The Rescue

by Tanya Eavenson

  She turned her focus to the chicken and potatoes. Feeling the need to pray and thank God for her food, she stalled in response. She willed the words to come, yet nothing came to mind, except for the sweet smell from the glaze on her chicken. Rosalind licked her lips.

  As she ate, her thoughts turned to Mr. Easton, who had once implied God sent his family to Boston to rescue her from Glover’s clutches. That God was with her and working for her through everything. But did sending her to Texas also apply? Or the food Oliver waited for her to eat? Was God truly with her no matter what she faced? If so, why didn’t God answer her prayers? Yet a hunger deep within her soul yearned to know God cared and loved her still.

  Emotion tightened her throat. Thank You for providing food for me ... and, Lord, I pray, as your Word says, that You do know my voice. Amen.

  She wiped the tears on her lashes and glanced at Oliver studying the papers before him. He scribbled something, then flipped the page over and repeated the motion on the next sheet.

  After eating, she smiled at Oliver. Butter lingered in her mouth. “Thank you. Supper was wonderful.”

  “Good. Let me roll these drawings up and we’ll be on our way.” Oliver directed her to follow him, then glanced back at her. “Were you looking for Catherine last night?”

  “Yes, but I had no idea which room she and Lilly were in.”

  “You came very close to finding them. I was on my way to them when I saw you. Come.” Stopping at a door down the hall from where she stood the night before, Oliver entered first, hiding her behind him. “Catherine.”

  Catherine pulled the book down from her face and spotted her instantly. “Oh, Rosalind!” She leapt from her seat and wrapped her arms around Rosalind’s neck as though they were long-lost friends. “I was so concerned about you. Why did you leave so abruptly this morning? Is everything okay?” She took Rosalind’s hand, guiding her to sit. “Lilly is sleeping, so we’ll have some time to ourselves.”

  “I guess that means I should go.” Oliver chuckled, switching his papers to his other arm.

  “Oliver, how did you find her?”

  “I’m sure you two will have time to discuss it. But for now, maybe we can be properly introduced. I’m Mr. Oliver Hadley.” He bowed to Rosalind and winked at his wife.

  Rosalind started to rise, but Catherine chuckled and held her hand to keep her seated. “You will find my husband to be quite playful when business isn’t his focus.”

  “I’m Mrs. Rosalind Easton.” She nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

  A puzzled expression crossed his face. “Are you related to a Thomas Easton from Texas?”

  “Yes ... I’ve just married their son, Trenton Easton. I’m heading to Graham now.”

  His eyes lit, and his playful expression returned. “I met Thomas and his son the first time they drove their cattle to Fort Worth. The Eastons are contracted with the train line. They give an exceptional rate for beef on the hoof. It's always a pleasure to work with them. We’ve kept in touch on other matters since.”

  Catherine smiled. “Yes, we met with Mr. and Mrs. Easton on our last time through Fort Worth. Oliver, perhaps we can make another visit soon.” She squeezed Rosalind’s hand.

  “A wonderful idea.” He bent and kissed the top of his wife’s head. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I have a few more details to go over before I retire for the evening.” He pulled the door closed as he left.

  “I’m intrigued. Tell me, Rosalind, how did you meet your husband? With our families already connected, I feel we are destined to be good friends.”

  Rosalind began. She told Catherine everything since the day she met Trent, the death of her mother, to why she sat next to her on the train. She had never once taken someone in her confidence as she did with Catherine, and it wasn’t pity she witnessed on her friend’s face but admiration.

  Trent stared down at the cobblestone driveway from his bedroom window, waiting for his carriage to pull to the front of the house to take him to the train station. With an exasperated breath, he spun on his heels, marched a few steps, and gripped the frame of his bed.

  Everything was different now. So different from his last trip to Texas. More so than he ever thought possible. This time, the journey to Texas brought him hope like he’d never known. God brought him back to Boston to rescue a lamb. His wife. He still couldn’t believe they were married.

