The Rescue

by Tanya Eavenson

  Opening the icebox door, Rosalind nodded, not believing Martin could do this to her family. She chipped at the chunk of ice until her bowl was filled. If Trent’s fever hadn’t dropped by the time she got back upstairs, she’d rub the ice on his body to try to break the fever.

  Trent called to her as she entered the bedroom.

  “I’m here.” She lifted from the floor a towel she’d placed on him earlier and laid it across part of the ice. With a spoon, she scooped a few ice chips from the bowl. “Open your mouth. Let the ice dissolve on your tongue.”

  His blue eyes showed through his heavy lashes as the cube touched his tongue. He let out a moan and shivered. She adjusted his covers and moved perspiration-matted hair off his forehead, then took the towel from the ice and placed it over his head.

  “Are you trying to freeze me, woman?” His teeth chattered.

  “I’m trying to make you well.” Rosalind placed more ice into his mouth.

  “Hmm ... Ice feels good on my tongue though.” His eyes closed.

  She spent the next hour changing the bedding wet with fever and tending to him until he fell back to sleep and his body stopped shaking. He’d been awake most of the time they were together. Rosalind prayed that was a good sign. Her mother hadn’t awakened before she’d died.

  Rosalind stopped by Lilly’s room to check on her before starting breakfast. She kissed Lilly’s cheek as she continued to sleep, and on her way down the stairs, she almost stumbled when she heard Glover’s name. Her body thumped against the wall, stopping her fall. She cocked her ear toward their conversation, seeing Blake standing before Matthew.

  “He meets the same description Roger gave me when he came to the sheriff’s office the other day. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Maybe your height. Usually rides alone. Very wealthy and likes people to know it. There’s been talk about a businessman throwing his money around, asking for help.”

  “What type of help?” Matthew asked.

  Blake paused. “Not sure.”

  “Did you speak with him?”

  “I followed him into the saloon and introduced myself. I thought it was the best way, so I could find out his name without having to ask Rosalind.”

  “Did it match one of the names Thomas sent in the telegram?”

  “It did. Richards. Glover Richards. He’s here with two other men.”

  Rosalind covered her mouth. No, God. Please, no. She quietly headed back to her room, unable to stop the small whimper that escaped.

  “Rosalind?” Trent’s weak voice called to her twice.

  “Yes.” Fear made her voice shaky. She wiped her face and came to his side. His eyes struggled to open but failed. He lifted trembling fingers toward her. She clasped his hand as the wrinkles in his forehead relaxed. Fresh tears flowed down her face, and she could do nothing to stop them.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Saying a prayer of thanks for Trent’s recovery, Rosalind bent and kissed his cool head. “Good night,” she mouthed.

  He stirred, but never woke.

  Fear broke out on her like a hive. She had to do this. Not for herself but for Trent and Lilly. Saying the words in her mind several times steeled her nerves. She had to protect the ones she loved.

  Glover came for me and me alone. Martin didn’t try to kill Trent. It was Glover.

  If Glover found where she was, Trent would give his life to protect her. She couldn’t let that happen.

  She almost stumbled sneaking down the stairs, but she caught herself against the wall. She’d need to be more careful. A snore came from the direction of the couch where Matthew slept. Rosalind shut the door behind her and headed to the barn.

  Trent’s horse was the only horse she’d ridden, so she chose and saddled him, repeating the steps she’d watched Trent and Blake do many times. Once she finished, she detached the left stirrup from the horn. With a deep breath, she stuck her foot in the stirrup and threw her leg over, only to slip and fall flat on her back. Pain shot up the leg she’d used to try to soften the blow. Now with an intense throb pounding in one leg, she used all her strength to hoist herself on top of the animal.

  “God, please give me safe travel and success in my plan. I’m scared, but I have to do this.”

  Stay.

  Rosalind shook the thought away and slowly exited the barn and rode down the path to town until she passed the boundary tree. Their tree. She didn’t want to think of what they might have had.

