by Nerys Leigh
Strangely, as she spoke, the familiar ache, the longing for the wonderful new life of her dreams, didn’t come as it previously always had. In fact, as she thought about her whole plan, she couldn’t seem to find any appeal at all in the idea of going to San Francisco.
Amy had carried the aspiration for so long that the sudden realisation of its loss shocked her. If she no longer had that desire to drive her, what did she have to aim for?
“It sounds like a fine dream,” Adam said, without looking at her.
It did sound like a fine dream, and it had been. So where had it gone? And what would she do now?
She looked at the back of Clem’s head as she walked calmly around the corral, ears perked forward, with Stride at her side. Only a week ago she’d been too afraid to let anyone near her. Now she wasn’t just allowing Amy to ride her, but she seemed to be enjoying the experience. All because she’d taken a chance and trusted Amy, even though she was afraid.
Amy glanced at Adam beside her. Maybe it was time she started trusting.
And stopped being afraid of opening herself to what she really wanted.
Chapter 20
Amy reached up to adjust a saddle on its hook then stepped back to make sure it was straight. Satisfied, she took a couple more steps backwards to take in the full effect.
The display looked good, perhaps even as good as some she’d seen in the city. Gleaming saddles adorned the junction of two walls, their matching bridles hanging neatly from hooks beneath each one. George had brought an old, battered bookcase in from his own home and told Amy she could do whatever she wanted with it. She’d gleefully sanded it down and painted it white with some leftover paint she’d found when they moved everything, and now it displayed all the smaller tack items.
She was toying with the idea of advertising reduced prices on a couple of the saddles that George admitted he’d had for years. She was still working on bringing him around to agreeing with her on that, although she suspected he was being obstinate more out of habit than any real conviction that she was wrong. She didn’t mind. She enjoyed their arguments and she almost always got her way in the end. She’d already bought some red paint for the sale signs.
“Hey? Boy?”
At the voice, Amy looked round. A man stood just inside the open front doors. As she turned his eyes widened then travelled slowly down her body. A hand rose to rub at the rough stubble across his chin and one side of his mouth curled into a leer.
“Sorry, Miss.”
He stared at her for a moment longer before the hand at his chin moved to pull the hat from his scraggly brown hair.
Amy took an unconscious step backwards. “Can I help you?”
His leer grew. “I imagine you can. I’m lookin’ to buy a horse.”
She swallowed against her suddenly dry mouth. The way he was ogling her was digging up memories she would rather stayed buried. “I’ll go and fetch the proprietor, if you wouldn’t mind waiting.”
“Whatever you say, darlin’.”
His inappropriately familiar speech ignited a flash of anger, but she got the feeling he would only enjoy any chastisement from her so she ignored it and walked as quickly as she could to the back doors, stopping just short of running. She didn’t want the man to know he’d scared her.
Bursting into the sunshine, she raised a hand to shield her eyes and looked around for George. It took her a few moments to find him, across the paddock where he was cleaning out one of the feed troughs.
“Are you sure you can’t help me?”
Amy almost jumped from her skin, whirling around at the man’s voice right behind her. He grasped her arm and she stumbled back away from him, crying out and jerking from his grip. Her hand darted to her pocket before she remembered she no longer carried her knife with her.
The man stepped back, raising his hands and smiling. “Sorry, Miss, didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“Amy?”
Heart still pounding, she looked round to see George running towards her. The man took another step back.
“What’s going on here?” George panted as he reached them. Eyes fixed on the man, he stepped between him and Amy. “Amy, are you all right?”
“I...”
“I’m sorry,” the man said. “I came looking to buy a horse and I think I startled the lady here. She stumbled, I tried to help her.” He held his hands out in a placatory gesture. “I didn’t mean no harm. Forgive me if I scared you, Ma’am.”
“Is that what happened?” George said, looking at her.
Her eyes flicked between him and the stranger. Was that all it was? Her fear was all too real, but maybe she had just overreacted. It wouldn’t have been the first time. “I suppose,” she said slowly.
The man lowered his hands and pushed them into his pockets, smiling. He seemed to smile a lot, but she could hardly convict him for being cheerful.
George studied her for a moment before turning back to the man. “So you’re looking for a horse?”
“Yes, Sir.”
George indicated the paddock. “Well, come and take a look.”
The man lifted his hat from his head to Amy then headed towards the paddock, George following. Amy retreated to the door, watched them for a few seconds, then went back inside.
She went to her bag, took her knife out and stared at it. She hadn’t carried it on her since her first Saturday in Green Hill Creek and it was only still in her bag for when she needed it to cut up apples. She pushed it back in and closed the flap. She wasn’t that person anymore, the girl who was afraid all the time, and she didn’t want to go back to being her. She’d merely been startled, like the stranger said. That was all.
Leaving the bag on its hook, she returned to her work.
Ten minutes later, George came in.
“Is he gone already?” she said. “Didn’t he want any of the horses?”
