Full Steam Ahead

by Karen Witemeyer

  Darius stepped back, thankful that physical force would not be necessary. “Where did she go after she left the livery?”

  “To the stage office. Though I don’t know what good that’d do her if she were trying to outrun those other two fellers. Next stage won’t leave until tomorrow.”

  “How much of a lead did she have on them?”

  “’Bout thirty minutes. Them other fellas rented fresh horses and set out after her. Said she was their sister, always playing practical jokes on them like stealing their horse and leaving them to ride double. Seemed odd, but wasn’t my place to question, so I just pointed them in her direction and told them to take better care of my stock. Didn’t like the idea of them running the poor beasts ragged.”

  Darius nodded and crossed over to the livery wall to retrieve the hayfork. With a dip of his chin, he handed it back to the man. “Thanks for your help.”

  The man accepted the fork—and apparently the unspoken apology, as well. “I had me a gal once. If I had chased after her like you’re doing instead of letting her run off with my best friend, maybe I’d still have her.” He stuck his straw back into his mouth and turned toward the waiting hay wagon. “Hope you find her.”

  “I won’t stop until I do,” Darius murmured, then set off for the stage office.

  CHAPTER 32

  The crack of a gunshot jerked Nicole from her doze. Her heels kicked out in reaction, ramming into the side of the wagon. Pain ricocheted up to her knees. A small moan escaped before she could smother the sound. Not that anyone would hear her over the creaking wagon wheels, harness, and . . . were those pounding hoofbeats approaching from behind?

  The Jenkins brothers. It had to be. Heart skittering and slamming around in her chest like a bird desperate to escape a glass box, it was all she could do to remain hidden when every instinct demanded she throw back the tarpaulin and see what was going on.

  “Hold freighter!” Fletcher’s voice. Nicole bit her lip. “Hold, or the next bullet goes into your back.”

  “Whoa, there,” the man called to his team, his voice surprisingly steady as the wagon began to slow. Hoofbeats pounded by on either side, drawing Nicole a vivid picture of the brothers surrounding the unsuspecting freighter.

  “Reach for that shotgun, and you’ll regret it,” Will said.

  Nicole clenched her eyes shut, praying the man would obey. Two against one were unlikely odds in any case, but she’d prodded the bear with Fletcher earlier. No doubt he’d nursed his rage over the last hours. It’d take little to push him over the edge.

  “I don’t take kindly to threats, son.” The freighter’s gravelly voice resonated with authority and impatience. Nicole could imagine him staring Will down with narrowed eyes until the younger man looked away. “I got no goods worth stealing unless you’re craving new saw blades and coffee stores. Why don’t you two fellas take your little raidin’ party elsewhere.”

  “We don’t want your goods, old man,” Fletcher growled. “We want the woman.”

  “Woman?” The freighter gave a hoot of laughter. “Shoot, boy. I ain’t had a female ride a route with me since the time Clarabelle Stanton paid me twenty dollars to let her ride along to Dever’s Woods to meet the feller who’d been courtin’ her through letters. Poor cowpoke took one look at the six-foot woman and ran screamin’ for cover, leaving me to cart the snifflin’, sobbin’ creature all the way back to Liberty. No twenty dollars is worth that grief, I promise ya. I don’t know who set you after me, but you got the wrong freighter.”

  “You’re the only freighter that fits the timeline. I got witnesses who remember seeing her in your vicinity before you left and none who recall seeing her afterward.”

  “You callin’ me a liar, boy?” A chunk of granite would have been softer than that voice.

  Nicole winced. Why couldn’t Fletcher just take the man at his word and let him pass? If the two powder kegs kept throwing sparks at each other, it wouldn’t be long before something exploded.

  “Maybe she stowed away.”

  “Impossible,” the freighter insisted. “I tied down the canvas myself and pulled out immediately after. I never left the shipment unsupervised.”

  “Then you won’t mind if we take a look.” She could hear the snide smile in his tone, and her pulse rate tripled. She was done for.

