A Borrowed Dream

by Amanda Cabot

  Tucker kept up a stream of inane comments as they left the ranch and headed toward the Dalton farm, while Austin’s mind whirled, trying to find a way to overpower the ruffian. When they turned onto the ill-kempt lane leading to Boone Dalton’s home, Austin studied his surroundings. Everything looked the same as it had the last time he had been here—rundown and sad. He’d heard that the farm had once been prosperous, but under Boone’s stewardship, it provided less than a subsistence living.

  Austin kept his eyes on the lane. There was no point in thinking about Boone Dalton and the mistakes he’d made in his life. What mattered now was disarming Tucker before they reached the cabin. There had to be a way. Austin blinked, thinking he was mistaken. Another blink and he knew his eyes had not deceived him. The lump he’d seen in the road was a body.

  “What’s that?” he demanded, speaking for the first time since he’d mounted Dusty. Instinct told him to reach for his rifle.

  Tucker turned toward the body and spat. “That’s your neighbor. He won’t be needing none of yer doctorin’. I saw to that.”

  It was the break Austin needed, the one he’d prayed for. While Tucker stared at Boone Dalton’s lifeless body, Austin slid the rifle out of the holster. Knowing he’d only have one chance, he aimed carefully, bludgeoning Tucker’s head with the butt of the rifle. The man slumped.

  Mindful that every moment was precious, Austin leapt from Dusty and dragged Tucker off his mount. Grabbing the rope he always carried on his saddle, he secured Tucker’s arms, then his legs behind his back. One more step was needed. Using the same technique he did with calves, Austin ran the rope between Tucker’s bound arms and legs, effectively hobbling the man. Even when Tucker recovered consciousness, he wouldn’t be going anywhere.

  Thank you, Lord. Now if only he was in time to save Hannah and Catherine.

  30

  The table barely budged. Catherine heard the tinkle of glass as the lamp slid off the edge and landed on the floor, but that was overshadowed by the sound of Sherman Enright’s laughter as he kept the table from moving.

  “You’re not as smart as you think, schoolmarm,” he said, the cultured tone of his voice slipping, making him sound more like Tucker. Was that part of his plan, changing his voice as well as his face?

  He glared at Catherine, his lips curving into a sneer. “Those eyes of yours are a dead giveaway. I knew what you were going to do almost before you did. Like I said, a dead giveaway. Dead. That’s a good word, because you’re going to be the one who’s dead.” Enright’s laughter sent shivers down Catherine’s spine.

  “We’ve had ourselves a little change of plan here. Since you started the fire, I’m going to let you burn to death while I find that little girl the doc prizes so much. Once I’ve got her, the doc will have no choice. He’ll fix my face and let me recuperate in his house, but you’ll be gone. How do you like the idea of being Joan of Arc?” He jerked his head to the right.

  Catherine’s eyes widened in shock. If her nose hadn’t been stuffy from the cold, she would have smelled the smoke from the overturned lamp. Now flames licked at the edge of the wall. Though the fire was still small, the cabin was as dry as tinder. Enright was right. The fire would escalate. It had been only a few seconds since the lamp had overturned, but the fire was already growing more quickly than she’d thought possible, so much so that even the water on the stove might not be enough to quench it. She had to reach the door. She had to get outside and protect Hannah, but Enright stood between her and the door.

  Mindful of his assertion that he could read her thoughts, Catherine looked at the stove, as if planning to grab one of the water buckets, but instead darted toward the door.

  “Not so fast, missy.” Enright sounded amused as he extended his leg in front of her, knocking her off balance and sending her sprawling to the ground. “You can’t fool me. I know all the tricks.”

  Catherine refused to give him the satisfaction of groaning, though splinters from the floor dug into her hands. There had to be a way to escape. She couldn’t let him find Hannah.

  “Fire’s too slow,” he said, his voice as cold as steel in winter. “I want to watch you die.”

  For a second, there was no sound other than the crackle of the flames and the pounding of Catherine’s heart. Help me, she prayed. Keep Hannah safe. Sherman Enright was as evil as Austin had said, a man who took pleasure in others’ pain, and Hannah would be his next victim unless Catherine could stop him.

