Amy's Choice (A More Perfect Union Series Book 2)

by Betty Bolte

  A rustle beside her drew her attention. Samantha tried to sit up, and Amy quickly went to help her move to rest against the trunk of an oak tree.

  "I'll be fine in a minute," Samantha whispered. Pine debris and leaves nested in her hair and across her cloak.

  Amy picked out the bigger pieces and sighed. "We're in a pickle, my friend."

  "The house is not awfully far. You must go for help." Samantha rested her head on the relatively smooth bark. "I can't walk like this."

  Amy shook her head, her long curls cascading around her shoulders. "I can't leave you here alone." She shivered at the possibility of bears and cougars roaming the woods.

  "If we both stay, then what? No, you have to go. Tell Benjamin to bring a rope."

  Ah yes, Benjamin to the rescue. She had never wanted to see him again, and now she longed for him to appear. "He'll come looking for us when they realize we're not in the house as we ought to be. Let's sit tight. Besides, it's safer to wait. Nothing else can befall us if we stay still."

  Samantha suddenly stilled, her eyes fixated on something behind Amy, as she blanched even more.

  "Well now, lookee what we have here, Smitty."

  Startled, Amy looked up into the glinting barrel of a rifle and the leers of two bedraggled soldiers, sporting ripped, flare-skirted red coats with rows of brass buttons over light breeches, and black tricorne hats. But worse than their clothing, their lascivious grins revealing uneven, yellow teeth sent terror snaking down Amy's spine.

  "Such pretty things to share with the boys," Smitty said.

  "Hey, they'll be good cover, too, Jethro."

  "Yep. Just in time."

  Samantha's eyes glittered angrily, but when she spoke, her usual forceful voice faltered. "You have obviously mistaken us for slatterns."

  Jethro ignored her comment and motioned with his rifle barrel for Amy to stand. "Let me get a look at ya."

  Intending to stay alive long enough to either free themselves from this situation or to take them down with her, Amy struggled to her feet, her hands palm up once she stood facing the two men. "Now, gentlemen, our home is not far from here. My friend needs medical attention. If you'd kindly—"

  "Shut your trap." Jethro cocked his rifle, the muzzle aimed at her heart. "Or I'll shut you up. I don't want to hear another peep outta you, woman. Not one."

  Amy snapped her mouth closed. Dismay ushered fear through her. For once she wouldn't be able to talk her way out of a situation. She didn't know what she would have said, what fiction would have woven its way out of her mouth, but now she understood why Ben worried about her reliance on her stories. Her tales had saved her life previously when she'd wrangled her way past the sentries and even freed Emily from prison. Fear inched down her spine, chilling her extremities, tingling in her toes and fingers. Her most powerful weapon rendered silent. Their situation had indeed changed from bad to worse.

  "What's the matter with the black-haired woman?" Jethro motioned to where Samantha sat against the tree. Amy hesitated to answer his question, given his last directive, and he lifted the rifle closer to her. "Answer me."

  Amy swallowed and squared her shoulders. "She fell down the bank and hurt her leg. She can't walk."

  "If she were a filly, I'd put her out of her misery." Smitty turned and aimed his gun at Samantha, contemplating the pale woman who glared back at him, eyes challenging. "Might not be a bad idea."

  "No!" Amy took a step toward Smitty, her hands raised in a silent plea.

  "Stay out of it, wench," Jethro barked.

  She'd die before she'd let them harm her friend. There must be a way to ensure her safety, at least until she could find a way to escape. She said the first thing that came to mind. "But she's a healer. She'd be a benefit to you."

  "Might could at that," Smitty said. "She's right pretty, too."

  Jethro shook his head. "Tie her up so she can't raise an alarm, and let's get going."

  Smitty cradled his rifle in the crook of his arm while he tied Samantha's hands behind her. Samantha groaned when he shoved her to one side to loop the seamen's rope around her ankles.

  When Smitty stepped back and started to heft his pack again, Amy realized they planned to abandon Samantha to her fate. "You can't leave her here. She'll die."

  Jethro struck her with the back of his hand, making her jaw snap closed. She tasted blood.