George pursed his lips. “I told him to try elsewhere. Something about him didn’t sit right with me. Couldn’t bring myself to let him have any of my animals.” He ducked his head to look into her eyes. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I just overreacted, like he said.” She gave a small laugh that didn’t sound at all convincing.
“Well, I’m finished outside,” he said, “so how about you explain to me again why I should charge less for those saddles?”
Amy knew he was staying for her benefit and she wanted to hug him for it, but she was certain it would just make him feel awkward. So instead she took him to the display and regaled him with her impeccable logic as to why her ideas would work.
This time, he didn’t disagree.
~ ~ ~
“I need to take the money from the sales today to the bank before it closes.” George walked up to Amy where she was filling the racks in each stall with hay in readiness for bringing the horses in for the night.
“Should I start bringing them in or wait until you get back?”
“Wait until I get back. And I’m going to close the front up while I’m gone.”
“Why? We don’t usually close until after they’re all in.” She walked out of the stall and looked towards the back doors. They were shut. “Is this because of earlier?”
“No. I’d just feel better if everything was secure while I’m gone.” The slight frown creasing his already creased forehead said otherwise.
“So it is because of earlier. I told you, I just overreacted. I’m fine.”
“I know you’re fine. I just want to, that’s all.” He flicked his hand at her, waving her away. “Stop arguing with me, girl. I’m the one in charge here.”
“That’s what you think,” Amy said, smiling.
He shook his head and headed for the front door. “Get all the stalls ready. We’ll bring them in as soon as I get back.” He looked back when he reached the door. “I won’t be long. Bolt this behind me.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, putting down the hay she was carrying and jogging to the barn’s entrance.
She watched George stride away in the direction of the middle of town for a few seconds before closing and bolting the door and returning to fill the rest of the racks.
She smiled to herself as she worked. Today had been a good day, apart from the episode with the stranger. They’d sold two sets of saddles and matching tack plus a few other items, and all the sales had been to people who liveried their horses there and saw the new display in passing. And this was just the beginning. She had more ideas to tempt people into boarding their horses at Parsons’ Livery rather than the larger place on the other side of town. At the moment they were only a little over two thirds full. She knew they could do better.
Outside in the paddock, a horse neighed. Amy stopped what she was doing to listen. After a few seconds, the neigh came again, this time from a different horse. She’d heard them neigh before on occasion, to call to each other, but this sounded different. She leaned the fork she was spreading straw with against the side of the stall and went to the back door. She could hear the horses’ hooves thumping against the ground, accompanied by sharp snorts. She was no expert, but she was certain this wasn’t normal. Something was wrong.
There were no windows on this side of the building at ground level and she considered climbing up to the loft to look from there.
A horse screamed in fear. Clementine.
Amy tore at the bolts holding the door closed and ran outside.
Someone grabbed her. One arm locked around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides, while a hand clamped over her mouth. She was yanked backwards into the building.
The door slammed shut.
“You know, I was just going to take the white horse the old man wouldn’t let me have earlier,” a voice hissed in her ear. “But then that would be a terrible waste with you right here, all alone.”
Amy squirmed frantically against the iron hard grip, screaming into the hand over her mouth.
Hot breath skittered like a swarm of ants across her neck. “Ain’t no use struggling, darlin’.”
Panic pounded against the inside of her head. Help me, Lord!
The man lifted her off the ground, carrying her towards one of the stalls. Amy used the only part of her she could move, kicking her feet back hard. One heel connected with a shin. The man shrieked, throwing her away from him, and she stumbled and fell to the straw-covered floor of the stall.
She flipped over to see the stranger from earlier advancing, face twisted into a glare. Amy shuffled backwards on her elbows until she hit the end wall of the stall and screamed louder than she ever had in her life.
“HELLLPPPPP!”
“Ain’t no one gonna hear you this far out,” he said, bending towards her.
Grabbing a handful of dusty straw, Amy threw it into his face.
He brushed it away, laughing. “That’s not gonna help...”
Still half on her back, she drew in one foot and drove it into his groin.
The man howled, staggering backwards and clutching at his crotch. “Damn!”
Amy pushed to her feet and lunged for the stall door. If she could get to the shotgun George kept hidden behind his desk...
The man grabbed at her as she passed, latching onto her wrist and spinning her around. His other hand drew the revolver at his belt and swung clumsily, catching her face with a glancing blow.
Pain exploded in her cheek. For a moment, her head spun.
Still clutching her wrist, he swung her back against the stall door. A grunt of pain wrenched from her lips. He pressed the barrel of his revolver to her temple, his face inches from hers.
“Stop fighting or I’ll kill you,” he rasped.
Close to gagging at his rancid breath, Amy stiffened.
Stop fighting?
Never.
Forcing her body to relax, she nodded. He backed off a little, lowering the gun.
“Good girl. Now...”
Amy brought her knee up between his legs, hard.
The man screamed.
She lunged for the gun, trying to wrestle it from his grasp. A deafening bang sent her heart into her throat.
