In a sudden rush, Minnie regained consciousness. Her heart raced with terror. She was on a horse with somebody, but this was nothing like when Art had found her in the snow and rode with her tenderly cradled in his arms as he tried to find shelter for them. No, this was not at all like that. This man was riding hard and fast and not making any effort to cushion the bruising jostle of the saddle.
As Minnie tried to assess her situation, she realized she was blindfolded with her hands tied. This man – Deputy Jasper, she recalled – had set her astride on the horse with her hands secured to the pommel. Astride! In her dress! She didn't recall getting on the horse, but the feel of hard leather in all the wrong places and rushing wind against the bare skin of her legs told her she was indeed astride. The bite of the rope at her wrists confirmed she was bound, and the blistering heat of angry curses, even muttered as they were, informed her clearly that the man sitting behind her didn't have protecting the citizens of Larkspur on his mind.
Before she could form another thought, she began to pray. Dear Lord, please get me out of this. Help me to stay focused on what's important and not get carried away with my own indignation. Please, please, let Mum be unhurt. Keep Arty safe, too, Lord. If this is how it has to be for me, I can live with that. But please don't let anybody I love come to harm because of this terrible man and whatever his interest in me is.
It felt good to be on speaking terms with God again. Minnie was glad she'd invited him out of the corner after she'd been stranded in the snow. She would feel quite the hypocrite if she'd continued to ignore God and then called on Him now when she was in danger. Not that He would turn His back on her, even then. There was more she wanted to say to Him, but the pain shooting through her head grew in intensity until she again lost consciousness.
****
"There," said Art, pointing to tracks in the dirt. "One horse, carrying a heavy load." Looking around, he said, "It doesn't look as if he's headed for the train after all. He's veering off west. That doesn’t make sense, unless he's planning on riding the entire way to San Francisco."
"Or if he has a hideout somewhere around here?" Wilcox's voice hovered between question and suggestion, and Art welcomed the input.
Nodding, Art said, "We follow. Wherever the tracks lead, we follow. Everyone stay on alert."
"How long have you known Jasper?" asked Mitch.
"He came into town about a year ago. His credentials were from Salt Lake City, and he appeared to be a good enough sort. A little lazy for my taste, but I needed a deputy and didn't exactly have people vying for the position."
"Why didn't anybody want to work for you?" asked Wilcox.
"Long story," Art said.
"I'd say we've got the time," Mitch put in.
They were taking their horses over an outcropping of rock, and the going was slow, so Art took the time to answer. "I grew up in Larkspur. A lot of people look at me and still see the kid I used to be, or the awkward teen. People don't always take me seriously. When Sheriff Spooner stepped down to go help his sister in Montana, and the mayor appointed me, some folks thought it was a bad choice, that I wasn't ready to be sheriff."
Art paused as the horses worked to navigate the rough terrain. Once they were past the point where Mutiny needed his undivided attention, he went on to say, “What folks didn't realize is that I've wanted this job pretty much my whole life. Every second I was a deputy, I trained and worked and learned so I'd be ready if the opportunity to be sheriff ever came. I wasn't ever going to let the people of Larkspur down. I didn't want anyone to ever regret putting me into office." With a bark of derisive laughter, he said, "Then I went and hired a dirty deputy."
"Don't beat yourself up too much, kid," said Wilcox. "We all make mistakes sometimes. What's important is learning from them so we don't repeat 'em."
"If Minnie doesn't survive this, it won't matter what I learn," Art said before spurring his horse on ahead of the others, shutting down any further opportunity for conversation.
****
She woke again, this time more slowly. The terror of before had abated. As she ran her tongue along the backside of her teeth, Minnie realized she wasn't gagged. Why would he blindfold me but not gag me? Instinct told her to engage Jasper in conversation, to say something that would make him like her and not want to harm her. Conversation was the furthest thing from her mind, though, and any words that might be useful escaped her.
The saddle was uncomfortable, and she'd be lucky if she got out of this without a sprained wrist. Having her hands tied to the pommel gave her little opportunity to brace herself against the jostling of the horse.
"Stop pretending to be asleep. I know you're awake," came the raspy voice behind her.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked.
"I was given an opportunity to make a lot of money, and I took it. Then your sheriff had to go and ruin it for me. I'm going to get something out of this if it's the last thing I do." His reply didn't sound angry as Minnie had expected.
"Where is this money supposed to come from?"
"There's a man in San Francisco willing to pay a lot of money to get his hands on you."
Such a statement could carry all manner of innuendo. Minnie shuddered to think what Jasper might mean. "Who is this man?" she asked.
"Ah, I don't think I'll be telling you that quite yet, Miss Minnie."
"You've always been so nice. How can you be willing to hand me over to someone so vile?"
"How would you know what I have always been? Hmm? You've been in town a couple of months, and how many times have we spoken to each other? Three? Maybe four? Don't pretend to know me, lady."
When Minnie started to say something else, Jasper reached a hand around her midsection and squeezed tight, effectively forcing the air out of her lungs. "That's enough talk for now," he said. "If you keep it up, I'll have to find a way to silence you."
Feeling the man's arm across her midsection, a band of steel securing her in place, Minnie gave up on conversation. As he removed his arm, his fingers traced across the fabric of her dress. Fighting panic, Minnie tried to control her breathing so it wouldn't betray her fear.
