He glanced at Roy. He wanted to believe that Roy didn't know Barlow would take Savannah, but after all the lies and deception...
"Hawk and Patricia know you,” Mac said abruptly, ending the tense silence. “That's why you didn't follow Savannah to Sunset ranch, and that's how you knew how to get there."
"Yes,” Roy whispered. He stared at his hands, which were locked together on the table in front of him.
They were trembling.
Mac eyed the tell-tale motion with grim satisfaction. Until Savannah was safe in his arms again, he didn't think he could forgive the kid. “You also warned Barlow in Paradise, didn't you?” Another shame-filled nod. Mac fought down his rage, reminding himself that Roy was just a kid. “Where will he take her?"
"Hawk was right. Ned bought some land outside of Paradise.” Roy pressed his thumbs into his hands until his knuckles turned white. “I reckon he'll take her there."
"And wait for me to come after her?"
Roy shook his head. His bottom lip trembled, but he stopped the gesture with his teeth. “I didn't want to say nothing in front of the sheriff, but Ned's plannin’ on making a deal with you. He don't want to be hunted the rest of his life."
Ned. Not Pa, but Ned. Mac stored the information away for future contemplation. “I thought you said you didn't know he was going to take Savannah."
"I—I thought I had talked him out of it—after he told me what he was plannin’ to do!” Roy struck the table with his fists as Mac had done earlier, in frustration and anger. “He lied to me! He ain't done nothing but lie to me since Ma died!"
Another time, Mac would have prompted the boy to continue, to let it all out and lance the boil that had obviously been festering since his mother's death, but right now with Roy's betrayal fresh in his mind, Mac could think of nothing but Savannah. “What's the deal? My silence for Savannah's life?” he asked, not bothering to hide his contempt.
"Yeah, only...” Roy darted a fearful glance at Mac before he continued in a low voice. “Only he wants you to tell everybody you killed him."
Mac uttered a soft, four-letter curse. Was Barlow that confident Mac couldn't rescue Savannah? Was he that arrogant? Mac clenched his jaw as rage swelled, lethal and ugly. His voice shook as he asked, “Do you think he will kill her if I don't agree with his deal?"
Roy frowned as if contemplated the question. Finally, he said, “I don't know, Mac. Ned's pretty mean. He might."
"If he does,” Mac growled with complete conviction, “There won't be a hole left for him to hide in."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going after Savannah. When I find her and get her to safety, I'm going to bring Barlow and his lady love in. Dead or alive. Makes no difference to me.” In fact, he preferred Barlow dead.
"I want to go."
"No.” Mac said it sharper than he intended. It was obvious the boy was suffering massive guilt and regretted his part in Barlow's dirty schemes, but he would have to work it out on his own for now.
He rose, and without a backward glance at the miserable boy, left to start his journey. He figured Barlow had ridden to the next town to catch the morning train.
Mac wasn't about to wait until the next train out—which wouldn't be until tomorrow morning—before he began the hunt. He would ride like the wind, changing horses along the way. Thanks to telegraphy and Sheriff Cannon's many contacts, there would be fresh horses waiting for him in many of the small towns that crossed his path.
When he reached Edmondsville, North Carolina, he would catch the train to Paradise. With any luck, he would arrive in Paradise hours behind Barlow.
* * * *
Ned Barlow and Raquel looked like any wealthy couple traveling first class. Ned wore a striped woolen suit, a solid black vest, and carried an ivory cane that with a flick of a switch, revealed a rapier-sharp knife at the tip; he'd wasted no time showing it to Savannah, warning her that he wouldn't hesitate to use it if she cried for help.
Raquel wore her dark hair piled on top of her head with artfully curled ringlets cascading over her shoulders. She was dressed in a burgundy traveling suit that looked uncomfortably tight.
Savannah bit her lip and turned her face to the window again. After a grueling horseback ride, they had caught the morning train from Calliecut, a small town not more than five miles from Angel Creek.