  Glover swung the saloon doors wide as his men and three others waited at a card game. Williams and Jones always rode with him, but the trick was to arrive in a town at different times so no one would suspect what they might be up to.

  Glover had the other three men in his pocket. He’d found out they had been stealing longhorns and who they’d killed. Glover offered them a deal they couldn’t refuse—either help him or Glover would go to the sheriff. They’d agreed without knowing the kind of help he required, but they would tonight. Yes, tonight would be the beginning of something beautiful. He’d take Rosalind for himself, and Trent would die.

  Glover stood over the men. “Have room for one more?”

  Williams shot him a glance, a smile lifting his lips. “As long as you’re willin’ to lose some money.”

  Jones chuckled. “Old man.”

  “You better watch it, or this will be the last card game you ever play.” Glover pulled a chair from another table and slid into it. He plopped his money down. Cards were shuffled, dealt, bets placed. He spread his cards between his fingers like a fan.

  “So what’s the job?” The oldest man of the group stared at his hand before meeting Glover’s gaze across the table.

  “I heard someone did a job on the Eastons’. How would you feel about finishing it?”

  The older man’s gaze returned to his cards. “Not interested.”

  One of his men, a younger one, laughed. “He doesn’t like to kill, but I don’t have a problem if the price is right. What’s the plan?” His focus landed on something behind Glover, and the others looked up. “Well, look who we have here. If it ain’t the new Mrs. Easton herself.” The young man stood with hunger in his eyes.

  Glover turned in his chair and faced Rosalind for the first time since she’d left Boston. Heat ran up his neck as anger boiled, pulsating through him, until an image of the girl standing on her father’s steps years ago came to mind. Innocence. Grace. A softness he wanted as his own. He stood. “I’ve traveled far for you, my dear.”

  “Mr. Richards.” She curtsied as if they were at a soiree in Boston. “May I have a word with you in private?”

  He stretched out his arms. “You may say what you need to in front of these men. They shall be my witnesses. Isn’t that right, men?”

  Lewd chuckles roared behind him. Fear flashed in her eyes, and he relished the knowledge that she hadn’t forgotten him. Nor would she ever.

  “I’m willing to leave with you tomorrow, if you’ll still have me.”

  He took a step closer and ran his hand along her jaw and neck, grabbing her throat. His thumb found her rapid pulse. She swallowed hard. “And why would I want you after you betrayed me and married another man? I’ve seen the child. How old is she? How long have you and Trent been keeping her a secret? Tell me,” he whispered.

  “She isn’t my child. She’s six.” Her voice quivered. “She’s my charge.”

  “I see.” The girl wasn’t their child. Glover slowly released her, his hand running down her side and settling along her waist. “Why should I believe you?”

  “I would never leave my own child.”

  His brow shot up. “But you would your husband?”

  “Please, Glover, allow me to leave undiscovered. Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll come to town for some baking goods. I’ll meet you wherever you like.”

  Glover closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the sound of her groveling. It was like music to his ears. Rosalind was smart. She knew it was better to plead than to speak of Trent. His grip tightened on her waist at t
he thought of how Trent stole Rosalind from him. But no longer. Soon she’d be in his possession. His mouth curved into a smile. “My room at the boardinghouse will suffice.”

  “If that is what you wish.”

  He ran his hand down her thigh. “You have no idea. But let me warn you, dear woman, if you double-cross me again, all that you love will not see the next sunrise.”

  Glover turned and pointed to the older man across the table from him. “I believe you know this fellow here. Martin, is it?”

  Martin nodded, his eyes wary.

  Yes, Martin would be useful. “He used to work for Trent, did he not?” Glover met Rosalind’s gaze.

  “He did, but he left unexpectedly. The child and I were worried, but it seems he’s fine.”

  Glover pushed in his chair. “He’s the one who shot Tren-ton.”

  Rosalind steadied a look in the older man’s direction but remained motionless, expressionless.

  He knew Martin’s partner shot Trent, but the lie did nothing to find out her true feelings for the cook. “If you’d excuse me, gentlemen, I will escort my soon-to-be bride out of this unsuitable establishment.” He held out his arm.