  "I told you to shut your mouth. You answer my questions when I asks them, but other than that you button that lip of yours. Now move." He poked her in the ribs with the barrel.

  She flinched away from the cold, painful metal prod and then picked her way toward the creek as he'd demanded. She probed her jaw and cheek, worried he'd broken bone. Everything seemed intact. Glancing back when she heard Samantha moan again, she saw Smitty hoist her over his shoulder to carry her like a sack of sweet potatoes, her rump pointing to the heavens.

  "Get going," Jethro barked. "Follow the path beside the creek."

  Questions bounded in her brain, but she dared not open her mouth again. The trail was so tiny she'd missed it when she'd been searching for a way out. Running along the racing creek, it snaked its way through the trees and underbrush. The men must have snuck up on them from that direction. Had they been the ones to leave the camp fire she'd seen days before? Her imagination spun through possible scenarios and outcomes of what the men might do with the two women. None of the eventualities appealed to her, either. After a couple hours, Jethro indicated for Amy to take a branching trail by shoving the barrel into her side again, the hard jab leaving her ribs throbbing.

  They walked in silence, except for an occasional moan from Samantha, until the sun hung high in the sky, the creek left far behind. She could tell they traveled north but had no clue as to their ultimate destination. She feared they wouldn't actually see the place, should the men choose to ravish them along the way, then leave them either dead or dying. Emily had shared the story of the women not far from town who had suffered under the hands of men such as these, women who were raped and beaten, left for dead. One poor woman had even lost an eye in the struggle. Chilled despite the sunshine, she longed for her cloak, left behind in their hurry.

  Tears threatened, but she swallowed them. Benjamin would find them. She didn't know if she'd be alive when he did. But one thing was certain: if death waited for her, it would have to catch her while she tried to escape. She lifted her chin, her mind calculating possibilities, and walked on.

  Chapter 11

  "That's far enough." Jethro grabbed Amy's arm in a painful grip and dragged her up a barely discernible trail. Her throat ached from suppressing her thoughts as well as from lack of water. They'd not paused in their hike for hours. She agonized over their situation, fearing the worst waited out of sight, a place for him to take advantage, to force himself on her. Thorny vines meandered across the trail, snatching at her skirts with each step she took. Young trees and low-growing bushes sprouted along the edge of the rocky track. Smitty trudged behind, breathing heavy from the effort of lugging Samantha on his shoulder.

  Amy would not give in to their demands. She snagged a fine branch of a bush and snapped it as quickly and subtly as she could. Marking the trail, as her father taught years before, so she could find her way home once she escaped. She didn't know what her plan would be after she managed to break away, but she'd figure something out. Obviously Jethro and Smitty weren't sharp enough to notice her markers, but their lack of intelligence worked in her favor. If she could talk to them, she'd have a better chance. Every time she'd so much as cough, the barrel jabbed her in the back, which surely now featured black-and-blue marks from Jethro's pokes.

  Samantha had also been forced into silence, though when they all stopped to give Smitty a short break, Amy managed to catch her attention. She mouthed her hope of escape, and Samantha had nodded once to show her agreement. Leaving Samantha behind worried her, not knowing what these men would do, but she couldn't carry her either. If only Samantha could walk, then Amy wouldn't
have to abandon her to possible retaliatory treatment by these two barbarians.

  They rounded a sharp bend in the trail as it climbed up the hill, and suddenly five burly soldiers swarmed around them. Wearing ripped and dirty shirts with smudged pants held up by suspenders, the men looked rough and ready for action. Their grimy, bearded faces split into hungry grins as they saw the women among their compatriots.

  "You found yourself some booty," one man said. He reached out and grabbed a handful of Amy's hair, fingering it like money. "You sharing, right?"

  Jethro pushed Amy toward the man, and alarm shot through her as the man's eyes lit in anticipation. She stumbled to a halt within inches of him, swaying slightly from hunger and horror. The stench of unwashed men gagged her. She coughed, dragging in air laced with sweat, and coughed harder. Jethro stepped up behind her and freed her hair from the man's dirty paw. "We'll all get a turn in time. Keep your pants on."

