The Rescue

by Tanya Eavenson

  “I don’t ask,” she said, recalling Glover’s words. You shall refrain from chocolates until we wed, then after, you may have your fill. But if I learn my money has been spent against my terms, you both shall go hungry. Another one of his controlling demands to keep her under his cruel thumb. A ridiculous demand they had no choice but to abide. “Father and I have been poor for some time, but Glover has provided for us nicely. I couldn’t ask for more.” Rosalind touched Mariam’s hand. “Mrs. Easton, I think I should rest for a bit.”

  “Come, son.” Mr. Easton cupped Trent’s shoulder. “I think the rest will do Rosalind good.” He escorted Trent and Mariam from the room, but not before Trent pierced her with one final look.

  Rosalind lay down and rolled over to her side. “God, please take this love from me. I can’t love him. Trent and his family need to be safe. William and Anna need to be safe. Protect them from Glover. Oh, God, show me the way to escape.”

  But as the words whispered through her lips, she believed no answer would come.

  In the middle of the night, Rosalind’s skull throbbed, waking her from a dull sleep. She winced as she sat up, tenderly touching her sore cheek.

  Glover. He’d hurt her worse this time than before. And the snarl on his face, the coldness in his eyes as he’d shoved her face against the wall. If she’d screamed, begged for mercy, still he wouldn’t have stopped. Once they married, he could do anything he wanted to her.

  A light tap sounded at the door, and when she didn’t answer, it creaked opened. She clenched her covers to her chest. A dark form moved toward her. She gasped. “Glover?”

  “It’s me, Rosalind. Are you all right?”

  Her heart pounded in her chest, but relief weaved through her middle at the gentle sound of his voice. “Trent, what are you doing here?”

  “I know Mother will check on you through the night, but I had to see you with my own eyes, hear your voice.”

  “You shouldn’t be here with your mother gone.”

  “She knows I’m here. She’s talking with my father for a second. I ... I couldn’t sleep. I had to know if you were all right. I prayed that God would lessen my worry and fear for you, but I had to see you.”

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she repeated.

  “Yes, I know.”

  Silence stretched between them, but it was a comforting silence. She rested in the knowledge he was near. “You said you pray. Do you think God hears? Your prayers, I mean?”

  Trent turned and, where he stood, the moon shone through the curtains, casting light on his handsome face. “I do. It might not be my timing, or the way I like, but He does answer them. Would you like me to pray with you?”

  “That won’t be necessary, but will you say a prayer for me?”

  “Of course. What is your prayer?”

  “From what my mother told me, God already knows my prayer. But maybe if you prayed ... maybe if He heard you ...”

  Trent left the moon’s glow and stood before her. Two heartbeats passed before he lightly palmed her cheek. “If I could promise you anything in this world, Rose, it would be that God does indeed hear your prayers. Let me pray with you now.”

  She nodded. Tired and weary, she rested her face in his large hand as he prayed over her, for her health, and for God to reveal Himself in her life.

  After the “amen” was said, Trent said goodnight and left the room, but the hole in her heart grew.

  Chapter Nine

  Trent exited the kitchen into the dining room and slowed at the sound of hushed, angry voices. He cocked his head, straining to hear, and took quiet steps toward the entryway. Roger and Glover—both men’s fists clenched, their faces red with anger. Trent stopped and backed up slightly.

  Glover shoved a finger into Roger’s chest, then glared up the stairs. “You have no right to stop me from seeing her.”

  “Mariam is with her now, serving her breakfast upstairs.”

  “Did you tell her I’m here?”

  “She’s not coming down.”

  Rosalind. Trent retreated farther into the dining room. They were arguing over Rosalind.

  A vicious hiss and something akin to a growl rumbled through the doorway. Trent squared his shoulders. If Glover lay anything more than a finger on Roger—

  The front door opened and closed, then Roger passed by the dining room, his shoulders slumped.

  Should he go after Mr. Standford, see if he could offer any help? But he’d been waiting all morning for word on Rosalind’s condition.