  “C’mon, schoolmarm. It’s time for you to meet your maker.”

  Enright reached down to grab Catherine’s hair, tugging until she winced. Slowly, clearly enjoying the pain he was inflicting, he dragged her into the center of the cabin, then yanked her to her feet.

  “I like watching people die,” he said as he wrapped his hands around her neck and began to squeeze. “Slow and painful. That’s the best way.”

  She tried to pull away, but it was to no avail. She pushed, but he was too strong. She kicked, but he didn’t seem to notice. With each second that passed, Catherine could feel her lungs constrict. She needed air. She needed it now.

  Dear Lord, show me the way. As she lifted the silent prayer heavenward, Douglas Sims’s advice to his wife rushed into Catherine’s brain. She wasn’t helpless. Not totally. She had one more chance to save herself. Catherine raised her hands and, mustering every ounce of strength she possessed, jabbed her fingers into Sherman Enright’s eyes.

  He screamed, and as his face contorted with pain, he released his hold on her throat, leaving Catherine gasping for fresh air. The door. She had to find the door. Instinctively, she moved in that direction.

  “No!” Enright’s voice held both anger and pain. “You’re not getting away.” He reached for Catherine, but as he did, he lost his balance and tumbled, landing face forward against the stove.

  Smoke! The moment of relief Austin had felt when he’d overpowered Tucker vanished at the sight of smoke rising from the cabin. There was far too much for this to be an ordinary stove fire. The way it seeped around the door and through the cracks in the walls told Austin the cabin itself was on fire. Boone Dalton would no longer care about that, but Austin did, for Catherine and Hannah were inside.

  He spurred Dusty to cover the final yards in half the normal time, then flung himself to the ground and raced toward the door, flinging it open at the same time that he heard a blood-curdling scream.

  “Catherine, are you and Hannah all right?” Austin blinked at the smoke that had begun to fill the room and tried to make sense of the scene before him. The woman he loved was reaching for the door with one hand while the other rubbed her throat. Her hair hung loose around her face, and lines of strain added years to her age, but she was alive. Austin said a silent prayer of thanks as he looked around, searching for his daughter. The body on the floor next to the stove had Sherman Enright’s blond hair, but there was no sign of Hannah. His daughter, his precious daughter, was missing.

  “Where’s Hannah?” Tucker had said Enright had both her and Catherine, but Austin knew Catherine would not leave his daughter in peril.

  “She’s safe.” Though Catherine’s voice was hoarse, her words reassured him. “I got her out of the cabin before the fire started.” She staggered toward the door and took in deep gulps of fresh air.

  Though Austin’s heart leapt at the confirmation that his daughter was safe, he feared that Catherine had not been as fortunate. Smoke inhalation could be dangerous, and there was no telling what Enright had done before he’d arrived.

  As if she’d read his thoughts, Catherine said, “I’ll be all right.” She moved to the doorway and inhaled deeply, her color improving with each breath. “I’m not sure about him.” She tipped her head in Sherman Enright’s direction. The stench of burned flesh mingled with the growing smoke, while blood continued to pool beneath the man’s body. No doubt about it, the man was seriously injured.

  Austin’s gaze returned to Catherine. When she’d tipped her head, she had revealed red
marks on her throat. Those were the reason she’d been rubbing it when he’d flung the door open. Anger welled up inside him at the realization that there was only one logical explanation for her injured throat. Enright hadn’t been able to hurt Hannah, and so he’d taken out his anger on Catherine.

  Austin stared at the man who’d threatened everyone he loved. It would be easy to leave him to die. With the amount of blood he’d lost, death would not be long in coming unless he received medical care. Austin knew that if the tables were turned, Enright would leave without a second thought. But Austin was not Sherman Enright. No matter how evil the man was, Austin had to help him. It was his duty as a doctor, a duty he took seriously. More importantly, it was his duty as a Christian. Thou shalt not kill. It would be killing if he, a man trained to save lives, let this man die.