  It came to him last night as he wrestled with his thoughts, lying in bed—the thought that maybe God had sent him ahead years earlier to Texas for this very purpose, to protect Rosalind, to protect their future together. Trent was to care for her. Love her in a way she’d never known, showing her God’s love. And his own.

  He swallowed against the knot in his throat. God had been giving him the desires of his heart all along, only in His way and in His timing.

  A knock sounded at the door. “Son.” Trent heard his father’s voice through thick wood of the door. His father entered and sat on the edge of the bed. “Your mother and I told Rosalind we would stay for Roger. In my opinion, people give up much too easily on others. I won’t abandon my friend again. While we’re here, I will try to throw Glover off your trail. I don’t know if I can. He’s not a fool. But I must try.”

  “Do you think that’s a wise decision? Maybe if you went to the authorities, they could help.”

  “I have no proof except for Rosalind and what I saw. It’s not enough.”

  “How about Roger’s testimony? Doesn’t he care about his daughter’s life?” Trent wanted to punch something. Instead, he took to pacing yet again. A man owed it to his family to love and protect them. If he got his hands on Rosalind’s father, he might have to take him out to the barn, as his cowpokes would say, and teach him a thing or two.

  Trent clasped his shoulder, then pulled him into a hug. “I’m proud you’re my father. I don’t know if I ever told you that, but it’s true. No matter the reasons we left Boston, I know now you were protecting us from harm. No greater love than that a man lay down his life for those he loves. I only wish Rosalind’s father was more like you.”

  “No, son.” He smiled as he pulled away. “Like Christ.”

  His mother’s voice chimed in from the doorway. “Yes, like Christ.”

  Trent glanced at his mother and her face shone. She walked over to him and gave him a hug of her own. “I will miss you, Trent. And when you get home, you take care of that daughter of mine.”

  He moved her at arm’s length and chuckled. “I see how it is.”

  It didn’t take long for them to arrive at the train station. But as Trent began to take the white stone steps up to the platform, he heard his father behind him.

  “Son, I’m going to head back. I think it might be best in case Glover comes looking for Rosalind with Mariam alone at the house. Please be careful. My prayers will be with you and Rosalind.”

  After they said their goodbyes one final time, Trent stood and watched his father climb into the carriage. As the carriage rolled into the cobblestone street, his heart grew heavy. He began to pray for his parents’ safety, Rosalind’s family, and for his wife.

  Trent turned back and climbed one cold stair at a time toward the train station entrance. He pulled his jacket tighter around him as it began to rain.

  A familiar sound of horse hooves pounded the ground, and as the rapid sound grew louder, he stopped. He turned to see three riders race toward him from the opposite direction his father had taken.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Easton!” Glover’s voice rumbled like thunder.

  Trent turned back to the station, noted the time on the large clock on the front of the railroad depot, and entered. The posted train schedule was directly ahead, and it wasn’t much longer until the train would board. He scanned the exits. Pulling at a door handle to leave, Trent’s pulse raced. Glover’s loud voice carried as he left the building. There was no one outside. He’d face Glover and the others alone. “God, whatever happens, protect Rosalind.”

&
nbsp; The three men pursued him out to the platform beside the tracks.

  “Trenton! Where is my wife?” Glover’s voice cut through the air like a knife. His companions, both wearing pommel coats, passed in front of Glover and approached him, standing only inches away. Glover strolled toward him, his pace slow and sure as he removed one glove, then the other.

  Trent’s fingers tightened around his bags. He bit the inside of his cheek from speaking what he truly felt toward the man who caused his wife so much pain. His first concern was to put Glover off his trail. Second, to fight. “How kind of you to see me off.” The man on his left, somewhat shorter than the other man, clenched his fists. Trent recognized them as the men he saw Glover speaking to from time to time.

  Glover chuckled, stuffing his gloves into his riding coat. “I wouldn’t call us friends...business associates, maybe. And when a business associate wrongs me, there is always a price to pay.”

  “Not sure I’m following.” Trent’s muscles tensed. He wasn’t a man of violence and never strapped on his gun as his cowhands did, but right now he’d give anything to have his pistol within reach.

