Secrets and Lace (Lonely Lace #2)

by Bonnie R. Paulson

  The gang had to slow down not only for the unfamiliar territory, but also because of her. The men had no idea where they were going.

  Plus, if her captivity slowed them down, then maybe her would-be rescuers could find her. If she had rescuers. Ronan wouldn’t let her get away, or maybe he would. He wanted to be Mac’s guardian. What better way to do that than to have his mother die?

  Who would it be? Slate wasn’t moving for anything. Ronan was really the only one there besides his ranch hands. Robbie hadn’t even known she was awake. If he knew, would he try to save her? What if he didn’t? Fear manacled her tighter than the rope at the thought of Robbie bringing Mac anywhere near the men who had taken her. Her son had to be safe, no matter what.

  Her thoughts didn’t help keep her warm, but stomping through the woods did. Thankfully, she’d thrown on a pair of boots before running out to the barn that morning in her mad search for Mac. Oh, Mac. She hoped he was okay and not too worried about her. Hopefully, he didn’t feel abandoned by her.

  Slate. Oh, he hadn’t looked good before she’d disappeared. But judging by the way the men talked, she wasn’t going to want to survive the next few days. The possibilities made her lightheaded.

  Random snow patches became more frequent. Over the heavy movements of the pack horses and the low curses of the men as their animals slid in sometimes never-ending mud, the gurgle and roar of the Lonely Rivers grew more demanding. A soundtrack to her childhood, her romance with Robbie, her pregnancy with Mac.

  She swallowed what tasted like fear rising from her chest. Fear wasn’t an option. What would happen if they wanted to cross the river? She clenched her jaw and refused to think about how she’d survive the next few days with them. Something told her she would learn how to be afraid.

  Crap. Focus, girl. She didn’t have time for fear. She’d be afraid after she escaped, after someone saved her. Any other alternative wasn’t a choice at that point as she tromped through deeper snow piles and soggier ground. She had a child to return to. Escape would have to be her only option.

  Her boot stuck and she pulled it free, but not before the horse moved forward and the momentum pulled her to her hands and knees in the thawing clay. Cold soaked immediately through her pants and t-shirt. She was definitely wishing for a nice thick parka at that point.

  Jack yanked the rope and she fell further to her elbows.

  She gritted her teeth and pushed herself to a kneeling position. Okay, dickhead. I got it. She curled her fingers around the rope lead in front of her and threw her weight backward, yanking Jack backward on his horse.

  The other men passed her, laughing, as Jack’s horse pranced a few feet away. He cursed and righted himself.

  Before he could come at her, she dug her fingers into the mud and claimed a large handful of the still freezing cold earth. Amelia pushed herself to her feet, trying her best to accept the sodden, clingy mess that used to be her clothing. She drew back both hands to her right shoulder and hurled the muddy mass at Jack. Holy crap, the mud-ball landed in the center of his face, smack on his nose and dripped down into his facial hair and open mouth. She stifled her gasp. His outrage built faster than a forest fire as he sputtered and red filled his face. He moved toward her, his face tight and eyes intent upon her form.

  Amelia didn’t back down. Instead, she lifted her muddied face, her eyes unwavering. She’d see her son again or she’d die – but she wouldn’t lose her pride over it. She was a James for hell’s sake! And James didn’t take shit from no one.

  But Jack didn’t stop coming. He rode to her, and Slam! His fist connected with the side of her head, creating red spots in her vision, jerking her to the side.

  She didn’t fall, refusing in fact to even acknowledge the blow. She shook her head back, like flicking her sodden hair and lifted her chin, but her lip quivered. Crap. Oh man, it hurt so bad. She’d never been struck by anyone – ever.

  The thrumming in her skull reminded her of something a girlfriend from high school… Kelsey Redbird… had said. She’d said, “Ames, you’ve never really been wasted until your brain feels like it’s dancing for rain the next morning.”

