Tracie Peterson, Tracey V. Bateman, Pamela Griffin, JoAnn A. Grote

by Prairie Christmas Collection

  His voice was rough as he helped her into her coat and hat and hoisted her through the opening. Far below, the yard was still darkly quiet, but footfalls pounded on the stairs behind them. David crept out onto the roof and stood beside her. Lucinda burrowed into his sheltering arms and pressed her face hard into his chest as though he could make the terror go away.

  “Stay low,” he said softly. Hugging the shadows, he steered her along the roof. Her shoes slipped on the cold tiles, but David held her tight and kept her moving.

  “Watch your step on the ladder,” he whispered. “I’ll go first and guide your feet onto the rungs.” He pried her hand from his, and the parting wrenched her heart. With the greatest care, he placed each foot on the rung, but still she never felt more gratitude than when she stepped onto the ground. He pulled her into the deep shadows of shrubs next to the house. “Wait here.”

  Taking down the ladder, he laid it against the foundation and came back to her.

  Lucinda fought tears. “David, can’t you tell me what’s going on? Who are those men? Why are they chasing us?”

  He motioned her to silence and rushed them through the shadows along the side of the house.

  A horse whinnied.

  He pulled her to her knees and knelt before her, shielding her body from any eyes. “Catch your breath. I know you didn’t do anything, but we have to keep you from that pack of ruffians the judge has set on you. Do you understand that?”

  “No, I don’t understand any of this, but I trust you.” She set her lips in a line and swiped two large tears tracking down her cheeks. David stood, wrapped her in his great arms, and pulled her to her feet. “The entrance to the secret stairs is inside the yew hedge.” He glanced right, left, and behind like a cornered fox. “All right, run!”

  They fled across the lane and inside the thick hedge. He took a branch and swept away their footprints, then lifted the trapdoor. Once inside the tunnel, he struck a safety match and lit the small oil lamp. “This is used often by servants returning late.” He grinned. Making sure the trapdoor was secured, he led the way through the tunnel and up the hidden stairway inside the house.

  It seemed an eternity before she was once again sitting in the drawing room, now dark except for what was left of the fire’s faint embers casting a glow on the area directly before the hearth. David spread a lap rug over her. “I’m hoping this is the last place anyone would think to look for you. I need to get my letter and money.”

  “Please, David, I don’t understand any of this.”

  “I’ll be right back and will tell you everything.”

  Lucinda heard the door latch click shut, and her heart sank. Too tired and frightened to think, she stared into the embers of the hearth for what seemed hours until once more the door opened and someone—no, more than one—came into the room. She held her breath. Footsteps came toward the fireplace. Dear Father in heaven, help me, help me, she prayed over and over.

  “It’s David,” he whispered. “And Pearl.” He set his leather case beside the fireplace.

  “Did you say ‘Pearl’?”

  Pearl came into view and set two small bags beside David’s. She bustled over to Lucinda. “You need looking after, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my days in the laundry press. I’m coming with you.” She stood bundled inside her coat.

  Lucinda looked at the bags. “Where are we going? Please tell me what’s happening. I can’t imagine why I’m being pursued.”

  David knelt beside her. “Earlier this evening Mistress Tillotson was found assaulted in her dressing room. The gemstones she took from you are missing. The judge said she was clutching a shoe in one hand and your antique necklace in the other. Thus, my dear Lucinda, it is you they are seeking.”

  Lucinda’s hand flew to her throat. Panic rushed over her. “I had it on,” she cried. Her heart raced, and she felt sick. “How did the judge get it?” Then, she remembered the man who accosted her in the hallway. She told David the story.

  “Your account of the man who waylaid you describes the judge. He must have taken the necklace from you and later placed it in Rosella’s hand. I wondered how he even knew about it.” David reached in his pocket and laid her necklace, the emeralds gleaming, on her lap.

  Lucinda caressed the jewels. “David, how did you get this?”

