A Tender Hope

by Amanda Cabot

  “Now, where’s the gold?”

  “I don’t know.” Thea wondered how many times she would have to repeat those words before Charity believed her.

  Instead of the scowl Thea had expected, the woman smiled—a smile so evil that Thea could not help cringing. “Well, now, that’s a real shame.” Charity pulled a knife from one of her pockets and laid it on the bale. The position was deliberate, Thea knew, designed to taunt her with the fact that she could not reach it with her hands tied behind her back.

  “I tole you we could do this easy or hard,” the woman said as she began to unfasten Thea’s shoes. “I reckon you’re gonna have a different answer once I start slicing those feet of yers. The last one screamed mighty loud.” She pulled off the first shoe and chuckled. “Well, look at that, will you. Daniel’s wife has purty stockin’s.”

  Thea closed her eyes, trying not to think about what Charity was threatening to do. She cringed at the realization that Charity had tortured Helen before killing her. It was no wonder Jackson had shown Thea only Helen’s head and neck. From the way Charity was acting, she had probably sliced more than Helen’s feet.

  Thea tried not to shudder, not wanting to give Charity the satisfaction of seeing her fear. Perhaps if she focused on the woman’s poor grammar and the way she began so many sentences with “well,” Thea would be able to ignore the pain that was bound to come.

  Had there been no teachers at the orphanage, or had Charity simply been a poor pupil? As the questions swirled through Thea’s brain, a memory began to emerge.

  That’s it! That’s where it was! She knew where Daniel had hidden the gold.

  Jackson gripped the whiskey glass so tightly he thought it might shatter. He’d always believed anger to be white hot, but he’d been wrong. What he felt now was icy cold determination—determination to bring the Gang to justice, determination to save Thea, determination that he would not fail another person he loved.

  You didn’t kill Micah. Thea’s words echoed through his brain. That might be true, but it didn’t mean that he hadn’t failed to keep his brother safe, and it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t fight to keep Charity from killing Thea.

  Jackson laid the still-full glass back on the table, then rose and walked toward the bar as if he had not a care in the world, knowing he must do nothing to alert Will and Rob to his identity. As casually as he could, he walked behind the bar, wrapped an arm around Faith’s waist, and whispered in her ear. To anyone paying attention, he would seem to be nothing more than an amorous cowboy, but the words he whispered were anything but amorous.

  “The two strangers are wanted men,” he told Faith. “Get a message to Travis. Tell him part of the Gang of Four is here. Whatever you do, don’t let them leave.”

  Faith shifted her position, turning her back to the room so no one could read her lips. “Where are you going?”

  “The Harris ranch. Their leader has Thea.”

  “Oh!” The word escaped on a whoosh of breath. Recovering quickly, she pressed a kiss to Jackson’s cheek. “I could tell you that kiss is for luck, but you don’t need luck. You’ve got God on your side.”

  The words melted some of the ice that had encased his heart, reminding him that he was not alone in this fight. “Thanks, Faith.” He sauntered out of the bar and sprang into Blaze’s saddle.

  I need your help, Lord. You know what’s in my heart. You know that I love Thea and that Stuart and I need her. I pray that you will keep her safe. The prayers continued as he raced toward the ranch, giving thanks that there was enough light from the moon that Blaze would not stumble in a rut.

  When they arrived, Jackson saw two dark forms at the side of the house and an unfamiliar horse grazing in the small paddock near the house. The horse was Charity’s, he assumed, though there was no sign of the woman, and the silent lumps . . . Jackson sighed. The absence of barking dogs left little question of their identity.

  Please, Lord, let me be in time to save Thea. Where was she? The night was oddly silent, but the lights in the house indicated that someone was still awake. Jackson flung himself off Blaze and mounted the porch steps two at a time, desperate to find Thea before it was too late. He was reaching for the door when he stopped abruptly, his attention caught by the sight of a body slumped on the porch floor. The ordinary work clothes could have belonged to any man or to a woman who dressed like a man. Was it Angus or Charity? There was only one way to know.

