Mail Order Promises

by Julianna Blake

  “But what is the point? If you hate it here, why would you want his practice?” Lilly hoped that she could keep him talking as long as possible. She dared not let her eyes stray to the table of instruments beside her, lest he remember his purpose.

  He sighed with the patience of an adult dealing with a troublesome child. “Once Archer is gone, I can step in and take over his practice, and use it as a stepping stone for my ultimate career. I’ll move to a grand office, farther up Main Street. I can bring in a more upscale class of patients, take on more difficult cases, and in a few years I can publish papers about providing world-class medical care on the frontier. When I finally sell the practice here—at a great profit—I can set up a practice in Washington D.C., like I had always planned. It may add another five years to my plan, but I’m a patient man—as you are about to find out. I enjoy having a well-thought out and methodical work ethic.”

  He picked up a small knife. “I think we’ll start with a scalpel, then move on to the bistoury. I’m eager to see what your tolerance for pain is.”

  Fear swallowed her in a wave, and she screamed, kicking and straining against the bindings as Foyle leaned over her torso holding the scalpel.

  ***

  The dirt track that led up the trail to Doc’s cabin was so narrow that Jake almost missed the turn off, but at the last moment he caught a glimpse of numbers carved into a tree as he passed it in a blur.

  After the road comes to a “T”, take a right, then watch for a tall tamarack with the bark peeled off at eye level, and the lot number carved into it.

  He wheeled his horse around as he recognized Doc’s “landmark” a moment too late, then charged up the trail. As he saw the trees open up into a sparsely-treed sunlit clearing ahead, he brought Paca up short, just in time to avoid detection. Guiding her slowly off the path, they moved behind a small stand of young pines that gave more cover than the taller trees with barren branches at the bottom of their trunks. He debated tying her to a tree, then thought better of it. He realized belatedly that Foyle could have a firearm, and Jake hadn’t even thought to stop for his shotgun. If gunfire broke out, Paca deserved the chance to run for safety.

  “Stay here Paca,” he whispered, holding out his hands in a stop gesture. “Stay here.”

  The horse obeyed, though she stomped with apprehension, sensing Jakes turbulent emotions. Fortunately the soft, thick layer of pine needles dampened any sound.

  He approached the cabin at as low of an angle as he could manage without crawling. He only saw one small window near the door, and Doc’s wagon out front, with Doc’s stoutest horse still hitched to it.

  He made a wide berth to the side of the house, to avoid being seen from the window. As he sidled up to the side of the low porch, he craned his neck and caught sight of the parlor rug, unrolled in a rumpled heap in the back of the wagon. His instincts had been right. Foyle had transported Lilly rolled up in the rug. But had Foyle brought her body to the woods to bury her, or had he brought her alive, for some other purpose?

  Jake couldn’t let himself think about what that purpose might be.

  Though he wanted to charge headlong through the door, he followed his instincts again and crept past it, each step sounding as loud as a gunshot in his ear, though he knew that it was probably barely audible to anyone inside.

  Another step.

  Almost to the window…

  One more step.

  Jake cringed, his heart racing as he accidentally scraped his boot sole across the porch floor. He froze, holding his breath, listening for a response from inside.

  Nothing. No…not nothing.

  Whimpering.

  He braved one glance, poking his head just far enough beyond the window frame to catch a one-eyed glimpse before pulling back.

  What he saw had him grabbing the door handle and racing into the cabin, his hands shaking, with Lilly’s name on his lips.

  Chapter 30

  Lilly’s could barely breathe with Foyle’s hand clamped over her mouth. She fought in earnest, but it was no use. Her limbs were tied fast, her head pushed into the pillow, and all she could move was her torso.

  The scalpel glinted in the light from the window as he ran it lightly down her bodice, telling her all the unspeakable things he would do to her before he began the cutting.

  He taunted her as he sliced away the buttons of her shirtwaist, one by one, then pulled it open, revealing her corset, with her heaving bosom scarcely contained in the chemise wrapped underneath it.

