Jessica took a deep breath and then, just as the wagon began to pass, she let out a horrendous screech. "Help! Help me!" she cried.
Her captor gave a grunt of protest and began to run.
"Hey, you!" a voice called from the wagon. "What you got in there?"
"Help me!" Jessica screamed. "He's kidnapping me!"
She heard the man in the wagon jump to the ground, the wagon still rolling. He was running! Running after her!
"Help!" Jessica kicked and squirmed, pounding her captor's back. Then she felt him heave her over his shoulder. She hit the ground hard, tumbling head over heels.
"Are you all right?" the man from the wagon asked, down on his hands and knees beside her.
Jessica lay in a daze for a moment. She felt like she'd broken every bone in her body when she fell.
"Ma'am?"
She groaned, trying to clear her head. She was so cold . . ."P—please help me o—out of here."
He fumbled at the tie at her feet that held the feed sack closed. "Who did this to you, ma'am?"
"I . . . I d—don't know." Liar, she thought. You know who. It was Jacob. Your beloved betrothed had you kidnapped to take you back to Tennessee! Still, it was hard to believe. She'd never have guessed Jacob to be capable of such a thing.
"Hang on just a minute. I can't get her untied, I'll have to get a knife from my wagon." The man laid a hand on the feed bag, touching her thigh. "I'll be right back."
"P—please h—hurry. I'm s—so c—cold!"
"Be right back. Right back!"
Jessica lay trembling with cold on the side of the road. Sure enough, a moment later her savior was back. He sawed at the end of the bag with a knife and suddenly more cold air rushed into the bag and Jessica was free.
The man immediately began to cut open the burlap feed sack. First he uncovered a pair of bare feet, then bare knees. When he got to her bare thighs he exhaled sharply. "Jiminy jackrabbits, ma'am. You ain't got no clothes on!"
"I know I . . . I d—don't have any c—clothes. I . . . I was k—kidnapped out of m—my b—bathtub. P—please j—just help m—me o—out of here." Her teeth chattered so hard that it hurt her jaw.
"Out of your tub! Golly!" The young man paused for a moment and then began to cut away the feed sack again. "I got my eyes closed, ma'am, so you don't have to worry."
A moment later, Jessica was free of the stinking wet material. There kneeling beside her on the filthy street was a young man of not more than eighteen years, his eyes squeezed shut.
She took in great gulps of the cold night air. "C—could I h—have y—your c—coat?"
The boy scrambled to his feet, mortified that he'd not thought of that himself. He held out the long corduroy coat, his eyes still closed.
Jessica stumbled to her feet and slipped into the coat. "T—thank you," she said, trying to make her teeth stop chattering. "Y—you c—can open y—your eyes n—now."
Her savior's eyes flew open to stare at the woman wearing his coat. She had long dark hair that was wet and plastered to her head. And she had the biggest green eyes he thought he'd ever seen. "Rusty Barker, ma'am." He offered his hand, yanking his knit cap off his head.
Jessica took it and gave it a squeeze before pulling her hand back into the warmth of his coat. "I c—can't thank y—you enough f—for s—saving me, R—Rusty. What on e—earth are you d—doing out this t—time of n—night?"
"My papa's a baker, ma'am."
"It's J—Jessica."
"Papa's got the croup so I was making his bread deliveries for him." He shook his head, replacing his cap. "Papa said I'd see many a strange thing this time of the morning, but he's never gonna believe this!"
Jessica placed one of her bare feet over the other. "L—listen, R—Rusty. D—do you think y—you c—could take m—me back to m—my h—hotel? I—I have t—to get w—warm or I'm g—going t—to have pneumonia."
"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry!" He turned and hurried for his wagon that had come to a stop at the corner. "Right this way. The bread wagon's warm. We keep hot bricks in the back to keep the bread warm." He flung a nod over his shoulder.
Jessica stumbled after him. She'd never been so cold in her life. When she reached the bread wagon, Rusty helped her onto the seat. Though only the back where the bread was stored was covered, the driver's seat was boxed in out of the wind. Jessica leaned back against the seat and felt the warmth from the hot bricks in the back seep through the wall and into her back. The heavenly smell of fresh-baked bread wafted through the cold night air.