  “It was on my bed wrapped in a silk handkerchief like the ones the judge carries.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I think he figured out that Rosella arranged for you to be kidnapped twenty years ago. He confronted her with his suspicions. Whatever she said or did made him so angry that he grabbed the poker and hit her, though he didn’t kill her. Afraid for you, he planted the necklace he took, knowing that would force you to flee. She is still unconscious, but Pearl overheard Rosella tell the judge she’d take care of you herself this time and know the job was done right. Since he saw us talking together earlier in the salon, I suspect he counted on Pearl and me helping you to get away. It’s snowing hard, and our tracks will soon be covered.” He checked his watch. “Things are finally getting quiet, but dawn will soon be here. We don’t have much time.”

  Lucinda’s thoughts were spiraling. “Where are we going?”

  “To Yarrow Woman.”

  “Why to her?”

  “Her name is Mary Margaret Mason,” David explained. “She was captured by the Indians when she was fifteen. The Masons moved heaven and earth and spent a fortune to get her back. She fought returning to her old world, having become more Indian than white. Now she lives on the edge of the Mason property. She dresses as an Indian, talks their language, and has little to do with anyone but the prairie settlers. Hers is the perfect place to hide until we can figure out what to do.” David looked outside. “I’ll get the sleigh and Kambur. You and Pearl wait at the tunnel exit. I’ll come back for you shortly.”

  And he was gone.

  Chapter 9

  From Illinois to Kansas the prairie stretched miles without number, a gray wasteland filled with empty silence and boundless cold. A hard wind from the northwest pushed across the flatland, but in this deep fold of earth, it was calm. David pulled the sleigh to a halt in front of Yarrow Woman’s cabin. He had heard many stories of this strange woman, but he tried not to believe them.

  The slab door creaked open, and David hoped they weren’t going to be looking down the barrel of a shotgun. Showing no signs of surprise, Yarrow Woman motioned them in. “Hurry, all of you.”

  David didn’t need a second invitation. He helped the two women out of the sleigh, and they entered the dusky interior, a small room that served as Yarrow Woman’s kitchen, parlor, and dispensary. Shelves lining the walls were filled with bottles and vials. A blend of aromas wafted from bunches of dried herbs hung from the rafters. In the kitchen area a small cooking stove occupied the corner next to the copper sink, which had an indoor water pump. Kerosene lamps on the windowsills and the round oak table gave off a yellow glow. Yarrow Woman sat Pearl and David at the table and Lucinda in a willow rocker near the fireplace. Two gray cats on the hearthstones stirred and coolly examined Lucinda with their green eyes.

  Yarrow Woman also studied Lucinda. “You arrived at the Tillotsons’ in time.” Lucinda managed a wan smile. “I did, and as you predicted, I served a very short time.”

  David wondered how much Yarrow Woman had already guessed but told her the whole story, anyway.

  “I’ve been waiting for you.” She smiled. “The hens are laying well. I will whip us up an omelet.” Without waiting for a response, she busied herself at the kitchen counter.

  “We apologize for placing you in such danger, but we had nowhere else to turn,” David explained.

  She brought them steaming mugs of coffee. “I have been thinking of what we can do. I have spent far too many years baking scones and listening to the troubles of settlers. My bones tell me it is time to go home.” The room grew silent. “Come, Lucinda, you must eat. I doubt they fed you at the Tillotsons’.”
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  David bounded to his feet and helped her to the table. His heart ached when he looked at her. She was pale, and dark circles ringed her eyes.

  Yarrow Woman came carrying a silver serving tray. After the blessing, they feasted on the omelet and generous slices of bread.

  “Lucinda, you are almost asleep,” Yarrow Woman said when they finished the meal. “Let me tuck you into bed while we pack the sleigh.” She guided the exhausted girl to the bed in the adjoining bedroom.

  While Yarrow Woman filled boxes with food and bottles with water, she directed Pearl in filling several gunnysacks with herbs. David laid fresh straw over the bed of the sleigh and stacked up bales of hay for the horses. The food and water he padded with quilts and pillows. Finished, they sat down for a last cup of coffee and some elk jerky.

  A mighty crash thundered against the door.

  They leaped out of their chairs.

  The door exploded open.