  Rosalind paused for a moment, then slipped her arm through. They exited, and he led her to the waiting horse she indicated.

  “What room shall I meet you in?” Her voice trembled.

  “Room twelve. But remember my warning, Rosalind. Those men in the saloon will do my bidding.”

  “I won’t forget.”

  She turned to the horse, but he wouldn’t let her go so easily. He grabbed her and kissed her that she gasped for air and tried to pull away, but he held her tighter. She belonged to him and him alone. He fought against the hunger driving him, tasting the sweetness of her lips. Soon he’d have her, but not tonight. There were a few more details to take care of before tomorrow.

  With a forced resolve, he pushed her away, causing her to stumble against the horse. “Tomorrow, Rosalind. Don’t forget. You cannot escape me.”

  Rosalind thought she might swoon. She entered the ranch and dismounted as bile gurgled up her throat. Unwilling to think of what she’d done, she stumbled to the outdoor kitchen pump and scrubbed her lips with her sleeve.

  She quietly skirted around Matthew’s sleeping form on the couch and climbed the stairs. As she entered their room, her gaze fell on Trent as he lay fast asleep. Her leg rebelled against each movement, but what did it matter? The pain she’d soon endure with Glover would last a lifetime.

  Rosalind bit her lip to keep from crying but lost the fight. She fled to Lilly’s room, where the child slept peacefully, and knelt by the bed. “I’m going to miss you.” Rosalind moaned and wiped her tears. “I’ve been blessed beyond measure, holding and loving you as my own. I never thought we’d part this way, but I must. Your safety is now a factor. I promised your mama and papa I’d keep you safe. And I will.” Her forehead rested on the edge of the bed. “God, I’m scared. Give me the strength to keep my family safe.”

  Rosalind rose from the floor and entered her bedroom once again. She changed into a nightdress, then slid into bed next to her husband for the last time.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Rosalind dressed, thankful she didn’t require buttoning help from her sleeping husband. She turned to see him sitting up in bed, tearing at his bandages. “Trent, leave them. I replaced those only last night.” She touched his hand. “Are you hurting?”

  “No.”

  She could tell he was, but she was about to hurt him far worse by leaving. I’m sorry. She blinked back the tears, helping to place his arm in the sling. “There. All set.” She started to stand, but he held her hand, stopping her. Her leg rebelled at her awkward position and she winced.

  “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He pulled her to him, and she bit back her cry and managed to stay standing.

  “I fell yesterday. My leg will be fine. No need to be concerned. You’re the one who needs to heal. That’s most important.”

  “What is it, Rosalind? What’s troubling you? I can see it in your eyes.”

  “My leg hurts is all.” She flashed him a weak smile and made her escape into the kitchen. Lilly sat at the table counting flowers. “Where did you find the beautiful wildflowers?”

  Matthew searched the cupboards and brought out a glass vase. “We picked them after I milked the cows this morning.” He filled it half full of water, then set it on the table. “We can put them in here, Miss Lilly.”

  “Like them, Rose?” Lilly smiled up at her, sending one stem at a time to the bottom of the glass jar.

  “I do, sweetheart.” She kissed the top of Lilly’s head, then turned as her stomach rolled. She quickened her steps outside and swallowed the nausea coming in waves. She rounded the house and took deep breaths.

  “Rosalind.” Trent called to her, but she didn’t move. “Please, tell me what it is that’s upset you.”

  She turned to him. “Trent, you need to be inside. You don’t need ...”

  He caressed her arms. Her face. Her hair. “Come back inside with me.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  He ran a finger over her lips. “Tell me why?”

  Tell him. Don’t go.

  She leaned into Trent’s chest and kissed him, savoring him, allowing his touch, his mouth to brand her in every way. She would always be Mrs. Trenton Easton.

  “I love you, Rosalind.” He rested his head against hers. “I have this uneasy feeling as if God is trying to warn me, but I’m at a loss. I need to know you’re all right.”