  Austin turned back to Catherine. “We’ve got to get him out of here. Can you help me?”

  When she nodded and reentered the burning building, Austin knelt beside the injured man and turned him over, trying not to grimace at the sight of a piece of kindling embedded in Enright’s abdomen. While the hot stove’s effect on his face was obvious, there was no telling how much harm the wood had done.

  “We’d better drag him.” That would do less damage than lifting the man and would keep him from inhaling the worst of the smoke. The one good thing Austin could say about being close to the floor was that the smoke was less dense here. His eyes stung and his throat hurt, but that was nothing compared to what both Catherine and Enright had endured.

  While the injured man continued to moan, Austin and Catherine pulled him from the burning cabin. “Would you get my bag?” Austin asked her when they were a safe distance from the fire. “It’s on Dusty.”

  While she was gone, he began to assess Enright’s injuries, almost smiling at the irony of the fact that the stove had accomplished what he’d refused to do: it had changed the criminal’s face. No one would recognize this badly burned man as the one who’d terrorized so many Philadelphia shop owners. Enright wouldn’t be pleased, though, because although he was currently unrecognizable, his face was still distinctive. The scars would be as extensive as Grace’s had been, but this time Austin would do nothing to remove them.

  Enright opened his eyes and stared at Austin. “I bet you never thought you’d see me like this. You might as well let me die.”

  “I ought to, especially after what you did to Catherine, but I won’t. I’m going to do my best to ensure you can stand trial.”

  When Catherine returned with his medical bag, there were furrows between her eyes. The sight of a man as badly injured as Enright would do that to even a hardened professional. What must it be like for a woman like Catherine to see so much blood and suffering, especially so soon after witnessing her aunt and uncle’s deaths?

  To Austin’s surprise, her voice was calm as she asked if he wanted her to assist him. That was more than he’d ask of her, so he shook his head.

  “If you’re sure.” He was. Catherine looked toward the building that was now engulfed in flames. “I want to find Hannah. She must be terrified that one or both of us is in there.” Catherine grimaced as she glanced at Enright. “I don’t want her to see him. Even though I know she’ll want to be with you, I think I should take her back to the ranch.”

  Austin agreed. “You don’t need to worry about me. Enright’s not going anywhere, and Travis or his deputy will be here soon. I sent Mrs. Moore into town to get them.”

  Though she still looked reluctant to leave him, Catherine nodded and headed toward the stand of trees behind the burning cabin.

  By the time Travis arrived, Austin had staunched the bleeding. Enright had been fortunate. He would live, although Austin suspected he might have preferred death to life in prison. When he’d sutured the wound and covered Enright’s face with a soothing salve, he watched as Travis handcuffed the man and bound his ankles together.

  “That’ll keep him until I return,” Travis said, explaining that he would bring a wagon from town to transport Enright and Tucker to the jail. He and his deputy had found Tucker still trussed but once again conscious and surprisingly talkative, more than happy to tell the authorities what he knew about his boss’s activities in hopes that his own sentence would be lighter.

  Travis almost smiled as he told Austin that Cimarron Creek’s sole jail cell would be crowded with two men, particularly men who were now at odds with each other.

  “After all the telegrams I’ve exchanged with Philadelphia about this man, I feel like I’ve been part of the case, but I never thought I’d be the one arresting Sherman Enright.”

  Travis gave a final tug on Enright’s bindings, then shot Austin an appraising look. “How does it feel knowing you won’t have to pretend to be a rancher any longer?”

  The answer was more complex than Austin had expected. “I am a rancher.” The time in Cimarron Creek had shown him that there was much satisfaction to be gained from raising cattle.

  “But you’re also a doctor and a man who’s in love with my cousin.”

  Austin wouldn’t deny that, nor would he deny that it felt good to talk about something other than the tragedy that had almost occurred in the now destroyed cabin. “I never tried to hide my feelings for Catherine. Speaking of . . .”

  “She should be at the ranch by now. I saw her and Hannah on the road when I was coming in.”

