Memphis

by Sara Orwig

  He had to stop the train. He looked for some way to free his hands. He fought to close the throttle, but his hands were tied and then the gaping space over the river was dead ahead.

  There was no time to stop the momentum of the train even if his hands were free. Caleb staggered to the door, moving to the running board, watching the river rush up at him, the high trestle gone. Wind buffeted him and he looked down at giant boulders thrusting up in the river, water tumbling around them.

  The engine shot into space and he jumped, praying he could clear the train and it didn’t come crashing down on him or suck him down with it.

  Caleb twisted, plunging in feet first, his mouth closed. Cold rushing water surged over him, clearing his head as he kicked and shot to the surface. Giant waves rocked him; he swallowed water, gagged, and went under.

  He surfaced. Momentum carried the train past him and it plunged into the water, sending spray high in the air. He watched it go down, sinking beneath the water. His train and Sophia’s press and all his investments and hard work went under, but all of it was nothing compared to Sophia. Waves from the impact of the train slammed him against a jagged boulder.

  Caleb gasped as pain shot through his shoulder. He was pinned against the boulder by the current. The rock pointed into the air in a jagged edge. He twisted, looping his hands over the point and sawed at his bonds. His hands broke free.

  Caleb flung himself into the tumbling water and swam for the bank. He struggled out, gasping, looking around for his men. “Floyd! Terrence!” he called. He had to find a horse. He prayed Trevitt’s men hadn’t run them off.

  “Here!” came a voice. Caleb changed directions, angling closer to where the bridge stood. “Terrence?”

  “It’s Floyd. Caleb spotted him, then he heard a whinny and spun around. A horse stood only yards away.

  “Easy, easy,” he said, catching the reins and leading the horse. He tied him to a tree and ran to kneel beside Floyd.

  “Major. I thought I was through with this kind of hell when the war ended.”

  Floyd’s shoulder was bleeding and his head cut. “Where are the others?” Caleb asked.

  “I don’t know. They shot me and I lay still. No one checked to see if I was alive. I heard other shots.”

  “They’ve taken Sophia, Floyd. I have to go after her.”

  “Help me up. I’ve ridden hurt worse than this. I’ll go with you.”

  “We need to look for the others.”

  “Horses are that way.” Floyd pointed back where Caleb came.

  “I’ll see what I can find.” Hurrying through the trees, in minutes he found three more horses and led them back to Floyd. Sean O’Keefe was with him.

  “I headed this way, Mister O’Brien. I figured I’d find some of our crew. George went the other way.”

  “I’m going after Trevitt and Sophia.”

  “I’ll join you,” Sean said.

  “I found John,” Floyd said. “He’s dead.” He held out a rifle. “Here’s his Winchester. The other two are across the river, so we either swim for it or wait.”

  “I have to go after her and then I’ll come back for them. Trevitt said he was going to a cabin east of Chatfield.”

  “Help me up. I’m going with you. I want those bastards,” Floyd shouted.

  Caleb didn’t argue, giving Floyd his arm and helping pull him to his feet and mount. In minutes they raced along the track until Trevitt’s tracks veered to the northeast.

  They rode another twenty minutes when more tracks crossed Trevitt’s and then paralleled them. “We may run into half a dozen armed men,” Caleb shouted to Floyd and Sean.

  “Better odds than Chickamauga!” Sean shouted back.

  Caleb’s mouth hurt too much reply, and everything in him cried out to give all his energy to hurrying to save Sophia. She was completely at Dunstan’s mercy and his men’s. And she would cooperate with Trevitt, because she thought she was doing it for him. It hurt to breathe, his head ached, but all of it faded next to the need to get Sophia. Caleb felt the tension that made his head throb as he urged the horse faster and leaned over him.

  Feeling cold and numb, Sophia shed the last vestige of clothes and stood before Dunstan who sat back on a chair, gazing at her.

  “Get on the bed,” he commanded.

  She stepped away from her clothes to do what he ordered. The bed was iron with a sagging mattress and no covers and it looked dirty and aged. She shivered and clenched her jaw closed, trying to shut her mind to everything, knowing Dunstan would delight in humiliating her.