  “Where is she?”

  “I assume you mean Miss Standford?”

  Glover nodded, and the men grabbed Trent’s arms. He struggled, dropped his bags, and punched one of the men across the jaw, causing him to fall to the ground. Trent held up his fists as one man came toward him and the other jumped up from the ground. Give me strength, Lord.

  Lay down your life.

  Trent blinked twice at the words that rang so clear as if someone whispered them in his ear. His arms fell to his sides. The two men grabbed him again, but this time Trent didn’t fight.

  “Not so strong are you, boy?” Glover’s hot breath reached his face. “Now, tell me where she is, and I’ll let you go. Otherwise, you’ll pay the price.” His dark eyes narrowed. “And let me warn you before you answer. My price is steep.”

  Trent wrestled with telling him they were married and that Glover would never have her. But just as he was about to speak, Glover punched him in the ribs and knocked the words from his mouth. The pressure around his arms grew as both men held him tighter, whether to keep him standing or for another punch, Trent wasn’t sure, but he forced himself not to struggle.

  Glover spoke through clenched teeth. “Tell me or you’ll never reach Texas.”

  “I haven’t seen Miss Standford since the party last night. I’m on my way home now, to my life. My land.”

  One of Glover’s brows rose, and his jaw twitched. He took a step back.

  “Do you want us to let him go, boss?” the man on the right said.

  Glover nodded.

  Python-like hands released him, even as a fist landed squarely on his skull. Trent fell to the ground, and his head hit hard, then his body came to a stop. He tried but couldn’t fully open his eyes. Warmth oozed down the side of his head.

  “He’s still alive.”

  “Of course he is. If I wanted him dead, he’d be dead.”

  Trent forced his eyes open. A shadow hovered over him. Rain poured harder as he lay there, trying to focus.

  “He’s awake.”

  Glover leaned in. “Since you’re a praying man, you better start praying I find her. If I don’t—”

  “Boss. Someone’s coming.”

  Trent focused on Glover’s face. Something flashed across his features, but what, he didn’t know. Then the three men left.

  Trent rose up on his elbows, watching Glover and his companions disappear around the brick wall of the train station. Another man hurried to Trent from the direction of the depot. “Are you all right, young man? You’re bleeding.”

  Trent nodded and immediately regretted the action. Dizziness washed over him. He touched the back of his head. His hand came away bloody. “I’m fine. Really. Just hit my head is all.”

  “I’ll be back.” The man stood and headed inside the depot.

  Glover had threatened him, though he never had a chance to finish. From now on, Trent would wear his gun and protect what was his with his life.

  He needed to get on that train. Nothing would stop him. Not even Glover.

  Glover fisted his hands and kept his eyes focused on the Eastons’ home from his parked carriage. He had his men watching the house, but today his anger boiled and demanded that something be done. But what? Roger never left. He couldn’t very well force himself inside a second time and demand answers, no matter how much he wanted to. Rosalind had been missing for nearly a week, and no one would admit to seeing her.

  Not her father. Not Mr. Easton nor Mrs. Easton. No one had seen her since the night of the party. Yet Glover knew the Eastons were involved, or else a missing person’s report would have been ordered and, with wealth dripping from the ex-bank-president-turned-rancher, his money would move society to find her. Of that, Glover was certain.

  When Glover had barged into the Easton home on Tuesday, demanding answers to her disappearance, he discovered Roger hadn’t left town after all. How much he had revealed to the Eastons, Glover wasn’t sure. But he had already destroyed any proof of their agreement. Nevertheless, Glover’s word could be taken to the bank. He would soon prove to Roger that promises to him were always paid in full.

  Until then, Glover would wait. Someone would eventually make a move, and when they did, they’d lead him right to Rosa-lind.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Lilly, how many servers can you count?” Once again, Rosalind tried to occupy the child with questions. She ran a finger along her water glass as moisture formed a ring on the tablecloth beneath.

  The little girl rotated in her seat, then pointed at each in succession. “Five.”