  Austin expelled a sigh of sheer relief. It had been a horrible day, a day in which he’d feared that he would lose everyone he loved, but God had been merciful. Both Hannah and Catherine were safe, and the threat from Enright was over. Austin’s prayers had been answered.

  31

  Catherine kept her arms wrapped around Hannah as she gave the porch swing another gentle push. “Your father will be here soon,” she promised.

  Though only an hour had passed, it had been an eventful one. When she’d left Austin, Catherine had found Hannah cowering behind the largest live oak, her hands pressed against her eyes as if eyelids were not enough to blot out the sight of the fire. At the sound of Catherine’s voice, she’d lowered her hands and shrieked, “You’re safe!”

  Seconds later, she was in Catherine’s arms, sobbing with relief. “I thought you’d burned up with that mean man. I didn’t care if he died, but I was so scared for you.”

  “No one died in the cabin.” Since Catherine wasn’t sure whether Enright was still alive, she had phrased her words carefully. “Your father is here. He’s helping the man.”

  Hannah simply nodded, not finding anything odd in the fact that her father was attempting to heal the man who had threatened her.

  Not wanting Hannah to see the extent of Enright’s injuries, Catherine had left the girl in the woods while she brought the buggy back to her, then skirted the cabin as she headed toward the ranch. She’d gone close enough that Hannah would see that her father was alive and well but not close enough that she could view his patient’s face. The girl was likely to have nightmares as it was. Catherine would not add that sight to them.

  They’d both washed their hands and faces, and Catherine had pulled the splinter from her right hand and twisted her hair back into a semblance of a chignon when they’d reached the ranch. She knew she still looked disheveled, but at least both she and Hannah were alive. Now they were sitting on the front porch, waiting for Austin to arrive.

  “I was scared, Miss Whitfield,” Hannah said. “He was a mean man.”

  “Yes, he was, but you were very brave. You did what I asked you to do, and that was brave.”

  Hannah looked up at Catherine, tears threatening to leak from her eyes. “I don’t want you to leave me—not ever. I was so scared when I was in the woods. All I wanted was for you to be with me. Please say you won’t leave me.”

  Though there was nothing Catherine wanted more than to tell Hannah her wish might come true, she couldn’t. Not until she and Austin had talked. And then there was the news they’d have to give Seth. As if summoned by her thoughts, Seth
rode in on Patches.

  The boy dismounted and looped the reins over the porch railing. It was only when he’d climbed the steps and stood in front of the swing that his eyes widened. “You’ve got blood on your dress, Miss Whitfield.”

  She looked down. “So I do. It’s not mine, though.” She hadn’t bothered trying to rinse out the stains, because this was one dress she would never wear again. As soon as she returned home, it was destined for the rag bag.

  Hannah slid out of Catherine’s embrace and stood next to Seth. “It belonged to a very bad man. He wanted to kill me, but Miss Whitfield wouldn’t let him.”

  While Catherine tried not to gasp at the fact that Hannah had recognized Enright’s intent, Seth had less self-control. He let out a short cry, and the blood drained from his face so quickly Catherine feared he might faint. “Was it my pa?” Seth’s voice squeaked as he forced the words out.

  Catherine’s heart ached at the realization that this boy equated every cruel man with his father. “No, it wasn’t your father.” Boone Dalton would never again hurt Seth or anyone else.

  When Catherine had seen the body and realized what had happened, she had distracted Hannah. That was another sight she hadn’t wanted the girl to witness. Eventually, Hannah would need to know what had happened, but now wasn’t the right time, nor was it the time to tell Seth. That was something she and Austin needed to do together.

  “This man was someone Mr. Goddard knew before he moved here.”

  “Oh.” Seth’s relief was palpable. He turned to Hannah. “Do you want to play checkers with me?”

  To Catherine’s surprise, Hannah agreed and followed Seth into the house. Ah, the resiliency of the young. A traumatic event could be dismissed, if only temporarily, by the prospect of a game. Catherine wasn’t complaining. Not at all. The children’s absence meant she and Austin could have a few minutes alone when he arrived.