  She sat down and he gazed at her with lust in his eyes. He picked up ropes. “I told you that next time, your hands would be tied. Lie down and put your hands up by the bars.”

  There was nothing in the room to use for a weapon except Dunstan’s pistol. Even if he gave it to her, she had made a promise for Caleb’s life.

  “Dunstan, if he isn’t alive, you have to kill me when you’re finished. Otherwise, I’ll kill you,” she said quietly, and he blinked, spots of color coming to his cheeks. “You know his brothers will be looking for him by nightfall,” she added.

  “That kid brother doesn’t worry me. Let him come.” Dunstan moved to the bed and jerked her wrist, tying her to an iron bar.

  “He has two more brothers in Memphis, and they’ll search for him.”

  Dunstan walked around the bed to tie her other wrist. “They won’t find him or you. They can scour Arkansas. And when I’m through with you, I’m giving you to Sweeney. He is going out West.”

  “You said one week, Dunstan,” she said, feeling a new terror.

  “That was one week to cooperate with me in exchange for O’Brien’s life. You can fight Sweeney all you want. I’ll be finished with you, Sophia.” He pulled off his coat and his eyes raked over her. She wanted to cry or flinch or escape. He pulled off his shirt.

  She heard horses and Dunstan frowned, turning. Someone pounded on the door.

  “Dammit,” he said. He left the room and slammed the door. She looked around, raising her head slightly. She was tied securely and there was nothing around to aid her escape. She could hear their voices clearly now.

  “We’re back, boss.”

  “Dammit.” The voices stopped, and she guessed Dunstan had stepped outside. She gazed up at a wooden ceiling stained with circles from leaks. She prayed Caleb was all right and his brothers found him. Surely the men hadn’t brought him here, but if they hadn’t, where was he and who was with him?

  Dunstan’s gun belt hung over a wooden chair, and she yanked at her bonds. She jumped when she heard the door slam, and then Dunstan entered the room. He crossed the room to her, running his hand over her. She flinched and turned her head.

  “You said you’d cooperate.”

  She turned to look at him. “I will. I don’t know how Hannah Lou married you.”

  “She does what I want.”

  “She’s miserable.”

  “I don’t give a damn.”

  Sophia’s heart fluttered and she trembled with fright, hating Dunstan, terrified and knowing she couldn’t stop him. “I’ll cooperate, but you tell me where Caleb is and who’s with him.”

  “They’ve taken him about a mile from the train and I have a man staying with him until I free you.”

  She raised up on her elbows. “You’re lying.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You’re lying, Dunstan. I can see it in your eyes.”

  His gaze flickered and she drew a deep breath. “You lied to me. What have you done to him?” she cried, yanking at her bonds. “You lied!” she screamed.

  He shrugged. “Did you think I’d let him live? You know what he’d do.”

  Tears spilled over her cheeks. Dunstan moved to the bed and stripped off his boots and pants. She looked away from him. He jerked her face around and came down on top of her to kiss her.

  Hurting for Caleb, grief-stricken over what Dunstan might have done, she struggled beneath him, knowing it was usele
ss, knowing there was no way to stop him. He raised up, running his hands over her.

  “You’re mine now, Sophia. I’ll do what I want and you’ll obey me.”

  “Never.”

  “That isn’t what you’ll answer by this time tomorrow,” he said, stroking her.

  A shot rang out and his head jerked up. She turned and more shots came.

  “Dammit.” He stood to yank on his pants and boots. “What the devil?” He glanced back at her and suddenly pulled a knife out of his boot and slashed at her bonds, cutting her free and pulling her up.

  “My clothes.” Sophia scooped up her shirt and trousers to hold in front of her.

  “Come on,” he snapped, pulling her with him. He snatched up his rifle and held her in front of him with one hand.

  The window behind him shattered as Caleb lunged through it. Dunstan turned and she hit him in the stomach with her elbow, twisting away. Caleb aimed his revolver and fired, shooting Dunstan, who spun away from her and lay still.

  She ran to Caleb, throwing herself at him, feeling the solid strength of his body and faint with relief that he was alive.

  He gasped when he caught her. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she said, feeling his arm tighten around her.