  “Very good. And how many tables are there?”

  “Can I get up and count them?”

  “Maybe we should wait until we’ve finished our desserts before trying that one.”

  Lilly nodded, her pigtails bouncing, then her face sobered. “Is Mama okay?”

  Rosalind’s stomach lurched. She hoped Catherine would indeed be fine, but what could she say to ease little Lilly’s mind? Catherine hadn’t felt well enough to leave her cabin in over a week. Oliver was pulled between his duties on the train, tending to his wife, and simply kneeling at her bedside. At Oliver’s request, Lilly had stayed with Rosalind in her cabin.

  “Your mother doesn’t feel well, but your papa is taking good care of her. And of you, by having us spend lots of time together. Besides, your papa knows how much you like desserts. He insisted we come and have ice cream, remember?”

  “My favorite.”

  “It’s one of my favorites too. Ice cream and chocolate bars.”

  The server brought them their ice cream. Lilly picked up her spoon, dug a big scoop from her bowl, and shoved it into her mouth.

  “Be careful or your head will hurt from such a big, cold bite.” Rosalind took a small amount from her own bowl just as the conductor approached their table.

  “Ma’am, I don’t believe I’ve seen your ticket.” He gave her a scowl, impatience ringing in his tone.

  Rosalind blinked, lowered her spoon, and looked at Lilly. Heat flamed her cheeks, for she didn’t know what to do. Tell the man she lost it? She had already told Catherine and Oliver about the ticket, but they said for her not to worry. They would help her now, she was sure. Oliver was associated with the railroad somehow, but she’d never used people and didn’t want to start now. Catherine was her friend, and they had done so much for her already. Not only that, but with Catherine having problems with the baby ... Rosalind couldn’t worry her for any reason.

  She regrouped and leaned close to the conductor. “I’ve lost my ticket, sir. I’ve looked and I can’t find it anywhere.”

  “I thought so when you left so quickly several days ago. You can’t get away with stealing, and you will be prosecuted for theft.” The conductor had raised his voice, and other diners looked toward them. “The two of you need to come with me.”

  Arguin
g with everyone watching was pointless. She had no proof she’d paid legitimately and lost her ticket. Still, Lilly shouldn’t be witness to this. Rosalind would explain to the conductor after Lilly was taken back to Oliver.

  “Sir, this little girl needs to be returned to her parents. She isn’t mine. She’s simply in my care. Will you allow me to take her to her family?”

  The conductor’s forehead wrinkled. “I will have someone take her to her mother and father.”

  Lilly glanced at the man as she ate her ice cream. “Papa said I have to stay with Mrs. Easton.”

  Rosalind bit her lip. Oliver had indeed admonished the child to stay with her.

  “Unless you’d have me make a scene.” The conductor moved aside to let Rosalind out of her seat.

  “Not necessary.” She slid out of the bench and looked to Lilly. “I’m sorry, sweet pea, but I have to take you back now. You can have ice cream later.”

  Lilly nodded, disappointment registering in her slouched posture as she slid out and grabbed Rosalind’s hand.

  Rosalind sensed eyes boring into her back as they walked out of the dining car, the conductor close behind.

  Lilly’s small fingers tightened around Rosalind’s. “I don’t want you to go. Don’t you like playing with me?”

  Rosalind stopped and knelt in the aisle. If she were forced from the train at the next stop, would she ever see the Hadleys again? In a matter of days, they had come to mean a great deal to her.

  “Oh, Lilly, this has nothing to do with liking you. I like you very much. I wish I didn’t have to go.” Lilly hugged her, and a yearning seared Rosalind’s heart. Perhaps she would tell the Hadleys what was happening so they could help her.

  The conductor cleared his throat.

  Rosalind met his gaze. “Her room is down this hallway. You can see the rooms from here.”

  “I’ll wait.” He eyed Lilly. “She looks familiar. Who are your—”

  “Time to go to your mother and father.” Rosalind stood and pushed her lightly through the cabins. Lilly ran ahead of her and into her family’s room, leaving the door open behind her.