  David stared into cruelty: A middle-aged man with a red beard on a skeletal face glared at them from behind a Remington shotgun. A white scar zigzagged down his cheek, pulling his mouth into a perpetual sneer. Nothing in his expression suggested goodness or mercy. Cold, black eyes raked the room.

  David, his insides knotted, forced himself to stay calm. “Who?”

  “Don’t try to stall me. I ain’t stupid. Where is the new maid that tried to kill the judge’s wife? The judge wants her real bad.”

  “I don’t know about a new maid trying to kill anyone.”

  “Word’s spread over the county. New maid hired yesterday disappeared from the Tillotson place sometime after midnight. Old judge is paying a thousand dollars silver for her return alive, no questions asked.”

  David couldn’t believe the judge would post a reward. He knew Lucinda was his daughter and would want her safe. Tillotson servants must have seen easy money in the return of Lucinda, David guessed, and exploited the situation. “Do you have a wanted poster or anything to prove your story?” David stepped toward the antsy gunman.

  He shifted the weathered shotgun and pointed it directly at David’s midsection. “Word I got is straight from someone at the mansion. Countryside’s crawlin’ with bounty hunters. Nobody’s thought to look here yet.”

  This fellow probably wasn’t a bounty hunter. Under the brim of his greasy hat, sweat beaded on his forehead, and his hand holding the gun twitched nervously. His desperation and lack of experience, however, made him more dangerous.

  His ugly bearded face took on a sly look. “I says to myself, I says, I’ll just have a look around the squaw’s place.” He brandished the gun at Yarrow Woman, but she didn’t move a muscle. “And look what I find. A sleigh at the front door and three innocent-looking people with nothin’ in common, getting’ ready to leave.” He pointed his gun at the boxes and sacks stacked in the corner. His laugh was low and coarse. “Wonder where the fourth one is?” Keeping the gun trained on them, he began a thorough search of the room, including looking through all the drawers and cupboards and tapping the walls and floors for signs of hidden closets or trapdoors.

  David spoke up. “As you can see, there are no hiding places here.”

  The ruffian looked toward the bedroom. “That must mean you got her stowed away in the other room.” His heavy boots thumped on the floor as he walked to the door.

  David’s heart turned over. There was no place in that room to hide. Think, David, think. You have to do something. He turned toward the fireplace and the poker resting there. The man whirled and leveled the gun. “See the notches on the butt?” David could. “You wanna be another one?”

  He would be no good to anyone if he were dead. David froze, but his heart raced.

  The old hunter unlatched the door and eased it open with the toe of his boot. Silently the door swung open to reveal a single bed spread with a tan Indian blanket in the corner of the small room. On the opposite wall stood an ornate mahogany armoire with a large mirror beside it. A small table next to the bed and a single willow chair completed the furnishings. The floor was bare pine slabs; a large rag rug lay rolled up in front of the armoire. The thug pulled open the muslin curtains covering the single window and looked out over the snowy yard.

  Oh, dear God in heaven, don’t let him look down, David prayed. A small scrap of blue fabric hung from a nail on the side of the window. Lucinda! She has more courage than anyone I know. But where is she hiding out there in the wind? She’ll freeze.

  Apparently convinced Lucinda was still in the house, the ugly man looked under the bed and poked the mattress with the gun barrel. Nothing. He turned his attention to the armoire. After checking every drawer, he then gave the rug a solid kick with the side of his boot, thumped it with the butt of his gun, shrugged, and went about tapping walls and floor for hollow sounds. He found nothing. He rested his foot on the rug and snarled, “I know ya got her stashed somewheres.” He bent down and started to unroll the rug.

  David clenched his fists and wished he hadn’t packed his pistol away in the wagon. Pearl turned her back and clamped her hand over her mouth. Yarrow Woman’s face remained stoic, but her black eyes sparked rage.

  The rug flopped open. Nothing. He swore his disappointment. “Well, folks, she cain’t stay hidden ferever. I’ll just wait it out.”

  David stormed through the doorway, his hands working, his breath coming hard and fast. “Your search is over. Get out!”

  The man thrust the gun in David’s face. “Lucky fer you I’m feelin’ generous, or you’d be dead. But shoot you I will. It’ll give me pleasure to let you stew not knowin’ when.” His look included them all. “I’ll be watchin’.”