  What she wouldn’t give to call Kelsey right then and say… wait, what was she going to say? Throbbing in her head compounded more and more, blocking out even the basest of senses. She fell to her knees… maybe?

  Yelling from somewhere around her came through a tunnel and her arms were wrenched in a direction she’d never experienced before. Somehow she stumbled back to her feet, blinking at the red spots and trying her best to focus on the pain of her shoulders and elbows.

  Damn, he must have slammed her with a closed fist right behind her ear or something.

  The haze faded, leaving in its wake excruciating ache and a dull awareness. And it’d taken some of her fight away. For the moment.

  Numbness set in below her knees, or anywhere the cold wet had managed to attach itself to her body – so basically her entire front from the fall. Her hair stuck to her head in matted clots, muddy from her covered hands which she pushed through her bangs to keep out of her face. No way in hell was she going to miss an attack like that because she couldn’t see.

  She ran into Jack’s horse because he stopped and she wasn’t paying attention. She didn’t move away from the animal’s warm flank. Jack’s dirt-encrusted boot sole met her gaze inches from where she huddled. The men’s conversation mingled with the yelling water.

  “— supposed to be a treasure in there.”

  “You don’t know that. Just some stupid Indian legend.”

  “Sapphires and silver and gold. Sounds like a good legend to me.”

  “Where do we cross, Devlyn?” The drawn out S gave Jack away in the conversation.

  “We’ll cross here. I can’t tell how deep the river is, but it’s fast moving. You might want to throw her on your horse, if you plan on keeping her for more than ransom.” Devlyn, the leader, spoke with disinterest about her. Like she was less than the horses or something.

  If they crossed the river, she’d freeze. Even on the horse, she’d get wet. They didn’t seem to have extra blankets, and if they did, she doubted they’d share with her.

  Devlyn moved to the side. “Jack, go first. Make it across and find a clearing. We’ll make camp so the horses can dry out before we continue over the mountains. We’ll come back to the mines now that we know where they are.”

  Over the mountains. And where the hell had they heard of the caverns? The sapphire and silver were secrets in those parts. Ronan mined gold and other things, but he didn’t discuss his business with anyone. Secrets were the best part of Colby living. Only the locals knew each other’s gossip but they guarded them with rifle and key.

  Jack reached down and gripped her upper arms. Amelia recoiled, pulling her tied hands to her waist. She stared at him wide-eyed while their plans to cross the river sank in to her befuddled mind.

  Glancing between him and the river, Amelia dug her heels into the muddy grass and leaned backward. “I’m not going in that water. It’s freezing. No way!” The fear she’d been fighting rose to the surface. She couldn’t die in the water. She couldn’t. Men she could fight. Water? How the hell did a person fight water? And freezing water at that?

  Growling, Jack turned his horse and reached down, grabbing a chunk of her hair and slightly lifting her to her tiptoes. His sour breath breeched the few inches between their faces. “You’re going to shut the hell up or I’m going to slit your throat and toss you in for fish food.”

  Amelia didn’t say a word. All of her energy focused on the agony in her scalp. He lifted her across the pommel again, wrapping his hand in the back of her shirt to hold her steady. She clenched her stomach muscles against the return of the onslaught.

  The horse danced away from the river’s edge, but Jack pushed him forward with a sharp kick to his haunches.

  Icy water splashed up the sides of the horse and onto Amelia’s face, arms, and legs.

  No. No. No.

/>   Each step brought Amelia closer to the swirling black surface. She braced herself.

  The center of the main river dropped off deeper than a man’s head. She’d never crossed on horseback. Robbie had always led the way across at the lower fork where Big and Little Lonely Rivers separated.

  And suddenly her lower body dipped into the heaving water, the icy pull stole her breath and she gasped for air. Her still-tied hands clawed for a handhold as she bent at her waist with the pull of the current.

  Jack cursed, releasing his hold on her shirt and the rope, moving with the horse which fought Amelia’s wild thrashing.

