28

I didn’t expect you back so early.” Mrs. Moore wiped her hands on the towel she’d tucked into her apron pocket, raising her eyebrows as she looked at Austin.

“I didn’t want to overdo on Seth’s first day in the saddle.” It had been four weeks since the boy had sustained the injuries, and though his hand was still in a cast, Austin knew it had healed enough that he wouldn’t reinjure it, even if he took a tumble. What had worried Austin was possible fatigue. As it had turned out, that should have been the least of his worries. Seth’s energy outstripped his own.

Mrs. Moore nodded, though her expression said she wasn’t buying the story. “That’s mighty thoughtful of you. The fact that now you can get all cleaned up before Catherine arrives never crossed your mind, did it?”

Austin couldn’t help laughing at how well she’d read his intentions. “I can’t put anything over on you, can I?”

“Not where that gal’s concerned. You perk up every time someone mentions her name, and when she’s in the same room, you don’t seem to notice anyone else. Face it, Austin. You’re a lovesick boy.”

He shook his head in pretended annoyance. “The least you can do is call me a man.”

“I notice you aren’t saying anything about the lovesick part.”

There was no point in denying the truth.

Catherine tried to hide her surprise as the man turned the buggy into the road leading to Boone Dalton’s farm, but her mind continued to whirl with the terrifying realization that somehow Sherman Enright had tracked Austin to Cimarron Creek. As Austin’s stories of the man’s cruelty crept into her brain, she tried desperately to brush aside the thoughts of what might lie in store for Hannah, instead focusing on this unexpected turn. She had thought the man intended to take her and Hannah to the ranch, but he clearly had other plans.

Why here? Was Seth’s father somehow involved with Sherman Enright? Though she wouldn’t put anything past him, she had no idea how Boone could have learned about Enright and his search for Austin.

“This goes to Seth’s house,” Hannah whispered.

“That’s right, little one.” The man had obviously heard Hannah. “The boy’s drawing tole me where I could find your pa. His pa was mor’n happy to rent his cabin to a fine fella like me.”

Shock bludgeoned Catherine like a club, and for a second the world went black. She forced herself to take a deep breath. She could not faint, not when Hannah’s safety depended on her, not when she knew this was all her fault.

Drawing. The word echoed through her brain, taunting her with the knowledge of what she had done. Mama had told her that deeds could be like pebbles tossed into a pond, sending ripples farther than the person intended. Unintended consequences, Mama had called them. Sherman Enright’s arrival in Cimarron Creek was yet another unintended consequence of Catherine’s pride.

Why, oh why had she told Seth about the contest? Doing that may have given him confidence and a sense of self-worth, but that had come at a high price—first his beating, now this. Thanks to her, Sherman Enright had found Austin, and, just as the pebble could not stop the ripples, there was nothing Catherine could do to stop the evil from spreading.

When they reached a fork in the road, the man who would not reveal his name turned onto a little-used track that Catherine assumed led to the cabin he had mentioned. Seth had never spoken of it, but why would he? He probably wanted to forget everything associated with this place. Catherine knew she would, if she’d been in his position.

“I’m scared.” Hannah clutched Catherine’s arm and began to whimper.

Catherine wouldn’t tell her that she was more than scared, she was terrified. She couldn’t let fear cloud her brain. Somehow, she had to find a way to save Hannah. Austin had lost his wife. She couldn’t let him lose his only child.

“It’s your pa what oughta be scared.” The man punctuated his words with a nasty laugh.

Stroking Hannah’s hair, Catherine tried to ignore the man who’d pulled her closer. Even though her nose was stuffy from the cold, she was close enough that the man’s rank odor made her want to gag. “Pray, Hannah,” she said softly. “Pray as hard as you can.”

“You think prayer will save him? Not a chance.” The man spat over the side of the buggy.

While Hannah continued to whimper, Catherine saw the cabin come into view. Though the location at the edge of the woods was appealing, the building was even more dilapidated than the farmhouse. If it had ever been painted, the color was long since gone, and the roof appeared in need of replacement. Judging from the size, she guessed there was only a single room serving as kitchen, parlor, and bedroom. That wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise was the smoke coming from the chimney. Since no one needed heat on a July day in Texas, someone must be cooking.

The driver reined in the horse. “Get out nice and easy, both of you,” he ordered. “We’re goin’ inside.”

Catherine scrambled out of the buggy, grateful to be away from the man, if only momentarily, then raised her arms to help Hannah dismount. “Stay close to me,” she whispered into the girl’s ear as she held her. “You need to do exactly what I say. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The man strode before them and pushed the door open. “After you, ladies.” He chuckled at his patently false gallantry. When Catherine and Hannah were inside, he followed. “I got ’em.”

Catherine blinked, trying to let her eyes adjust to the relative darkness. As she’d expected, there was only one room. A surprisingly sturdy table, empty save for a lighted kerosene lamp, stood in the middle, flanked by two chairs. The only other furniture was a cot placed under the room’s sole window. If the window had been opened, it might have vented some of the heat from the stove. As it was, the room was oppressively hot, a fact that did not seem to bother Sherman Enright.