Did Mac and her father know she was gone yet? She wondered. For all she knew they were still at the bank, looking for clues, discussing the robbery while Barlow took her further and further away. She hadn't even resisted, not after Barlow informed her that he had Roy, and would kill him if she didn't come peacefully.
He'd lied, of course. Once they were on the train heading North, Raquel couldn't wait to tell her—laughing gleefully—the startling news about Roy. Savannah drew in a long, shuddering breath. How could that sweet, clumsy boy be Barlow's son? How could she and Mac have overlooked something so important? They had blindly trusted the boy, believing his sad story when he told them he didn't have any folks.
No—he'd said he didn't have folks worth mentioning, which certainly made sense now that she knew the truth. And if he truly was part of Barlow's devious plans, then why didn't he come with them? Had Barlow left him behind to continue spying on Mac? The possibility made Savannah clench her fists until her nails bit deeply into her palms. She didn't know what Barlow planned for her, but she knew Mac would come after her. He wouldn't give a thought to his own safety.
Was this Barlow's plan? Why did he hate Mac so?
Her heart skipped a painful beat. Over the last two weeks she had fallen even more in love with Mac, so much that she had considered begging him to give them a chance to be more than friends ... and lovers. Considered blurting out that she was in love with him.
Now she might not have the chance.
Savannah slowly unclenched her fists, ignoring the painful grooves left by her nails. She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. Somehow, she vowed, she would find a way to escape Barlow and his cold-hearted lady-friend before Mac had a chance to get himself killed trying to rescue her.
* * * *
Mac pushed his horse hard as he rode hell-bent-for-leather North. He knew Roy followed, had known from the start, but he studiously ignored the boy in the hopes that he would give up and turn back.
He couldn't trust him, didn't know if he was friend or foe, and didn't have time to belabor the issue.
In Albert City, a thriving cow town hugging the border of North Carolina, Mac thundered up to the marshal's office to change horses and fill his canteen. Sheriff Cannon had wired ahead, and Marshal Crow was waiting for him on the board walk outside the jail.
The big-boned, heavily-jowled marshal tipped his hat at Mac as Mac slid from the heaving horse. He held out a saddle bag, a fresh canteen, and a big hand to shake. Mac took all three with a grim thank you before he mounted the fresh horse and kicked it into a gallop.
Roy would never keep up without a fresh horse, Mac reflected as he slowed down long enough to take a deep pull from the canteen. The sun was sinking, but Mac continued to ride hard until full dark was upon him. He finally slowed the gallant gelding to a walk, knowing a lame horse wouldn't do him any good.
Sometime during the early morning hours, Mac dozed in the saddle. Each time the horse stumbled, he jerked awake. An hour before sunset he stopped long enough to water his horse and eat a chunk of cornbread the marshal had given him.
The early morning air was cool and sweet, but it would heat up when the sun came out. Fall was slow in arriving this year, and winter was still some weeks away.
He spent another hard day in the saddle, cutting across rugged terrain avoided by most travelers, and splashing through creeks and streams—some deep enough to soak his boots—and crashing through dense forests. He rode into the town of Sweet Water just as the sun was once again sinking in the sky. With the minimum of conversation, he changed horses, refilled his canteen, and gratefully accepted another offering of food f
rom the sheriff before riding out again.
He was exhausted, but even if he stopped, he wouldn't be able to sleep. Each time he closed his eyes a mental image of Barlow filled his mind, and the fury returned. When his eyes were open, he thought of Savannah, his sweet, passionate, loving Savannah. He remembered her delightful laugh, her husky voice urging him to touch her, love her, when they were making love. He recalled the numerous times he nearly told her that he had loved her for a long time. Without any effort, he brought to mind a vivid image of her flushed, excited face when she spoke to him about plans for the future.
Now Mac wished he had told her, because he couldn't bear the thought of either of them dying without her knowing how much he loved her—how much he looked forward to marrying her, and how much he'd like to live with her as husband and wife until the end of their days.
Mac stumbled into Edmondsville two hours before the evening train was due. Edmondsville was one of the few towns that boasted both a morning and evening train schedule going North. Mac estimated that would put him about twelve hours behind Barlow.