  “I suggest you stop squirming,” he said with a confidant air, “or you might lose one of those succulent breasts as I cut away your corset.”

  He let go of her mouth, since she’d given up on screaming, and used the free hand to cup one breast and knead it as he began to slice through the top of the corset, his breath harsh and ragged, and his eyes ablaze with excitement.

  She turned her head away, tears coursing down her cheeks. Her eye caught movement—a shadow, passing the window.

  Before Foyle had the corset split even halfway down, the door burst open, and a figure blurred through the door. Foyle barely had time to turn his head before he was knocked off the bed, crashing the chair along with the empty medical bag and wooden case to the floor.

  “Jake!”

  He didn’t respond as he brawled on the floor with Foyle. The two rolled and crashed against the bookshelf, the bedstead, and the larger eating table on the other side of the room. Jake had the element of surprise, and the extra advantage of a more muscular frame, but she could see he was exhausted from the ride out to the cabin. His breathing was ragged, and Foyle put up a mighty opposition.

  She opened her mouth to warn Jake of the scalpel, but then the slim instrument caught her eye—it lay beside her on the bed. She sighed with relief, knowing Foyle must have dropped it when Jake knocked him from the bed.

  The two men grappled on the floor, their flailing legs knocking over a chair, then banging into a wall so hard that a shelf that held dry goods came loose, dumping its contents onto the floor.

  Lilly tried to get free, but the lashings weren’t any looser than before.

  In a swift, rolling motion, Jake took the upper hand, and had Foyle pinned to the ground by the throat. Foyle reached out toward the mess of tinned goods that had rolled across the floor, grabbed the large tin of beef nearest to him in one swift motion, and knocked Jake upside the head with it.

  Jake groaned and lost his grip, leaning to the side and clutching his head. Foyle tried for a second hit, but Jake deflected it with his arm, knocking the tin away and landing a heavy right hook with the other hand, flattening Foyle to the ground, unconscious.

  He stood, wiping a trickle of blood from a cut near his eyebrow, then staggered over to the bed.

  “You came!” Lilly sobbed, her lips trembling with relief. “I was afraid you wouldn’t realize what happened!”

  “I figured out it was Foyle when I went to see Doc, and smelled your perfume on the coat the devil had left behind. I ran for home—my gut just told me something was wrong. I got there, and your things were gone…but then I saw the missing rug, and your books still there, and I knew what he’d done.” Jake brushed her hair back from her forehead, looking her over. “Did he hurt you?”

  She shook her head. “He was going to.” Her eyes drifted over to the table.

  He followed her gaze, where he saw what looked like instruments of torture, laid out in precise rows on a cloth. His face paled as he realized what they were for. Spying the small knife that laid beside her, he grasped it and began cutting through the multiple layers of bindings that held her closest hand to the iron headboard.

  “I’m sorry Jake, if I’d had any idea how insane Dr. Foyle was—look out!”

  Over Jake’s shoulder she saw Foyle rise up and stagger toward them.

  Jake whirled around just in time, but Foyle knocked the scalpel from his hands. He countered with a punch, scooping his fist upward into the man’s belly. Foyle groaned, doub
led over, stumbling to the bed.

  But Lilly saw what he was doing—feinting to the right, and lunging for the table of instruments. She tore her hand free from what was left of the right-hand binding, and grabbed the closest instrument—the one Foyle called a bistoury—and leveled it at his face, so that he had to stop abruptly and stumble to the left to avoid being blinded.

  Jake grasped Foyle by the collar and waistband, whirling him away from Lilly and across the room, sending him sprawling over the large table.

  Lilly tossed the bistoury onto the table and strained to reach the small, sharp-toothed bone saw. Her fingers curled around the handle, then pulled it to her, and set to work freeing her other hand, listening to the grunts and groans of the two men as they crashed into the walls and furniture, in a battle for their lives.

  Once her other hand was free, she began to work on one foot, then the other, all while watching Foyle from the corner of her eye. Each time he got even close to the bedside table, she’d lash out with the saw, hacking and poking at him with it, to keep him at bay and force him back toward Jake.

