Emma's Wish

by Margery Scott

  Emma rolled away and turned over to face him. Her nightdress had crept up during the night, and she tugged it down to cover herself. Sam's gaze followed her motions, and she blushed as she recalled the way she'd craved his touch the night before. "No," she protested. "That can't be. I never would have slept that way."

  "Believe me, honey. You're deader than the folks on Boot Hill when you're sleeping."

  Emma grinned. "I've been told that once or twice before."

  "I came to bed after you and snuck out every morning so you wouldn't see what you did to me."

  "Is that why you looked so tired all the time?"

  Sam nodded.

  "But now you can come to bed, and you don't have to get up early."

  "Yep. But I expect I'll be just as tired," he said with a teasing smile. He drew her towards him and kissed her soundly.

  Her senses reeled. Mercy, how could she want him again? This reaction to his touch couldn't be normal. Surely she would have heard about this from the other married ladies in town. Or would she? Perhaps they all felt a little ... immoral. They wouldn't advertise that, would they?

  The sound of hoofbeats outside drew her attention. Sam slid out of bed Emma leaned back on the pillow and watched as Sam slid out of bed and crossed the room to the window. He really was extraordinary, she thought, noticing the play of muscles across his back and hips with each movement. She felt herself blush as the thought of how those muscles had moved all night floated into her mind.

  "It's Fred." Sam picked up his underwear and trousers and slipped them on. "You stay here," he said. "I'll get rid of him and be right back."

  Emma closed her eyes and tugged the covers around her neck. She had a thousand chores to do, but right now, she could only think of one thing she wanted to do. And as soon as Sam got back, she'd take care of it.

  She was almost asleep when the door flew open and banged against the wall. Sam stood in the doorway, his face pale and drawn. "Emma! Get up! The children are missing."

  Chapter 19

  The room spun. Emma felt the breath whoosh from her lungs. "Missing? What do you mean they're missing? How can that be? They were with Fred--"

  "Get dressed. Fred can fill you in while I saddle a horse." Sam grabbed a rifle from behind the bedroom door and headed back down the stairs.

  Emma's heart hammered in her chest. Guilt washed over her. The children should have been at home. They should have been with her. This was all her fault.

  Thoughts spun through her mind as she bounded out of bed and roughly pulled on the shirt and skirt she'd worn the day before, leaving the corset and petticoats on the chair beside the bed. Panic threatened to engulf her as she slipped on her stockings and shoes, and she had to pause for a moment and take a few deep breaths while she silently lectured herself on the futility of hysteria.

  Fred was standing at the front door, circling the brim of his worn leather hat between his fingers.

  "What happened?" she cried.

  Fred's face was pale, his concern etched in the lines on his face. He shook his head. "I'm so sorry, Emma. You know I'd sooner cut of my right arm than see anythin' happen to those young'uns. I just don't know what happened. They went out to the barn first thing this morning to check on a litter of kittens one of the barn cats just had last night. When I hollered at them to come for breakfast, they didn't answer. So I went looking. And they was gone."

  Emma couldn't believe what she was hearing. How could three children just disappear? "Did you look for them?"

  What a silly question! As soon as the words escaped her lips, she regretted them.

  "Course I did," Fred said, giving her a look that said he couldn't believe she thought he hadn't searched everywhere he could think of. "I thought they was playing a game with me. You know how young-un's like to get their folks's dander up. But after a spell, I figured something was up when there was so sign of 'em."

  "Oh, God," she prayed aloud. "Please keep them safe." She repeated the words again and again as she and Fred raced across the yard. It took her a few seconds to adjust to the dim light inside the barn, and she paused at the doorway.

  "Why would they run away?" she muttered, more to herself than to Fred.

  Sam took the stallion's reins and led him outside. "I don't think they ran away," he said. "Fred found Becky's doll on the floor of the barn."

  Her doll. Becky wouldn't go anywhere without her doll. But if they didn't run away ...

