by Jade Laredo
Wyeth heard the Parson’s reply, but refrained from comment as he tied the leather bags, cinched up the harness, and then mounted his horse. He gave a quick glance back at his party and then nodded his head. “Time is wasting.”
Arabella took a step forward, skirting the corner of the house, she watched as her father and his posse rode off with the Parson, spewing dust in their wake. Not wanting to waste time, she set herself in motion and headed toward the barn to get her mount. The last thing she wanted was to fall behind, and lose track of their outfit.
With a knapsack in hand, she rushed inside the barn and opened a stall, coxing one of her father’s mares from its berth. Reaching for a riding blanket, she covered the mare’s girth and then hefted a cumbersome saddle over the horse’s back end, and carefully girded the straps. Once secure, she hoisted herself into the saddle and then gave the animal a soft nudge.
She risked everything. Even her reputation, but more importantly, it was simply a matter of life and death. Luke was in danger, and she could not shake the impending doom she felt.
For nearly an hour, she tailed her father and the Parson, falling back far enough so they would not detect her. As the riders disappeared over a distant rise, she picked up her pace, ascending the hill with full force.
She had little idea on the other side of the rise, riders waited patiently, taking cover behind a tree line. When she cleared the slope, one rider swooped down upon her, taking her by surprise. Dropping her chin, she held on for dear life as the skittish mare reared back, kicking legs into the air as a strange man grabbed hold of her mount’s reigns.
Arabella gripped the pommel of her saddle, trying to control her fear, she caught herself looking over her shoulder uneasily as group of ominous riders surrounded her. With a feeling of dread, she realized his salient smile, cunning and smug with attainment challenged her with knowing derision when he said.
“Perfect timing.”
CHAPTER TEN
“Right on time.” Luke muttered.
The jutting reflection of a rambling stagecoach, sputtering a cloud of dust sent him into action. Lowering his spyglass, he motioned at Jake and Trig to take their positions. In the distance, they heard the first sound of hooves pounding, and wagon wheels rattling and buckling beneath hard packed earth. The stage was due in Adder Creek Station at noon, but the plan was to waylay the transport before it made a stop.
Soon he could see two stagehands perched, riding shotgun with rifles in hand, and they looked alert, ready and waiting. Of course, they would be. News of the Shelton gang traveled fast, and far-reaching, and so he was not surprised in the least.
Luke rode ahead of his brothers, who followed close behind. The strategy was to attack from the rear and take the stage by surprise. Hence, they circled back until the stage passed and then before gaining notice, they rode right up on the vehicle’s tail end. With adept strength, Jake road alongside the coach, latching his arms onto the edge of the vehicle’s overhang, he vaulted himself over the roof, stalking the stagehands unaware.
The younger brother stealthy picked off each man, hurtling them through the air like rag dolls to the ground. Taking the reins in hand, he managed the horse team with ease until the vehicle came to an abrupt halt.
Before the dust settled, Luke and Trig made use of their bandanas and dismounted. Taking up the rear, they slowly circled toward the vehicle’s door, while Luke remained seated on the buckboard in a lookout position.
“Come on out!” Luke hollered.
A strain of silence was the only reply.
Trig carefully aimed his pistol at the door, waiting for an order from his brother, but Luke shook his head, and lifted a hand, giving the occupants of the stagecoach a reprieve.
“Alright then!” Luke shouted. Taking a step forward, he continued. “We can do this the hard way. You’ve got five minutes, on the clock!”
Though the last five minutes ticked by slowly, Luke’s mind sped up in a surmounting whir. He was certain the seed, which Jake had planted at Belle’s Bordello had taken root, and finally he would have Jack Rafferty right where he wanted him.
For ten years, the agent had dogged at their heels, and with good reason. During the war, his brother Cole had managed to dispatch of Captain Rafferty’s sergeant and partner in crime. The murdering Yankee dog wanted to avenge his comrade’s death and finish what he started long ago, but this time he had it coming. He would pay for the despicable act he committed against Julia, and most assuredly, his cover as a Pinkerton agent would end today.