He left his horse at the jail and bought a ticket to Paradise, then settled on the empty train platform to eat a cold supper of biscuits and bacon, compliments the sheriff's wife.
The shrill whistle of the approaching train startled Mac out a light doze. Tired, dirty, with his face stinging from the numerous scratches he'd received crashing through the forest, he boarded the train that would take him closer to Savannah. The moment he lowered his aching body onto the padded seat, his eyes began to close. Hold on, Savannah, I'm coming, he thought as he drifted off.
What seemed like moments later, someone shook him awake. Mac rubbed his heavy, swollen eyes and blinked at the man who had rudely interrupted his sleep. He gathered by his sharply creased suit that he was the conductor. Fumbling inside his coat, Mac found his ticket and held it out to him.
The conductor took the ticket, but instead of moving on, he asked, “Are you Mac Cord?"
Mac came fully alert. The way the man was frowning reminded him of another time. But no, it couldn't possibly be—
"We have a young man who claims that you know him.” The conductor's thin lips nearly disappeared in a disapproving frown. “He stowed away on the baggage car."
For a wild moment, Mac considered shrugging and telling the conductor that the stowaway must be confused, that he knew nothing about a young boy brash enough to stowaway on a train. But his conscience wouldn't let him—and he knew Savannah would tear him limb from limb.
The thought of her spirited reaction nearly made him smile. He let out a long, put-upon sigh and said, “Yeah, I know him. Might as well take me to him."
Roy looked worse than Mac. The deep scratches on his face clearly mapped his path through the same unchartered forest Mac had struggled through. His boots were wet and muddy, his clothes torn and dirty, and his entire frame shook from exhaustion.
For the first time since he discovered Roy's duplicity, Mac felt a stirring in his heart, a remembered fondness for this brash, loud-mouthed boy. On the heels of this surprising emotion, Mac experienced a wild moment of paternal pride that Roy had managed to keep up with him on the grueling journey.
"Do you have a bed available on this train?” Mac asked the conductor. When the conductor remained silent, Mac fished a persuasive amount of money from his coat pocket and offered it to him.
The reaction was instantaneous.
"Why, yes, Mr. Cord. Happy to oblige, Mr. Cord.” He glanced from one scratched, dirty face to another before he added, “I'll get him some fresh water too."
"Thanks,” Mac said dryly. “And food? Did I give you enough money to cover that, too?” When the conductor hesitated, Mac sighed and fished out another incentive.
The conductor whisked the coin from his hand and made it disappear. “Yes, sir. I'll see what we've got in the way of food."
When they were alone in the private bunker, Mac folded his arms and tried to look forbidding as he glared at the shame-faced boy. It was difficult to be angry with a kid who looked as if he'd stumbled into a cat fight, and who could barely hold himself upright. Deliberately, Mac reminded himself that Roy was Barlow's son. He'd been trained to deceive.
"Why did you follow me?” Mac demanded.
Roy struggled to keep his eyes open. His belly gave an ominous rumble as he said sluggishly, “I wanted ... to prove to you ... that I'm not like you ... think I am. I wanna ... help get Sav ... Mrs. Cord back."
As Mac watched, Roy's eyes drifted down again. He crumpled slowly onto the bunk, his legs still hanging over the side. Within seconds he'd begun to snore.
Shaking his head, Mac removed Roy's muddy boots and settled him more comfortably onto the mattress. He drew a blanket over his thin shoulders. Roy stirred and mumbled something in his sleep. Mac bent close so that he could hear.
"I ... lost my damned ... hat,” Roy whispered in a weary, little-boy voice. “Gotta find ... it."
"We'll find it,” Mac promised, swallowing a lump in his throat and cursing his foolish heart. Common sense told him Roy couldn't be trusted, yet here he was, tending the boy like a soft-hearted woman.
If only Savannah could see him now.
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Chapter Thirty-One
"You can sleep over there, by the fire place. I'm sure it's not up to your standards, princess, but it's the best I can do."
