by Lydia Olson
“Beaufort. That’s in North Carolina.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of Beaufort. Quite a lovely town, from what I’ve gathered.”
Sarah’s smile turned into a frown. “It was,” she said solemnly, “yes. But we suffered a few storms in the past several months. It pretty much devastated the town. I don’t think it will ever recover. It’s part of the reason I left, to be quite honest.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am,” David said. “I hope no one you knew was harmed during the storms.”
Sarah said nothing, but her lack of reaction, the glossy quality that her eyes took on when David made his last statement, said everything.
“And yourself?” Sarah said, blinking her eyes and putting on a fresh smile. “Why are you going to Clarendon?”
“My uncle just passed,” David said.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you. But he lived a long life. He was a good man. My family received a letter from a lawyer in Clarendon saying that he died peacefully at home.”
“That’s always good to hear,” Sarah said. “That someone lived a long life, I mean. Sometimes … sometimes life simply doesn’t guarantee that sort of outcome.”
“I agree.”
“And are you going to Clarendon to tend to the funeral?”
“He’s already been buried,” David said. “He actually left my family his ranch in his will, and I have to get to Clarendon within the next few days or else it goes to the bank.” He shook his head and leaned into Sarah’s ear as he lowered his voice to a whisper. “I don’t wish to offend the moneymen on board, but it seems to me that those with a significant amount of wealth tend to run the world.”
Sarah nodded and looked him in the eye. “Most certainly,” she said in a hushed tone. “I hope you arrive in good time to take possession of the ranch.”
“As do I.”
“What will you do once you take the ranch?”
“I plan on living there,” David said. “I’ve lived with my mother and father for the past several years to assist them on their ranch back in Arkansas. It took a bit of convincing on their end, but the time has come for me to let them live their lives in peace.” He grinned. “Perhaps I was a bit overbearing by looking after them as long as I did.”
Sarah shook her head. “Oh, I don’t imagine they see the situation that way. I lived with my father for many years after the death of my mother. I think he relished having my company.”
“Is your father still alive?”
The color drained from Sarah’s face as David said the words. “No,” she said as her lip twitched. “He passed away several months back.”
David felt as though he said the worst thing imaginable to his travelling companion. “I am so sorry,” he said. “I hope I did not offend you.”
“No, no,” Sarah said. “You haven’t offended me. The wounds are still fresh. I suppose I am just a bit sensitive.”
“It’s more than understandable. And you have my sympathies.”
“Thank you, David. I very much appreciate it.”
Pointing to her letters, David said, “So, this pen pal of yours lives in Clarendon?”
“Yes,” Sarah said. “He is a sheriff’s deputy. I, well, how should I phrase it—I’m set to be married to him.”
In all of an instant, David felt like someone snatched the air from his lungs. He had just met this young woman, and it would be foolish to be so disappointed, but he was nonetheless.
“How delightful,” David said. “I’m sure you are quite excited to meet him.”
Sarah said nothing, her smile coming off as though it was forced.
David wondered what to say next. He didn’t want to be disrespectful to Sarah or overstep his boundaries. They still had forty hours of travel time to cover, and he didn’t want to make any of that time awkward for her or himself. He opened his mouth and prepared to switch to speaking on lighter subjects—but he was cut short when the stagecoach came to an abrupt halt as the sounds of gunshots filled the air from a short distance away.
Chapter Six
Sarah brought her hand to her mouth to stifle a cry as the two reports of gunshots came from outside the stagecoach. Everyone on board went rigid, with the businessman who called himself Caldwell parting the curtain of the window beside him as he looked out to see what the commotion was all about.
“What in the—?”
The sound of glass breaking filled the inside of the stagecoach as a bullet punched its way through and struck Caldwell square in his chest. His wife began to scream, reaching for the doorhandle to let herself out, but was unable to, as the man name Henry pulled her back and forced her to sit down in her seat.
“Don’t go out there!” Henry said. “We don’t know what’s happening.”
Three more shots cracked through the air, the stagecoach swaying from left to right as the sounds of the bodies of the men who were sitting on top fell to the earth with a sickly and bone-crunching slap.
Sarah backed into her small corner of the stagecoach, her heart racing to the point that it was causing her to perspire. She saw her life flash before her eyes, and she reached out and grabbed David’s hand for comfort because she simply didn’t know what else to do.
David felt torn as to what he should do. He held onto Sarah’s hand tightly, grinding his teeth as he heard the voices of three men outside talking in what sounded like a cacophonous roar.
Samantha was tending to her husband, who was coughing and wheezing as he clutched his hand to his chest where he had been shot. “My God,” she said. “He’s been shot. Please, help us. Someone, help us!”
