Never before had she felt so helpless, but never before had Eugenia been unable to see, unable to move her arms and legs, unable to do anything to save herself. The lack of sight was the worst, because it distorted everything. Not only did she have no idea of which direction they were heading, but she’d lost track of time. She’d long since given up hope of protecting herself from bumps and bruises. Though initially she had held herself stiffly, she’d soon discovered that accomplished nothing other than making her muscles ache. It was better to remain limp and pray for deliverance. But though her prayers had been constant, the wagon continued to move.
The driver did not seem to be in a rush, and that surprised Eugenia. Did he think no one would realize she was gone? As she considered that possibility, Eugenia frowned. There were so many people at the construction site by the time she’d chased the boy with her camera that it was all too likely she would not be missed for some time. Papa wouldn’t be looking for her until the ceremony began, and Mason might think she’d gone to record the parade.
Local politicians and railroad officials had decided to join the Wyoming Lodge of Masons in marching to the site. It would be a short parade compared to the ones the city enjoyed on Independence Day, but it was a parade nonetheless. Since Eugenia had mentioned her interest in it to Mason this morning, he was unlikely to be alarmed if he didn’t see her at the site. Though the thought distressed her, Eugenia knew it could be the better part of an hour before anyone was concerned about her absence.
She wouldn’t dwell on that, for nothing could be gained by reflecting on things she could not change. Instead her thoughts turned to the wagon’s driver. Who was he? Was he working alone, or had someone else hired him to get her out of Cheyenne? Where were they going? If she could remove the sack, she’d have an idea of the direction they were traveling, but all she could see now were pinpoints of light filtering through the weave of the burlap. Those told her it was still daylight but nothing more.
The most important question, yet another one Eugenia could not answer, was why the man had abducted her. It made no sense.
She felt the wagon slow then make a sharp turn to the left. The road was bumpier here, and though she knew it was futile, Eugenia tried to brace herself as the wagon lurched, jolting her up and down and from one side to the other. She would definitely have bruises after this ride. When it emerged, her laugh was devoid of mirth. Bruises were the least of her worries.
The jolting continued for what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes before the wagon slowed then stopped completely. Though she was grateful for the respite, Eugenia’s apprehension grew as she felt the wagon rock when the driver climbed out. The journey was over. Now she’d have the answers to her questions. The problem was, she wasn’t certain she was ready. Help me, Lord, she prayed.
Seconds later, the driver lowered the back of the wagon and tugged her out and onto the ground. When Eugenia’s legs, cramped from being tied together, began to buckle, her abductor pushed her against the wagon side to steady her then untied the rope that held the sack closed around her neck. With a quick jerk, he pulled the burlap bag away.
Eugenia blinked, trying to accustom her eyes to the bright sunshine. When the momentary confusion caused by the light faded, she stared at the man and gasped.
“Chauncey!” The man who’d abducted her, the man who’d handled her as if she were nothing more than an object, was the man who wanted to marry her.
“Why did you do this?” she demanded, fury overcoming fear. She had seen Chauncey’s cruel side, and that had stoked her belief that he was not a man she could marry, but she had never expected him to treat her this way. What could he hope to gain? Even if she had been inclined to accept his proposal, today’s events would have changed her mind. And Papa, who’d once sung Chauncey’s praises, would be horrified when he learned what the man had done.
Though his lip curled in what appeared to be disdain, Chauncey said nothing. Instead, he gripped Eugenia’s upper arm and began to drag her toward the only building in sight, a dilapidated barn. It was impossible to walk with her ankles bound together, and so, though she tried not to, Eugenia stumbled.
“This would be easier if you untied my legs,” she said as calmly as she could.
Though Chauncey paused for a second, he shook his head, perhaps remembering how she’d kicked him when he’d first captured her. “I’m not that stupid.”
But he was. Surely only a stupid man would risk losing Erastus Bell’s esteem. Thanks to his contacts at the railroad and in territorial politics, Papa was a powerful man. No one who’d done what Chauncey had would remain unscathed by Papa’s anger.
“I couldn’t risk losing you,” Chauncey said as he dragged her forward. “I knew you were wavering, and I couldn’t let you get away. You’re going to be my wife, Eugenia. Make no mistake about that.”
“Why? You don’t love me.” Eugenia wasn’t certain Chauncey knew what love meant.
“Love? That’s a story for poets and fools. What matters is money and power. Marrying you will bring me both. When your father’s ranch is added to mine, I’ll be one of the wealthiest men in the territory. Other men will look up to me.”
Eugenia shook her head, grateful that at least she could see where she was going. “Surely you can’t believe I’d marry you after this. Even if I wanted to, which I do not, Papa would never allow it.”
Though he did not break his stride, Eugenia saw Chauncey frown. “Don’t be so sure, my dear.” The last two words sounded more like an epithet than an endearment and sent a shiver down her spine. “Once you’ve spent the night here with me, your reputation will be ruined. Your father will have no choice but to agree to our marriage.”
Eugenia took a deep breath as she considered her situation. Unless Chauncey untied her, she had no way of escaping. And even if she did somehow manage to get her feet free, where would she go? There was no sight of any other dwelling and she had no idea in which direction Cheyenne lay. For a second, despair threatened to overwhelm Eugenia. Then she relaxed. It was true there was nothing she could do, but it was also true there was Someone who could save her.
Closing her eyes, Eugenia began to pray.
