He looked around the room and gathered it was late evening as the bit of light that trickled through the wood slats was dim.
When he made coffee for Charlie that morning, he’d heard something outside and when he’d walked onto the porch thinking to shoo away a wild animal, someone hit him from behind.
Stupid mistake, not to have been prepared for Winfrow or his men. He’d not wanted to ruin their first two days so he’d not brought up the subject to Charlie. Although he’d wondered what the man would try in an effort to get rid of him. He expected it would happen, but didn’t think the man would act so soon.
No doubt he’d tried to get to Patrick before they could consummate their marriage or soon after anyway.
Footsteps sounded and he closed his eyes. someone neared and kicked his leg. “You awake there?”
Patrick grunted.
“Good. Thought for a moment I may have hit you too hard.” The man chuckled and lowered to look him in the face. “Make yourself at home. This will be the last place you exist anyway. Just waitin’ word to send you to yer maker.”
The man lifted his gun as if it helped to explain things. “Not much on conversation, are ya?” He laughed at his own joke and spit out tobacco juice. “Fine wife you had there. Too bad it wasn’t for long.”
After a hard punch to his face, the man grabbed him by the jaw, his fingers digging into his flesh. “I saw you through the window. Waited until morning, cause I liked the view of what happened.” Patrick growled and tried to kick him.
“Don’t like that, do ya?” The man released him and got up. “Well, at least you have that to take to your grave.” He punched him in the stomach taking all his breath and then walked out without looking back.
Patrick shifted and wiggled his legs. The bindings loosened some and he continued shifting hoping to dislodge the knots. Just then he heard boot steps again. He hung his head and pretended to be asleep hoping to hear something that would be useful.
“He’s right there,” the same man’s gruff voice said.
The footsteps moved closer. “Is he dead?” another asked.
“No probably asleep or passed out.”
“Boss says not to kill him. Wait on word from him before doing anything. Just keep him in here.” When they moved away, Patrick cracked his eyelids to look. The one who’d brought instructions was one of the men who’d come to the ranch with Winfrow right after he’d arrived.
The men walked out slamming the door shut behind them.
He wasn’t sure how much time had past. The sunlight gave way to darkness and Patrick continued shifting his legs and wiggling, letting out a sigh of relief when the ropes went slack some time later. He struggled to his feet and went to the barn door and peeked through the slats. There was a small house, light in one window. Other than a couple horses grazing next to it in a small corral, there wasn’t any other structures he could see.
If he managed to get the door open and take off on foot, perhaps he could make some headway before morning. He found a nail in the wall and hooked it under his gag. It took several tries, but finally he was able to get it off. He swallowed into his dry mouth and shifted his aching jaw.
After a few attempts to reach the nail with his arms, he gave up. It was too high.
Once again he looked toward the house. There were probably two men in there, so it would prove hard to fight them with his arms tied. Patrick considered how hard it would be to mount and decided it was best to get out and run as far as he could.
Somehow Patrick shouldered the door and it opened just enough for him to slip out. After looking up into the starlit sky, he stumbled into the shadows.
Chapter Thirteen
What seemed an eternity later, Patrick was relieved when he came upon a ranch house in the middle of plush fields. The sunrise in the horizon allowed him to see enough to make his way to a large barn. He was tired, dirty, and sore. His shoulders and arms numb from the bindings and his left eye was almost swollen shut from the man’s punch earlier. Not able to go much longer, he struggled to remain upright.
Once inside the barn, he collapsed beside the door, his breathing so labored, he wheezed. Hopefully he’d gotten far enough Winfrow’s men wouldn’t find him and whoever owned this place wasn’t one of his allies.
The next thing he knew cold metal pressed against his temple. He must have passed out because it startled him to have not heard someone approach.
“You seem to have gotten yourself into some kind of predicament,” the man’s voice was gruff, but not threatening. “Runnin’ from the law?”
“No. I’m trying to get back to my wife,” Patrick said his voice husky past the dryness in his throat.
“Wife?”
“Charlotte Kennedy.”