  The man dragged a hand across his mouth as if wiping off saliva. Amy looked away and swallowed the bitter taste filling her mouth. She searched the area for a way to escape, but found only trees and the looming mouth of a dark cave behind the men. The opening yawned tall enough for a big man to walk in without worry of hitting his head. Dread gripped her stomach.

  "Take 'em inside. Smitty, untie the wench. She's not going anywhere, and it'll raise suspicion if she's seen trussed like a dead deer."

  "Come on, me lady," the man said sarcastically, bowing slightly and indicating Amy should precede him into the cave. "Allow me to show you around."

  Jethro winked at her over his ugly grin. The man yanked her by the arm toward the deep shadows inside, made darker by contrast with the bright afternoon sun shining around them. She stumbled on the hard-packed, uneven floor and paused until her eyes adjusted. She smelled a campfire before she could see it. They stood in a large space with three exits toward the back, presumably leading to other rooms in the cavern. A cool breeze wafted past them, chilling her arms. The gold chain around her neck grew cold, reminding her of the precious gem she wore. The stone's slight weight shifted between her breasts with each jerk on her arm. If only she'd given it back to Ben as she'd intended, his gift wouldn't be at risk as well.

  "I'll take my turn now. Such a lovely wench." His grip on her arm tightened, forcing her to look at him. He dragged a hand through her hair, and she twisted away from his touch, skin crawling with revulsion, heart galloping.

  "Unhand me, damn your soul." She cried out when he fisted her hair and yanked on it. Tears smarted in her eyes even as she glared at him.

  "When I'm ready." He tightened his hold on her hair and she gasped at the pain, her open mouth enabling his tongue to plunder her violently. She gagged, then closed her teeth at the offensive intrusion. She tasted the bittersweet of iron. Good, she'd drawn blood.

  He growled and jerked away, hitting her with the back of his hand so hard bursts of light exploded behind her eyes. She fell to her hands and knees. Her senses reeled, and she braced, preparing for another slap. She closed her eyes, heart racing, breath ragged as pain reverberated through her. The smoky quartz pendant hung outside her bodice for all the greedy men to see. Amy struggled to rise to her knees and stuffed the gem back inside, but too late. The damage was done.

  "What the bloody hell is going on in here?" Jethro bellowed from behind her.

  "She worth more than you let on," the man said. "She's got a pretty little stone about her neck. Looks like that Scottish trinket you was looking for."

  "What?" Jethro grabbed Amy's arm and hauled her to her feet. "Show me."

  "I—" Amy stopped talking when she spotted the deadly glare in Jethro's eyes. Mutely she waited, frantically searching her mind for the safest course of action for herself and the gem around her neck. Wishing for an escape route that had yet to present itself. And even hoping Ben would save her, now.

  Jethro snagged the chain and pulled the gem from its hiding place. Fingering the walnut-sized stone with its beautiful coloring, his gaze drifted up to Amy's face. "Well, well, lookee here. I know's this little Scottish stone and how valuable it is." He raised the rifle, aiming it at her heart. "Hand it over or I'll kill you now."

  Reluctantly Amy lifted the chain over her head and removed the necklace. He shoved the delicate chain and precious gem into his coat pocket. Peeking out of the corner of her eye, Amy saw Smitty set Samantha on her feet and glare at him.

  "You're an idiot, Peter. But even idiots get lucky." Jethro shoved Peter aside and poked Amy in the ribs with his rifle. "Now, you get on over there and behave yourself."

  With one hand pressed to her side, Amy scrambled to sit on one of the stone seats arranged around the wall of the cave. The hiding place had obviously been in use by these renegades for some time. A fire flickered in the center of the circle of stones used as chairs. To one side was a sort of stockpile of crockery and utensils on a rough table. Mounds of pine straw covered with coarse blankets served as beds along the farthest wall of the cave. Carefully she rubbed her assaulted jaw. Bruised and hot, her face throbbed beneath her hand. Worse, her heart hurt at losing Ben's beautiful gift. What had Jethro meant about it being Scottish? Ben had imported her present? She mentally shook her head. How would she ever explain?