It wasn’t difficult to obtain a horse, Mason reflected as he bent low over the stallion’s neck and urged him to even greater speed. The owner of the livery had been more than happy to rent his fastest mount. It wasn’t difficult to follow the tracks. Last night’s rain had left mud that had not yet fully dried. What was difficult was controlling his anger. How could anyone have abducted Eugenia? No woman deserved to be trussed and stashed in the back of a wagon like a sack of potatoes, least of all Eugenia.
Mason refused to let his mind dwell on the possible reasons for her kidnapping. All that mattered was that he arrived in time to save Eugenia from whatever her abductor had in mind. Mason said a silent prayer for her safety while his eyes scanned the horizon, searching for clues to Eugenia’s whereabouts.
There. The wagon had turned off the main road onto a track that, judging from the thickness of the grass, had not been used in months. Was that good or bad? Mason didn’t know. All that he knew was that he had to get Eugenia away from here.
The road climbed a small rise. When he reached the top, Mason reined in the horse. Looking down, he could see a small, apparently abandoned building, probably an old barn. Next to it stood a wagon with the horses still harnessed. Though there was no sign of Eugenia or her abductor, this had to be the right place. If they were inside the barn—and Mason saw no alternative—he would have surprise on his side. But that involved stealth.
Sliding to the ground, he dropped the horse’s reins, hoping that would be enough to keep him from bolting. Though Mason would have liked to have his mount closer, he couldn’t risk the other horses greeting him and alerting the man inside the barn.
Thankful that the grass muffled his footsteps, Mason ran toward the barn, praying with each step that he was not too late and that the horses would not announce his arrival. His second prayer was answered, because the animals seemed more interested in grazing than in a stranger’s appearance.
Mason studied the barn as he ran. As far as he could tell, there were no windows, and if this was like most barns, the only door was the one he faced. That was good, because it meant that Eugenia’s abductor could not escape. Now the question was whether or not Mason could overpower him. Mason would have the advantage of surprise; the other man would have the advantage of being able to see.
Closing his eyes to a mere slit to help them grow accustomed to what he knew would be the relative darkness of the barn’s interior, Mason moved toward the door, opening it as silently as he could. For a second he stood, so surprised by the other man’s identity that he felt frozen.
Chauncey Keaton. Even though he saw only his back, there was no doubt who had abducted Eugenia. The very idea shocked Mason. Why on earth had the man who appeared to have every advantage taken Eugenia by force?
Chauncey stood next to Eugenia, his posture menacing. And, though her eyes were fixed on her captor, her expression filled with anger and disgust, Eugenia had no recourseagainst him. In the split second that it took him to register the details, Mason saw that she was seated on a bale of hay and would have difficulty moving, for her arms were secured behind her back, her ankles tied together. Chauncey would pay for that!
Knowing he would have only one chance, Mason sprang forward, slamming his body into Chauncey’s and knocking the other man to the floor. As Eugenia gasped, he landed a blow on Chauncey’s jaw. It should have knocked him out, but the man was stronger than Mason had expected. Stronger or perhaps more desperate than he’d thought, for surely only desperation would have led a man like Chauncey to kidnap Eugenia.
The man fought valiantly, his fist connecting with Mason’s cheek at the same time that he flung himself upward, flipping Mason off him. A second later, Chauncey wrapped both hands around Mason’s throat in a frantic attempt to choke him. Though he could feel his breath shortening and feared that he would be unable to withstand the dangerous pressure, Mason refused to let Chauncey win. Mustering every ounce of strength he possessed, he slammed his fist into Chauncey’s stomach. Caught off guard by the force of the blow, Chauncey released his stranglehold on Mason and grunted, then landed another blow.
Neither man was trained to fight, but each was determined to prevail. As he and Chauncey traded blows, Mason found himself tiring. He could only pray that his opponent was equally fatigued. As it was, he had no idea when or how the fight would end. All he knew was that he could not stop, for if he did, that would mean Chauncey’s victory and Eugenia’s defeat. He could not—he would not—let Chauncey win.
Afterward Mason could not say how long he battled Chauncey or how many blows each of them delivered. All he knew was that when he was certain he could not last another minute, Chauncey shifted to the left. It was the opening Mason needed. Gathering his final shreds of strength, he struck a blow to Chauncey’s solar plexus. With a loud whoosh, the man who’d abducted Eugenia collapsed, and his eyes rolled backward.
“Thank God.”
Mason echoed Eugenia’s words as he scrambled to his feet. God had brought him here and had helped him prevail. Though Eugenia looked frightened, Mason could see no sign of major injuries.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he made his way to her.
Though her face was white with strain, those beautiful green eyes shone with relief. “Thanks to you, I am.”
As quickly as he could, given his bruised knuckles and bloody fingers, Mason untied first her wrists, then her ankles. Though there was nothing he wanted more than to draw Eugenia into his arms and never let her go, he couldn’t take the risk of Chauncey regaining consciousness. Holding out the ropes, Mason managed a small chuckle. “I’ve got a better use for these.”
Before Chauncey could move, Mason turned him over and secured his arms and legs, trussing him even more tightly than he’d done Eugenia.
“I’ll send the sheriff out to collect him,” Mason said as he helped Eugenia to her feet. The sooner they were away from here, the better. “You can be sure he’ll never hurt you again.”
Tears filled her eyes. Though Mason hoped they were tears of relief, her next words told him they were not.
“He hurt you,” she said, taking one of his hands between both of hers and touching a bloodied knuckle. “Let me help you.”
“There’ll be time enough for that later.” Mason was still shaking inside at the realization of how close he’d come to losing her. He looked around the decrepit barn. This wasn’t the way he’d envisioned it, but he wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip by.
“We need to talk.”