  Out of options, Nicole crawled to the end of the wagon bed. She peeked from beneath the tarpaulin and released a breath when she saw the thick stand of cypress trees lining the road. She had to go now, before they started searching the wagon. It was her only chance. Pulse throbbing, she counted to three, flung herself over the tailgate, and sprinted for the trees. Fletcher’s shout echoed all too soon behind her. Hoofbeats followed.

  If she could just get closer to the river, where the woods grew thicker, his mount wouldn’t be able to maneuver and she’d have the advantage. She could find cover. Hide herself.

  But even as the thought formed in her mind, she recognized the flaw. Fletcher was too close. There’d be no escape this time.

  She ran in a zigzag pattern, darting around trees in the hopes of slowing him down, yet still he gained on her. The rush of the river grew louder, urging her not to give up. She ran faster. Harder. Her shoes churned the soft earth.

  Hooves echoed directly behind her. Closer. Beside her. Nicole caught a glimpse of Fletcher’s looming shape in the edge of her vision. She cried out and dodged sideways, but not far enough. A heavy weight slammed into her back, knocking her to the ground.

  “No!” She clawed at the earth, desperate to free herself. Tight arms locked around her legs, trapping her. Pinning her. She tried to kick him, but his weight wouldn’t budge. Then something hard connected with the side of her head, stealing her senses. Her vision blurred and her ears rang. She ceased her struggles, hoping the stillness would help reestablish her equilibrium. Unfortunately, Fletcher took that as a sign of capitulation and roughly hauled her to her feet.

  “I’m in no mood for any more of your games, Nicki,” Fletcher all but spat at her. “You’ll hand over the dagger or I’ll . . . What’s this?” The arm he’d wrapped around her middle brushed against the knife she’d stashed in her waistband. Grabbing the handle, he yanked it free. “Another fake? Where’s the real one? Where’s the Lafitte Dagger?”

  He shook her so hard she feared she’d lose consciousness. She almost wished she would, just to escape his bellowing.

  “Answer me!” He flung Jacob’s dagger aside. The boy’s treasured blade clattered against a nearby tree trunk before falling into the dirt and pine needles littering the ground.

  A moment later the flat of Fletcher’s hand slapped her face. Stinging pain ripped through her. Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes.

  “Where is the dagger?” he roared.

  “I don’t have it!” Whipping her head around to face Fletcher, she glared at him defiantly. “Did you think I would be so foolish as to carry it with me when I knew you’d follow?”

  “Liar!” His hands roved over her body, searching for the dagger.

  Nicole slapped at his hands. “Beast! Stop that!” But he was too strong. Too determined. The only thing that made his hands’ moving over her bearable was the fact that he was so intent on discovering a bit of metal, he didn’t linger over softer areas. Still she felt soiled by his touch, and when he moved to feel about beneath her skirts, she kicked so wildly he had to call his brother for help.

  “You take care of that freighter?” Fletcher grunted the question as he wrapped both arms around Nicole’s middle, trapping her arms to her sides, and heaving her backward until her feet left the ground.

  Will dismounted and strode forward, accepting the squirming package Fletcher thrust at him. “Yep. Took his shotgun and knocked him cold with my pistol butt. Then set the wagon off with a slap to the lead horse’s rump. He won’t be interferin’.”

  Nicole screamed anyway, hoping someone, anyone might hear. But the sound died against the wall of trees closing her off from
the road.

  Will’s arms tightened around her midsection, crushing her chest and making it impossible to draw a full breath. Her screams faded into whimpers, which turned into silent tears of humiliation as Fletcher’s rough, filthy hand climbed up her stocking-clad leg. Her gaze curled upward toward heaven as she tried to distance herself from what was happening. Thankfully, Fletcher was efficient, and found the garter sheath quickly.

  “Empty,” he growled, then yanked up her skirts to verify with his eyes what his fingers had told him. “Where is it?” he demanded as he flung her skirts back down and pushed to his feet. “Where’s the dagger?”

  Nicole pressed her lips together in answer.

  Fletcher stared at her long and hard. She stared back. Then all at once he turned away. Her heart soared for one precious moment of victory before plummeting to her toes when he grabbed her away from Will and started marching deeper into the trees.