  Disappointment threatened to overwhelm Jackson as he turned the body over and recognized Angus. The rancher who’d bragged about his ability to kill varmints had been no match for Charity James. Few men were, but Angus had been luckier than most. Though unconscious, he was still alive, perhaps because Charity hadn’t wanted to spend the time to kill him when Thea was her quarry. There was no time for Jackson to try to revive him. Angus would live, but Thea was still in danger.

  His sense of urgency growing by the second, Jackson strode into the house.

  “That you, Angus?” a woman’s voice called from the back of the building. “Where you been all this time? Don’t you wanna see yer son?”

  It appeared that Thea had successfully delivered Ethel Harris’s child, but judging by the woman’s annoyance, she was no longer with her. Charity must have taken Thea somewhere.

  Jackson entered the room, his eyes searching for signs of the woman he hoped would one day be his wife. What he found was what he’d expected: Ethel Harris in bed with her baby in her arms.

  “Where’s Thea?”

  “Don’t know.” The new mother was clearly displeased. “She went out to fetch my man. She ain’t come back, and neither did he. Where’s Angus?”

  Jackson had no patience for explanations. “He’ll be here soon.”

  He raced out of the house and looked around. Since Charity’s horse was still in the paddock, she and Thea had to be somewhere on the ranch. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness again, he spotted a faint light leaking from below the barn door.

  Moving silently, Jackson did a brief reconnaissance of the building. No windows. No other door. As much as he hated going in blind, knowing he could be ambushed, he had no choice. Slowly, he slid the barn door open enough that he could see inside. Thankfully, it did not squeak and betray his position.

  Jackson’s thanks died on his lips, and his blood ran cold at the sight before him. Charity James was bent over Thea’s bare feet, a wicked-looking knife in her hand. He didn’t need to imagine what she was doing, for rivulets of blood had dripped onto the dirt floor. She was torturing Thea as she had Helen.

  “Well, now, looks like I gotta go deeper next time.” God was definitely watching over Jackson, because Charity appeared oblivious to him. “Where’s the gold?”

  Though Thea had been staring at Charity, she glanced sideways and spotted him. Her eyes lit with what appeared to be relief, and the look she gave him was filled with such love that it warmed Jackson’s blood faster than the August sun dried morning dew. Without making a sound, Thea mouthed the sweetest words in the English language, “I love you.”

  And he loved her. God had led him to her and had kept her alive this long. Now it was up to Jackson to save her.

  Charity raised the arm holding the knife and prepared to slice. No! He wouldn’t let her harm Thea again. Thea would not be a victim. She would not die as Helen had.

  Knowing that he had the advantage of surprise and strength, Jackson leapt forward and grabbed Charity’s arm. In one swift movement, he wrested the knife from her and tossed it aside. As she spun around, shock blanched Charity’s face.

  “You!” she screamed.

  “Yes, me. The Ranger who’s been tracking you.”

  Jackson yanked her other arm behind her and handcuffed her.

  Screaming curses, the leader of the Gang began to kick at him. He’d anticipated that and easily sidestepped her, then knocked her to the ground. This woman wasn’t going to hurt anyone again.

  Though she struggled to rise, Jackson kept his weight on h
er and pulled out the rope he’d stuffed into his back pocket. Within seconds, he’d bound her feet and tied her to the empty stall. That would keep her temporarily. As soon as he cared for Thea, Jackson would return with the leg irons that he’d left on Blaze, fearing they might clank and alert Charity to his presence.

  “You, you—” Words seemed to fail Charity until she turned her attention back to Thea and began to curse her. “Where’s my gold?” she demanded.

  “There’s no more gold in your future, Charity James,” Jackson told her, satisfaction at having apprehended her mingling with sorrow over the pain she’d inflicted on Thea. “The only thing you’ll be seeing is a hangman’s noose. The State of Texas doesn’t take kindly to murdering women.”