  “I’m all right.” She moved from his arms and turned him toward the house. “Now go. I only need a few minutes to myself, while you on the other hand need your rest.” She gave him a small shove.

  Trent glanced over his shoulder and smiled in spite of the concern she witnessed on his face. She waited near the corner of the house, and once the door gave its normal creak and bang, she hurried into the barn.

  At the sound of hoofbeats, Trent made his way outside in time to see Rosalind on Midnight, riding toward town. He stared after her, running his fingers through his hair. What was she up to?

  He entered the barn and glanced at his horse’s stall. She couldn’t have saddled up that quickly. Had she planned to leave? There was no other explanation. Whatever the reason, he began saddling another horse, straining at the task while hot pain shot through his shoulder. Hoofbeats from several horses pounded the ground and stopped just outside the barn.

  “Trent! Matthew! We need to talk!”

  Trent recognized Martin’s voice and exited the barn. He found Matthew’s gun drawn to Martin’s chest. Trent looked from Martin and to the other two mounted men and back to Matthew. “Matthew, what’s going on?”

  “What are you doing here, Martin?”

  One of the riders with Martin pointed a finger at Trent. “I told ya I shot him in the shoulder.”

  It took only a moment for the fire in Trent’s shoulder to fuel his anger. “You did this?” He didn’t look to the man who’d spoken, but to Martin. “I had Lilly with me. She could have been killed! Did you kill Boyd as well?”

  Pete came out from the side of the house. “I didn’t want to believe it, Martin.”

  Martin turned to the man who spoke earlier. “I told you no more shootin’. If you’d killed that girl—”

  “Ain’t that why we’re here? About his wife and that child?”

  Rosalind? Trent anger rose and he met Martin’s gaze. “So help me, Martin, if you so much as laid a hand on her, hurt her in any—”

  Martin cleared his throat. “You need to listen, and listen good. There’s a man named Glover in town. He planned to kill you and Lilly, but Rosalind stepped in. She made a deal with the devil.”

  “Glover’s here?” Trent’s chest constricted, and he swiveled toward the barn. “I have to go after her.”

  Matthew grabbed Trent’s shoulder, stopping him cold. Pain shot down his arm, but it was nothing compared to the
thought of losing the woman he loved. “How are we supposed to trust him after all he’s done?” Matthew gave Trent a worried look.

  Martin threw his guns down to the ground. “I was a black-hearted fool, but I’m a different man because of that little wife of yours and the child. They have a way of gettin’ under a man’s skin, of burrowing into his heart. When they came to the house, I finally felt like ... part of a family, and all I wanted to do was protect them. I came because I want to help any way I can, and I thought you should know what Glover has planned. But there’s somethin’ Rosalind didn’t know. Glover went back on his word. He sent us here to make sure no one lived, including Lilly.”

  Trent yanked his arm from Matthew’s grasp, gritting his teeth against the pain. “Did you see Rosalind pass on your way here?”

  “Nope. We came from Judd’s place.” Martin jabbed his thumb at the rider to his left.

  Trent spun back toward the barn and closed his hands into fists. He had to get to Rosalind.

  Matthew was right on his heels, slinging his horse’s bridle off its peg.

  Trent mounted, reining in his jittery horse. His eyes nar-rowed. “Martin ...”

  The man looked at him expectantly. Trent needed Matthew and Pete with him to find Rosalind. Could he trust Martin to care for Lilly when he just proved he wasn’t trustworthy? But what choice did he have? “You need to stay with Lilly. If anything happens to her ...”

  Martin’s jaw tightened, and tears glistened in the older man’s eyes. “I’ll protect her. Now hurry. Glover’s waitin’ for Rosalind in his room. Number twelve.”

  Rosalind stared out from the corner of Mr. and Mrs. Vine’s general store window toward the boardinghouse undetected. Behind her, the storekeeper carried on a conversation, helping to cut several yards of fabric for a woman she’d seen last week, and she was thankful for the distraction.

  “Rosalind! What are you doing here?”