He rose from the chair and stood next to the table. “Good work, Tucker.” So the man had a name. “You know what’s next,” Enright continued. “I want the doctor here within the hour.”

As Tucker left, Enright turned his attention on Catherine. She met his gaze without flinching, determined to show no fear. The man was as different from his minion as possible. While Tucker could blend into almost any crowd, Enright had a face few would forget. No wonder he wanted Austin to alter it. Even though Catherine had never met him, she would have known him simply from Austin’s description. There could not be two people on Earth who looked like Sherman Enright.

If she had seen him on a city street, she would have thought him a successful businessman with his finely tailored suit, his carefully cut hair. If she’d spoken to him, she would have marked his cultured voice and excellent grammar, so different from Tucker’s. It was only when she gazed into his eyes that she saw the similarity between the two men: their cruelty.

“So you’re the one who caught the doctor’s eye.” Enright’s smile held no mirth. “Turn around, Miss Whitfield, so I can see the whole package.”

He was treating her as if she were an object. Catherine bristled. “That hardly seems appropriate.”

Enright raised his right hand, displaying the gun that had been hidden by the table. “I make the rules here. If I tell you to dance on the table, you’ll do it, or the girl will pay the price. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Catherine turned slowly, trying to ignore the cool appraisal Enright was giving her. This was worse than the way Uncle Charles had leered at her. She could almost understand lust, but Enright’s scrutiny was devoid of passion. He was assessing her as he would have a piece of furniture, searching for flaws. His gaze made Catherine uncomfortable, a fact she was certain brought him satisfaction.

“You can sit down now. You and the girl. I just wanted to ensure you knew who was in charge.”

When her eyes met his, Catherine tried to keep her face impassive, even as ripples of horror made their way down her spine. Enright’s eyes told her he had no intention of releasing her or Hannah. Once Austin had performed the surgery, Enright or Tucker would kill them. They’d need to keep Austin alive until Enright’s face had healed, because someone would need to change the bandages and apply the salve, but Catherine and Hannah were disposable. That meant she had to take action before Austin arrived.

Catherine glanced around the room. There had to be a way to get Hannah to safety. Without her, Enright had limited leverage over Austin. She would worry about how to alert Austin once Hannah was out of the cabin.

She kept her voice as calm as if she were discussing the weather. “No one’s challenging you, Mr. Enright, but Hannah is tired. Would you mind if she lies on the bed?” Catherine wouldn’t think about the critters that might have nested on the cot. All that mattered was saving Austin’s daughter.

“Suit yourself.”

She turned her attention to Hannah. “It’s time for your nap.”

When Hannah started to protest, Catherine gave her head an infinitesimal shake, and the girl nodded, remembering Catherine’s admonition to obey her. “All right, Miss Whitfield.”

“Do you want me to tell you a story?” Catherine accompanied her word with the tiniest of nods.

“Yes, please, Miss Whitfield.” Hannah was playing her part well.

“Is that necessary?” Enright’s voice held more than a note of annoyance.

Catherine turned and gave him her most guileless expression, grateful that the man had no children and didn’t realize that most six-year olds did not take naps. “I’m afraid it is. I’ll speak softly, though. She’ll fall asleep faster that way and won’t cause you any trouble.”

When he was once more seated, she began. “Once upon a time there was a princess, a very pretty princess.” With each phrase, she lowered her voice. Keeping the gentle cadence of the fairy tale, she said, “I need you to be very brave, Hannah. I’m going to try to get the window open. If I do, I’ll help you climb out. You’ll fall, but you won’t be hurt. It’s only a short distance. When you land, stand up and run as fast as you can to the woods out back. I want you to hide there until your father or I call you.” She cupped Hannah’s cheek, then bent over and gave her a soft kiss. “Now it’s time to pretend you’re asleep.”

Catherine turned and walked slowly toward the table. Brushing her hand across her forehead, she said, “It’s awfully warm in here. May I open the window?”

Enright shrugged. “You might as well. The doctor will need hot water for the surgery. That’s why I had Tucker fire up the stove.” He glanced at the stove and the two big pots of water that simmered on top of it. Several split logs were stacked on one side, while a rusted bucket held kindling. “There’s no reason why you can’t be comfortable. Now that the whelp’s asleep, you and I can get to know each other better.”

Though his words were ordinary, the leer that accompanied them sent shivers down Catherine’s spine. Gone was the cool appraisal he’d given her before. Now his eyes were glazed with lust. She wouldn’t think about what he intended to do. What mattered now was Hannah.

Catherine returned to the cot and bent down, pretending to check on Hannah as she whispered, “It’s time. Get ready.” She straightened up and fumbled with the window sash, waiting until Hannah was crouched in front of her before she flung it open. With one quick movement, she pushed Hannah through the opening. Perfect! The girl had rolled a few feet from the cabin, but was now upright and running toward the trees.

Slowly, as if nothing had happened, Catherine turned toward her captor. She saw the instant his brain registered the empty cot. Rage colored his face, destroying the image of a cultured businessman. At this moment, he was nothing more than an angry man.

“No!” he bellowed, the word echoing through the cabin as he raised his revolver and pointed it at Catherine. “You’ll pay for this.”