David held out his hand. “Everyone hold tight. Just stay calm. I know you’re—”
The door to the stagecoach was thrown open, and two outlaws stood there in black clothing with black bandanas masking their faces.
“Hands up!” the robber in front said. “All of you!”
Everyone in the carriage held their hands up to the sky. David felt himself breathing slower to calm his nerves, while Sarah still clutched his hand and shook with fright as the bandits brandished their weapons. Everyone else in the stagecoach remained placid, too nervous to react as they stared death square in the face.
The highwayman in front shot his gun into the air, and the passengers in the stagecoach shuddered as the crack of the shot temporarily deafened them, save for David, who remained calm and held his head high as he and the other passengers slowly raised their hands above their heads.
“Very good,” the outlaw said. “Now, everyone out, and don’t you lower your hands an inch, otherwise I’ll shoot you all dead.”
Samantha clutched her husband, his blood staining her dress. She looked at the bandit, pleadingly. “My husband. He’s wounded, sir. Please, you must fetch help.”
The man brandished his gun. “Not my problem. Just drag him out of there. Now.”
Samantha opened her mouth—but David reached over and took her gently by the hand. “Come,” he said, “I’ll help your husband. Just do as they say.”
David pulled Samantha along slowly, eyeing the plunderers as all of the passengers disembarked from the stagecoach and stood in a straight-line shoulder to shoulder. Just before she emerged from the stagecoach, Sarah stuffed the letters from the deputy in between the cushions of the seat for fear that she would be shot for being associated with a man of the law.
David looked around as he stood next to Samantha on his right and Sarah on his left. He glanced overhead, the sun bright and hot, with nothing but desert and mountains surrounding them for several miles.
“Very good,” the lead hijacker said to the passengers. “Now, all of you keep your hands up. My associate here is going to pat you down.”
He motioned to his companion, who started frisking each of the passengers from head to toe. He removed all their jewelry and every other personal effect they had on them, and when he came to Sarah and found the locket around her neck, her eyes went wide and she began to tremble uncontrollab
ly.
“No,” Sarah protested. “Please, that belonged to my mother.”
“I don’t give a heck who it belonged to,” he said. “It’s mine now.” With a quick tug, the bandit ripped the locket off of Sarah’s neck and caused her to shudder.
“Okay,” David said, looking at Sarah reassuringly as he saw tears well up in her eyes. “You’ve all got what you wanted. Now, just leave us be.”
The two bandits in front of him laughed.
“Hey, Tucker,” the robber on the left said, his red hair sticking out of the bottom of his bandana, “this fella her just requested that we leave him be.”
“Is that so?” a gravelly voice said from on top of the stagecoach.
David reared his head, looking up toward the roof of the stagecoach. Standing on top of it was a man chomping on a cigar, with no intention of covering his face and the leather-like quality of his skin. The man, Tucker Willis, stood fully erect, and started cracking his knuckles one by one.
“What’s your name, boy?” Tucker asked David.
David shrugged. “What difference does that make?”
In the blink of an eye, Tucker jumped off the top of the carriage and landed a few feet in front of the passengers, all of them, save for David, who backed up a few paces from the shock of the display.
Tucker turned around, still chomping on his cigar as he approached David, tipped up the brim of his hat. He stood nose to nose with David, the stench of his body odor invading David’s nostrils and making him want to gag, but he didn’t. He stood tall and proud and without a shred of fear in his eyes.
“You’ve got a big mouth, son,” Tucker said, “and all of you have seen my face. I can’t let a witness live after they’ve seen my face.”
David shook his head. “You know it doesn’t have to be that way. You can just leave us here to our own devices.” He gestured to the two dead bodies of the men who had been driving the stagecoach. “Take the horses. Take everything. Just leave us here. We’re bound to die of thirst or hunger out here. It would be a waste of bullets, killing all of us.”
Tucker shifted the cigar in his mouth from one side to the other. He simply stared at David for a few moments, saying nothing before taking a few steps back and resting his hand on the shoulder of one of his bandits. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said. “We’re going to play a little game.”
“What kind of game?”
“I’m going to let you all go, one by one.” He pointed to his left. “You’re gonna run as fast as you can, each of you, and I’m going to count to ten before I start taking shots at you. If you outrun my bullets, then I’ll leave you be.”
David closed his eyes. Rotten man…
“Please, no!” Samantha pleaded. “Please, sir, you don’t need to do this. My husband is injured.”
Tucker looked at Samantha’s husband, curled up on the ground near her feet, his skin pale as the blood continued to drain from him.
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Tucker said. “He’s as good as dead. There’s no chance he’ll be able to participate in our fun little game.”
“Stay with me,” Samantha bid her husband, “please.”