Rusty jumped up beside her. "Just tell me where to go, Miss Jessica. I'll have you there before you can say "hot cross buns!"
Jessica huddled under the young man's coat, tucking her feet up under her. She gave the boy quick directions and then pulled the coat up over her face so that only her eyes peered out. She felt as if she'd never get warm again.
They turned the corner and headed into a better section of town. Rusty rattled on about his bread deliveries and the shops he still had to visit. Jessica's eyes kept drifting shut. Rusty's voice and the warmth of the bread wagon coupled with her exhaustion made it hard to stay awake.
The wagon rumbled past several closed shops. Out of the corner of Jessica's eye, she saw a man running down the street. A man in a black hat and overcoat, carrying a rifle. "Stop!" she shouted at Rusty, laying her hand on his.
"Adam!" she cried, leaning out of the wagon. "Adam!"
He stopped and spun around, not knowing where the voice had come from. "Jess?"
"Adam, here!" She waved a hand.
Adam came running across the street. "Jessica! What the hell are you doing in a bread wagon?" His gaze leaped to Rusty. "What have you done, boy?"
"Done!" Rusty swallowed hard, petrified by the huge man with the red skin. "I didn't do nothin' to her! I saw some man running down the street with a bag heaved over his shoulder. Miss Jessica, she was inside the bag stark darned naked." His eyes went round when he realized what he'd said.
Adam grasped Jessica's shoulders. She was barely coherent. "That true, Jess?"
She nodded. She couldn't stay awake much longer.
Adam leaped into the wagon, pulling Jessica onto his lap. Her entire body was shuddering with cold. "Take us to Bailey's Hotel, boy, and fast." He cradled Jessica in his arms, wrapping her inside his own coat. He set his rifle between him and Rusty. "You'll be paid for your efforts, boy. I thank you."
"Pay. I don't need no pay. I'm just glad I could help the lady."
"You get a look at the kidnapper?"
"Not really, sir. It all happened so fast. I was just worried about the lady." He glanced at Adam and then back at the road again. "She was screamin' and hollerin' something fierce."
Adam looked down at Jessica, wrapped in his arms, her wet hair stuck to her pale face. He'd be willing to bet his onyx-handled Bisleys that she knew who'd kidnapped her and why. He brushed back a lock of hair. Well, this was it. His patience had come to an end. If she was married to that fellow back in Blades, it was damned well time she told him. Once he knew the facts, then Adam would decide how to deal with them.
It was nearly noon the following day when Adam was finally forced to wake Jessica. He opened the heavy curtains and let the sunshine pour in, then stoked up the little coal stove in the corner of the room. The weather had turned and snow was lightly falling outside.
"Jess," he called softly. He stroked her cheek, leaning to kiss her softly. "Jess, you've got to wake up."
Her eyes fluttered open and her body went tense as she tried to figure out where she was, who was talking. In her dreams it had been Jacob, Jacob chasing her, Jacob holding her prisoner in a dark, dank room. "Adam?"
"Shhh," he soothed. "It's all right."
She relaxed against the goosedown pillow. Those had only been dreams. She was here with Adam, safe, at least for the time being.
"Listen to me." He took her hand, rubbing it. "I've got to meet a ship. I just didn't want you to wake up and find me gone."
"A ship? Why a ship?"
"A stroke of luck, Jess. The Caine brothers bought tickets this morning to board the steamship Marissa. You'll never guess where they think they're headed."
"Where?"
"Alaska."
"Alaska!" She laughed. "Larry Caine is going to Alaska?"
"He's booked first-class cabins to a place called Harrisburg."
"You're kidding. How'd you know?"
"Last night when I lost them by the wharf I left word for the ships to be on the lookout for two brothers, traveling by any name. They didn't even bother to use different names!"
"You've got him!"
Adam stood and walked over to pick up his coat. "I've got him. Now listen to me. You stay in this room while I go down to the shipyard."
Jessica pushed aside the covers and swung her feet over the side of the bed. "I'll go with you."
"What, so you can gun him down before I get a chance to take him prisoner? Forget it."
