by Prairie Wife
She entered the double doors and hollered. "Hello!"
A voice answered. "Right here."
Amy quickly dashed the tears from her face and hurried forward.
Pitch appeared from a stall. "What's on your mind, Miz Shelby?"
"I need a wagon right away. I have to make a trip to the mercantile. It won't take me long, but I have to hurry."
His shaggy brows rose. She occasionally took a wagon to the store, but never unplanned and never in a hurry.
"I, uh, have bread in the oven and I want to get back before it's done."
He shook his head as if women were unpredictable creatures and moved as quickly as his bowlegged stride would take him. Amy had perspiration under her arms and down her spine by the time he finished and she climbed onto the seat and took the reins. She still wore the coat she'd pulled on when she headed for the fruit cellar.
"You'd best wear a hat, ma'am," Pitch said. "Wind's a might chill today."
"I'll do that. Thank you."
"See you at noon."
She drove the wagon toward the house. If anyone saw her now, they'd think it odd that she was pulling the wagon so close, but she could be loading butter or eggs or something for trade, so her actions weren't entirely suspicious.
Desperate ideas raced through her mind. Once she had the man in the wagon with her, she could just drive him right up to the stable or the barn and jump down and run screaming. But he would likely start shooting—and who knew what else could happen, who else could be hurt? Was there a safer scheme than leaving with him? She didn't know what he would do to her or where he would take her.
She could get the horses running, then leap off the wagon, letting it carry him away. That sounded like the best plan. That way she'd be getting him away from the station and she could alert the men to go after him.
The scheme was definite in her mind when she stopped the team. She studied the door with trepidation.
Instead of seeing the back door opening as she had expected, she saw the man creep from the side of the house, dragging a coat-draped figure at his side. The skirt hem, bound ankles and shoes were plainly visible as his prisoner was hauled across the dirt. Horror crept up Amy's spine.
Fear rippled anew through Amy. She'd believed Rachel would be safe left behind, but he'd reneged on their agreement. Had she really thought she could trust him?
The man heaved the covered form over the tailgate and dropped the bundle on the wagon bed. Amy winced at the action and the muffled cry. He climbed in and covered himself and Rachel with the tarp.
Amy wanted to cry. Or scream. She'd wanted to keep Rachel safe. Now she couldn't let the team run away with the wagon, not while Rachel was tied helplessly in the back. She should have known he wouldn't give her an opportunity to thwart his plans.
"Go!" he ordered. "No tricks or your friend is dead."
Feeling as helplessly trapped as Rachel, Amy faced forward and clucked to the horses. They pulled the wagon with a creak, and she guided them toward the road.
As she passed the barns, she watched for someone to spot her, someone she could signal for help. But no one was watching and no one came out. In the far corral several men were working horses, but their labor and their own noise prevented them from hearing the wagon.
Jesse, she thought. Where are you? Will I see you again? She fought down rising panic in order to think rationally. A level head was imperative. What was the wisest and safest thing to do?
"Just keep going," the man called. "And don't look back. Head straight to Baker's place."
For reasons unknown to her, this man wanted to go to her father's. It had something to do with that wretched Eden. Did he plan to lie in wait for her father? For what purpose? Jealousy? Should she lead him elsewhere?
After playing out several scenarios in her head, she could only pray that taking him to Sam's was the best choice. Should her father come home, he would see the wagon and know something was wrong. And she prayed for someone to notice she and Rachel were missing.
The trip had never gone so quickly. Amy dreaded pulling into the door yard at her father's place and learning what this man, whoever he was, had in mind.
She led the team to within thirty feet of the house and reined them to a halt. "We're here."
"Who else lives here?"
"No one."
"If you're lying, you're going to regret it."
"Why would I lie? I don't even know what you want."
The tarp moved and their captor threw it off and stood. He surveyed their surroundings, apparently assured they were alone. He drew out his gun, pointed it at Amy and then used the barrel to gesture. "Come get her and take her inside."
She tied the reins around the brake handle, climbed over the back of the seat and moved to where Rachel lay. The frightened girl stared at her wide-eyed.
"It's going to be all right." Amy helped her sit, and then moved to lower the gate so Rachel could awkwardly scoot herself to the edge. "I'm going to have to untie her ankles so she can walk."
He nodded.
She fumbled with the knots until they were loosened. Once Rachel had her balance, Amy helped her to the ground. Wrapping her arm around Rachel's waist, she led her toward the house.
Inside, the man pointed to the table and chairs. "Sit."
They obeyed. He yanked open drawers until he found towels and aprons, then tied the two women to the chairs. He wasn't gentle or careful, and he pulled the bonds tight, impairing circulation. Once he had them both secured, he turned his attention to opening drawers, overturning tables, rifling through everything he could find in a single-minded frenzy.
Amy met Rachel's brimming eyes. The young woman grimaced behind her gag and bent her head forward. A moan escaped through the cloth.
"Are you all right?"
Rachel shook her head.
"What is it?"
A tear rolled down Rachel's cheek.
A numb fear gripped Amy's chest. Rachel had been terrified, handled roughly. "The baby?" she asked softly.
Rachel nodded.
