Chapter Thirty-two
Three weeks had passed since Christy’s accident, and her strength had continued to grow. Martha and Joe took a much-needed break and headed to town for supplies. They’d hesitated to leave Toby, but Christy had insisted that her ribs had healed sufficiently and that she could watch him. Even Justin hadn’t objected. He, Alexia, Davis, Frank, and a couple of the other hands were on the far side of the ranch rounding up the mares with foals born earlier in the spring.
Christy snuggled into the cushions of the sofa, her feet propped on a nearby ottoman and her ears tuned for Toby. A board creaked in the entry near the base of the stairs and she perked her ears. “Toby? Come in and Christy will read you a book.”
Nothing. Had she imagined the sound? “Toby—I need you to come in here.” She tipped her head and listened but heard only the sigh of the wind outside in the fir trees. It must’ve been the old house settling and groaning.
Her head nestled against the back of the sofa and her hands relaxed on the pillow cradled on her lap. Justin had given Toby strict instructions to come straight to the parlor upon awakening, and the little boy rarely disobeyed his papa. Besides, he’d been begging for another story when put down for his nap, and only the promise of more when he woke had sent him off without protest.
She swung her feet up onto the sofa and stretched out full length. Her eyes grew heavy and she allowed them to drift shut. The strain of sitting for so long had set off a dull throb under her ribs. A few minutes’ nap while Toby slept might do her good.
A fly zipped past her nose, buzzed her again, and landed on her cheek. She kept her eyes closed but roused enough to slap at the pesky insect. “Go away.” A drowsy dreaminess settled in and she sank a little deeper into the pillow.
A rough hand slapped her cheek then covered her mouth. “Keep still.”
Shock screamed through Christy’s mind and her eyes flew open. She struggled against the tightening grip and fought to breathe.
The leering face of Dick Sanders leaned close. “Not a word, or I’ll kill the kid.”
Toby. He knew Toby was here. Her back stiffened and she lay still, but she couldn’t quite stop the trembling that seized her hands.
“Anyone else here?” He hissed the words close to her ear and loosened his grip over her mouth.
“No.” She moved her head to the side, hoping to escape the suffocating stench of that hand.
“Get up, and don’t try to scream or run.” His hard eyes locked on hers, sending a chill down her back. “Where’s the kid?”
Christy’s thoughts raced upstairs to the small boy she’d come to love. “He went with Martha and Joe to town.”
Sanders smacked her with the back of his hand and Christy tasted blood on the inside of her cheek. “Don’t lie. I watched them pull out and he wasn’t there.” He jerked his head toward the door. “He upstairs?”
Once more the hand raised and Christy flinched. “Why do you want Toby?”
“He’s insurance, my dear. He’ll accomplish what you weren’t able to.”
“You’re trying to hurt Justin. Why? What’s he done to you?”
His harsh laugh rang in the small room. “What hasn’t he done? He claimed what was mine when he married Molly.”
“You threw her away! She cried buckets over you, and you didn’t return. Why would it matter to you that she married Justin?”
His mouth twisted into a snarl. “What’s mine remains mine—forever. I’m not in the habit of sharing. He kept you from doing the job I assigned—you in love with him, too?”
Christy’s laugh sounded hollow, even to her own ears. “Hardly. He has eyes for one person—Alexia. No decent man would look twice at a woman like me.”
Sanders reached out a finger and drew it down her cheek. She snapped her head back, feeling as though he’d branded her with an iron drawn from the deepest red embers. His hand snaked out and he gripped the back of her neck. He leaned in close, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Don’t pull away from me.” A finger traced its way down her cheek again. “I’ve looked at you more than twice.”
She recoiled but didn’t jerk from his touch. “I’d never marry you.”
A deep chortle broke from his lips. “I said nothing about marriage. That’s reserved for little girls like Alexia who own land, horses, and gold—not tramps like you. No—women like you are good for only one thing.”
The open door leading into the parlor drifted open another foot. “Christy?” Toby stood in the doorway holding the knitted blanket Martha had made him. “Want my story now, ’kay?”
Sanders drew in a sharp breath. He placed the palm of his hand on Christy’s chest and shoved, hard.