Jude Shelton crouched on hind legs. From his position, he could see the entire scene unfold. As the sheriff and deputy Coffee skulked, circling toward the edge of the road, he slowly counted down the minutes, watching his brother with his nerves on the verge of fray.
In the last minute, which ticked by in an endless haze, he suddenly noticed the black over coat, which his brother wore, and his trigger fingers spread wide with palms itching for gunmetal while waiting impatient.
The unsettling feeling, which gripped his inner core, was nothing short of ominous. Without thinking, Jude abandoned his hiding place and ran toward a break of trees. In slow motion, he watched with trepidation as Luke snapped shut his timepiece.
“Time’s up!”
His brother’s insistent voice sent shivers down his spine.
Then the door slowly screeched open. Flailing back and forth, the flap slowly squeaked subsiding half-cocked to an eerie pall.
“Out with your hands up!”
Then Jude saw him.
Jack Rafferty stepped forward with one hand in the air. Something in the way he smiled made him cringe. When he narrowed those cold, and calculating, black Irish eyes, the Pinkerton agent stalked forward with lithe-like prowess, dragging beside him a woman with his arm crooked around her neck and the butt of a pistol lodged against her head. He did not recognize the woman until he saw the look of trepidation in his brother’s eyes. Once again, Jack Rafferty managed to outwit with treacherous means.
It was not supposed to be this way. In her dream, she had been the one floating above, watching the scene unfold, not seized as a hostage in the center of it all. Struggling against her captor’s vice-like grip, Arabella caught Luke’s gaze, his hardened eyes flecked over her, entreating her to remain calm. She realized she had no other choice. One false move and she was certain of her own ill fate.
“At last we meet again.”
Luke’s voice rang out clear and concise.
“Far enough, Captain.”
Rafferty drew back a sneer.
“What are you waiting for soldier?”
“Let her go.”
Jack Rafferty did not wait for another word. He whipped his hand toward another side pistol. All of a sudden, Luke and Trig both fired their firearms. Bullets trilled through the air, and then he hurtled backward, but the impact only hastened the Pinkerton agent’s fatal aim.
“No!” Arabella screamed.
Without thought or even care for her own safety, she elbowed the man, managing to knock her abductor off kilter. With little regard, he shoved her away, lifting his pistol, he aimed straight at Luke with lethal precision.
Before he could pull the trigger, she soared through the air, and slammed her body against Luke, pushing him from harm’s way. Just then, a bullet ripped through her chest. Searing with intense pain, she slumped to the hard packed earth. Somewhere in the distance, she heard a round of bullets, though the dull buzzing sounds popped and echoed as if far away. The last thing she thought, as her vision dimmed to complete darkness was none of it was supposed to end this way.
There was stillness in the Gentry house, which was eerily deafening. Luke blocked out the nerve-racking silence by closing his eyes, and offering a tacit prayer. He had never prayed harder in his life than at the moment, asking God to spare the beautiful creature lying feverish in her bed, wan and nearly lifeless.
“I’ve done the best I can do.” Doc Hiram murmured. Clearing his throat,
he stood to his feet and then managed to say the unthinkable. “She’s in God’s hands now.”
Though he heard what the doctor said, Luke never let go of Arabella’s hand. Instead, he held on even tighter, willing her to fight the inevitable. Shot through the chest, the bullet had narrowly missed her heart. Unbelievably, it was nothing less than a miracle she still survived. Drawing his eye away from her ashen face, he caught the besieged consternation of her father who hovered over the bedside. Luke gazed back, feeling the slice of his green-eyed stare, cold and relentless.
“I want you to know if she dies, I’ll hold you personally responsible.” Wyeth stated whilst anger seared the confines of his control.
“If she dies,” Luke paused, his sullen voice painfully guttural. He bowed his head and slumped forward with despair. “You can hang me.”