  Jake did what he could to put himself between Foyle and Lilly, but Foyle finally landed one good punch to Jake’s jaw, momentarily stunning him just as Lilly was freeing her last foot. It was the moment Foyle needed to grab for the bistoury and hold it at Lilly’s neck, yanking the saw from her hands and tossing it aside so that it fell to the floor on the other side of the bed, away from Jake.

  He pulled Lilly from the bed by the hair, and Jake ducked to the floor in a flash, coming up with the missing scalpel that Foyle had dropped earlier.

  But it was too late. Foyle had Lilly, with the cold steel of the blade pressed close to her neck.

  “Please, Morgan,” he taunted. “Do it. Make one move with that scalpel, and I’ll open her jugular before you can blink, and bathe you in her blood.”

  Lilly could feel his hot breath against her ear, and he pulled her hair savagely, exposing more of her neck.

  “Put it down. Now,” ordered Foyle.

  ***

  No…please, God, no…

  Foyle stood before Jake, with his fingers twisted into Lilly’s silky locks of hair, pulling her head back to expose her creamy, graceful neck to the curved, sharply-pointed instrument in his hand.

  I can’t lose her…please don’t take her from me when I just found her.

  “I said drop the scalpel, Morgan!” Foyle sneered. “If you want her to live, you’ll do as I say.”

  “Don’t, Jake!” Lilly cried. “Don’t. He’ll kill me anyway. I know he will. And it won’t be quick. Then he’ll kill you.”

  “Put the scalpel down, or I swear I’ll carve her to pieces!”

  “Don’t do it. Please don’t.”

  Lilly cried out as Foyle pressed the tip of the bistoury into her flesh.

  His heart ached, and he groaned in despair. “I can’t…I can’t just let you go…”

  “Please Jake. Don’t let him touch me. Let me die my way, and then you stop him—”

  “Shut your mouth!” Foyle growled in her ear, yanking viciously on her hair. “This is your last chance, Morgan. Put…it…down!”

  Jake steeled himself for what he knew was coming. Lilly was right—Foyle would kill them both—and God knew what he’d do to her before he did. He couldn’t let that happen to Lilly. She didn’t deserve it. Not again.

  He lifted the scalpel higher, leveling it at Foyle’s eyes. “You heard the lady. I’m not putting anything down.” He met Lilly’s gaze, pouring all the love he felt for her into one brief glance. Then his eyes flicked back to her captor. “We both go down fighting.”

  Foyle paused, assessing the situation, then backed slowly toward the door Jake had left open, pulling her with him.

  “No…no!” Lilly shrieked, trying to wrench her hair from Foyle’s grasp. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

  Foyle laughed as he hauled her toward the door.

  “Noooo!” Jake howled as he prepared to charge.

  Chapter 31

  Lilly writhed as she tried to wrest herself free, without succumbing to the point of the bistoury. Foyle had her in the doorway, taking a step backward over the threshold.

  A loud boom split the air as the top of Foyle’s head disappeared in a spray of blood.

  Lilly screamed and sagged to the floor as the man’s body collapsed away from her. She clutched her neck as blood dripped between her fingers.

  Foyle had managed to slice her before he fell.

  “Lilly!” Jake rushed to her side to help her keep pressure on the wound.

  Doc’s form filled the doorway, standing over them. “You alright?”

  “I’m fine, but Lilly—he sliced her neck!”

  Doc put down the rifle in his hands and leaned down to tilt her head back, his expression grave. “Let me see.” He pulled her hand away. “She’ll be alright.” He glanced back at Foyle’s body. “He just caught her with the bistoury when the shot hit him. It’s a superficial laceration.”

  “In English?” Jake asked in exasperation and worry.

  “It’s a small cut. She’ll be fine. I’ll get my bag.”

  While he was gone, Jake lifted her trembling body and laid her down on the bed. The back of her head was coated in spatters of warm blood and stickiness. She didn’t utter a word—her eyes were wide with shock.