  “Stand guard,” Fletcher ordered. “I got an idea.”

  “Where’re you taking her?”

  Nicole wanted to know the same thing.

  “To the river.”

  The river? Nicole struggled to keep pace with Fletcher’s longer stride. Every time he jerked her arm forward, she nearly fell on her face.

  “I won’t tell you.” She tossed the words at his back, wishing she had something more substantial to throw. “No matter what you do, I’ll never reveal the dagger’s hiding place.”

  The look he flung back at her chilled her blood. “We’ll see.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Darius held his mount to a slow canter as he tracked the wagon wheel grooves he’d been following since leaving Liberty. Not knowing how long it would take to catch up to the freighter, he didn’t want to risk exhausting his mount. Yet the restraint was taking its toll. A giant clock ticked in his head, the sound growing louder the longer he rode without overtaking the wagon. Had the Jenkins brothers found Nicole? Was she even now suffering at their hands?

  His tracking skills were minimal at best—growing up in New York he’d had little use for the skill, after all—so he didn’t even try to decipher the myriad hoofprints lining the road. No, he focused on the wheel marks, praying they were indeed from the freight wagon and not some random farm vehicle.

  Even if the Jenkins brothers had already made off with Nicole, Holsten would be able to tell him what happened.

  If the man was still alive.

  A sweat droplet beading on Darius’s forehead rolled into the corner of his right eye. He swiped his sleeve impatiently against the sting and squinted back at the wheel tracks. So intent was he on the ground directly in front of his horse that he nearly missed the buckskin-clad man limping unsteadily toward him along the west side of the road. A quick glance north revealed a listing wagon bed protruding from between a stand of pines.

  Darius immediately reigned in his mount. “You Holsten?”

  The man lifted his head, his stare hostile. A line of blood trickled along his temple from beneath his dust-laden hat. “Who’s askin’?”

  “Name’s Thornton.” When no recognition brightened the man’s eyes, Darius hastened to add a bit of context to his name. “I bought the Oakhaven plantation outside of Liberty a year or so ago.”

  Holsten cocked his head. “The crazy easterner who blows things up?”

  Darius winced. Perhaps he should have left the context off. “Only in the name of scientific inquiry, I assure you. But my choice of pastime is not at issue here. I’m looking for a woman. Average height, brown hair, red dress. I believe she stowed away in your wagon.”

  “What you want with her?”

  Darius bit back a growl. Must the man respond to everything he said with a question? Getting information out of Holsten was like getting steam out of lukewarm water.

  “She is to be my wife,” Darius said, leaning over the saddle to better meet the man’s eyes, “and she’s in danger. I believe you may have had a run-in with the two villains chasing her.” He tipped his head in the direction of the abandoned wagon.

  The freighter stared up at him as if he couldn’t make up his mind as to whether or not Darius could be trusted.

  “Please,” Darius begged. “If you saw which way they headed or know anything about Nicole’s whereabouts, please tell me. They will stop at nothing to get what they seek. I fear for her safety.”

  “I do, too. It’s why I’m hiking down this dad-blamed road with my head poundin’ and my eyes crossed from the pistol butt I took to the skull. Didn’t even know the gal was there until them yahoos started waving their guns around, demandin’ I hand her over. Poor thing lit out like a scared rabbit, hoppin’ out of the wagon and dashin’ for the trees as if she were lookin’ for some kind of hole to hide herself in. Didn’t see her for long,” the freighter admitted, scratching at his beard, “but I do recall that red dress of hers. She’ll have a hard time hidin’ anywhere with a flag like that waving around.”

  “Where?” Darius demanded, jerking straight in the saddle and scanning the trees for clues.

  “See that sapling with the broken crown?” Holsten pointed to a spot about ten yards behind Darius, where a young pine’s top dangled sideways. “I saw her run that way, headin’ toward the river. The first feller lit out after her, cursin’ and hollerin’.”

  Darius didn’t wait for more explanation. He kicked his mount into action and raced for the sapling.