  “That bastard. Sophia, are you really all right?” he asked, leaning back to look into her eyes.

  “Yes, you got here before he could do anything. I got away from him once and he had to hunt for me.”

  “I have to help Floyd. Can you come with me?”

  “Caleb, wait—” She held the clothes away from her nude body.

  “Oh, damn.” He lifted her chin. “Swear you’re all right?”

  “Yes,” she said, yanking on her clothes swiftly. “I’m able to go with you.” She met his concerned gaze. “I’d tell you.”

  “Floyd and Sean are standing off six men and Floyd’s wounded. I can’t let them get killed when they came to help us.”

  “Go on. I’ll get Dunstan’s revolver. I swear I’m all right. Dunstan didn’t have time to hurt me,” she said reassuringly.

  While Caleb went through the window, she flung on her clothes and boots. Trying to avoid looking at Dunstan’s body, she went out the window, moving cautiously, waiting to see where Caleb was. She crept to the next corner as a volley of shots were fired. Someone was behind a shed and Sophia ran to the shelter of a thick oak and stood against the trunk, peering around.

  Sweeney was behind the shed, his back to her as he fired at someone. She raised Dunstan’s pistol and fired. Sweeney lurched forward and turned, aiming at her. A shot rang out, and Sweeney sprawled on his face.

  Standing behind her, Caleb lowered his rifle. With a growl of pain, he caught her to him, crushing her against him. She gazed up into green eyes. “I’m still worried about what he did to you.

  “Stop worrying, because he didn’t have time to hurt me,” she repeated, trembling with reaction, running her hand over Caleb’s shoulder, so thankful they had both escaped. “I was so frightened and worried about what they were going to do to you. You’re bleeding and you’re hurt,” she said, noticing all his cuts and bruises.

  “It’s over. Men have surrendered. I have to get someone to ride back and look for my men. I may pass out, Sophia. I know Floyd is on the verge of it.”

  “And I’ll have to rescue you and another man again.”

  He tried to smile, but his mouth was swollen and he winced.

  “We can take the train.”

  He shook his head. “It’s gone.”

  “Caleb!” she cried, hurting for him, knowing he had lost so much, yet it paled in comparison to the fact that they had survived.

  “My train is at the bottom of the river along with your press.”

  “I don’t care about the press if I have you.”

  He tilted her chin up and his voice was husky. “I don’t give a damn about the train if you survived. Let’s find Floyd.”

  It was night when they rode toward Hopefield. They had stopped in Clarendon to see a doctor who could bandage Floyd. Will rode with them, and the other men went back to look for the ones guarding the bridge at the St. Francis River.

  As they approached Hopefield, in the moonlight they saw a party of riders coming. It was the O’Brien brothers and Sophia drew a deep breath. “Caleb, Rafferty will hate me.”

  “You deserve whatever wrath he’ll heap on you, love.”

  Sophia dreaded facing Rafferty and then he was in front of her, the shadows of his hat hiding his eyes.

  “Rafferty, I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I was so worried about Caleb, and I wanted a story for my paper about the first run of the M and A.”

  “They probably would have just shot me on the spot if she hadn’t been along to bargain with Trevitt,” Caleb added quickly.

  “Are both of you all right?”

  “Caleb’s not,” she replied.

  “I’m doing fine.”

  “Anything we need to do?” Rafferty asked.

  “Just get us home,” Caleb replied in a tight voice.

  “Where’s the train?” Rafferty asked as they turned their horses and he rode beside Caleb.

  “At the bottom of the St. Francis River.”

  “We’ll get you to a doctor. Darcy, when we get off the ferry, you ride home. There are some worried ladies waiting on all of us. And Willard Heaton is pacing the floor at the Hopefield depot.”

  When they rode into the Hopefield yard, a few people were waiting in spite of the late hour.

  “Where’s the train, Major?” someone called.

  “In the river,” Rafferty answered.

  Willard Heaton came forward, his eyes sparkling with eagerness and Caleb knew Heaton was relishing the clash. He felt angry. The million dollars from Heaton and his cronies wouldn’t be worth the agony they had just experienced and the risk to Sophia.

