Master's Match

by Murray, Tamela Hancock

  “Yes, is that quite all right?”

  “Of course. I just wasn’t expecting to leave so soon. Shall I don my coat?”

  “A fine idea. A nip of winter still permeates this fine spring air.” He inhaled deeply. “But speaking of your outer wrap, I’ve been negligent in taking care of you. It’s past time for you to have outer garments sewn. Two, in fact. One for spring and one for winter.”

  She nodded. The standing wardrobe in the Gold Room was becoming full.

  The ride to the milliner’s allowed her enough time to catch Nash up on the news. “Oh, and I did speak with my family about the dinner. They’ll be happy to see Dawn and the other seamstresses about clothing. Or perhaps I should say, Mother and my sisters are happy. I can’t promise my male relatives are just as eager.”

  He chuckled. “Women’s clothing is lovely and colorful, while we men are forced into dull colors and starched collars. No wonder they’re not eager.”

  She smiled. “Thank you for understanding. So much has happened to me—to all of us—in such a short time.”

  “I know. With God’s grace, we’ll soon understand each other completely.” The carriage stopped in front of the shop.

  “I’ll take this opportunity to go to the dry-goods store for Harrod, sir.” Jack jumped off the conveyance.

  “Very good. But do be back in due time. Don’t keep me waiting as you did last week.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jack sent him a sheepish look before he vanished.

  “He seems to be in a hurry to run that errand,” Becca couldn’t help but notice good-naturedly.

  Nash’s lips thinned. “I do believe he has his eye on the shop girl. He’s a good driver for the most part, but sometimes he gets too distracted by his personal affairs to pay proper attention to his work. Years ago my father promised his mother we’d take of him, so I hate to let him go.”

  “It’s hard to control a love-struck man. I’ve seen that look in my brother’s eyes. You might have a wedding in your household soon.”

  “Another one? Indeed.” Nash smiled and jumped out then extended his hand to help her disembark.

  Caught up in her world with Nash, she took his hand, grateful for the excuse to make the slightest contact, and smiled at him. He looked into her eyes. Getting lost in his gaze, she almost missed her step, but managed to retain her composure. She could look in his eyes forever. . . .

  The tip of her toe had no sooner hit the street than she heard the horrifying scream of a woman from the direction of a nearby bank. She remembered Nash mentioning a rash of robberies. Surely they hadn’t stumbled onto the scene of a crime!

  A man ran out of the bank and looked in both directions. Despite Becca’s unspoken prayer that he wouldn’t head in their direction, he did. Gunshots followed, gashing the air.

  “Get back in the carriage. Now!” Nash insisted.

  She turned to jump back in but moved too late. Without warning, a hand gripped her arm, ripping her from Nash’s hold. Another scream followed amidst more gunfire. One bullet flew so close, Becca heard it whiz by. She let out her own scream.

  The robber’s grip wasn’t the comforting hold of Nash, but a rough vise.

  “Unhand her!” Nash demanded.

  Ascertaining that Becca’s escort was unarmed, the robber ignored Nash’s demand. Instead, he kept her in front of him to discourage more gunshots from being fired in his direction. Before she could shout again, he forced her to mount the horse with a rude motion, then whipped up behind her.

  “No!” Nash cried.

  The robber responded by shooting once in Nash’s direction. Nash ducked to avoid being hit. Becca screamed and reached for the gun to take it away from the criminal.

  He wrestled his arm away from her while keeping hold of the bridle. “Try that again and I’ll shoot ta kill.”

  Looking back well into the distance, she saw Nash pursuing them on foot. Even as strong as he was, Becca knew he had no hope of catching them. She loved him all the more for trying. The evil look on the robber’s face told her he would stop at nothing to escape. At that moment she resolved not to interfere with her captor’s intent, fearful that he would keep his word and Nash would be shot and fall dead before her. The idea brought a storm of tears to her eyes. Unencumbered, trails of hot, salty water streamed down her cheeks.

  Winded, Nash stopped and waved. “I’ll find you, Becca! I love you!” he shouted as the horse galloped into the unknown.