  Amelia arched her back, anything to keep her face from dipping under. The strength of the water dragged at her legs, harder and harder. She struggled for something to hang onto, reaching for the pommel. She grabbed Jack’s arm, slipping lower into the black water beside the swimming horse.

  Her captor backhanded her, jerking the reins away from her grasping fingers. The momentum of his hit combined with the weight of the water and drag on her clothing and she slid off the horse, under his stomach.

  With very little breath held, Amelia kept her mouth closed. Eyes open, she tried to keep her bearings in the freezing water. Jack’s boot caught her shoulder and she grunted, unable to hear anything under the angry water.

  In seconds, she bobbed from under the horse, just out of Jack’s reach. And then went back under. Caught in the undertow, she kicked hard toward the graying light above. The water teased her, letting her up long enough to gasp in a shallow breath and then sucked her down again.

  Crap. The rivers would be splitting soon. She had to get up close to the surface, try with everything she had to get out of the grip of the current. Because where the rivers forked, an underwater river began as well, sucking half the water and contents into the caverns. The underwater rivers name was Dark One – translated from the nearby Blackfoot Indian tribe. The Dark One had killed before.

  Amelia kicked. And kicked. And pulled and pushed. She broke the surface and rolled to her back to escape the fingers of the lower currents.

  Moving her tied arms above her head for more surface area, Amelia tried gauging how far she had until the fork. The river’s speed threw off where she was.

  A rock in the back gave her a rude indication. She lowered her legs carefully, still slamming into large boulders and logs lodged in the river bottom. The west fork.

  She’d been directed into the river that would take her to the caverns, if she could get out. Or the falls into Lacey Valley. Why not throw piranhas in while she was at it?

  Dead tree limbs protruded into the air above the river. Amelia’s numb fingers didn’t register the first few branches they connected with and she had a hard time adjusting her hands and arms with the rope weight tugging on her wrists.

  But as she moved her hands, she noticed the ropes had loosened enough with being soaked in the water she could just barely slip them from the holes. The numbness hid the pain she should’ve felt with the scratches and rope burns on her skin. Bright red spots and strips showed up on her pale skin even as the abandoned rope disappeared under the rippling surface.

  The positive turn to her position lifted her spirits and she hooked her arm, averting her face and reached for anything – anything that might help her pull her ass from the cold water. She’d passed the first stages of hypothermia and couldn’t feel her feet dragging on the river bed.

  A large fallen tree stretched across the rushing water. Amelia gritted her teeth and braced her shoulder for the wrenching that – yep, almost tore her arm out of its socket. Holy crap that hurt. She wanted to sob and cry and sleep, but instead clung to the swaying tree. She’d recover later. She had to move now.

  She probably had minutes at best before the next stage of hypothermia set in.

  Shaking and shivering, tingling and severe cold had come and gone. The inability to focus would come next. She worked her hands along the rough log, unsure if the bark scraped her skin or not. She had to watch every movement or risk losing her grip.

  She couldn’t feel the tree under her skin.

  The steep embankment gave way under her weight. Loose sand and smooth river rock slid into the water with every step she attempted. She dropped to her knees, up to her waist in the water. Having her chest out of the cutting cold helped a little, but not enough to calm her short breaths or speed up her heart rate. Gripping the round trunk, her fingernails had taken on a bluish hue. She almost didn’t care.

  Almost.

  Shouts from upriver finally permeated the cold shield she’d been wrapped in. Hanging precariously in the fast current with her legs anchoring her to the river bottom and her hands clawing a tree that may or may not hold her weight, Amelia turned her head and glanced toward her entry point a few hundred feet to her left.

  Almost all the horses had crossed. Jack pointed her way, yelling at a few of the men on horses just standing beside him.

  She looked straight ahead, the outline of the log blocking most of her vision. But even with the gray shape in the way, the entrance to Lacey Caverns wasn’t hard to see. She had to get inside. That’s where her safety from the men would be.

  And maybe then she could warm up. Like there was a heater inside. She scoffed – or maybe she just imagined that she did.

