Saving Grace (Safe Havens)
Page 27
Will lay sprawled on the floor, a bloody gash on his forehead and the gun he kept holstered at his side lying several feet away. Thank the Lord, his chest rose and fell with his breaths.
Emily knelt on the floor next to her father, crying as she cradled Beth against her shoulder. Stephen’s lapdog had a gun pointed at the back of Beth’s head.
With a deep breath and a desperate prayer, Grace faced her tormentor. “I’m here, Stephen. Call off your man.”
Stephen doffed his top hat and gave her a mocking bow. “Ah, my sweet. So you’ve deigned to...grace us all with your presence.” He snorted a disgusting laugh. “If you shall excuse the pun.”
“What do you want?”
As if she didn’t already know the answer. The man’s timing was incredibly lucky—or brilliant. For the first time in days, Adam, Jake, Ty, and Matthew were too far away to help, thinking Will was watching the women. Matthew was closest but might not return for quite a while. No, she was good and trapped. The best she could hope for was to keep Beth, Emily, Victoria, and Will safe, which meant she’d have to leave with a man she hoped would one day find his soul tormented in Hell.
Adam will find me.
But would that miracle happen before Stephen hurt her again?
Heart hammering in her chest, she refused to show him her fear. Her hand rose to touch her stomach before she quickly dropped it. She couldn’t allow the man to figure out she was pregnant. He would surely know some unholy way to end the child’s life, and there was no doubt that would be his plan should he discover the truth.
“We’ll be leaving now, Grace. That’s what I want. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He strode across the room and gripped her upper arm so tightly tears stung her eyes.
She blinked them back, refusing to let him see any weakness.
“You belong to me,” he said as he narrowed his eyes in anger. “Now and forever.”
“Get that gun away from that child,” she ordered, pleased her voice help no quiver of the fright threatening to paralyze her. “Promise me you’ll leave these good people alone. Then I’ll go with you.”
“You dare to demand?” He jerked her arm to force her a step closer. His chest pressed against hers as he stared down into her eyes. The black depths revealed no soul. “You’ll go...whether I kill them all or not. And I’ll start by killing it.” He pointed at Beth.
A shot rang out.
Grace screamed and whirled to face Emily and Beth, terrified Stephen’s lackey had followed through with Stephen’s threat. Instead, she stared in amazement as the man sank to his knees. When he collapsed next to Will, blood seeped onto the sawdust covered floor from the wound on the back of his head.
Another shot quickly rang out, this time from Stephen. That’s when Grace saw Matthew standing just inside the saloon doors, his gun still smoking from the shot that killed Stephen’s man. She sobbed when her brother collapsed to his knees as a dark red stain spread over the wound to his right shoulder.
Stephen slipped his gun back in his coat pocket and marched toward the front doors, dragging her with him.
Grace dug in her heels, trying to stop to see her brother, to assure herself he would survive.
“Come with me, Grace,” Stephen said as they stood next to Matthew’s prostrate form. “Or I swear to you, I’ll kill him right now. And then the others.”
With a smothered cry, she gave him a nod and let him haul her to his waiting carriage.
Dear God, please let Matthew live.
And please help Adam find me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Adam knew something was very wrong the moment he walked into the Four Aces.
Emily was crying and holding Beth against her shoulder while Victoria fussed over Matthew and Will. Both men were slumped in chairs, looking pale and shaky.
Bloody rags rested on the table and what appeared to be a dead body had been draped with a sheet.
His heart pounded hard, increasing the speed even more when he realized there was one thing he didn’t see.
His wife.
“What in the hell happened?” he demanded.
“Stephen,” Victoria hissed. “He knocked out Will. Then he shot Matthew and took Grace.”
Jake pushed past Adam to go to Emily.
She released a sob and let him enfold her and Beth in his arms.
“It’s okay, now, Em,” he said softly, rubbing her back.
In ragged, tearful snatches of words, she said, “H–he–took Grace. Sh–she left to save Beth.”
Adam strode over, trying to make sense of what Emily was saying. “He threatened to kill Beth?”
“After he hit Daddy, h-he held a gun t–to Beth’s head.” She sobbed again and buried her face against Jake’s shoulder.
Since the poor thing was too upset to give him any real answers, he turned to his daughter. “Tell me everything.”
“He came here with his man.” A nod to the body. “The guy knocked Will out with the butt of his pistol. Then he demanded Grace go with him—told his man to kill Beth if she didn’t obey. He would’ve killed us all, Daddy.”
“You took a bullet?” Adam asked Matthew. A ridiculous question considering Victoria was tending his wound.
Damn, but he was having trouble concentrating because of his fear for Grace. He wanted to run back outside, jump on his stallion, and ride.
But where?
Never in his life had he been tempted to kill another man. But at that moment, blood lust raced through every part of him—body and mind. Stephen Shay was going to die at his hand, and if Adam had any say in it, the death would be unmercifully slow and very, very painful.
“It’s just my shoulder. Went straight through, so we don’t have to dig the damn thing out,” Matthew said. “As soon as Victoria patches me up, we’ll track ’em.”