The stranger removed the gun from his temple and leaned closer. “Who are you?”
“Patrick Callahan. Winfrow…”
The man let out a whistle. “Say no more.” He put the gun away and pulled a knife from his pocket and pushed Patrick forward away from the wall. “I imagine your arms will be useless for a bit.” He cut at the bindings while keeping a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m Prosper McKade, my brothers and I own most of the lands on the west portion of Colter Valley. Too big of a family for Winfrow to attempt any intimidation. He sticks to widows and smaller farmers who have no defense.” His words were laced with disdain and Patrick instantly liked the man.
When the bindings fell away, his arms fell to his sides utterly useless. The pain from the blood flowing into them made him groan. “I appreciate it,” he managed to say between grimaces.
In silence, Prosper picked up the pieces of rope and tossed them into a nearby barrel. “No need to thank me. Winfrow must be fit to be tied. He’s had an eye on Charlie since Daniel passed.”
Patrick couldn’t keep the anger from his voice. “Why hasn’t anyone tried to help her?”
“My brothers and I make rounds, but she’s done all right. Old Joe takes care of her. Although I imagine if Winfrow has become more aggressive, it’s too much for him. I should have checked more often.”
Patrick nodded acknowledging it wasn’t the man’s responsibility. His ranch was large and probably took all his time to manage. “I appreciate what you did.”
Prosper helped Patrick to his feet, the feeling in his arms was to the point he could finally move them, but it still hurt. “I’ll get you a horse saddled, but let’s get some water and maybe a strong cup of coffee in you first. You look about to drop dead.”
They went through the back door into a spacious kitchen and Patrick collapsed into a chair next to a large rustic kitchen table.
A half hour later, Patrick felt much better after drinking coffee and a chuck of crusty bread. He hoped to get back to Charlie as soon as possible. Then they’d all go to town and speak to the sheriff. “How far to my house from here?”
“About two hours at a gallop.”
“Think the sheriff can do anything if I go to him? Or should I handle this myself?”
Prosper chuckled. “My brother is not one to interfere in matters of jealousy and such, but in this case, Winfrow had you kidnapped and planned to have you killed. Unfortunately, there’s no way to prove it. I’m willing to bet his men will swear they did it cause of a gambling debt or something of the sort.”
“One of your brothers is the sheriff?”
“One of them, yes. Dane is Colter Valley’s sheriff. Has been for a couple years.”
At the sound of horses, Prosper swore under his breath. He looked to Patrick for a moment. “I’ll tell you what. Let me get rid of these idiots. Then I’ll round up my brothers and cousins. We’ll help you out of this mess.”
The man stood to his full height and Patrick was impressed. Prosper was just as tall as he, but wider, more muscular. “Damn Winfrow needs to find something better to do than play these games.”
Patrick hated to sit back while Prosper faced the men, but at this point he was useless to help. One go
od punch and he’d be done for.
“She’s gone with him.” Joe stood on the front porch, relief mixed with worry etched on his face at Patrick’s arrival. He motioned to the road behind Patrick with his chin. “Here come the sheriff and Jerrick.”
“Damn,” Patrick hissed out and kicked at a rock. “Why’d she go with him? Why didn’t you stop her?”
“Winfrow came with four men. He told her unless she went with him, he’d kill you. She plans to leave a trail of buttons so we can track her and get to where they’re keeping you.”
Patrick didn’t want to be angry at the man, but his rage was hard to contain. If Winfrow put one hand on Charlie, he’d not hesitate to kill him. “You should have stopped her, Joe.”
“What’s goin’ on? How’d you get away?” Jerrick grabbed Patrick’s shoulders and have him a hard hug. “Where’s Charlie?”
The sheriff remained back next to his horse. Dane McKade favored his brother, although this McKade was a bit leaner and shorter than Prosper and his eyes were flat, expressionless. “Which way did they go, Joe?”