  ❧

  Watching the horse rush away with his Becca, Nash felt embarrassed and helpless. If only he could have caught up with them! Why did he have to lose his head and run instead of jumping into his carriage and giving chase with the horse?

  His fiancée had endured the dangers of poverty and its accompanying hardships all her life, yet with money and position behind him, he couldn’t even protect her during a routine trip to the milliner’s. Then again, despite being aware that robbers were about in town, he still hadn’t expected to meet one—and be shot at, no less.

  At that moment Jack pulled up in the carriage. “Shall we give chase, sir?”

  Nash nodded. “We can try.” He jumped aboard and held on as the conveyance made haste. Though Jack ran the horses as fast as he could, they were no match for the unencumbered horse they pursued.

  “We lost him, sir,” Jack admitted after several miles.

  Upset, Nash had to agree. “I suppose if I hadn’t lost my head and tried to run after the horse on foot, we might have had a chance. Go back to town. We must notify the police.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jack urged the horses on, quickening the pace. Once they returned to the scene of the crime, they found police questioning witnesses.

  An older woman pointed at Nash. “They run off with a lady what was with him.”

  A detective looked Nash up and down. “Is this true?”

  “ ’Course it’s true,” the woman protested. “I saw the whole thing.”

  Nash nodded. “I wish it weren’t true, but he took my fiancée, Miss Becca Hanham, hostage and made off with her. Officer, you must do something. You’ve got to save her. She’s everything to me.” Though he had professed his love to Becca with every bit of sincerity he possessed, the fact that she could be lost to him forever made him realize the depth of emotion he had developed for her. He recalled her sweet kiss on his lips. What he would give to have her close once more!

  “Slow down, sir,” the officer urged. “What’s your name?”

  “Nash Abercrombie.”

  He blanched. “Oh. I’m sorry, Mr. Abercrombie. I didn’t know. Of course we’ll do anything we can to assist you. . . .”

  “I don’t ask for any more consideration than you’d give any other citizen. I just ask that you do everything you can to find her. He—he used my Becca as a hostage.” Nash choked on the words. Not one to show emotion and never one to blather, Nash felt tears threaten. He couldn’t let anyone see him like this. They might think him less of a man. “My driver and I pursued him to the outskirts of town before we lost him.”

  “Tell me as best as you can, sir. I know you must be shaken. They said the robber shot at you.”

  “Yes.” Trying not to think about that part of the adventure, Nash related the horrible events and described the robber as a bulky man with dark hair.

  The officer made notes. “Yes, that matches the description of one of the bandits. Lately they’ve been working solo. We’ll find them all and bring them to justice. That’s a promise, Mr. Abercrombie.”

  Wishing he could do more, Nash boarded the carriage and went home. All the while, he wallowed in self-doubt. If he hadn’t brought Becca into his world, she would have avoided being snatched. He, not she, should be with the kidnappers.

  “Lord, deliver her safely into my arms. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

  ❧

  A repulsive laugh bellowed from the lips of the robber who had taken Becca hostage as he looked over his shoulder. “We lost ’em.”

  Becc
a’s heart plummeted. Why didn’t someone—anyone—from town catch up to them? She prayed all hope for her release wasn’t lost. Fright seized her and wouldn’t let go. Father’s worst temper tantrums and outbursts didn’t compare to feeling so alone. At least at her house her mother would try to protect her. She had no such ally on a galloping horse ridden by a stranger, heading out of Providence to who knew where? Never had she seen this part of the country, so trying to remember where she went seemed impossible. All she caught sight of was a marker for Meeting Street. Perhaps that tidbit would help in the future.

  She couldn’t help but wonder if Hazel, or someone connected to her, hired the man to kidnap her, but since she didn’t know their comings and goings, misfortune seemed more probable. The man brought the horse to a trot. She sat in front of him with his arms around her, but they didn’t comfort her. Being near such a man left her sick. “You’ve gotten what you want from me. I protected you from getting shot. Will you let me go now? I’ll walk back into town myself.”

  “Let ya go? But I’m not finished with ya yet.”

  Her stomach lurched. What could he mean? She whispered, “Lord, I pray Thee will keep me safe.”