Her side struck the edge of the small table next to the sofa and she hit the floor. A shaft of pain shot through her chest and radiated down her arms, clear to the tips of her fingers. The ribs that were just beginning to heal throbbed, but she managed to roll over and prop herself on the palm of her hand. “Toby. Come to Christy.”
The little boy put his thumb in his mouth and stared from Sanders to Christy.
Sanders’s frozen stance suddenly thawed and he leaped for the boy. “No, you don’t. You come to Papa.” He swept the sleepy boy up in his arms with a triumphant grin.
Toby braced his hands against the large man’s chest and strained to get free. “You not my papa. My papa workin’.”
Christy stared at Sanders. The leering grin changed to a gloating, almost crazed smile. Had Toby’s answer pushed the man over the edge? “Justin Phillips is his pa, and you know it. You sent me to lie to Miss Travers about Justin’s marriage to Molly, but you can’t pull that on me. I know they were married because she told me.”
He turned a burning gaze her way. “Oh, they were married all right. What she didn’t tell you was that Justin married her after she was with child, not before.”
Christy held her burning side with one hand and pulled herself to her knees. “My sister wasn’t loose.”
His laughter barked and Toby started to cry. He clapped his hand over the boy’s mouth. “Shut up, kid.”
The wails ceased and Toby’s eyes widened. He held out his hands to Christy and whimpered. “Christy hold Toby?”
She shook her head and tried to smile. “Just be good, Toby, and don’t cry. I’ll read you a story later if you’ll be quiet, all right?”
Toby nodded but his lower lip trembled.
Sanders took a long step toward the door. “Tell Alexia she gets one chance to save the boy. She marries me and sends Phillips packing and I’ll release him. Not that I’d have to—seeing as he’s my son.”
Christy gaped at the man and finally found her voice. “You’re lying. Molly would have never…” Her voice trailed off as she stared at his face. The man had lied many times in the past, but this time she sensed he’d spoken the truth. A burning lump of bile rose in her throat and threatened to spill out. She placed her hand over her mouth and retched.
“That’s right—my son.” His sneering voice filled her ears. “Molly loved me, you know. She told me so, over and over. I’ll give her credit, though; she wasn’t easy. I had to work hard to convince her we’d be married the next day. If you don’t believe me, ask Alexia what my middle name is. It’s an old family name. Molly named the boy after me.”
Christy wiped a shaking hand across her lips and came away with a bloodstain. “Why would Alexia want to marry you? She doesn’t even know you.”
“Oh, but she does, my dear. Just tell her that Carter Foster stopped by and extended his offer one last time. She’ll understand.” He slipped out the door. Toby’s whimpers drifted back, lifted to a wail, and then mixed with the sound of hoofbeats heading down the lane.
Christy didn’t care that she’d gotten hurt—right now she welcomed a little pain. If only she hadn’t got caught in this mess. If only she hadn’t taken money from that man when necessity had pressed her. If only she’d kept her mouth shut when she’d needed someone to talk to and hadn’t
told him her worry about her sister’s child—then Toby would be safe.
Shame and sorrow engulfed her, and she wept.
Alexia drew her horse to a stop in front of the house and stepped down from the saddle. What a long day—only two hours until sunset. Most days she loved to spend riding, but today she ached all over. Trailing horses into the deep canyons and pushing them out was treacherous work. She’d sent Justin, Frank, and the rest of the men in pairs to some of the steeper canyon country, and she’d covered the end of Deadwood Canyon alone. More than likely the rest of the hands wouldn’t return until well after dark, if then. The two pairs farthest from the ranch would spend the night if they didn’t get out of the canyon prior to dusk.
She tethered Banner to the rail and hobbled up the porch stairs. That’s what she got for spending too many hours in the office lately and not enough in the saddle. Christy must be tired, with Martha and Joe gone and Toby’s care falling on her most of the day. The house seemed quiet, but maybe they were cuddled on the sofa with a book.
She pushed open the door and slipped inside. “Christy? You downstairs?”