"Do you have a pain low in your belly—all the way through your insides?" Again she nodded.
Oh Lord, not this. Not now. Amy prayed for help— divine or otherwise would be just fine by her. She'd done her usual best to ignore the fact that Rachel would be giving birth to a baby soon. She didn't know what she'd thought would happen. Leda would come to attend her—a midwife would be called. But Amy had never wanted to be a part of it.
From the one other room came crashing and banging sounds. What in the name of goodness he was looking for, she couldn't imagine.
The silence that followed was equally unnerving. She strained to listen.
Suddenly the intruder crouched in the doorway, startling her with his silent presence. He studied the floorboards, making a minute scrutiny of each board, perhaps checking for a loose one. He performed the same tedious investigation of the entire room in which they sat, even under the table and their chairs. Contact with the table leg knocked his hat off, but he didn't pick it up—just continued his search.
Rachel bent forward again, making a sound of discomfort.
Amy's head buzzed with the enormity of their situation. "Please untie her and let me help her. She needs to lie down."
"Shut up, lady."
"She needs help. Please."
He swore impatiently and sat on his haunches, studying his surroundings.
Amy had her first good look at him then. His hair was fair and neatly cut. He'd abandoned his coat somewhere, revealing a black suit and vest with a crisp white shirt. As he focused his attention on the rafters overhead, Amy noticed the scar that spliced one of his fair eyebrows in half.
A scar over his eye. The man the detective had described. Eden's partner. Amy tried to remember his name, but couldn't.
Eden. Once again that despicable woman had brought suffering to Shelby Station. Amy should have snatched her hair out when she had the chance.
"If you tell me what yo
u're looking for, maybe I can help. You can get it and go."
"I doubt that."
The detective had mentioned Eden taking more than her share from one of their scams and running from this man. "Did Eden take something of yours?"
He ignored her and poked around the back of the stove, checking the floor, the wall. If she had hidden something, she'd craftily chosen a place where it was unlikely it would be discovered. The rooms at the boardinghouse changed guests regularly and were cleaned daily. The shelves fell under his anger, and he tossed dishes and bins to the floor with resounding crashes. In obvious frustration, he kicked through the rubble.
The sight of a small velvet pouch brought a gleam of satisfaction, and he bent to pick it up. Making quick work of the drawstring, he dumped the contents into his palm.
From fifteen feet away Amy saw the gleam of gold and the sparkle of gemstones. Diamonds, emeralds, rubies. He held what looked like several elaborate sets of jewelry. Apparently worth chasing down, worth threatening their lives, worth whatever it took to get them back.
Anger replaced some of the trepidation coursing through Amy's veins. Eden had used her father, tricked him into thinking she had affection for him in order to hide these stolen goods.
She turned away from the man's gloating expression to the pain and fear obvious in Rachel's. "You've found what you want—now you can leave us here and head out. Untie me."
He seemed to be thinking over her words, when a shout came from outside. "Amy!"
Jesse's voice.
In the confusion, she hadn't heard anyone ride up. Or perhaps he'd ridden in silently. Lord, don't let him walk through that door and make himself a target for this greedy man. "Jesse, stay out!" she shouted.
Their captor shoved the jewelry back into the pouch and stuffed it inside his coat. In the same instant he had the gun in his hand and lunged for the window, where he used his elbow to shatter the glass and his sleeve to scatter it away from the frame. Standing to the side so he wouldn't be a target, he aimed through the opening and fired.
Immediately shots were returned, splintering the window casing and hitting the wall.
Rachel made a noise behind the fabric of her gag.
"If you want your women back alive, get on your horses and ride back out!"
"You're trapped in there," Jesse called. "Let them go."
"What kind of fool do you think I am? They're my ticket out."
Amy's heart felt as though it would hammer right through her rib cage. The man was desperate to escape now. He had what he'd come for and he wanted to get away with it. She and Rachel were still his best advantage. Jesse had to know that too.
Their captor lunged across the room and used the knife to cut the fabric and free Amy's legs. He hauled her up, her arms still bound behind her, and dragged her roughly to the window.
"Shoot now!" he shouted behind her ear.
From her position at the window, Amy focused her attention until she spotted the locations of at least four men, hidden in various spots. If she'd seen those, there were undoubtedly more concealed at the side and rear of the house.
"Let them go, you bastard!" The unmistakably English accent was Jack's.
"You've made a mess of things, Shelby." The man who held her was stiff with tension as he shouted a response. "You know I can't let them go and get myself out of here. I need another choice."
"Jesse!" Amy called. "Do as he says. Rachel is ready to have her baby and she needs help."
"I'm not leaving you, Amy!"
"Please, Jesse!"
The man shoved her back into the room.
"Let me help her." Amy turned her back, making her tied wrists available to him. "Untie me so I can get her into the bed and help her. So far you haven't hurt anybody, but you let her or her baby die and you'll hang for sure."
"God, I'm fed up with bossy women."
She waited, her head growing light.
Finally, she felt a tug and her bonds were cut away. She ran forward and untied Rachel. As she removed the gag, the young woman's cries broke her heart. Rachel could barely walk, and Amy had to support her weight and practically carry her into Sam's bedroom. Her skirts were wet and she was perspiring.