  “Shut up with prayin’,” he hissed. “It’s enough to give a man a headache.”

  Surprised that he heard her, she swallowed. Fear kept her from disobeying, but no one could keep her from petitioning the Lord silently. She prayed.

  Soon she eyed a small log cabin near a churchyard at the end of a lonely country path. That must be where he was taking her. She couldn’t help but note the cemetery. Would they kill her and bury her there in an unmarked grave? Or throw her unprotected corpse on top of some other poor soul’s and cover them both with dirt? Anxiety clutched at her midsection.

  Lord, I pray this isn’t the last time I see the outdoors.

  With a rough motion, the heavyset man pulled her off the horse and set her on the ground. Taking her by the hand without ado, he escorted her to the house, opened the thick wood door, and pushed her into a small room with tiny windows, lit only by two anemic candles. Becca’s eyes adjusted quickly, and she saw two women and a man.

  The first woman, a brunette with few wrinkles on her face but telltale grays in her hair, rose from her seat. “What took so long?”

  The man had a question, too. “Did ya get a good take?”

  A younger woman with a plump figure and ash blond hair jumped and ran to him, throwing her arms around him. “Dolph, I thought you’d never come back. I—I thought you might have been killed.”

  For a flash of an instant, Becca felt sorry for the blond. How would she feel if she were waiting for Nash, worried that something terrible happened to him? But then, Nash was neither a bank robber nor a kidnapper. . . .

  Becca expected Dolph to console his female companion, but instead he grunted and made his way to the nearest wooden chair.

  “What have we got here?” The brunette had noticed Becca and stared at her. Becca cut her glance to the blond, whose slitted eyes and folded arms revealed she considered Becca a threat. Becca looked at the floor in hopes of showing her that Dolph was safe from her affections.

  “What does it look like I’ve got here?” Dolph sneered.

  “We weren’t supposed to bring a woman in the picture,” the brunette said. “Have you gone mad?”

  “Maybe I have, and maybe I haven’t.” As Dolph shrugged, the angle of his face in the light revealed he needed to shave his dark whiskers. “I grabbed her without thinkin’ since she was the only woman around. Then, at first, I thought she was from the poor side of town, what with that old coat. But look underneath at this dress.” He gave Becca’s sleeve a tug that threatened to ruin Dawn’s expert sewing. She tried not to flinch or pull away, fearful of inciting an unwelcome reaction from her captor. “She’s got money, this one has. Isn’t that right, Mac?” he asked the man.

  “Yea,” agreed Mac, nondescript except for an acute slimness of frame.

  “You should of seen the man she was with. He was wearin’ clothes good enough to see President Polk.”

  “So she was with someone?” the blond asked, looking into Dolph’s face.

  “Who cares?” the brunette asked. “We don’t need her here.”

  “We needed her when they was shootin’ bullets at me,” Dolph said. “If it hadn’t been for her, I might be dead sure enough.” He looked Becca over as though she were a prize.

  “Somebody will pay dearly to get this girl back. Don’t ya think?”

  The elder woman nodded. “Mebbe so.”

  “Who are ye?” Dolph asked.

  The brunette woman surveyed her. “She looks mighty familiar. Like I should know her.”

  “Quiet. Ya don’t know no high-society women.” Dolph turned to Becca. “Now who are ye?”

  Praying she didn’t put Nash in danger by telling the truth, she put on a braver front than she felt.

  She tilted her head high. “I am the fiancée of Nash Abercrombie.”

  Eleven

  Distraught beyond expression, Nash returned to his house to wait for news. He shared the story with Harrod, who soon brought tea to Nash in his study as comfort. Nash let the tea grow cold as he paced back and forth. He debated sending Jack to let Becca’s family know what happened, but thought better of it. Such terrible news would best be delivered by himself in person. After all, he’d gotten her into the situation by bringing her into his world. Losing Becca would devastate her family, particularly her mother and her sisters Naomi and Sissy. Perhaps Becca would have been better off had he left her alone. But he could not imagine life without her.