  There was not a doubt in Jackson’s mind that Charity had been the one who’d killed Helen Bradford. The memory of the woman’s bloodied feet had turned his stomach more than once, and now Thea was the one who’d been subjected to the same torture. At least she was still alive. Thank you, Lord.

  While Charity continued to curse, Jackson picked up the knife and sliced through Thea’s bonds, freeing her hands and feet. “We’ll get you to the Goddard ranch. Austin will know what to do for your feet.”

  Thea shook her head. “I don’t need a doctor. I have salves and bandages in my bag back in the house. That’s all I need. I’m not sure I can walk that far, though.”

  “You won’t need to.” Without a sideways look at the outlaw who was still shouting obscenities, Jackson swept Thea into his arms.

  36

  It felt so good to be in Jackson’s arms that Thea could almost forget the pain in her feet. This was where she belonged, her head resting against his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck as he carried her away from that horrible woman.

  She was blessed, so very blessed. Not only was she still alive, but God had answered her prayers and given her another chance to tell Jackson she loved him. She knew he’d read her lips when she’d mouthed the words, but that wasn’t enough. She needed to say it aloud—once, twice, a million times—as many times as it took so he never doubted how she felt. There would be time for that. First, she had to tell him what she’d remembered.

  “I think I know where the gold is.”

  As he strode across the yard, Jackson looked down at her, his expression one of astonishment. “You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. You were almost killed; your feet must hurt like the dickens; and yet you’re talking about gold.”

  “It’s important.” Jackson might deny it, but Thea knew otherwise. The gold was more than a fortune that needed to be returned to its rightful owners. For him, retrieving the gold would be the culmination of his career, a way to ensure that Micah’s death and Leander’s injuries had not been in vain. “You need to find it so you can close this case.”

  He nodded, accepting the truth of her words. “You can tell me about it while we get your feet bandaged, but I’ll say it again, you’re an incredible woman.”

  Thea didn’t feel incredible. She felt exhausted and yet exhilarated. While the time with Charity had drained her physically, the revelations that had come to her when she’d faced the woman’s madness had buoyed her emotionally, filling her with peace. Though Thea had known it had not been her intent, the outlaw had confirmed what Jackson had suspected, that Daniel’s love for Thea had been true. Charity may have bound Thea’s hands and feet, but she had set her spirit free, and that, Thea knew, was a gift from God.

  Trying to ignore the pain that radiated from the soles of her feet up her legs, Thea smiled at Jackson. “It’s almost over. You’ve got Charity, and I think the other two are at the Silver Spur.”

  Jackson shook his head. “They were. I saw them there—that’s how I knew she was here—but I suspect they’re currently warming the bench in Cimarron Creek’s jail. They won’t be hurting anyone ever again.”

  “That’s good.” As horrible as the night had been, it was ending well.

  When Thea and Jackson reached the porch, they found Angus sitting up, rubbing his head and looking confused.

  “What happened?” he asked, his voice less belligerent than normal.

  It was Jackson who answered. “It appears that a woman knocked you out.”

  Sputtering, Angus pushed himself to his feet, obviously appalled by the thought of having been bested by a woman. Though he kept one hand on the lump that was forming on the top of his head, his expression betrayed outrage. “This one?” He pointed toward Thea. “She ain’t big enough to do that.”

  Jackson shook his head. “Not Mrs. Michener. The woman’s name is Charity James. She’s part of a gang that’s been robbing stagecoaches and trains, and she’s dangerous. I know for a fact that she’s killed at least two people, maybe more.”

  When Angus seemed to doubt that a woman could do all that plus attack him, Jackson continued. “She’s almost as tall as a man, and I suspect she’s almost as strong.”

  Angus straightened his shoulders at the realization that his foe had been formidable. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Thea might have smiled at the way he preened like a rooster.

  His expression sobered a second later. “What happened to my dogs? They shoulda barked.”

  Jackson pointed toward two still forms that Thea hadn’t noticed before. “The woman who hit you killed them. Sliced their throats.”

  As Thea shuddered at the further evidence of Charity’s cruelty, the anguished cry that Angus let loose confirmed what his wife had claimed: he was deeply attached to the dogs.