  “Great God, O’Brien, where have you been and where’s Trevitt?” Heaton spouted.

  Caleb climbed down off his horse and walked to Willard Heaton, swinging back his fist and slamming it into Heaton’s jaw, sending him staggering backward.

  “Let’s get the ferry,” he said, turning to Sophia.

  Three days later the Stantons buried Trevitt. On the following Saturday the O’Briens were in the parlor while Sophia went over wedding plans with Chantal and Caleb talked to his brothers. His attention kept wandering to Sophia, his gaze going over her blue silk dress that clung to her tiny waist. He loved her so much, he ached to be alone with her.

  “Mister O’Brien, Mister Stanton is here with Miss Therrie,” Lucius announced.

  Will and Amity came into the parlor. She was wearing a rose dress, which set off her dark hair and eyes, and she smiled at Will as he held her hand. “I have several announcements,” he said, grinning. “First, and most important, Amity has agreed to be my wife.”

  Sophia and Chantal shrieked and hugged Amity.

  “Wait a minute,” Will said as Caleb shook his hand. “That isn’t all,” he said, raising his voice over the women’s. “We have another fifty thousand dollars pledged to the M and A today. And”—he turned to Sophia—“the newsmen have started a fund for a new press for you, Sophia.”

  “Oh, Will. I was going to give up the paper,” she said, looking at Caleb who grinned.

  “Six days until our wedding, Will. Then you’ll lose my help for a while,” Caleb said, coming to her side to put his arm around her waist. He caught the familiar scent of tea roses as he held her, his arm tightening around her possessively.

  “Take as long as you want. You’ll make it up to me when I marry Amity,” Will answered with a smile.

  An hour later they walked out on the porch as Will left. Caleb went down the front steps with Will and stood talking to him while the women and Daniella milled on the porch. Darcy balanced on his toes on the top step and jumped off the steps and landed beside Caleb.

  A shot rang out and Darcy went down.

  Caleb and Will dropped, r
unning in a crouch as Caleb caught Sophia to push her into the house. “Someone’s firing from the roof next door.”

  “Get down!” Rafferty yelled, holding Darcy as he regained his feet and ran for the porch. Fortune scooped up Daniella and held Chantal’s waist, rushing them into the house.

  “Rafe, keep him under fire,” Caleb said. “He’s on the roof next door. I’m going around the back.” He looked at Sophia as he yanked up his rifle. “Don’t you set your foot out of this house,” he warned.

  She blinked and gazed up at him and then he was gone, running out the back with Fortune following him. While Chantal and Amity tended to Darcy, a volley of shots came. Rafferty was behind an overturned chair on the porch, firing at the house next door. Sophia ran to the dining room window and looked out. The muzzle of a rifle showed over the edge of the Boyds’ roof. More shots were fired and then the rifle vanished.

  Where was Caleb, and who had shot at him? If Darcy hadn’t jumped down off the porch, the shot would have gotten Caleb. And it wasn’t Dunstan, because he was dead.

  Caleb and Fortune spread out, each going across the backyard next door, Fortune running around the front of the house, Caleb leaning against the back wall and peering around the corner. A man jumped down from a tree and ran for a horse. Caleb raised his rifle.

  “Don’t move. You’re covered.”

  Fortune came from the front with his rifle aimed.

  “Throw down your rifle,” Fortune ordered, and the man tossed it on the ground. “Keep your hands on your head.”

  Sophia came running. “Caleb!”

  He glanced around and frowned. “Sophia, why are you here?”

  “You caught him?”

  “Yes, and we’re taking him to the sheriff.”

  Her gaze went past Caleb and she gave a cry, all color draining from her face. “John!”

  Caleb frowned and turned to look at the man as Sophia ran toward him. He couldn’t see any resemblance between Sophia, who was golden-haired, and the dark-haired John. His straight brown hair was parted in the center. He had a thick brown beard and mustache. He was over six feet tall. Only his deep blue eyes resembled Sophia’s.

  Caleb looked at Fortune and shrugged. He couldn’t understand why John Merrick wanted him dead and he moved forward slowly. John looked at him over Sophia’s head and Caleb drew a sharp breath because the hatred was unmistakable.