  Smitty untied the ropes from Samantha's ankles and wrists and shoved her toward Amy. "Tend to her, healer."

  Samantha stumbled, caught her balance with a grunt, then limped slowly to ease down on another stone seat. She leaned close. "We must get out of here."

  "How? There's seven of them, and you can barely walk."

  "You're bleeding. Hold still." Samantha probed the sore jaw with gentle fingers, keeping her face close so their conversation went unnoticed by the arguing men. "You must go for help."

  Amy shook her head, which only served to increase its throbbing. "After that scene, I'll not leave you alone. I'll find some way we both can go."

  Amy closed her mouth as Jethro approached. Samantha, too, grew quiet when he stopped beside them. "Can you cook?"

  "Yes." She challenged him silently to keep her mute forever. "Why?"

  "Get over there and fix some grub for me and my men." He pulled her up to her feet and shoved her toward the pile of knapsacks and pots heaped beside the table. "And be quick about it."

  Glancing over her shoulder at Samantha, Amy hurried to do the task. Peter glared at her but kept his distance, thanks to Smitty positioning himself as a blockade. She sorted through the dried meats and beans and threw together a basic stew. With the entrance to the cave guarded, she and Samantha were trapped. The sooner they left the cave, the better their chance of escape.

  And escape they must, before the threat of rape became a reality.

  * * *

  Icarus placed his hooves carefully along the winding trail, Benjamin sporadically cursing loudly. He hadn't expected the fool women would have ventured so far from home, especially without a word of farewell. He assumed, at first, they needed some fresh air and went for a walk down the road. When that proved incorrect, he'd considered they may have gone in search of fish in the big stream close by, which also proved wrong. Fortunately he'd finally remembered, after searching around the house and along the creek for more than an hour, they'd gone into the forest before in search of some plants. After casting fruitlessly down one path and another, he finally picked up their trail. Icarus made short work of carrying him to where they'd suddenly had some kind of accident, given the trampled bushes and drag marks down a steep hill through the pine needles.

  Nothing had gone as he'd planned on his journey to meet his love. First he'd lost the gem even though he'd found the silver box, sitting empty on Walter's desk. Yet Walter denied having the necklace, despite the fact that Benjamin had it in his pocket when he'd talked with Amy. The memory of the searing kiss they'd shared played in his mind, followed by Emily's sudden presence breaking off the tender moment. How he wished she'd waited a few minutes more. Still, it was probably for the best. They'd been carried away in the
heat of the moment. Now he'd lost Amy as well. If he weren't careful, the museum would disappear next. Then he'd have failed on all three missions at the same time. Forcing himself to stay calm, he rode on. With each step down the tricky path his concern increased. When he spotted blood spattered on the ground and bushes, the worry shot into fear. Dear God, what had Amy gotten herself into now?

  He saw a blood covered stick laying to one side near a small leather bag like the one Miss Samantha had been carrying. Which of them had been injured by the thorn covered stick? His mind raced with a thousand awful possibilities. He dismounted, snatched up the bag and shoved it into his saddlebag, and vaulted back into the saddle.

  Then he spotted tracks that didn't belong to a woman. His heart skipped a beat at the implication. He urged Icarus forward, following a woman's footprints and the boot prints of two men. One of the men carried the injured woman, based on how deep the prints sank in the soft earth along the creek. As the stallion chose where to place his hooves, Benjamin noticed a broken branch dangling from a bush beside the trail. A little farther, he spotted another, dangling in a similar way. Someone marking their trail. Smart girl. He breathed a little easier knowing at least one of them had her wits functioning.

  She was either concerned about finding their way back or needed help, since she managed to blaze a path home. Amy would have learned such a trick from her father, who had insisted she be trained in survival skills. Indeed, he recalled that her father had insisted she learn to ride astride, to hunt with a bow and arrow as well as a rifle, and to skin and cook whatever she killed. Living so close to the frontier, each individual needed to be prepared to defend home and hearth from aggressive bears or cougars as well as hostile Indians working with the British to harass the Americans.