  Sam's eyes were hard, his jaw tense. "Somebody took them. And when I find them ..." His voice trailed off, but Emma didn't need to hear his plans for whoever was responsible.

  "I'd bet the Howards are behind it," he went on. "I told you they wouldn't take this lying down. They aren't used to losing."

  "What ... how ...?"

  Fred took off his hat and scratched his head. "Lou and me, we saw the Watters boys on the trail yesterday when we took the young'uns home. They was just sittin' perched on a log by the side of the road when we passed by. Didn't think much of it at the time. I shoulda known they was up to something'. You never see them very far from the saloon unless they's gettin' into some kind of mischief."

  "You think they abducted the children?"

  Fred nodded. "Those boys have been troublemakers since the day they was born. They'll do pretty much anythin' for a few dollars.

  "Oh, my God, what if they ...?"

  Sam gripped Emma's shoulders. "Emma. The kids are fine. I'm sure of it. If the Howards did hire the boys to grab the children, and I'm convinced they did, they won't hurt them.

  Fred scowled. "Now that I think about it, I thought I somebody that looked an awful lot like Catherine's father goin' into the saloon yesterday after court let out."

  "You did?"

  "My eyes ain't what they used to be, though, so I can't be sure.

  Sam tugged at the cinch. The horse nickered. "He was probably looking for the Watters boys," Sam commented.

  "What do you think they're going to do with the young'uns, Sam?"

  "They're probably going to meet up with the Howards somewhere. We just have to get to them first."

  "But you don't even know where to start looking."

  "They'll be heading to the train station in Fort Worth. They'll figure if they get them out of Texas and back east, they'll be able to go after custody again. There, they'll most likely win."

  Sam mounted his horse and led him outside. Fred walked beside him, then mounted his own stallion. "First thing we'll do is to go into Charity," Sam said to Fred. "You go and tell the sheriff. Ask him to round up a few men for a search party. I'll check the livery stable. If they're planning on transporting three children, they'll need a buggy bigger than the one they had. Once we know what they're driving, it'll be easier to trail them." Turning to Emma, he added, "You stay here in case they come home."

  Emma met his gaze. "No."

  "Look, Emma--"

  "I'm coming with you."

  "They might come back--"

  "If you're right, they won't be coming here. You need all the help you can get to find them. I'm not staying here waiting, wondering ..."

  "I don't have time to argue with you--"

  "Then don't. Either saddle a horse for me or I'll do it myself after you leave. Your choice."

  A quiver of a smile appeared on Fred's face. "Looks like she's got you, Sam. Better do as she says, 'cause I think she means it."

  Sam muttered a few expletives under his breath, but dismounted and headed back into the barn.

  ***

  The blacksmith dunked the horseshoe in the tub of cold water. A cloud of steam billowed upwards; metal hissed. "Yep," he said. "The Watters boys were in here yesterday looking to rent a carriage. Said they needed the biggest one I had and a couple horses to go with it. Had a five dollar gold piece to pay for it, too."

  "You didn't ask them what they wanted it for?" Sam felt his rage building.

  The blacksmith shrugged. "None of my business." He lifted the horseshoe out of the wat
er and began to examine it.

  Sam turned to leave. He had only taken a few steps when the blacksmith's voice stopped him. "They did say they'd be bringing it back tomorrow night, if that's any help to you."

  "Yeah, it is. Thanks."

  Sam stalked out of the livery stable to where Fred and Emma were waiting. "Looks like we were right."

  "The sheriff's getting a posse together to go looking," Fred announced.

  "A posse? Hell, Fred, they aren't outlaws."

  "Anybody who'd steal somebody else's young'uns is worse than any outlaw."

  Since Fred put it that way, Sam had to agree.

  "He's sending a wire to all the towns between here and Fort Worth, too," Fred went on. "Those varmints won't get those young-uns on that train if I have anything to say about it."

  "Thanks, Fred."

  "I spoke to Mildred at the hotel," Fred added. "The Howards checked out early this morning. Said they were leaving tomorrow morning. So where do you suppose they're holed up until the train comes."