  His mother sniffled her way down the stairs, and her steps paused. Trent could envision her wiping her eyes with a hand-kerchief and stuffing it into her dress pocket.

  Dread rose in Trent’s stomach, but he made himself return to the kitchen. Maybe staying out of the way was best for the moment.

  His mother stopped when she entered the kitchen. “I didn’t realize you were in here.” Avoiding eye contact, she prepared a glass of juice.

  “How is she? When do you think she’ll be coming down?”

  His mother took several sips from her glass.

  “Mother?”

  She placed a hand on his arm and gazed into his eyes. They held moisture, but what else did he see there?

  “She’s been through so much. If only we’d known.” His mother squeezed his arm and placed her glass in the sink. “Has your father returned?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I gather he will be out for a while. I have something for you to do, though. I need you to go shopping for the clothes we talked about. Since we’ve been here, you’ve worn your ranching clothes or your Sunday best. You can’t wear those for the party.”

  She laid the chocolate bar he’d bought Rosalind on the table. “Doris found this in the sack you brought from the general store. After yesterday’s conversation, I think you should give it to her.” His mother gave a small smile. “Go now before anyone sees.”

  Trent lifted the candy from the table, struggling over wanting to show kindness yet understanding his undeniable love for this woman could blur that line. Could he give her the choco-late posing simply as a friend? Without demanding answers he was sure she was hiding. Without showing his growing uneasiness and, yes, dislike of Glover.

  He took the steps two at a time. Dear God, give me the answers to my questions, and help me walk away without regret when the time comes.

  He reached Rosalind’s door and knocked.

  A loud knock rattled Rosalind’s bedroom door, and her stomach clenched. She’d known Glover cared little about the Eastons’ requests to return tomorrow, but with the them here, she had hoped it made a difference.

  With trembling hands, she slipped on her robe and answered the door. Trent stood across the threshold. “Trent.” His eyes fell to her bruised cheek.

  She avoided his stare, glancing at the floor. Her unbound hair fell across her face.

  “How are you?”

  Unwilling to meet his gaze, she pushed back her hair slightly, noticing his scuffed boots. “I’m fine. Did you need something?”

  Trent lifted her chin with his finger and ran his thumb gently along her bruised cheek before clenching his hand and shoving his fist into his pocket. “I bought this yesterday when we were at the general store. I thought you might like it.” He slipped out a chocolate bar and handed it to her. His eyes lightened as his face took on a warm glow.

  Rosalind recalled the times Trenton brought her chocolates as a child, and the affection she’d felt then with the simple offering. She felt it now, acutely aware of her affections and how deeply they’d nestled within her heart. Why did he have to be so kind, so gentle? She squeezed her eyes closed. The longer she loved him, the greater the danger she brought upon him and his family.

  Rosalind startled at her father’s voice downstairs, and Trent, brow lowering at her hiss of fear, pressed the bar into her hand. “Perhaps chocolate can fix everything. I want to believe it can.”

  She pulled the candy to her chest and willed steadine
ss into her voice despite the tremble of her jaw. “Now, you must go.”

  When she began to pull the door closed, he blocked it with his boot and leaned toward her, looking as though he would deny her retreat. Instead, after a lengthy intense pause, he whispered, “I’m here for you, Rosalind.”

  Once inside her room, with the door closed and locked, she sprang to her bed and opened the candy. She savored a piece, listening for steps on the stairs and glancing at the door. When they were younger, Trent had often said if Rosalind owned all the chocolate in town, she wouldn’t share. She placed another morsel in her mouth.

  Rosalind broke the remaining chocolate into sections and stuffed all but one into her mouth. She smiled. How ridiculous she must look. She licked her lips and swallowed, inhaling the delicious scent.

  “Rosalind,” Mariam called from outside the door.

  She wrapped the last piece in the brown paper, placed it under her pillow, and hurried to open the door.

  Mariam glanced around, her brows dipped slightly. “Is Trent here?”

  “No. But he came to see me.”