'Over there’ was a blanket on the hard floor, but Savannah was too exhausted to care. She mustered a haughty look for Ned's benefit as she stumbled to the blanket. If he expected her to complain, plead, or become hysterical, he was in for a disappointment.
She stretched out on the blanket and cradled her head on her arms, struggling to keep her eyes open. She should stay awake, plot how she was going to escape from these cruel people...
Sometime later, Savannah awoke to the sound of low voices—Ned and Raquel's voices. She lay very still, keeping her eyes closed as she listened.
"What if he brings a posse with him?” Raquel asked.
"He wouldn't dare,” Ned sneered. “Roy says he's besotted with her. He won't risk her life."
"I hope you're right."
"I am."
Savannah was amazed at the man's arrogance. Ned was right about one thing; Mac wouldn't bring a posse. But he would come for her.
"What if he won't agree to your deal?"
Ned made a vicious sound in his throat. “Either he agrees to tell everyone that I'm dead, or she dies."
Cold chills swept over Savannah at his words. Mac was an honorable man. Could he—or would he—agree to such a deal? To lie to everyone, claim that Ned Barlow was dead just to save her life?
Savannah bit her lip, knowing the answer. Mac would agree, but in agreeing, he would be compromising his integrity. He would lose a piece of himself...
She couldn't let that happen! Mac had already done so much for her in the name of gallantry. Gathering her courage, Savannah pushed herself to a sitting position.
Conversation immediately ceased. The couple turned to look at her. Ned's lip curled. Raquel smiled, a tiny, superior smile that made Savannah shiver.
"Well, well, well,” Ned drawled. “If it isn't sleeping beauty, awake and refreshed after her nap."
Her voice thick with contempt, Savannah said, “There's something you should know about Mac and me."
"Oh? And what, pray tell, would that be?"
"Mac doesn't love me. In fact, we're not really married. We're just friends."
"And you expect me to believe that?"
"It's true. He pretended to be my husband to get me out of jail, then Preacher Owens saw us coming out of my hotel room, so Mac lied about our relationship again to save my reputation.” Savannah shoved her tangled hair from eyes, willing Ned to believe her. “So you see, Mac will never agree to let you go free. Unlike you, he's a man of honor."
Ned's black eyes glowed with a feral light. “Unfortunate for you, my dear, if what you say is true
."
Savannah tried another tactic. “I met your sister. She's a wonderful, sweet person. Too bad she doesn't know what a monster you are."
When Ned made a threatening move toward Savannah, Raquel grabbed his arm. She laughed derisively. “Ned! Shame on you. Can't you see she's trying to bait you? She's lying, of course."
"I'm not lying,” Savannah stated with dignity. “So you might as well kill me now, because Mac will never agree to your sordid plans."
The maniacal light in Ned's eyes brightened. He removed a small derringer from his jacket pocket. Slowly, he pointed it at her, his unholy smile full of devilry.
Savannah closed her eyes and braced herself for the pain.
* * * *
The conductor had brought them a loaf of bread and a comb of raw honey. When Roy awoke he sat on the side of the bunk and ate the loaf of bread and the entire comb of honey as Mac looked on, amused by the boy's vicarious appetite.
Roy licked his fingers clean, flashing Mac a sheepish smile when he realized Mac was watching. “Mr. Carrington gave me some money, but I didn't have time to buy food."
Mac's brow rose. “That's how you were able to trade horses?"
Roy nodded. “It took me a little longer to make the exchange at the stables, but I managed."
"I take it you also didn't have time to buy a train ticket?"
"Nope. Got here just as the train was pulling out."
"You're lucky they didn't throw your carcass from the train,” Mac warned.
"I don't think I would have cared if you had said you didn't know me,” Roy retorted, his vulnerable expression tugging at Mac's heart strings.
They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally Mac sighed. “What makes you think you can help me?"
The vulnerability vanished so quickly Mac was suspicious that it was ever there. The boy definitely had a talent for acting.
Roy's face became animated as he talked. “I can help, Mac! I can convince Ned that I've changed my mind, that I want to live with them.” He made a face. “It's the last thing I want, but I could convince them. I know I could."
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