  “I’ll wait two hours, and if there’s no word, I’ll venture out to tell them,” he muttered. “Lord, I know we are to wait for Thy time, but I pray that in this instance, Thy time is mine.”

  Harrod knocked. “Forgive me for the interruption, but the newspaper published an extra today, sir. I thought you would want to see it.” He handed the paper to Nash.

  “Thank you, Harrod. You are dismissed.” He sat at his desk and devoured the account of the daring escape and kidnapping. His name and Becca’s appeared, along with the details. He groaned, thinking about the gossip sure to ensue. Of course no reporter would write an account of a robbery gone wrong, along with gunshots and an impromptu kidnapping, without publishing their names.

  Once again, Harrod knocked. “Otto Blevins to see you, sir.”

  Nash was in no mood to see anyone. Already the police had been by to question him about receiving a ransom note. So far, he had not. “With my apologies, tell him I am indisposed at present and will see him another time.”

  Harrod’s mouth tightened, but otherwise he remained unruffled. “Shall I tell everyone else the same?”

  “Yes.” He rubbed his chin. “Just how many people are there?”

  Harrod placed several calling cards on the corner of Nash’s desk. “As you can see, because of the newspaper’s extra, many of your friends have stopped by inquiring about your health. They are concerned. Of course, I gave them no further details.”

  “If any more stop by, tell them I am well and will see them soon.”

  “I’ll do my best to keep them at bay, sir.” Harrod shook his head and left the study.

  His exit left Nash alone with his thoughts. He stared out the window to a cloudy day. When would the kidnapper return Becca, or at the very least, send a ransom note? Why didn’t God answer his prayers and grant her return?

  Again, Harrod knocked.

  “I told you I don’t want to see anyone,” Nash snapped.

  “Yes, sir. However, I would not interrupt if I didn’t feel, in my judgment, it wasn’t necessary.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be harsh. I’m in a foul mood.”

  “You have every right to be,” Harrod agreed. “Again, I would not have dared interrupt, only I feel certain you will want to see Miss Hazel Caldwell.”

  “Hazel? Did she say what she wanted?” He knew she was angry, but he
didn’t expect her to show up at that moment.

  “She said she has a letter you will want to read.”

  “A letter?” His curiosity was piqued, especially since he knew Hazel wouldn’t bother unless the matter really was of the utmost urgency. “Very well. Escort her to the parlor, and have the maid send in tea.”

  Soon he entered the parlor. They wasted little time in exchanging pleasantries. Hazel carried a copy of the extra edition with her. She folded it to reveal the article about the events. “This is a disgrace! Being seen in public with this woman.” Her nostrils flared with anger. “I have many friends in this town, and it didn’t take me long to find out the real identity of your so-called fiancée. Imagine, trying to pass her off as a respectable woman. Really, Nash, have you taken leave of your senses?”

  “I have not. Hazel, I am in no mood to discuss your opinion about my fiancée. As you can see for yourself in the newspaper account, she has been kidnapped. I am frantic with worry, and I await word from her kidnapper. I fully expect to be asked for a ransom. A ransom I will gladly pay to have her safe in my arms again.”

  “You—you really have become—fond of her, haven’t you?” Her mouth slackened, and hurt evidenced itself in Hazel’s voice. For a moment Nash could almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

  “I love her,” he proclaimed without wavering.

  “You love her?” she sneered. “The idea of you even thinking of marrying her is a disgrace to everyone in Providence.” She threw the paper on the tea table, almost hitting the pot full of hot beverage. Ignoring the near mishap, she folded her arms and faced him. “Now, I’m aware that you men sometimes indulge in, shall we say, little indiscretions. We women understand, and I can forgive you—”

  “How dare you!” If Hazel had been a man, he would have been tempted to say something stronger.

  She winced but did not apologize.

  He stood his ground. “I assure you, I have no intention of conducting myself in such a way. While of course I am not perfect, I do try to live by God’s commandments.”

  “Really?” she huffed. “Surely you have no intention of wedding that little back-alley girl. Why, how can you even look twice at someone who not so many years ago sold matches on the street corner? I understand she was even your scullery maid. You must think this is a joke, although it’s not in the least bit funny.”