  Fear lay like a slab of stone in Sam's stomach. He scrubbed at his chin, trying to think. "They wouldn't board here in town because too many people know about what happened."

  "What if they didn't go that way?" Fred put in. "It's a crapshoot, Sam. We don't have any idea which way they was going."

  "My gut tells me that's what they're doing. I know these people. They'll do whatever it takes to get what they want. And they want those children. If they get the children back to Boston, I'll never see them again."

  Emma rested her hand on Sam's arm. Her warmth eased his fear, but only a little. "Stop it, Sam," she said. "We'll find them."

  Sam tried to smile, but he couldn't quite manage it. "Let's go. We don't have time to waste."

  ***

  Within an hour, eight men, including Sheriff Holt and one of his deputies, had volunteered to help with the search and were gathered in front of the saloon. The sheriff's eyebrows lifted in surprise when he saw Emma marching down the street towards them carrying a package under her arm.

  Sam's gaze followed the sheriff's, and his breath hitched in his throat. Emma's skirt was gone, replaced by a pair of denim pants which molded to every curve. For a moment, memories of the night before flooded his mind, memories of the smooth skin hidden beneath that rough fabric. He felt his own pants tighten, and forced his mind away from what he and Emma had shared. There would be plenty of time later to think about their relationship once his children were back home where they belonged.

  The sheriff opened his mouth to say something, but before he had a chance, Sam spoke up. "Don't bother wasting your breath," he said with a wry grin. "I already tried to convince her to stay behind, and she won't hear of it. She can ride with me and Fred."

  The sheriff nodded grimly, then turned his attention to the rest of the men who were waiting for instructions. Even though Sam was convinced the Howards had taken the children to Fort Worth, he couldn't afford to ignore any other possibilities. Within minutes, the group had divided up into pairs and were riding out of town, some to search the surrounding countryside, others south towards Austin.

  "You ready?" Sam asked as Emma stuffed the package into one of the saddlebags.

  She swung herself into the saddle, took the reins from Sam, and nodded. "Let's go."

  Within minutes, they had left the town behind and were headed for the train station in Fort Worth. The Howards had a fair head start, but the fact that they were on horseback and the Howards were driving a buggy gave them an advantage. If only there was enough time ...

  Around her, an unending sea of range grass and bluebonnets swayed in the warm spring breeze. Puffy white clouds dotted the sky, and a bird swooped down, disappearing in a stand of trees to her right. A bee buzzed nearby as it flitted from flower to flower.

  At any other time, Emma would have enjoyed the ride, but now, all she could think of was that they weren't riding nearly fast enough to catch up with the children. And if they didn't overtake them ... She couldn't bear to think of that possibility.

  "Can't we go faster?" she asked finally, frustrated at their slow pace.

  Sam shook his head. "I'd like to, Emma, but we can't afford to tire the horses. In this heat, they'll collapse if we don't take it easy on them."

  "But we won't catch them if we don't hurry," she protested.

  Emma understood what Sam was saying and knew deep in her heart that he was right. Nevertheless, patience had never been one of her virtues. She wanted desperately to close the distance between them and the children. With every mile they plodded along at what seemed like a snail's pace, her nerves wound tighter and tighter until she felt as if she was going to fall apart.

  Fred slowed his horse until Sam and Emma caught up with him. "I expect they'll run the horses until they collapse."

  "Oh, those poor animals --"

  Sam reached over and gave Emma's hand a quick squeeze. "I know how you feel, but since we don't know how far ahead of us they are, we have to hope they're forced to stop. Because if they don't ..."

  His voice trailed off. He didn't need to finish the thought. They were very much aware of the words he'd left unspoken.

  ***

  The sun was a bright orange ball hovering on the horizon by the time they rode into Bluebell, a haphazard collection of buildings already showing signs of abandonment.

  They'd stopped at four settlements during the day. Each time, they'd been too late. And each time, Sam had become more and more withdrawn, until they'd ridden in absolute silence for the past few miles.