Grabbing a fresh towel, Will held it to his forehead. “Stitch me up, Victoria. I’ll ride with ’em too.”
Already forming some plans, Adam watched how sweaty and shaky Matthew and Will were. His ideas couldn’t include them. “Jake?”
“Ready to ride with you,” Jake replied, taking his daughter from Emily’s arms. Then he tucked his crying wife against his shoulder again. “What about Ty?”
“Didn’t he come back with you?” Victoria asked.
“He’s back at the Twin Springs, tendin’ to the horses,” Jake replied.
“He can stay there to take care of things while we’re gone,” Adam added. “Victoria can explain everything to him later. Get a few things together, Jake. We’ll hit the trail now, while it’s still fresh.”
Matthew frowned up at Victoria. “Get this thing sewn shut. I need to go with them.”
“Me first,” Will insisted.
Victoria gave him a quick shake of her head.
“Not this time, Matthew. You, either, Wil,.” Adam said.
He needed to ride hard, and wounded men could easily be laid low if those wounds weren’t properly cared for.
Matthew brushed her hands away and jumped to his feet. “The hell I’m not... I’ll be…fine…” His words slipped to a mere whisper as he sank back into the chair. What little color his face had held disappeared.
“You’ve lost too much blood.” Victoria pressed a clean cloth against his wound. “Curse it… Now you’ve got it bleeding again.”
“But… I’ve always protected Grace.” With a heavy sigh, he hung his head. “I let her down. I let that bastard get her.”
“You did no such thing.” She smoothed her free hand down his cheek. “Stephen would’ve killed you if you even raised a hand. Grace knew that. She went to save you—to save all of us.”
“I need you here, Matthew,” Jake added. “You need to keep watch over Em and Beth. You need to stay too, Will. Watch over my family for me.” Leaning down, he planted a kiss on his wife’s lips and then kissed his daughter’s forehead before handing her back to a calmer Emily. “Let me grab a few things, Adam. Then we’ll get the wagon back to the ra
nch and grab some horses.” He took the stairs two at a time.
“Princess?” Adam asked.
She glanced up.
“Could you please pack us some food? Jerky. Bread. Cheese. Just a few things to keep us going.”
She nodded before checking Matthew’s wound again. “I’ll stitch that up soon as I get things ready. Will—you’re next.” Dropping the cloth on the table next to the rest of the bloody rags, she hurried to the kitchen.
“I should be going with you,” Matthew insisted.
“I need you here. When Victoria gets you sewn up, get to the telegraph office. Send out a few messages to some of the railheads to see if—”
“Stephen probably took her to his Pullman car! Brilliant, Adam. You and Jake send messages back when you can so we can share any information.”
Jake ran down the stairs, carrying a small satchel and wearing his Colt holstered against his hip. “Ready.”
“Matthew?” Adam asked.
He quirked an eyebrow.
“I need your best guess where he’d take her.”
He pondered it before he answered. “I wanted to say he’d haul her to New York City. His brothers are there. But now I’m not so sure…”
“Why?”
“Goes back to when I searched for her before she came here. Talked to a couple of people in Frisco just to be sure Shay hadn’t snatched her right out from under my nose. Found out some of his family’s not so happy with him because he’s spent so much time and money chasing Grace over hell’s half-acre all these years. The only one who still cares is the old man.”
“You mean his father—the senator?”
“That’s him. Hiram Shay.”
That boded well. If the Shay family had tightened Stephen’s purse strings, that would limit how far the man could travel and where he might be able to hide Grace. “What’s your gut tell you now?”
“He’ll head back to his father to beg for money.”
“San Francisco?”
Matthew nodded. “That’d be my guess. He’ll go by railroad. The guy enjoys traveling in style.”
“Then San Francisco it is.”
***
Grace curled up under the layers of her skirts, drawing her knees up to hug them where she sat on the settee. She was tired and hungry—not that she’d ever make a peep of complaint to Stephen Shay.
She’d sooner starve to death.
That notion brought her problems back full force. Much as she wanted to spite the man by refusing to eat, she had to think of her unborn child.
Adam’s child.
No matter what happened, no matter what Stephen did to her, she had to protect her baby. She’d already let one of her children down—there was no way she’d allow something to hurt this one, too.
Her tired eyes searched the room. The wealth of the Shay family echoed from every corner. Velvet-covered chairs. An oaken bureau. Thick rugs covering the floor. The railroad car was nicer than any room at the fanciest of hotels.
Stephen had held his pistol to her side as he forced her into that damned Pullman car—the same one she’d seen waiting for her at the end of far too many cattle drives. He’d locked her in the sitting room and left. She was sure he’d gone because she’d tried to pick the lock with anything she could get her hands on to no avail.
An ornate letter opener she’d found was now tucked away in the folds of her skirt. Made of gold and accented with rubies, it was probably worth more than she’d earned in her lifetime. The size seemed more dagger than humble tool. She’d save it for the best possible moment—one that might earn her freedom—and do what she had to do to protect herself and her baby.