  Come on, girl. Go! She pushed her legs beneath her. Heavy and unwilling to do anything but sit there, her limbs could have been numb logs themselves. Every second added more weight to her body and fatigue clouding her mind.

  Mac. She had to make it for Mac. She could do this!

  She flexed her fingers and moved her hands further up the log, stumbling as she pushed her body from the water and up the unsteady bank. Throwing herself across the sand and rocks, she let go of the tree. The hardest thing she had to do.

  Because if she didn’t stay on the land and slid back into the water, she didn’t have the energy to try anything else again.

  Pushing to a crawling position, Amelia ignored the bright red rivulets running from long scratches on her forearms. She crept, slowly at first, and then with more speed across the long snow-laden grass to the trampled animal trail and further into the clearing just outside the smallest of cave openings.

  Out of the immediate vicinity of the water, the overloud rushing softened, allowing more noises to permeate her freezing mind. The shouting hammered closer above the pounding of hooves.

  She had fifteen feet to go. Don’t look back. Just get in there.

  Seven or eight openings pockmarked the face of the mountain. Varying sizes, the black holes promised all kinds of intrigue. At the moment, the smallest one – about the size of a dog house opening – promised safety from the men. If she could just get in there.

  Ten feet.

  “Don’t let her get away!” Jack’s rough voice broke through the haze.

  Five feet.

  Dang it, Amelia, come on!

  Her fingers hurt, like bone-breaking pain, but she still couldn’t feel the smooth surface of the rock as she slipped through the entrance. She looked over her shoulder as she turned the first sharp corner of the small inner tunnel.

  Jack filled the entrance, blocking most of the light. His large body angled left and right but couldn’t get into the hole. He reached for her leg, grunting and straining as he stretched.

  Amelia pushed deeper into the dark. Deeper away from him. Away from the waters.

  The turn would take her away from the light and any hope of being warmed by stray sunlight.

  Chapter 12

  Having grown up on the ranch with Lonely Rivers in his backyard, Robbie’s experience and knowledge of the area gave him the edge he needed to catch up to Caracus just at the break in the trees to the river. He held back, watching as the gang picked the worst spot on the whole damn river to cross. If he made his presence known, it wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Amelia.

  Searching out Amelia, Robbie ground his teeth. Jack. The bastard hadn’t been killed yet. A surprising fac
t since he cheated more than he breathed. The asshole pushed a kicking and hitting Amelia over the pommel of his saddle. They plunged into the river.

  Robbie held his breath. Where they were going was the deepest part of the river. Even Robbie had never swam there. It was too dangerous.

  And then Amelia fell off the horse.

  He leaned forward, unable to breath with his chest in a vise. He couldn’t scream or run to her. None of his options in that moment involved saving Amelia. He’d be caught by Caracus. Come on, girl, surface!

  In fact, Devlyn would forget about Amelia and focus on Robbie and that wouldn’t save her either.

  He watched the water, finally breathing when she broke the surface. He couldn’t describe the self-control required not to rush to the water.

  Watching her body float, tumble and twist in the river – oh, shit! And disappear, no wait, there she was – was a torture he wouldn’t wish on anyone. Memories of praying with his family when he was little flashed in his mind. For the first time in forever, he wanted to pray, wanted help from a higher power. He’d do anything to save her. Even humble himself.

  The few seconds before she worked free from the river were the longest of his life. Fear, relief, worry, pain. Robbie breathed a little easier, but not much.

  Because her race to the caverns as the men closed in on her started and was worse than any horror movie.

  And she made it. And Robbie’s heart cracked and swelled. He could’ve lost her. He almost lost her. Not being together and having her die were too entirely different circumstances. Robbie could handle her not with him, but a world without Amelia wasn’t right and he didn’t want to live without her there.

  She had to be so cold. So alone. And so scared.

  If Robbie didn’t get to her soon, it wouldn’t matter who had her because she’d die of exposure.

  Caracus and the rest of the men reached Jack and dismounted their horses.