A small cry sounded from the parlor and drew Alex forward. She stepped into the doorway and stopped. Christy struggled to push herself from the sofa, a protective arm wrapped around her ribs. A look of pain flashed across her face, but she pressed her knuckles into the fabric and came to her feet. “Alex. You’ve got to stop him.”
Alex hurried toward the panting young woman and gripped her arm. “Whoa there. You’ve hurt yourself again. Sit back down and tell me what’s wrong.”
Christy shrugged off her hand and shook her head. “No. I won’t sit down until you listen. He came and took Toby. You’ve got to stop him.” Her shoulders shook and tears flooded her eyes. Wrenching sobs erupted from her lips and she covered her face with her hands.
Alex felt as though she’d been struck, but she had no idea which direction the blow came from. “Get hold of yourself and explain. Who took Toby, and where? Did Justin come back and take Toby away? Is that what you mean?” She grabbed the sobbing woman’s arm and squeezed. “Stop it, Christy! Talk to me.”
Christy sank onto the sofa and turned tear-drenched eyes up to Alex. “No, not Justin. It was Dick Sanders. He came a couple of hours ago. Said you had to marry him or you’d never see Toby again. He pushed me against a table, grabbed Toby, and left.” The sobs turned to cries and she buried her face in her arms. “I’m so sorry. If I’d never come, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Alex stared at the bent head, trying to make sense of Christy’s words. Who in the world was Dick Sanders and why would he demand that she marry him? “Stop crying and make sense. Who is Dick Sanders?”
“He said to tell you that Carter Foster stopped by to extend his offer again, and that you’d know what he meant.”
“Carter Foster? Carter took Toby?” Alex’s head whirled. “He’s proposed to me twice, and I’ve turned him down. But what would he want with Toby?”
“He says he’s Toby’s father. Molly knew him before she met Justin, and Sanders—Carter—whatever his name is—promised to marry her but left. I guess he’s kept an eye on Toby ever since. But he doesn’t care about him. He’s the one who sent me here and told me to lie about Justin.” She stared at Alex with wide eyes. “I think he’s been after your ranch the whole time and is using Toby to scare you.”
Alex sank onto the edge of a nearby chair. “You said Justin hasn’t come in yet. How about Uncle Joe or any of the other hands?”
Christy shook her head. “No. I’ve been alone all day except for Toby.” Tears started again at the mention of the little boy. “What can we do?” She swiped at a tear with the back of her hand.
“I’m guessing he’s gone to his ranch. He won’t leave all that behind. But why take the chance of grabbing Toby? He’s got to know the sheriff would arrest him, and I’m certainly not going to marry him.”
“Sanders said he’s Toby’s father and has a right to take him. I guess he thinks the law won’t touch him.”
Alex pushed to her feet. “I’m going after them. Carter was angry when I turned him down at the church picnic, but maybe I can talk some sense into him.”
Christy reached out and gripped Alex’s hand. “Get the sheriff, or wait for Justin. Don’t go over there alone. Please? You don’t know him.” She shivered and dropped Alex’s hand, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “He’s killed men—shot them in the back. I’d never trust him with a woman.”
“All the more reason I can’t wait for help. Toby’s alone with him, and for all we know, the man’s mad. If he’s as dangerous as you say, I won’t take a chance with Toby’s life.” She spun on her heel and headed for the door. “I promise I won’t go into the house without help, and if there’s a problem, I’ll go after the sheriff. Let Justin know when he gets home.”
Chapter Thirty-three
Alex swung into her saddle and laid her spurs into Banner’s sides. The tired horse surged forward and swung into a canter, his hooves sending gravel and chucks of dried dirt flying. A sense of urgency leaned her forward over her horse’s neck, her hands gripping the reins and her feet firm in the stirrups. Banner seemed to sense her mood and increased his gait from a rolling canter to a full gallop. He dodged manzanita brush and jumped a shallow wash, his breathing steady and ears pricked forward, intent on his mission. Alex pulled him down as he started up the hillside leading to the ridge. He’d worked hard today and the last thing she needed was a lame horse.
If only Justin or Uncle Joe had been home when Carter had visited the ranch. But chances were he’d been watching and knew that Christy and Toby were alone.