The men mounted and went in the direction the old man had seen Winfrow take Charlie. As exhausted as Patrick was, he would be damned if he wouldn’t try to kill the man with his bare hands. “I have an idea where he’s headed,” the sheriff told him. “He’s not going home, but to his pa’s old place.”
They brought the horses to a gallop and followed a trail that led away from the valley into an open land beyond the mountain range. It was not where he’d been taken. Patrick’s stomach churned. Winfrow planned to take Charlie and keep her to himself. The bastard had no immediate plans for him. If he’d not gotten away, he would remain tied up for days in the barn.
“From what I can tell it’s only one horse now,” Jerrick told them from the ground where they’d found another button. “That’s good news.”
“How long ago?” Joe asked. By the worried look on his face, he too feared what Winfrow would do once he had Charlie alone. “Can’t be more than yesterday I suppose. Not sure why I’m askin’.”
Without speaking Jerrick mounted and they took off again until a ramshackle shack came into view. “That’s it,” Dane McKade told them. “Where Winfrow grew up. Dirt poor thanks to his daddy’s drinking.”
Patrick wasn’t sure what the best plan was. Just as he lifted an arm to send his horse to run, Dane put his hand out. “Let’s dismount, tie up the horses, and walk. Don’t want to spook the man into doing something crazy. He’s got Charlie in there and is desperate. An obsessed man doesn’t have common sense.”
As much as he hated that it would take longer, Patrick agreed with the sheriff. The last thing he wanted was for Winfrow to hurt his wife.
The closer they got to the shack, the harder his heart beat. What if he’d hurt her or worse? If Charlie thwarted his advances, the man could have gone crazy. It was silent and McKade motioned for Jerrick to the other side of the doorway allowing Patrick to enter first. No doubt they knew if there was a scene that would embarrass Charlie, he should get to her first.
Patrick kicked in the door and a scream sounded.
Then all hell broke loose.
Chapter Fourteen
This was not how she’d envisioned her first days of marriage to be. Life was cruel as far as she was concerned. Charlie screamed once again, her throat raw from it.
Jessup held her down on the bed, his body so heavy, she could not push him off. She struggled and tried to fight, but her energy was quickly depleting. When he kissed her, she bit his lip and he cursed. He let one of her hands go and pulled her mouth open, kissing her harder.
As soon as they’d arrived, he’d grabbed her and held her against him babbling about how much he wanted her and would not wait any longer to have her. She’d fought, kicking, biting, and punching until exhaustion. The man had been relentless. Tearing at her clothes, taking his own off while she’d done her best to get away from him.
Now her clothing was in shreds and she’d lost a shoe in the struggle. Her breasts were exposed as he’d yanked the front of her clothing apart during the scuffle. Charlie bucked attempting to throw him off, but it only brought a chuckle out of him. “That felt good. Your body against mine in such an intimate manner.” He pressed his lips to her neck and she growled in frustration as tears streamed down her face as she imagined Patrick’s reaction to this. He’d not want her after this. No man wanted a woman spoiled in such a manner.
“Let me go. Please.” She hated to plead, but rather that than what he planned to do to her. A part of her understood he’d not stop until taking her, but she couldn’t help fighting. She’d resist until the end.
He wedged a leg between hers, pushing them apart. “You’re mine, Charlotte. Won’t be another’s after this.”
“Stop!” She cried out and tried to pull her hands free. “Don’t do this. I’ll hate you forever. The first chance I get I’m going to kill you.”
He didn’t seem to hear her, his breathing ragged, he held both of her wrists with one hand and reached down with the other to guide himself.
Just then the front door burst open. An inhuman roar sounded and gunshots rang.
Charlie screamed when Winfrow scrambled off her and she rolled to the edge of the cot and fell to the floor behind it. She covered her ears and curled into a ball, not able to make sense of what happened.
“Stop, you’ll kill him,” someone shouted and then another voice growled in return. “Let him go, Patrick. You don’t want to go to jail for murder. Your wife needs you.”
Charlie was sure she imagined it all, Winfrow played tricks on her. Her mind couldn’t process what happened. Someone touched her shoulder and she fought back, her nails out she scratched and screamed until whoever it was pulled her against him and began soothing her.