  Doc returned, sitting on the edge of the bed beside Lilly as he prepared to clean her wound. “Are you hurt anywhere else Lilly?”

  She shivered, then shook her head no. “M-my baby…?”

  “Are you feeling any pain in your abdomen?”

  “I don’t th-think so.” Her teeth chattered, despite the heat of the day.

  “That’s a good sign. I think the baby will be just fine—and I’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

  Her eyes drifted back to the doorway, where Foyle’s feet still lay limp on the threshold.

  “You’re fine now,” he soothed. “You’re safe. Jake’s here, and the sheriff will be here any minute.”

  “Are—are you sure he’s dead?”

  “Oh, my dear, I assure you, I don’t need to check. He’s gone.” He looked at Jake. “I called the sheriff quick, before I left. He said he’d have to round up a couple of deputies, but they’re coming on horseback, and I was stuck with my buggy, so they should be right behind me. He’s been up here with me before, so he knows the way.”

  Jake scrubbed his hand down his face, still shaken up at how close he’d come to losing his wife. “How did you get up here so fast?”

  “I told Clyde, who runs the livery, that I needed the fastest horse he had, and to get my buggy hitched up, pronto. Turns out the fastest horse belonged to the owner of the hotel down the street, but Clyde gave her to me anyway, because I saved his daughter’s life last Christmas. That beauty ran like the wind!” Doc gave a wry smile as he stitched the cut on Lilly’s neck.

  She just lay with her head tilted up. She hardly winced—her eyes were drawn to the spread of medical instruments on the bedside table.

  Jake stood, reaching to put them out of her sight.

  “Don’t touch those, Jake. Sheriff will be here soon. He should see what that little devil was up to.”

  Jake sighed, fidgeting while Doc worked. As soon as Doc had finished cleaning and stitching the wound, Jake realized Lilly’s shirtwaist buttons were gone, and her bosom was half-exposed. He hastened to pull the shirtwaist together.

  “That should do it,” Doc said, getting up to tuck his supplies into his own medical bag.

  “I appreciate it, old man,” Jake said. “I can’t tell you how much. Thanks to you, when the sheriff gets here, all he’ll have on his hands is a mess to clean up.”

  “Ha! He’ll just take the body—I’ll be stuck with the mess.” Doc shook his head, casting a long look toward the door. “I’ve never used that gun on so much as a jackrabbit, and now I’ve killed another human being—my own assistant—with it. On my own porch, too. Maybe I should ha
ve just called out, given him a warning…”

  Jake could tell the guilt was weighing heavily on the older man. He clapped him on the shoulder. “I know it’s hard for you to have taken a life, but I think you did the right thing. If you’d have given him warning, he’d have just swung Lilly around and used her to shield himself from you, like he did with me. We’d have been no better off than when we started. Lilly would have ended up dead, at the very least.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Lilly asserted, sitting up. She was alert now, and insisted that Doc had no choice. Then she told Jake and Doc all the things that Foyle had said, and the things he had planned to do with her.

  Jake’s stomach curdled, as he realized how truly dire the situation had been. It was no wonder his wife hadn’t wanted him to surrender to Foyle. He looked at Doc, whose face was ashen. His hands—which were the steadiest hands Jake had ever seen—trembled for a moment, before he stuck them into his trouser pockets.

  The hoofbeats and snorting of horses riding hard up to the cabin signaled the arrival of the sheriff and his men.

  “You stay.” Doc motioned to Jake. “I’ll go talk to the sheriff.”

  As Doc went out to apprise the sheriff and his deputies of the afternoon’s events, Jake pulled Lilly to him, resting her head against his shoulder.

  “I thought I’d lost you. Again.”

  “I know.” She hugged him close. “I was so worried you would surrender the scalpel to him.”

  “I almost did. I wanted to believe that you would be fine, that he wouldn’t hurt you—even though I knew it wasn’t true. I had no idea just how insane the man was! But I saw the look in your eyes, and I remembered that I promised not to let that…that same thing happen to you ever again. I had to trust that you were making the right choice.”