She still couldn’t comprehend that Toby could be Carter’s son. Justin never once hinted that he wasn’t the boy’s father. What did Carter hope to gain? Could he possibly care for the boy? It didn’t seem possible he’d be so desperate to marry her that he’d stoop to kidnapping. The ranch had value, but with the loss of some of her stock and her father’s gold never having been found…
She sat back so hard that she threw Banner off balance and nearly brought him to a halt. “Sorry, boy. Come on—let’s go.” A nudge with her heel sent him forward at a hard trot, and she returned to her startling thoughts. She’d nearly forgotten that her father had found gold not long before he’d died. He must have meant the loan to be short-term—until he’d staked a claim and developed his mine. Carter must have known about the gold. The words of her father’s letter returned. Papa had heard someone outside his window when he’d talked to Uncle Joe about the gold. There didn’t seem any other logical reason the man would pursue his suit. Would he stoop so low as to steal her horses and try to throw the blame on Justin?
She suddenly remembered Christy’s words. Carter—or Sanders, as she called him—was responsible for the deaths of others. Horse theft would be nothing to a man like him. Her stomach clenched and fear rose in her throat, but she pushed it down. No time for that—Toby’s safety must come first.
Banner snorted and slowed at the fork in the trail, and she swung him away from town. Carter’s ranch lay another mile away, its nearest line touching the edge of her property. They traveled at a fast trot as the sun sank in the sky. She approached a dense thicket of mixed cedar and pine and hesitated. Just beyond this grove lay Carter’s ranch house. She clucked to Banner and urged him forward, renewed determination pushing her on. A low-hanging branch slapped her cheek, and she felt a welt begin to rise. A quick pull at the reins brought her horse to a slow walk, and she ducked under another limb.
“That’ll be about far enough.” The words were barked in a short, staccato growl somewhere off to the right. “I’ve got a gun trained on your back and my finger’s jest itchin’ to pull the trigger. Name yer business and make it quick.”
“Alex Travers. I’ve come to see Carter Foster.”
“Ha. Mouse and me had bets on whether you’d show up. Looks like I win.” A figure stepped out of the heavy brush with a rifle bal
anced on his arm, its muzzle pointed at her. “Get off yer horse.” He motioned with his gun. “Now.”
She slid to the ground and flipped the reins over Banner’s head.
He emitted a grunt. “You walk ahead of me, missy, and don’t try nothin’. I got orders to bring you in, but the boss didn’t say nothin’ about what kinda shape you had to be in.”
Alex moved forward and heard a branch break behind her. A rough hand snatched the reins out of her grasp and the butt of the rifle prodded the middle of her back.
“Get movin’. The boss is tired of listenin’ to that screaming brat, and he’s in a foul mood. You’d best be able to shut the kid up, if you want him to see his next birthday.”
Justin lashed his stallion’s flanks with the end of his rawhide reins, pushing the horse to extend his stride and dig his hooves into the hard-packed trail. Christy’s account of the past few hours had planted a knot in his chest that wouldn’t unfurl. Toby’s abduction by Carter Foster, coupled with Alexia’s rash decision to ride off without help, roused both fury and fear. The thought of losing Toby terrified him. He loved that boy and couldn’t stomach the thought of harm coming to him. Alexia’s promise to wait for help and not approach Foster alone offered slight reassurance. Hopefully she’d headed for the sheriff when help hadn’t arrived soon.
As he guided Durango around brush and under branches that threatened to tear the skin from his face, he shot up a prayer for safety, wisdom, and guidance. Only God knew the reasoning behind Carter Foster’s actions. Somehow he had to trust the Lord to guide them through the pitfalls ahead.
Gratitude welled in his heart toward Frank. He’d wondered over the last few weeks if the man was part of the horse-theft ring plaguing Alexia’s ranch, but today that fear proved unfounded. Frank had overheard Davis and his old pard, Tim, talking at the saloon. Davis had had too much to drink and was boasting about the theft of Alexia’s horses. After relaying the news to Justin, Frank returned to town with orders for Sheriff Ramsey to corral Davis and then head to Foster’s place.
Love Finds You in Last Chance, California Page 25