  “The second one’s got my shotgun as well as a pistol,” Holsten called out after him. Darius shifted the reins to his left hand and retrieved his percussion pistol with his right.

  “Don’t let me be too late, Lord,” he whispered. “Not this time.”

  Nicole gasped and sputtered when Fletcher finally yanked her head out of the river. Wet hair slashed across her face, making it even harder to breathe. Coughs wracked her body as she fought to expel the water she’d swallowed. She couldn’t see anything, feel anything. Her entire being focused on drawing air into her aching lungs.

  How many times had he forced her head under the water? Four? Five? She’d lost count. Waist-deep in the Trinity, she couldn’t feel her legs any longer. Her energy flagged. The cruel hand clutching the hair at the top of her head might very well be the only thing keeping her upright. The river’s current tugged at her sodden skirts, tempting her to just float away and leave her troubles behind.

  But leaving her troubles behind also meant leaving her family behind. Leaving Darius. She didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to feel his strong arms about her, to feel his lips press into hers, to hear him whisper words of love in her ear.

  “Where . . . is . . . the dagger?” Fletcher’s growl brought Nicole’s mind back into focus. His heaving breaths told her he was winded, as well, weakening. If she could last just a little longer, maybe he would falter.

  Not wanting to waste the energy it would take to choke out the same answer he’d already punished her for multiple times, Nicole kept her mouth shut.

  “Come on, Nicki. This feud has gone on . . . long enough. The Lafitte Dagger . . . belongs to the Jenkins family. Your . . . grandfather stole it from us.” He paused and glanced over at the riverbank. Searching for answers? Patience? A rock to finish her off with? “Your father’s had his whole life to reap the dagger’s rewards. It’s our turn.”

  His grip tightened on her hair, and terror leaked into Nicole’s veins. He was going to send her under again.

  “Give up the dagger, and I swear I’ll not threaten you or anyone in your family again.”

  The pressure built against her neck. She tried to resist, but she’d lost too much strength. Fletcher’s arm slowly bent her head down. The water rose up to meet her.

  No! Not again.

  Gulping what air she could, she braced herself for the shock of cold and the smothering swirl of water.

  She couldn’t forfeit . . . had to hold tight . . . stay strong. For her father. For Darius. If Fletcher found him with the dagger, he—

  Her face hit the water, then
the icy blanket closed over her head. She didn’t fight it. Not anymore. It did no good. Yet when her feeble supply of air grew thin and her lungs protested, panic crawled over her like a thousand tiny spiders.

  She started to thrash, grabbing at his hand even though she knew it would do her no good. He wouldn’t let her up until the black edges of unconsciousness threatened. Yet this time something changed. A garbled rumble reached her through the water, the sound deep and resonant. An instant later, Fletcher yanked her upward, blessed air finding its way back into her lungs.

  “Nicole!” The deep rumble she’d heard underwater turned into an anguished roar.

  She knew that voice. Nicole clawed at the dripping hair swathing her face, desperate to confirm with her eyes what her ears had already told her.

  Darius! Her heart gave such a leap of joy it nearly flew from her chest. But as quickly as it leapt, it plummeted to the ground like a bird shot out of the sky. What was he doing here? He was supposed to be on the way to Galveston with the dagger.

  He met her eyes briefly before turning his attention to Will. Only then did she realize that the two men had pistols trained on each other. Will stood on the riverbank slightly upstream from her position, while Darius, still mounted, was situated closer to the trees.

  “Let her go, Fletcher,” Darius demanded, “or I’ll shoot your brother.”

  “You can try, but he’ll get a shot off, as well. Then who will rescue the lady?” Fletcher spun Nicole around in a half circle, forcing her into deeper water. Her footing slipped. She squealed as the current swept her feet out from under her.

  “Nicole!”

  Fletcher grasped her about the waist and hoisted her upright, just as a gunshot rent the air, his distraction a success. Darius fell from his horse, and in that moment, Nicole didn’t care one fig about the blasted Lafitte Dagger. All she cared about was the man she loved and whether or not he was alive.