The door opened. Stephen stepped into the room, said something to someone on the other side of the door, then slammed it shut.
“Grace.” He gave her a long look. “It appears we’re going to be on our way any moment.”
The train lurched into motion, the timing drawing a reptilian smile from his lips.
What did he expect her to say? Was the man wanting her to beg for her freedom?
She wouldn’t give him that kind of satisfaction. Instead, she simply stared at him, hoping he would feel every ounce of the hatred flowing through her veins.
“Don’t you wish to know where we’re heading, my sweet?”
All she offered him was a silent glare.
“I’ve secured a…safe place for us.”
Her fingers gently brushed against the soft folds of her skirt, caressing the hidden letter opener, reminding herself that if the man tried to attack her again, she had a weapon. While it might not have been as effective as a gun, the letter opener was better than the despair of helplessness.
Grace refused to be his victim.
He walked to the small bureau and retrieved a glass. Then he pulled a flask from his breast pocket. “Are you hungry?”
I’m starving, but you’ll never know it.
Stephen took a long pull from the amber liquor he’d poured into the glass. “I have dinner being brought in shortly.”
You’ll be eating it alone.
“Once we’re on our way, I’m afraid there will be one more…important stop. Some small hamlet outside of San Francisco. You see, Grace, there’s a doctor there who has arranged to take care of your little…problem.”
Her eyes widened, but she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming.
The glass suddenly flew past her head, close enough she flinched. It shattered against the wall, surrounding her with the reek of whiskey.
“Did you think I didn’t know?” he bellowed.
Her eyes rose to meet his, and she hoped he saw the challenge there. The Grace he’d tried to destroy was gone. She wasn’t a scared child any longer. She was a woman who would do anything to protect her unborn child.
“You let him touch you! How could you? After all I’ve done for you? After what we meant to each other? How could you give yourself to another man? Especially to that.. that… buffoon?”
“He’s more of a man than you could ever dream of being.”
The taunt earned her a hard backhand across the face—hard enough her ears rang and she tasted blood. Although tears filled her eyes, she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt her. Her gaze rose again to defiantly stare at her tormentor, the throbbing of her cheek keeping her grounded and determined.
Stomping over to the door, he jerked it open. “You may forget about dinner this evening. Sit alone with your hunger as punishment.” His eyes narrowed. “Know this—you belong to me, Grace. You’ve always belonged to me, but I won’t touch you until that…abomination is removed.”
He slammed the door.
Thank the Lord, Stephen wasn’t going to rape her again—at least not now. And if he thought the time would come that she’d calmly allow anyone to try and kill her child, he was sadly mistaken.
The letter opener would remain hidden while Grace prayed that when the right time came, she’d be able to use it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
With a despondent cry, Grace gave up trying to get out through the window.
The train had stopped in some town just outside of San Francisco, where—after some maneuvering—the Pullman had been detached and left behind. As the remainder of the train pulled away, all she could do was watch with panic out the small window. Her hopes of gaining help or getting lost in the confusion of Union Station turned to ashes.
When Stephen left her alone, telling her he’d come back for her later, terror set in.
The door wouldn’t budge, even when she’d tried to jimmy the lock with the letter opener. Trying to find some calm, her gaze again settled on the window. It was too high for her to kick out the glass, but could she smash it with something heavy?
Unfortunately, there were no statues or paperweights—nothing heavy enough to do the job. Everything in the car had been nailed down, probably to keep it from shifting during travel. That, or he’d planned well for her captivity.
She was out of options.
The door opened.
Grace sank back down into the chair, quickly tucking the letter opener back into the pocket of her skirts.
Stephen said something over his shoulder as he walked into the room. The door was left open, which meant he was taking her off the train.
She had to swallow the fear threatening to make her do something foolish—like make a mad dash past him. Stephen was smart. He’d have some of his goons waiting for that contingency.
“It’s time to go, my sweet. I’ve secured a place for us to wait for the doctor.”
“I won’t go.”
“You will.”
He motioned for one of his men, a large, burly guy who looked so much like some of the cowboys she’d worked with through the years hope crept into her heart. Surely if she let this man know the disgusting crime Stephen planned, he’d help her find a way to get free.
Stephen frowned. “There’s a carriage right outside the door. You will get inside and you will behave.”
He pulled that damned pistol he’d pointed at Beth out of his coat pocket as he crossed the room. Grabbing her upper arm, he jerked her to her feet. With a push to her back, he sent her stumbling toward the door.
She let her eyes meet the new man’s, pleading with him best she could to help her.
The gaze that met hers seemed colder than a Montana winter.
“Please help me,” she whispered as she passed him.
He looked away.
“To the carriage.” Stephen gave her another push.
He’d planned well. They were in the middle of nowhere. There was no one who would hear her should she shout. The driver of the carriage wouldn’t even make eye contact, meaning he was another of Stephen’s hirelings.
Grace was utterly alone as the few hopes she still grasped dwindled.
When Stephen gave her his hand to help her in the carriage, she dug in her heels, folded her arms over her breasts, and refused to budge. “I won’t go with you.”