jones.

  “Where are they?”

  “No idea. They were gone when I came to.”

  “They just left us?”

  “Looks like it.”

  An intense feeling of relief settled over her. Against all the odds, she and Jonah were alive. “I thought they were going to kill us.”

  “Yeah.” He shuffled around on his knees to face away from her and sat back. “Help me get these ropes off.”

  With some difficulty, she got onto her knees and moved so her back was to his. Their hands touched. For a few moments he didn’t move, and then he wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed. Were his hands shaking? But then he started work on the knot binding her wrists and the moment was gone, and she’d probably imagined it anyway.

  “Brewer told them to kill us,” she said as he worked. “Why didn’t they?”

  “Maybe they changed their mind. Or maybe they didn’t have the stomach for killing a woman. Right now I’m just going to be grateful and not look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  It took him a while to loosen the knot, but eventually he pulled it free. Rubbing at her sore wrists, she turned round and set about untying his rope. She flinched at the sight of the red marks she revealed when she pulled it away. She had marks on her own wrists, but his were much worse. He’d been struggling harder than she had, and it had torn his skin.

  He eased his hands forward and massaged his blood into action, wincing when he jostled the wounds.

  “Are they bleeding?”

  He turned his hands over to check all the way around. “Not right now.”

  She took hold of his right hand and pulled it to her, inspecting the raw crimson line on the back of his wrist. “You should cover this so it doesn’t open up again.”

  She felt in her pocket for the handkerchief she always carried. Thankfully, it was still there.

  “Is that clean?” He eyed the handkerchief as she folded it into a narrow strip.

  “Of course it’s clean. Now give me your hand and hold still.”

  He held out his hand and she wrapped the handkerchief around his wrist twice.

  His hissed in a breath as she tied a firm knot to keep it in place. “Not so tight.”

  “It needs to be tight so it doesn’t slip.”

  He waited until she was done. “I guess it doesn’t hurt as much as being shoved out of bed in my sleep.”

  “Well then, why are you complaining?”

  A smile softened his eyes. “Like you said, if a man is hurt, he tells his wife.”

  Despite their situation, his words sparked a little bubble of joy that made her feel too warm in the chilly mountain air. She looked away, in case it showed on her face, and pushed to her feet. “Where do you think we are?”

  He stood beside her. “They must have taken us north or west. South or east would have taken us to Central City or Black Hawk.” He patted his jacket pockets and frowned. “They took my watch.”

  She felt for her own and came up empty. “Mine too.”

  The idea that they had been rifling through her pockets annoyed her no end. Someone was going to suffer when they got back.

  He turned in a slow circle. “We need to get out of this forest so we can see the sun. Then I’ll be able to tell roughly what time it is and which way is north.”

  She scanned the gloom beneath the trees. “That looks like daylight through there.” She pointed to a smattering of blue amongst the needle-fringed branches.

  They headed in the direction of the breaks in the foliage and soon emerged into a rocky clearing that ended in a steep drop. Rounded peaks stretched into the distance where hazy sunshine painted the hills and valleys gold and orange. Wisps of cloud streaked the glowing sky where the sun edged towards the horizon.

  It was the most beautiful thing Phoebe had ever seen. And the most terrifying.

  No houses, no buildings, no smoke from chimneys or light from lamps. No sign of another human being at all. No indication of where they were or how to get back.

  She glanced at the trees behind them. The gloom beneath their branches, which hadn’t bothered her before, now looked cold and forbidding.

  “What are we going to do?” she whispered.

  Jonah took hold of her shoulders and turned her to face him. “We’re going to get back to Black Hawk and make sure Brewer faces justice for what he’s done.”

  She wanted to believe him, but she’d never been so afraid in her life. Not even when Norman walked out the door for the last time. “How?”

  “I don’t know, but we are. I am going to get you through this. Do you believe me?” His eyes flicked between hers as he waited for her answer.

  Blinking back tears, she nodded. She had to believe him. She had no other choice.

  And then he did something completely unexpected. Pulling her against him, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “Then trust me to get us back safely. Because whatever I have to do, we are going to get out of this.”

  She should have pushed him away, but she liked it too much. She liked the comfort of his arms surrounding her, the warmth of his body pressed against hers, the strength of his will to take care of her. So she rested her head against his chest, closed her eyes, and allowed herself to take strength from a man for the first time in a long time.

  And despite all her best efforts, despite the impending end of their marriage, despite the knowledge that nothing good could come of it, the wall around her heart crumbled a little more.

  ~ ~ ~

  He needed to let go. He was holding her for far too long. Any moment now she’d push him away.

  But she didn’t, and he couldn’t seem to make his arms let go.

  She smelled so good. Was it lavender? Roses? Just her? He wasn’t sure, but it made him want to breathe her in. She was all soft curves and warmth against him, her head resting on his chest and her arms wrapped around his waist.

  He really didn’t want to let go.

  But she was afraid, and although he’d initially drawn her into his arms to comfort her, the embrace was now feeling more and more like it was for his benefit rather than hers. The last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of her fear. He wasn’t that kind of man.

  Not that she seemed to object to being held. In fact, he was slightly surprised she hadn’t pushed him off the cliff yet.

  Still, he really ought to let go. Just a few more seconds and he would.

  It was more than a few seconds, and it finally took her gently drawing away from him to get him to release her.

  She darted a glance at him and then looked away, as if embarrassed she’d allowed him to hold her. “I suppose we should start walking.”

  He had to swallow before he could speak. “Yes. Um.”

  He lifted one hand to remove his hat before remembering it wasn’t there. Somewhere along the line, while they were unconscious, he seemed to have lost it. Given the circumstances, it was the least of his problems, but it nevertheless angered him. He loved that hat. He’d had it for years and it had molded itself to fit him perfectly. A good hat was like a good pair of boots; once you’d found it, you hung onto it for as long as possible.

  He lo
oked towards the sunset. “I figure it must be between five and six, so we’ve got about an hour before we need to find shelter for the night.”

  At his mention of having to sleep outside, her eyes widened in horror. “Maybe we’re not far from the town. We could get back before dark, couldn’t we?”

  “Maybe.” But he would have laid good money on the answer being no.

  “How did they get us here?” she asked. “I didn’t see any way a wagon could have got up here.”

  “Let’s go check.”

  She looked back at the spectacular vista. “It’s really very pretty.”

  “Yup.”

  “It’s a pity we didn’t get to see it under better circumstances.”

  He smiled. “Yup.”

  They returned to the clearing in which they’d woken and he studied the ground for tracks. “Horses but no wagon,” he said, pointing out the impressions in the soft soil. “I figure they must have gone as far as they could in the wagon and then taken us on horseback the rest of the way.”

  Her eyes followed the route the horses had taken into the trees. “So we follow these?”

  It was as good a plan as any. “As far as we can, yes.”

  She was silent for a few moments. “We’re a long way from town, aren’t we?”

  “More than likely.” Probably a very, very long way, but he didn’t say it.

  She drew herself up, squaring her shoulders. “Then we’d better get going.”

  Smiling to himself, he followed her into the trees.

  She would be all right. She was strong.

  Just so long as he could keep them alive.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Phoebe was terrified.

  She’d never spent a night outside, not once in her life. She’d read stories of people who trekked across the country to settle, pioneers traveling for months with only a canvas wagon cover between them and the wilderness. As far as she was concerned, they were out of their minds.

  People weren’t meant to sleep outside. That was what houses were for, so they could sleep in a warm bed with a mattress and pillows and blankets and a cheery fire in the hearth, and walls and windows to keep out the weather and the wildlife.

  She wasn’t meant to sleep outside!