  Reining in their horses in front of a ramshackle livery stable near the edge of town, Sam and Fred dismounted. Emma planned to stay behind with the horses, but her curiosity got the better of her. She couldn't stand not knowing what was happening. She dismounted, groaning as her muscles cramped in protest. Her thighs burned, and every bone and muscle in her body ached. Biting her lip against the pain, she hobbled into the livery and approached the men.

  As she drew closer, she saw Sam nodding, then reaching into his pocket and pulling out a few coins. He handed them to a bear of a man holding a sledge hammer, who jammed them into his pocket beneath a filthy leather apron.

  "Yeah," the man said through a mouthful of broken and blackened teeth. "I seen 'em. That there's theirs." He pointed to a dust-covered buggy.

  Emma's heart thundered. That meant only one thing. The Howards - and the children - were close by.

  "Where did they go?" Sam asked.

  Emma recognized the effort it was taking Sam to control himself and not force the information out of the man through physical means.

  "Well, now, my memory ain't what it used to be--"

  Fred took a threatening step towards the blacksmith, but stopped when Sam put a restraining hand on his arm.

  Handing the man another coin, he asked, "Maybe if you think real hard ..."

  The blacksmith glanced down at the coin, then tucked it away with the rest. "Well now, I do seem to recall the woman sayin' somethin' about gettin' a room for the night. One of the kids with her wasn't feelin' too good."

  Emma's heart skipped a beat. One of her children was ill? "Which one?" Emma interrupted. "What was wrong?"

  "Where?" Sam asked at the same time.

  "Bluebell's only got one hotel. Other end of town," he said to Sam, then turned to Emma. "Well, now, little lady," he said. Emma cringed at the way his gaze moved over her body. "It was one of the boys that was under the weather." He chuckled. "I've got to hand it to him, though. Told the woman to leave him alone, he didn't want her lookin' after him."

  "Nathan. It had to be Nathan," Emma murmured.

  "Yeah, that was what the woman called him. They're gonna have their hands full with that one. He's a little hellion."

  Emma almost smiled at the admiration in the man's voice.

  "Does Bluebell have a sheriff?" Sam asked. The blacksmith's brows lifted in concern at the urgency in Sam's tone.

  "Well, sure, we got a sheriff. You
'll probably find him having supper at Rose's Cafe."

  Almost before the blacksmith had finished talking, they had mounted and were heading down the main street towards the weathered sign in front of the cafe.

  ***

  Sam's stomach was twisted into knots by the time they'd finished telling their story to the sheriff.

  The elderly man stuffed a forkful of meatloaf into his mouth. He set down the fork then scrubbed a checkered napkin across his mouth and dropped it on the table. "Well, now, that's quite a tale," he said, his tone suspicious.

  "We're telling the truth," Emma blurted out. "Why don't you believe us?"

  "Now, ma'am, it isn't that I don't believe you, but the law--"

  Sam bounded up, throwing the chair off balance. He caught it just before it toppled over. "The law gave me custody of my kids. The Howards kidnapped them. If you won't go and get them, then I'll do it myself."

  "Now wait a minute--" The sheriff's face reddened, and he stood up.

  Sam took several deep breaths. He had to calm down. It wasn't going to do any good to get on the wrong side of the law. He needed the sheriff's help, and if he wasn't careful, he would be the one behind bars before the night was out.

  "Look, Sheriff," Sam said, using every ounce of control he could muster to keep his voice calm. "I understand you need proof. All you have to do is go to the telegraph office. Sheriff Holt sent a wire this morning."

  "Telegraph office is closed."

  "Then keep them here until it opens in the morning."

  The sheriff laughed. "Telegraph office won't be open until noon." Picking up his coffee, he drained the cup in one gulp.

  "Noon? They'll be gone by then."

  Emma took a step to stand in front of Sam. Her eyes filled with tears and ran unchecked down her cheeks. "You have to believe us ...”

  "Now, ma'am, don't go getting weepy--"

  "Sheriff, do you have children?"

  He smiled. "Four. And seven grandchildren."