“Stop this now.” Lena ordered fiercely. At the foot of the bed, she placed her hands on rounded hips and pointed at them. “I’ll not have the two of you speaking of her in this manner, especially when she’s still here with us.”
Wyeth lowered his head. Visibly ashamed and defeated by the sudden outburst, he touched his daughter’s forehead before soundlessly quitting the room. Like a mother hen, Lena followed her employer from the room, leaving him with Arabella while Doc Hiram fastened his physician’s bag.
“Looks like you’ve gotten yourself in a quandary.”
Luke narrowed his eyes, refusing to look up at the old man. Despite his own indignation, he respected the good doctor’s worth. Squeezing Arabella’s hand, his voice softly demanded. “Will she survive?”
“She’s a fighter.” The doctor replied. Shaking his head, he turned on his heel, and then paused before closing the door. “By morning, we should know.”
Luke sat in stony silence.
He had already lost one love, and now he was about to lose yet another. Crying out with anguish, he asked God to forgive his foolish impudence.
“Who are you?” Arabella asked.
“A friend.” An ethereal woman wearing a white gown smiled her eloquent eyes shown bright and mesmerizing.
“Come with me. I must show you something.”
“Where am I?”
“You are neither here nor there.” The woman smiled, pointing in every direction.
She shook her head. “Am I dead?”
“Not yet.” The woman answered, finding her question amusing, she laughed. Taking her by the hand, she felt an instant swoosh, a vibrant electric force, which she could not explain nor could she fathom. “Tell me, would you like to go back?”
Arabella shook her head.
“Of course.” The woman laughed once again. Her melodious singsong voice tinkled with pleasure. “Your role there is not finished yet.”
“My role?”
The otherworldly woman nodded her head. “Look and see.”
Misty clouds rolled back and the picturesque image of an adorable ebony-haired, rosy-cheeked girl struck her full force. Without words, she quickly understood the child was her only daughter.
“She is going to need you.” The woman spoke in the gentlest tone. “There are many challenges, which lie ahead.”
“But what about …”
“Him?”
Arabella suddenly felt foolish for seeking more than she felt privileged to know. Shaking her head, she posed a sheepish smile, but instead of reproach, the woman only nodded her head with understanding.
“His role is nearly complete, but still, he will need you.” Touching her face, the woman smiled. “And so will your father.”
The woman quickly turned her head as if she heard a distant calling, and then squeezed her hand.
“I must go now.” She announced whimsically. “We are always busy here. You would not believe. Remember Arabella, you are going back this time because they still need you.”
“Who are you?” Arabella felt the need to rush.
“You don’t remember me?” The beautiful wraithlike woman returned with a smile. “We have always been friends.”
Before Arabella could ask for her name, her essence of light grew intense, and then with a powerful whoosh she turned into a bright glowing orb, and slowly faded away.
“But wait!” She cried. Trying to call the spiritual being back, she realized it was too late. She muttered regretfully to herself. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Do not feel sad.”
The voice seemed distant, yet at the same time very close and strangely familiar. When she saw him, she could not believe her eyes. Still the beautiful boy from her past, he smiled once she recognized him. “Edwin?”
He nodded his head and smiled. “Bella.”
She looked at him with wonder, amazed he had not changed a bit. Still young and vibrant looking, he floated beside her in a sparkling greyish rebel uniform, appearing exactly as he had in their youth.
“I am what you would envision me.” He replied, obliging her obvious fascination. Touching her cheek, he smiled knowingly. “It is better you understand in this way.”
“Did you suffer at all?” Arabella inquired curiously of his death. She did not have to explain her meaning further because she knew he already understood her thoughts before she expressed them.
“Only for a brief moment.” He replied. “Think of yourself evolving, shrouded in a spiritual cocoon. When it is time, you break free and transform into your celestial beauty.”
Arabella did not reply. Instead, she marveled over his answer no longer afraid of this humanly thing called death. Suddenly remembering the woman in white, she asked.