****
Darkness began to descend, but Art wanted to continue tracking Jasper. "Mitch and I aren't used to this terrain," Wilcox said. "And the chances of you losing that trail in the dark are too great. Let's make camp and get a few hours shuteye so you can see straight tomorrow. The horses need a break, too. They'll be fresh by morning and ready to go again. Jasper's going to have to stop, too, especially with the heavy load his horse is carrying."
Art grudgingly gave in. Even Mutiny was slowing down. He knew the California detective was right, but fear for Minnie made him want to push forward. They led the horses to a small stream. Thankfully it wasn't frozen over, and the animals were able to drink their fill. The men decided to forego a fire so they wouldn't give away their position. With not much more than hardtack and jerky in their saddlebags, it was a quiet and unfulfilling meal before they bedded down.
"I'll take first watch," offered Mitch.
Art studied the man for moment before asking, "Who's Cora?"
It was almost too dark to notice it, but pink tinged the tops of Mitch's ears. The junior detective broke eye contact, looking away.
Laughing, Wilcox said, "Tell 'im, kid, and get it over with. I doubt he'll spread it around, and you know he's not going to let it go until he has his answers."
Mitch glared at his uncle and then said, "You know how some kids have imaginary friends, right?"
Art nodded.
"I wanted a sister, so I made up an imaginary sister."
Staring at the man as if he'd grown another head, Art asked, "And you named her Cora?"
Mitch shrugged and said, "It's as good a name as any."
"That was clever," Art said to Wilcox. "No one impersonating him could have known the answer."
Clapping his nephew on the back, Wilcox said, "Yeah, well, I'm just glad he's alive. I thought for sure he was fish food." The break in his voice betrayed the depth of his emotion. "Not sure what I would have done if I'd lost him."
After a short time, Art spread out his bedroll and reclined, resting his head against his saddle. "Wake me when it's my turn to keep watch."
Art closed his eyes and tried to think about how good it would be to see Minnie. He focused on what he'd do after they caught up with her and Jasper. The smell of her hair, the defiant twinkle in her eyes whenever she thought he was being bossy. He was going to wrap her in his arms and never let go. Minnie was going to be fine, and he'd see to it that no harm ever came to her again.
Lord, please let that be the case. I don't think I could handle the alternative.
He drifted off to sleep, his dreams plagued by thoughts of everything that could go wrong, every terrible thing that could be happening to Minnie while he lay there in camp.
****
Jasper stopped his horse. "We'll make camp here." He untied Minnie's hands before roughly shoving her to the ground. Then he dismounted and took a long draw from his canteen before offering it to her. She took a drink, loath to put her lips on the same rim his mouth had a second ago touched. As if he sensed her reluctance, he leered at her and said, "I only have one bedroll. Guess we'll have to share."
Minnie knew she'd be helpless if he tied her up again, so she decided to do her best to get him to trust her. She sat down, docile in her actions, and made no attempt to escape. Hugging her knees to her chest, she shivered in the cold night air. It was spring in the mountains. The sun had warmed them during the day despite the bracing air. With the sun down, however, the temperature had begun to plummet.
Jasper saw to his horse first, then pulled something out of his saddlebag. Gnawing on a piece of jerky, he said, his mouth still full, "So whadya think about sharing my bed tonight?"
Minnie closed her eyes and willed herself not to react. His words may have formed a question, but his voice had demanded rather than inquired.
He laughed and said, "You're no delicate flower, are you? You've been married. You know what it's all about."
She bit the inside of her cheek and tried to hide her revulsion.
Jasper reached out and ran his fingers through her hair where it had come loose during their ride. Then, laughing at her, he stood up and laid out his bedroll. When done, he lumbered over and yanked Minnie to her feet and shoved her toward his makeshift bed. She tripped and fell, landing on his blanket. "Perfect," he said. "Thank you for cooperating so nicely."
He grabbed her hands, bound them again, and secured them to the pommel of his saddle. She lay there on her back, with her arms stretched above her head and her hands tied, trapping her in place. More than at any other moment since she first regained consciousness, Minnie felt her vulnerability. At Jasper's mercy was indeed an uncomfortable place to be.
Why Lord? Why?
Jasper lay down next to her on the blanket and ran his hand across her midsection, kneading her flesh through the material of her dress. He splayed his fingers and asked, "What do you think, Minnie? A little tumble to keep you satisfied?" He laughed cruelly at her silence, then rested his arm across her midsection and dug his fingers into her side.
Her panic was met with silence as his arm became heavy. Before she could process what had happened – or not happened – the deputy's snores told her all she needed to know.
Had he actually intended to…? Or was he trying to scare me?
Minnie wiggled her hands to see if she could loosen her bonds, but even the slightest movement on her part caused Jasper to stir and tighten his grip on her. Try as she might, she couldn't formulate a plan that seemed viable. As difficult as the years of marriage to William had been, she'd never felt this helpless. She'd stayed, in part because she'd convinced herself it was what she deserved, but even then, she'd always known she could get away if she had to. Here, though, with Jasper, there was no way out that she could see. He could do anything to her. She was utterly defenseless.
Minnie drifted into a restless sleep, longing for the sound of Art's voice, the reassuring timbre that made her feel so safe. She knew what he'd say to her, too, if he was there.
As long as you have God, you're never alone.