"Please, Adam, don't leave me here." She wrapped her arms around her waist, cold despite the heavy flannel nightgown she wore. "I'm scared."
Adam's eyes went steely. "Of what, Jess? Of who?"
She ran to the trunk and began to pull out clothes—a chemise, a pair of bloomers, a wool skirt. "I'll tell you! I swear I will." She shucked off her nightgown and dressed quickly. "Just let me go with you." She fumbled with the button of her skirt. "Please, Adam."
He frowned with indecision. He didn't want to take her with him, but he sure as hell didn't like the idea of leaving her here in the room after what had happened last night.
She pulled a shirtwaist over her head and stuffed the hem into the waistline of her skirt. "Please?"
He exhaled slowly. "Your husband? Is he your husband?"
She nearly gasped at how close he'd come to the truth. "I don't have a husband, I swear it!" She pulled on one muddy boot, hopping on her other foot. "I've never loved any man but you."
Adam handed her a hairbrush and a wide blue ribbon that matched the flowered shirtwaist. "No husband, hmmm?"
"You've got to believe me, Adam. I can explain everything." She took the brush and ran it through her tangled hair.
"I'm sure you can." He waited until she'd tied back her hair and then held out her new overcoat he'd bought her only days ago. "I just wonder if it will be the truth."
"It will be. But let's take care of Caine. Let me get my carpetbag and what's left of my money. Then we'll talk."
"The money's probably gone. So's the carpetbag."
"He had it last night," she insisted, pulling on her coat.
"He might just be using the bag. Your things are probably gone."
"They're not. I know they're not. Larry Caine's still carrying my grandma's recipes and my mama's tintype."
Adam held open the door. "All right, let's go."
She stopped at the doorway, looking at him. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to hand over my gun?"
Adam laughed as he pushed her out into the hall and locked the door behind him. "Not a chance! Now come on. We'll have to hurry!
Adam and Jessica made it to the dock as the Marissa was loading its passengers. He left her in a hired carriage and went down to the dock to lay in wait for Larry Caine.
An hour passed and Jessica watched from the carriage as the final passengers boarded. The snow had turned to rain, and an icy wind blew in off the. water. She saw no sign of the Caine brothers. Another ten minutes slipped by. The mooring lines were being lifted and the steamship was making preparation to get underway.
She watched Adam hurry down the gangplank and enter a small office near the dock. Moments later he came running out of the office. He jumped into the carriage and ordered the driver to return immediately to the hotel.
"What happened?"
Adam shook his head angrily. "The sneaky bastards! They bought tickets for the Marissa in their name all right, but an hour later they traded them for tickets on the Lady Yukon."
"The Lady Yukon? When does it leave?" Jessica held onto the seat as the carriage whipped around the corner at a high rate of speed.
"You mean when did it leave?" Adam sat back against the leather seat. "It left at dawn for Harrisburg." He slapped his knee. "So it looks like I'm on my way to Alaska."
"We're on our way," she added firmly.
Adam glanced sideways at her. "I had a feeling you would say that. That's why I asked the harbor master to hold the ship an hour while we get back to the hotel to get our things and I send a telegraph to the Union Pacific. I'll send a message for Billy Wiedenhoeft to see to Hera and Zeus. I don't figure he'll mind."
Jessica leaned forward excitedly. Alaska! She'd always wanted to see the Alaska territory. And now she was going to get her chance. Of course she'd also have another chance at Larry Caine.
Chapter Twenty-Four
"Gone? Gone where?" Lansing leaned over the front desk at Bailey's Hotel. "They can't be gone! I haven't finished my story!"
The man behind the desk with muttonchop sideburns gave a shrug and returned his attention to his newspaper. "Well, gone they are. Hated to see 'em leave, too. Good customers. Didn't make a mess and tipped us all when they left. Made no difference to me if he was redskin or not. The color of money is all I care about. The man could have been green for all I cared." Mr. Bailey looked up. "Say, what'd you say your name was?"
"Lansing. Theodore Lansing of Chicago," he answered proudly, drawing himself up to his full height of five foot six.