“Who was that woman who called me friend?”
His smile was all knowing. “Julia.”
“But I don’t remember her.”
“You do now.” He replied reliably, turning his head toward a bright light he pointed toward an opening in the clouds. He then reached for her hand, guiding her toward a whirling vortex, which beckoned only to her. “He is calling for you.”
“Will I see you again?”
“In time, as always.”
The fire in the hearth dimmed to orange burnished coals, yet Luke still hovered by her side. Dawn’s morning light shafted through the curtains and crossed the room, caressing his face with strange warmth. Just then, she opened her eyes. It was as if God had touched him with an answer to his prayers.
“Luke.” Barely a whisper, her voice crackled from painful exertion, but she managed a weak smile. “He told me you were calling for me.”
“Who told you, my love?” He smiled back behind grateful tears, and kissed her hand.
“That beautiful boy in gray.” She said, closing her eyes.
Luke chuckled. “Should I be jealous?”
“No.” She murmured still smiling. “And a woman named Julia told me you needed me.”
Luke felt the bottom of his heart drop from beneath him. Disbelievingly, he stared at her as if he had seen a ghost. Clearing his throat, he inquired of the woman she claimed to have spoken with while in her stupor.
“Julia?”
“She was beautiful, and so very nice.”
Just then, a shadow fell over Luke’s shoulder.
“Poppa.” Arabella turned another weak smile.
“Bella.”
“You still need me.” She whispered before slipping back to a dark netherworld.
Luke tensed.
Wyeth placed his hand on Luke’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry, she’s exhausted.”
“I am sorry.”
“M-hmm.” Wyeth released his hand. “It doesn’t change anything.”
“I know.” Luke replied. “I’m asking you to give me some time while she recovers.”
Wyeth did not give an answer. He turned toward the window and peered down below. Lena and Sam helped Jenny into a rocking chair. Still weak from childbearing, the young woman leaned back and soaked in the morning sunshine.
He had fallen in love with her. He supposed he had this feeling for quite some time, but n
ever wanted to admit it. Leaning against the window pain, he finally startled Luke with an unexpected answer.
“I’ll give you some time but only under one condition.”
“What condition?” He heard Luke’s voice take on a suspicious edge.
“Give me your permission to wed Miss Jenny.”
“Bribery.”
Wyeth shrugged his shoulder.
“I was thinking more along the lines of an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.”
“Can we shake on that?” Luke asked.
“I don’t think we’re on those terms yet.”
The next time Arabella awoke, she looked around the room, finding Luke had gone. The sinking alarm, which tempered her brow, creased the tired lines of her face.
“No need to worry.” She heard a voice measured with concern. Realizing it was Jenny who spoke she turned to look at the woman. “Luke would not leave your side. It’s been nearly a week, but I finally convinced him to take a rest.”
“Where’s Poppa?”
Arabella noticed the soft transformation on Jenny’s face. Her eyes grew lax, and her cheeks flushed at the mention of her father.
“Making his usual rounds.” Jenny murmured. “He should be back soon.”
“And the baby?”
“Lena stole her away.” Jenny laughed. “She dotes on the child like a natural grandmother.”
Arabella smiled and then looked away.
The late evening sunshine filtered through the curtain, touching her face. She realized she was lucky to be alive. With that knowledge, she caught Jenny studying her closely.
“What happened?”
Jenny leaned forward and squeezed her hand.
“Trig and Jake killed Rafferty.” Jenny recanted. “They shot him dead. We have not seen nor heard from those boys since. Sheriff Gentry pardoned Jude for his confession and now he and Rosanna are back in Denver, looking for the whereabouts of their missing daughter.”
“And Luke?”
Jenny’s lips thinned. The look in the other young woman’s eyes told her exactly what she needed to know. Feeling a lump form in the back of her throat, she tried not to snivel, but instead, she heaved a long sigh, while Jenny gripped her fingertips.