  He tromped outside, waved his fist in the air, and yelled obscenities at David, who stood in the doorway with Yarrow Woman’s gun trained on the man. The old scoundrel mounted his horse and rode out of range. He stopped and hung his leg around the saddle horn, making it plain he was prepared to wait out their departure.

  They rushed to the window and threw open the sash. “Lucinda,” David called softly. Her face appeared around the corner of the house. “Come, we’ll help you in.” She grasped the rope David lowered and hung on tight while he hoisted her up and into the room. “Lucinda, oh, Lucinda, are you all right?”

  She looked up into his eyes, and he caressed her face and hair. “How brave you are. That’s a long drop to the ground. Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t think so. Just terribly cold.”

  Yarrow Woman pushed David out of the way. “I’ll tend to Lucinda. You finish with the sleigh.”

  David tied Kambur to the rear of the buckboard sleigh and checked the traces of Yarrow Woman’s gray Percheron. Satisfied that all was well, he took off his oilskin and climbed into the sleigh. Yarrow Woman appeared, and they quickly stretched a canvas top over a frame to keep out the worst of the storm and block the view of the front door.

  “Pearl, you get in. We’ll get Lucinda.”

  They wrapped her in the rug. David picked up one end and Yarrow Woman the other. Gently they carried her to the wagon. Pearl guided the burden inside until it rested on the straw.

  “Can you breathe all right?” David asked. He was thankful to hear a muffled yes. He leaned the front door in place and climbed up on the seat beside Yarrow Woman. A mewing caught his attention. Beside her on the floorboard was a basket containing her two cats. She’s such a softy under that rough exterior.

  “I’m glad you know the way,” he said to Yarrow Woman.

  She nodded and slapped the reins, and they were off. When they reached the prairie, David looked back. A solitary horseman followed close enough to be seen.

  Minutes later, David looked back again. He’s still there and drawing closer. He’s going to do exactly as he said. We’re all going to be dead before nightfall except Lucinda. He couldn’t even think about what would happen to her.

  By mid-afternoon, David realized the man was not going away. Up the road, another snow squall stalled and waited for them to drive into a whiteout.


  They were almost out of time, but David still had no idea what to do. After they drove into the whiteout, he had Yarrow Woman stop. He crawled into the back and got his gun. He untied Kambur and mounted up. “Go on. I’ll catch up,” he shouted over the wind.

  He rode to the edge of the whiteout and waited. It wasn’t long until the hunter rode by, his head bent against the blizzard. He had let down his guard. David waited until he passed, then followed him. The wind carried away all sound. David rode up beside him. He cocked his pistol and pointed it at the man’s head.

  “Hands in the air!” he shouted. David reached over and lifted the shotgun out of the old man’s raised hands. He pitched it far out into the whiteness. Searching through the man’s pockets, he found a pair of handcuffs. David cuffed his hands, turned the horse around, and with a solid boot to the rump, sent the horse galloping back the way it had come.

  David felt no remorse as he turned around and again faced the wall of white. The bounty hunter wouldn’t die, and he couldn’t hurt Lucinda anymore. David sat very still, with no idea of which way to go. Letting the reins go slack and with a prayer on his lips, he allowed Kambur to move forward on his own.

  The storm had stopped by the time David spotted Yarrow Woman’s sleigh before a sod house with an attached stable. Another sleigh stood in the yard. David leaped down from Kambur and made his way to the door, realizing that this must be the “inn” Yarrow Woman had referred to earlier. Tacked there was a sign: DIPHTHERIA. His heart sank.

  “Hey, there,” a voice called from near the stable. “Praise be to God! We’re having a baby. Your friends are inside the stable helping my wife.”

  David turned and recognized Andy Henderson, the Tillotsons’ former head groomsman.

  Chapter 10

  The stable was quiet. Lying on beds of fresh straw and wrapped in buffalo robes, the weary travelers encircled the makeshift fire pit. Andy kept watch over Gigi and baby Gabriel asleep in her arms. The animals rested in stalls beyond the flickering firelight.