Once Rachel was in bed, Amy helped her remove her shoes, stockings and drawers, and urged her to let her see the baby's progress. The head wasn't crowning yet, but Amy guessed it wouldn't be long. She'd never delivered a baby alone before. She'd had her own mother and a doctor present when her child was born. And she'd been present for only one other birth. If something happened, she'd be responsible. If the baby died... Amy's chest felt as though the weight of the world rested on it. She couldn't be responsible for another child's death. She had to help her friend and make sure the baby was okay.
She looked into Rachel's eyes, trying to give her reassurance. "Try to rest. I know it hurts and you're scared, but try to relax your body and not fight this baby. I'm going to get water and towels and linens. You're going to be just fine." She smoothed the hair from Rachel's forehead. "Okay?"
"Okay," she whispered.
Marching out, she stirred the coals in the stove, then added kindling. In the litter on the floor, she found a bucket and carried it toward the door. "I'm going for water."
The man lurched toward her, but she opened the door before he could reach her. She would let that man kill her before she'd lose this baby. Leaving the door open, she walked across the yard to the well.
To her surprise and relief, her father was crouched behind the stones. He started to rise.
"Get down." She spoke low enough that her voice wouldn't carry. "He doesn't know you're here. I couldn't see you from the window."
Attaching the bucket to the hook on the rope, she turned the crank and lowered it.
"What's goin' on, Amy?"
"That's the man Eden was in cahoots with. The man with the scar."
"George Gray?" Sam asked.
"He found some jewelry in your place."
"What kind o' jewelry?"
"Something worth a fortune, I'm guessing."
"Eden hid it there."
"I'd suppose." She used the opportunity to glance about, locating Jesse, Jack and Pitch where they were concealed.
"This is my fault, then," her father said.
"If it's anyone's fault, it's that woman's," she whispered. The bucket was full and she cranked it back up. "Rachel's baby isn't going to wait. Maybe a few of the men should leave, so he thinks you've all gone. Maybe he'll try to ride out then."
"You're goin' back in there?"
She unhooked the full pail. "I have to. Rachel needs me."
"Be careful, girl."
Carrying her load carefully, she walked back to her father's house, entered and closed herself in.
George Gray glared at her. She returned the look of contempt, walked past and poured water into a kettle on the stove.
She finally thought to remove her coat and noticed she was still wearing her apron.
"Leave that door open and stay where I can see you," George demanded as she headed back to Sam's bedroom.
Rachel's sounds of discomfort and distress had grown louder by the time she returned. Amy bathed the younger woman's face and hands with a cool rag and did her best to keep her calm.
The sound of riders drew her to the window beside the bed. She moved the curtain aside and spotted three men riding away. "They're leaving!"
She glanced to the other room to see that George watched the retreating men too.
"They're leaving us here?" Rachel's voice held dismay and her eyes were wide with fright.
"They're gone," Amy called. "You can leave us now."
"I'm not going anywhere until it's dark."
Amy's hopes sank. Rachel sobbed and she curled her hands into fists to keep from joining her. Amy had learned to hold in every emotion that threatened her composure, and she could hold back these as well. She would not panic. She would not give in to fear.
A movement beside the window c
aught her attention, startling her. She flattened her palm against her breast, then realized one of their men was hiding outside.
George was still at his station at the front. "You need a little air," she told Rachel, and eased open the window.
She made out Deezer's youthful face, etched with worry as he whispered, "Come quick, Miz Shelby. You and Miz Douglas slip out this winder whilst he's busy at the front."
Amy shook her head. "She can't ride."
And they both knew Amy wouldn't leave her.
She left the window open and pulled the curtains closed. It was only small reassurance to know he was right on the other side of the wall, but reassurance all the same.
"I didn't know it was going t' hurt this bad." Rachel bit her lip.
Amy sat beside her on the bed's edge. "Don't bite your lip, sweetie. You got a rough start, but we're going to do this together, you and I." Amy leaned to her ear and whispered, "Having a few men leave was just a distraction... to make him think they've all gone."
"Woman!" The shout came from George in the other room.
Amy got up and stood in the doorway.
"I'm hungry." He gestured toward the stove area. "Find me something to eat."
She looked back at Rachel, assuring herself the baby's arrival wouldn't be at that moment, and stepped her way around books and pans and broken dishes.
Fury rose like a fire in her neck and face before she ever reached the cooking area. He'd made a shambles of the kitchen and now he expected her to neatly whip together a meal. If she thought her father kept rat poison around, she'd gladly lace George Gray's food and watch him suffer.
The thought got her to thinking of something that might make him sick and not necessarily kill him. After adding wood, she found a tin of meat and another of beans and dumped them into a skillet over the hot stove.
She picked around in the debris, finding a metal plate and a fork. Her eye caught a familiar-looking medicine bottle that had apparently been inside a crock that now lay broken. With a quick check to see that George was looking out the window, she slipped it into her apron pocket.
"I'm going to check on her while that's heating." She entered the bedroom and sat beside Rachel, discreetly taking the bottle from her pocket to read the label.