  Mariam smiled. “Good.” She strolled to Rosalind’s armoire and inspected the few dresses hanging there.

  “Mrs. Easton?”

  “We have a party to attend, and you will need proper attire.” She closed the armoire. “I’m taking you shopping, and I won’t take no for an answer. Tomorrow.”

  She tensed. “But Glover ... He’ll expect—”

  Mariam waved her hand. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll explain to the men. Mr. Richards can accompany us if he chooses, but I believe he will decide not to join us.” She turned to leave.

  “Mariam?”

  She paused at the door and sent her a warm smile. “Yes, dear?”

  “Thank you.”

  If only Trent knew what to do. He ran his fingers through his hair and closed his bedroom door. He’d spent most of the day shopping for clothes for the party and wrestling with how to help Rosalind, yet came up blank, besides kidnaping her for a few hours and making her talk. He drew in a frustrated breath, sat on the bed, and had begun to pray when his father entered his room and gently shut the door.

  “Son, you’re not thinking straight.”

  Trent was in no mood for riddles. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I saw Roger in town this afternoon. He said you were standing in Rosalind’s doorway, alone, while she was wearing only a robe. He saw you leave her.”

  He met his father’s solemn gaze. “Well ... yes.” She was everything to him, and he couldn’t bear to see her hurt. If chocolate could help in some way, he’d give it.

  “Should I be concerned?” His father paced away, then back when a knock sounded at the door.

  “Thomas.” His mother’s whisper came from the other side. His father opened the door and ushered her in, closing it behind her.

  “Son, what if Glover had come up the stairs and found you both? Then what?”

  He gave his father a sideways glance. “He’d never know.”

  His mother lowered to the bed and covered his hand. “I’m sorry I hadn’t realized earlier, before this trip, that you still love her.”

  Trent gave a nod. “I never stopped.”

  His father palmed his shoulder. “This isn’t about you, Trent.”

  “I’ll have to disagree. This has everything to do with me.” Didn’t his father understand that his love bound them regardless of his future with her?

  His mother clucked her tongue. “Thomas, this concerns him and Rosalind and Mr. Richards. You know I care for Rosalind as if she were our own daughter, and quite frankly, there’s something about Mr. Richards I don’t care for.”

  His father’s hand slipped from his shoulder. “Son, I guess what I’m trying to say is, don’t let your feelings for Rosalind blind you to what is in front of your face. You need to protect yourself. There are wolves dressed in sheep’s clothing here. Be on your guard.”

  He frowned. Wolves? The dream he’d had on the train. Wolves among sheep. He’d awoke just as one wolf—eyes like flames and teeth like spears—caught the woman in his grasp ...

  His mother sighed. “Thomas, what do you mean? Stop being so cryptic.”

  “I mean exactly that. Never be alone with the man. I don’t trust Mr. Richards. I believe he’s dangerous.”

  His mother quickly stood. “Then we must tell Roger. Has he returned? Rosalind is set to marry the man.”

  “I suspect Roger knows, Mother, and so does Rosalind.” Trent exhaled a long breath and the room turned deathly quiet. He took over his father’s pacing. “What else would explain her odd behavior?”

  “Impossible,” Mother voiced, troubled. “Roger wouldn’t allow his daughter to marry someone as you’re suggesting.”

  “Let me explain.” Father stood alongside Mother and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, as if his words would soon tear her apart. “Roger gambles.”

  “What?” Trent halted his pacing and whirled toward his father.

  Father scowled. “He came to me one night before we moved to Texas. He asked for money.” His gaze flashed reliving the memory. “He didn’t say why he needed it, and I didn’t ask. I should have.”

  Trent closed his eyes. He knew. He already knew what his father was about to say.

  Father continued. “Several weeks later, he asked for money again. This time I did ask. He told me he’d lost everything—everything he and Sarah owned. He asked again for help, and when I again refused, he said he’d find another way. A week later in the office, he handed me something to sign. I was hurrying to a meeting. I signed without looking. He stole thousands of dollars from the bank and used me to get it. With my signature on the transfer, I had no proof of what he’d done. I replaced the money from our personal account so no one would know. I was afraid, Mariam. Roger might have destroyed our lives.”