Her husband’s eyelids fluttered. He reached a hand up and touched her cheek, smiled—and then he closed his eyes before going limp in her arms.
David closed his eyes and felt his jaw go sore from clenching it in anger. Lord, see him to his final resting place, he silently prayed.
“No!” Samantha cried out hopelessly. “Why?”
“You know,” Tucker said, “I think you might be too distraught to play my game, too.” He pointed to the surrounding desert. “Go. Run. I’m giving you a pass because you’re a woman, and I can’t stand listening to a woman making a ruckus like that.”
Samantha didn’t budge—Tucker fired a shot into that air to get her moving. She then quickly fled at a brisk run in the direction the stagecoach had come in from, still crying before disappearing from sight.
“What if she gets to the last town?” one of the robbers said.
Tucker spit on the ground. “Coyotes or the sun will do her in before that happens.”
“The heck with you!” David growled, clenching his fist and wanting to rush toward Tucker. “That’s enough.”
“I’ll play!” Henry said. “Please, don’t shoot me—I’ll play.”
Tucker smiled sadistically and held up his hands. “Well, look at that, now. We’ve got a participant! Step on up, good sir. You’ve got a ten second head start.”
Henry removed his hat and loosened his shirt, breathing heavily as he prepared to run into the heart of the desert.
“Henry,” David said, “don’t do this.”
Henry looked David square in the eye. “I’m not going to die here today,” he said before turning his back on him and preparing to run.
“Okay,” Tucker said. “Like I’ve said, you’ve got ten seconds before I start shootin’. Try and run fast now, boy. Alright?”
Without any further hesitation, Henry began running toward the heart of the desert as fast as his feet could carry him, kicking up a whirlwind of dirt and sand behind him as Tucker waited patiently.
“One,” Tucker said.
Henry kept running, never once looking back.
“Two.”
Henry had gained twenty feet of distance from himself and Tucker.
“Ten.”
CRACK!
The gunshot was gut-wrenching. David closed his eyes as the shot echoed throughout the mountains and were followed swiftly by the crazed laughter of the two bandits behind Tucker. When David opened his eyes—he saw Henry lying dead on the ground.
“Okay,” Tucker said casually. “Who’s next?”
David looked over at Sarah, her skin pale and eyes wide with shock. She reached over and grabbed his arm, looking at him solemnly, as if all hope had been lost, and whimpered one simple word: “Please.”
You have to do something, David told himself. You cannot let this woman die.
“Come on, now,” Tucker said. “You want to get shot here, or do you want to try your chance at runnin’?”
David drew a breath, a thought creeping into his mind. Before he knew it, he blurted out two words in an attempt to stave off Tucker and his cohorts. “She’s pregnant.”
An eerie silence fell over the scene.
“Come again, now?” Tucker said.
David looked him square in the eyes. “She’s my wife,” he said. “She’s pregnant. You really want to shoot a pregnant woman? You’ll have an entire posse after you for the rest of your days. You’ve already killed five innocent people. You’ve got plenty enough troubles plaguing you now, as it is.”
Tucker’s red-bearded accomplice took a step forward. “Boss,” he said, “he’s right, we can’t—”
“You’d keep your mouth if you knew what was good for ya,” Tucker blurted. “I’m thinkin’…”
“Yeah,” David said, “you go on and do that. Again, you shoot this woman and her unborn child, you’re going to have hell to pay from God and every gun-bearing, God-fearing man in this part of the country.”
Tucker took a moment to appraise David from toes to temples. “She’s your wife, huh?”
David nodded once. Slow. Deliberate. “She is indeed.”
“Prove it.”
David hesitated for a moment—and then he wrapped his arm around Sarah’s waist, pulled her in close, and kissed her passionately on the lips. Even though David was in the midst of a deadly situation, he couldn’t help but feel his heart rate increase the moment he kissed Sarah. He held the kiss for a moment, then he backed away, cupped her face in his hands, and said, “It’s going to be okay, my love. Trust me.”
Sarah stood with a dumbfounded look on her face, touching her lips delicately with two fingers as David removed his arm from her waist.
“Boss,” the other bandit said, “we can’t kill no unborn child. No good can come of it.”
“I’ve had no qualms w
ith killin’,” Tucker stated calmly. Torture was just another game for him.
“It’s not about that,” the red-haired bandit said. “This man is right, we kill her, we kill that child, and we’ve got the entire state of Texas after us. Our faces are already—”
Tucker waved them both off. “That’s enough,” he said. “I get it.” He sucked air through his teeth, chomped on his cigar one more time, and then spit it to the ground and sighed. “Hot darn it,” he said. “I don’t like the idea of leavin’ them out here, now.”