“Amy?!” It was George’s voice. The front door shook as something pounded on it.
“George! Help!”
The man grabbed her around the waist. She managed to wrest the gun from his grip, but it slipped from her fingers and spun away across the floor. Amy threw herself after it. The man, clutching onto her shirt, plunged after her. All the breath exploded from her lungs as she crashed onto the floor. The man landed on her legs.
Her outstretched hand brushed against metal. She wrapped her fingers around the revolver and twisted onto her back.
“Don’t!” she shouted as the man reached for her, jabbing the gun into his face.
He froze, his bloodshot eyes crossing as he stared at the weapon. One hand held his crotch. His face was red.
Through the fog of terror, Amy barely heard the back door crashing open.
Then a voice roared, “Get off of her!”
A shadow loomed up behind the man and he was hoisted into the air. George’s fist slammed into his face and he flew backwards, hitting the edge of a stall and dropping to the floor, unmoving.
Amy lay on her back, panting for breath, the gun still extended in front of her. The barrel shook. George moved to the side out of the line of fire and knelt beside her, gently removing the gun from her grasp.
“Amy, are you shot?”
She swivelled her eyes to his face. Shot? The memory of a gun firing surfaced through the pounding in her brain. Was she shot? She shook her head a little.
He nodded and slid one arm around her back, helping her to sit up. A groan from across the way made her start.
“Will you be all right here?” George said. “I have to tie him up.”
She nodded mutely.
“I’ll be right back.”
He stood, took some rope from a hook on the wall and knelt by the man, blocking Amy’s view. From the grunts and complaints that followed, George wasn’t being gentle.
Amy drew her legs in, wrapping her arms around them. Her whole body was trembling.
George returned and crouched beside her. “Can you stand?”
Her eyes went to the man lying on the floor. He was on his front, hands and ankles hogtied behind him. He turned his face to look at her and she shivered.
“Amy, don’t look at him. Look at me.”
She shifted her gaze back to George.
“Can you stand up?” he repeated.
She nodded, although she wasn’t sure. She couldn’t stop shaking. It was so cold.
“Just hold onto me,” he said, sliding one arm beneath hers and helping her to her feet.
When her legs buckled beneath her he scooped her up, one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back.
Amy wrapped her arms around his neck, closed her eyes and pressed her face into his shoulder.
“It’s all right, girl, I’ve got you,” he murmured. “Ain’t no one gonna hurt you now.”
Chapter 21
Adam locked the front door to the post office after the last customer and stretched his arms above his head, yawning.
The day after the train delivered the mail was always busy, what with sorting and people coming in to collect their letters and packages, and today had been no exception. But it had also been his final day at the bank and that had been decidedly more difficult. He was trying very hard to accept the loss of his job, but it wasn’t easy. The injustice of it all kept sweeping over him. He’d lost count of the times today he’d had to tell the Lord that he forgave Mr Vernon. His forgiveness didn’t seem to be sticking.
After coming home from the bank he’d opened his Bible at random, not sure what he was expecting. The page he found himself on was Matthew’s account of Jesus’ crucifixion and Adam knew God was speaking to him. If anyone knew about unjust persecution, it was Him. At that moment Adam felt the presence of his Saviour. He wasn’t alone.
And if God was for him, who
could be against him?
He dropped his arms to his sides and walked back behind the counter and through the door to the parlour. Maybe he’d go to the store and get something special for dinner later. Or maybe he could take Amy for a meal at the hotel. The wisdom of spending the money when he’d just lost half his income was questionable, but it would feel good. And when he told Amy about losing his job, it might go a little way towards convincing her that he wasn’t worried and she shouldn’t be either.
If he told her. He hadn’t yet decided if he would. The last thing he wanted was for her to worry that she was causing him problems and move out. She was bound to find out sooner or later, but he still held out hope that it would all work out before that happened. Somehow.
He was about to go upstairs to change out of his work clothes when a pounding on the front door startled him. A second later it came again. He turned and headed back the way he’d come, a frisson of fear skittering up his spine at the thought of what could be so urgent to lead someone to almost break his door down.
“You need to get to the livery,” Walter Alvarez said as soon as Adam opened the door, panting between his words as if he’d been running. “Miss Watts was attacked. She’s...”
Adam didn’t wait to hear any more. Not even pausing to close the door, he pushed past Walter and took off at a sprint in the direction of the livery, his heart pounding in terror. He realised after a few seconds that he should have asked Walter for more details, especially how Amy was, but all he could think was that she needed him and he had to get to her as soon as possible.
But what if she was hurt badly?
What if she was dead?
He cast the thought aside. She wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be. God had brought her to him, He wouldn’t simply take her away again after so short a time. Adam needed to believe that.
Rounding a bend in the road and coming within sight of the looming wooden building of the livery, he almost sobbed with relief when he saw George seated on a chair outside with Amy on his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck and her face pressed into his shoulder. His relief was rapidly replaced by anger. Where had George been when Amy was attacked? How could he have left her alone?