Mr. Bailey peered over his spectacles. "You the newspaper man that wrote this story about Miss Landon actually bein' the wife of some rich banker from Tennessee?"
Lansing clasped his thin hands with delight. "You read my article?"
"Right here in the Daily." Bailey folded back the newspaper and pointed to an article on the second page.
Lansing leaned over the wooden counter, glancing at the article excitedly. "Well, yes, sir, that's mine all right! I sent the piece back to my editor in Chicago." He looked up anxiously. "I wonder how many other papers across the country have picked it up."
"I can't tell you that." Bailey turned the page. "But I can tell you you ought to be glad that deputy marshal's gone because I could guess he wouldn't be too pleased if he read this article of yours. My guess is he don't know she's a married woman. The truth is, I thought the deputy marshal and the woman was newly married to each other the way they acted. They certainly didn't tell me any different."
Lansing whipped out a pad of paper and a lead pencil. "So you say she's gone again." He scribbled. "Gone where?"
Bailey chuckled. "Alaska!"
"Alaska," Lansing breathed. "Quite a woman! Quite a woman!"
"She and the deputy marshal cleared out of here not more than a few hours ago and in a hurry. He left several messages for different people in town and then was headed for the telegraph office on his way to the dock. I heard him telling the woman he had to send word to his employer."
"The Union Pacific?"
Bailey nodded. "So he said." He watched Lansing write for a moment. "Say, you going to use my name in what you're writing?"
"Would you like me to?"
Bailey grinned and smoothed his long sideburns. "Would be something to have my name in the paper. My brother, Lester, once had his name in the Daily on account of his pigs settin' fire to his barn."
"Well, sir, I can guarantee you that this will be hotter news than your brother's swine. Now if I could just get your name and place of residence . . ."
He stood and laid aside the newspaper. "Joseph Bailey. I live right here, of course. Bailey's hotel. Clean rooms, good meals, church on Sunday in the parlor." He waggled a finger. "There's many a folk that like havin' services right here. Convenient they say."
Lansing went on writing. "Well, Mr. Bailey, if you could just give directions to the Daily's office, I'll be on my way."
"Um, I don't suppose you've got a room here in Seattle, have you, Mr. Lansing?"
Lansing
looked up. "No, sir, as a matter of fact, I don't. Just got off the noon train. My bag's there by the door."
"I'd be willing to cut the nightly rate if you'd be interested."
Lansing offered his hand. "Done! You'll of course throw in two meals a day."
"I—"
"—Considering the free advertising you'd be getting from an article such as the one I'm prepared to write."
Bailey gave a nod. "Guess two meals a day would be fair."
"Glad we could do business." Lansing tucked away his paper and pencil. "Now if you could tell me how to get to the newspaper office. I'm certain they'll want this latest exclusive information for the next day's edition."
"I can do better than give you directions." Bailey grabbed his overcoat off a peg on the wall. "I can take you there myself. Martha!" he called, poking his head through a curtained doorway. "Martha, you'll have to come here at once. I'll need you to mind the front desk. I have important business to attend to."
A moment later Martha appeared in the doorway with a baby on her hip, and Bailey and Lansing were on their way.
"So, you've stalled long enough. Out with it." Adam sat across from Jessica on a narrow bunk in a tiny cabin on the steamship, Marissa. The room was dark and chilly, but at least it was private. It had been meant for four passengers, but Adam had convinced the ship's captain to find other quarters for the goldminers who'd occupied the cabin only an hour ago.
Jessica sat on her own upper bunk intent on swinging her feet. She refused to meet Adam's gaze. "I told you way back in Loco that I meant to see the Black Bandit dead."
"Jess, that's not what I want to hear about this minute. Though I do intend to discuss it. You could have been killed last night on that street! We could have both been killed!" He let out a long sigh. "The husband. I want to hear about the husband."
"Jacob is not my husband," she said very quietly.
He braced himself. The thought of Jessica with another man made him burn hot with anger inside . . . a man with a name now. Jacob. The man he had seen in Blades. He didn't know why, but he'd just assumed Jessica was a virgin that night he'd taken her by the creek. "Jacob?"
In Close Pursuit Page 25