  “Oh, Thomas.” She placed her head against his chest, and they held each other in a loving embrace. “That’s why we left so abruptly? You could have told me.”

  “How could you not have told us? We moved because of fear?” Hurt and frustration clipped Trent’s words. He was led to believe they’d moved because it was his father’s dream to ranch. Isn’t that what his mother told him the night of their farewell party, words that crushed him, having to leave everything he’d ever known, his friends, his dreams, his Rosalind behind? But it seemed even now his mother had known it to be nothing but the truth. “Father, have you ever dreamed of ranching?”

  “Yes. But if it hadn’t been for Roger, I wouldn’t have sought after the dream.”

  Trent couldn’t believe what he was hearing, yet hadn’t his family grown close? Hadn’t he thanked God more than once for the move and having a father for the first time in his life? Trent took a calming breath.

  Father set Mother at arm’s length and met her gaze. “I’m sorry, Mariam. Trent.” He looked over her shoulder to him. “I should have shared this with you, but I hated myself for being tricked and not confronting Roger. Maybe if I had, I could have helped him and things would be different now, and Glover wouldn’t have manipulated the situation. I’ll never know.”

  Trent swallowed hard at the sound of Glover’s name. “Father, how is he tied to this?”

  “I’ve done some investigating since we arrived, and only today have I learned that Mr. Richards cleared Roger of all debts in exchange for Rosalind’s hand. Roger’s stipulation was they wait until she’s nineteen to give the impression they were actually courting.”

  His mother gasped. “Thomas, you can’t be serious. Rosalind’s birthday is less than two weeks away.”

  “I paid handsomely for this information, and the source can be trusted.”

  Trent groaned in disgust. How could a father sell his daughter to pay off gambling debts?

  He looked at his father. As a thought took hold, Trent knew it, felt it deep within his soul before he even spoke the words. “She’s in grave danger.”

  Hi
s father cleared his throat. “I believe so.”

  Trent struggled to keep his voice down. “Mother, did Rosalind tell you how she got those bruises? I noticed one on her upper left arm.”

  “You don’t think ...”

  “It’s a distinct possibility.” His father’s words hung in the air, and though no one said anything further, Trent would do anything to protect the woman he loved.

  Father took Mother by the waist. “We shall all keep an eye on Rosalind and pray for wisdom.” He opened the bedroom door and gave him a reassuring smile. “God will help us. Now get some rest.” The door clicked closed behind his parents as they left the room.

  Rosalind awoke to voices in the hall, one of them being Trent’s father. Perhaps he was speaking with Trent. She threw her robe on the chair, dressed, and pressed her ear against the door. Nothing. She vowed to speak with Trent for the way she closed the door in his face earlier and to offer him the last piece of chocolate.

  Trent still loved her. She’d sensed it, but it hadn’t become clear until he touched her cheek last night and prayed over her. She needed just a few minutes with him, and maybe it would be enough.

  She reached under her pillow and pulled out the wrapped chocolate, then made her way to Trent’s room. At the door, her hands trembled, but she pressed forward and knocked. The door opened, and their gazes met. She couldn’t help but notice the way his blond hair was tousled, or how several of the buttons from his white shirt were undone, revealing tan skin, or how she stood dumbfounded before him.

  “Rosalind?” He stared at her, his voice breaking through her daze.

  “Thank you.” She held out the chocolate as if a peace offering. “I need to speak with you.” She wasn’t sure what she saw in his blue eyes. Worry? Confusion? Maybe both.

  “Is everything all right?”

  She hadn’t planned on entering his room, but now that she was here, she couldn’t help herself. She stepped inside and closed the door. They stood mere feet apart, so close she found it difficult to breathe. What was she doing? This was a mistake. She stepped away and grabbed the back of the chair near the hearth.