  “Where is she?” he demanded. “She’s gonna pay for that!” Angus looked around, his wide-eyed gaze making Thea suspect he was searching for his shotgun.

  Jackson kept his eyes focused on the rancher, perhaps because he feared what the angry man might do. “She’s tied up in your barn now.”

  Angus started to move, but Jackson blocked the way. “No matter how you feel, you can’t kill her. A jury’d string you up for that. You can help me, though. Mrs. Michener has been injured. There’s a reward in it for you if you watch over the bandit while I take care of Mrs. Michener.”

  The moonlight was bright enough to see the way avarice blended with Angus’s thoughts of revenge. “I’ll make durn sure she don’t escape.” He turned toward the barn, still holding his head, but stopped when a baby’s cry rent the evening air. “What’s that?”

  This time Thea did smile. “Your son.” No matter what else had happened tonight, she had the satisfaction of knowing that she’d brought a life into this world.

  The new father was clearly torn between his desire for the money Jackson had promised and the need to see his son. “Wait one minute. I gotta tell Ethel about the reward.”

  As he raced into the house, Thea turned her head to look up at Jackson. “This is the first I’ve heard about a reward.”

  “That’s because there wasn’t one until a minute ago. I need to be sure Charity doesn’t escape—she’s a wily one—”

  “And Angus is just the one to watch her.” Thea finished Jackson’s sentence, noticing that he’d positioned himself so that he could see the barn door. “His pride was bruised by the idea that he’d been knocked out by a woman, no matter how tall or strong she might be.”

  Jackson nodded. “He’ll forget that part, but he’ll stand a little taller when he tells his friends he helped bring a dangerous criminal to justice.”

  Seconds later, Angus emerged from the house, his shotgun in hand. “You kin stop worryin’ now. I’ll keep that bandit safe,” he announced as he sprinted toward the barn.

  Jackson nodded again and carried Thea inside. “Let’s get your feet bandaged.” He looked around the small house, then strode into the kitchen, placing Thea on one of the chairs and propping her feet on a second.

  “My bag is in the bedroom,” Thea told him. Now that the euphoria of her rescue and the revelation of the gold’s location had faded, she was once again aware that her feet were throbbing with pain. When Jackson had first unti
ed her, she had done a cursory examination of her soles and had discovered that the bleeding had almost stopped, but she would be grateful for the soothing salve and bandages.

  “Ethel isn’t happy about being alone,” Jackson said as he returned with the bag.

  “I’m not surprised. She’s the most demanding patient I’ve ever had.”

  “But you’re the patient now.” Jackson lifted Thea’s feet, settled himself on the chair, and placed them in his lap.

  “I can do this,” Thea protested as he examined each foot carefully.

  “Of course you can,” he agreed, “but it’ll be easier if you let me do it. Will you let me help you?”

  Knowing he was asking about more than simply bandaging her feet, Thea nodded and retrieved the jar of salve from her bag. When the time was right, she would tell Jackson all that was in her heart. “You need to clean the wounds, then spread this on them.”

  Jackson rose and placed her feet carefully back on the chair while he filled a pan with cool water and found a soft cloth. Then he resumed his seat and began to wash her feet. Thea caught her breath, not at the stinging the water induced but at the thought of what an intimate act this was. No wonder mothers admonished their daughters to never reveal their bare feet to men who weren’t their husbands.

  “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” she asked, trying to keep her mind focused on the skill with which he cleansed her lacerations.

  Jackson looked up at her, his green eyes bright with emotion. “I’ve cleaned and bandaged more wounds than I can count. I rarely had salve, though,” he said as he opened the jar and began to smooth it over her soles. When Thea winced, he drew back for a second, then said, “Tell me about the gold. Where do you think it is?”

  Thea appreciated his attempt to deflect her attention from the pain. “In a well at the orphanage. I’d forgotten all about it until Charity kept saying ‘well.’ She wasn’t talking about a real well. That was just the way she started most of her sentences.”