No longer able to keep the darkness at bay, she allowed it to consume her, to take over. In the dark there was peace and Charlie let go and succumbed.
Soft sunlight streamed across her face and Charlie opened her eyes. The familiarity of her bedroom brought her to sobs. No one was there, she’d asked Patrick to leave until he’d finally done so. Her shame at what happened fell over her again like a heavy water soaked blanket.
She’d bathed in hot water, combed the tangles from her hair and then washed again. Only Patrick remained in the house and he’d watched her in silence as she’d gone through the paces over and again.
Dirty. She felt so filthy. The stench of Winfrow on her like a film of grime. No matter what she did, it remained. Patrick’s pained expression when she’d not allowed him to comfort her tore at her very essence, but how to explain to him that she didn’t want him sullied by what she was covered in.
Two long days of tears and struggle and she didn’t feel any closer to normalcy. She’d eaten when fed and gone through the motions of getting up and sitting by the fire, but all she really wanted to do was sleep.
After a cursive knock on the door, Patrick peeked in. His dark eyes boring into hers. “Someone is here to see you.”
“Tell them to go away. I’m not fit for company.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not company then,” Mrs. Delworth bustled in with a basket on her arm and a cup of what looked to be tea. She looked to Patrick who placed a second cup next to it. “Go on, young man, see about what needs to be done. I’ll be here for the afternoon keeping your wife company.”
Charlie’s glare was ignored as the woman hummed to herself setting the basket on the floor next to a pair of chairs and then pulled out a plate with bread and a couple bottles, putting them on the table as well.
“I like this room, it’s so large and full of sunlight,” Mrs. Delworth said taking a sip of her tea. “I may just get someone to put another window in mine.”
Moving slowly, Charlie got up from the bed and took the seat opposite hers. No matter what had happened, she could not bring herself to be rude to the kind woman.
Mrs. Delworth continued chatting. “Have a sip of tea, dear,
it will help sooth you.”
Nothing would help, Charlie was sure of it. Her hand shook when she lifted the cup, so she held it with both hands to drink from it. “I appreciate this, Mrs. Delworth, but right now I doubt there is anything that can change how I feel.”
“Time mostly will help.” Mrs. Delworth’s gaze became intent, her eyes narrow, an expression of anger marring her usual kind features. “It’s unforgiveable that a man could ruin what was supposed to be your happiest time. The bastard deserves the worst.”
Charlie couldn’t help her eyes widening at Mrs. Delworth’s words. “I don’t know how to feel. Mostly I feel numb.” A tear slipped down her cheek and Mrs. Delworth covered her hand. “I can’t let Patrick near me, it’s too hard. But I can’t help it.”
“I understand.” When Mrs. Delworth’s eyes met hers, Charlie saw raw pain and understood. The woman had gone through something similar or worse.
“When did it happen to you?”
“Just after my Joseph died. I wasn’t as young as you, but it doesn’t matter to some men, I suppose. He came into my house in the dead of night and left before sunrise.”
“Was he ever caught?” This time it was Charlie who squeezed the woman’s hand.
“No. I never told a soul.” Mrs. Delworth let out a breath and reached for her tea. “I held it in and it killed my chance at ever finding love again. It wasn’t until years later that I realized how much more of myself I gave the man by holding on to anger and resentment. It was at that point I moved here from Billings and started a new life. Never looked back.”
Charlie sighed. “Winfrow didn’t….he didn’t get that far.”
“He still violated you, took what you didn’t freely give and that is as much an attack as any on a woman by a man. But don’t make yourself and Patrick pay for it. Allow your husband to comfort you. Start slowly, holding his hand, allow him in your bed, he’s understanding and will know when it’s time to proceed further than just sleeping.”
Charlie nodded, her gaze going to the bed. Although they’d only shared it two nights, she reached for him at night missing his warmth and bulk next to her. “I will try. I promise.” The bottles caught her attention. “What is this?”
Lords of Ireland II Page 59