Even through the crack in the logs, Ezra could see the outline of the pistol Jackson held as he moved into the stream of light from the doorway.
“I have her here at the door with a gun at her head. You have ten seconds left to show yourself, or the chit dies.”
Panic clawed in Ezra. He had to do something. Now. Father above, give me wisdom. He inhaled a stilling breath. “If you kill her, you won’t have a prayer of finding Opal. I’ll make a deal with you, though.” If he could just get the man outside.
“I don’t want a deal. Come out or I’ll toss her bullet-ridden body out for you to collect.”
The light inside the cabin grew stronger, and through the slit between the logs, Jackson’s outline merged with the limp form of Tori. Her head lolled sideways, which meant she hadn’t yet regained consciousness.
His body craved to peer around the corner to get a better look at what the man was doing, but he was facing the opening from this direction, and surely Jackson would see him. Although maybe it would make the man waste a few shots.
Ezra left his position near the peephole and edged toward the corner of the building.
But a motion in the distance caught his attention. A horse and rider.
Opal.
She rode low over the mare’s neck, her navy gown billowing behind her as the animal cantered through the clearing. What was she thinking?
Ezra peered around the corner to see Jackson raising his gun.
The man stepped to the edge of the doorway and opened it wider to watch the startling display in the yard. Then his hand snaked out, aiming a long-barreled pistol directly at Opal.
Ezra’s mind exploded, pushing his body into action. He aimed his Colt at the rapscallion, squeezed the trigger.
The explosion came, and Jackson’s arm jerked in the same instant. But the noise didn’t stop.
A volley of shots continued, jerking Ezra’s gun hand with the recoil. His gun kept shooting of its own accord, and he aimed it upward and struggled to keep the pistol from writhing in his grip. The powder from his shot must have ignited the chamber beside it, setting off a chain of gunfire. Of all the times for that to happen…
After five shots, the gun finally silenced, bringing a deep hush to the clearing. Even Opal had reined in her horse in the far corner, and sat watching. Ezra held the piece in both hands, cradling it as his mind spun through what to do next. All six of his shots were empty now. Had he even struck Jackson? He reached for the pouch at his waste to reload.
“I wouldn’t do that. You’re mine now, you and both the chits.” The throaty growl came from mere feet away, stilling Ezra’s racing pulse along with his hands. He eased his gaze up to the man.
Jackson stood in the snow, not five feet away, pistol aimed directly at Ezra’s head. At this close range, there was no way the man would miss. And the glimmer in his dark gaze shone with hatred and a barely-dampened fury.
This was the end. The day he would pass from this life to eternity. But what would happen to Tori? And Opal? He couldn’t leave them at the hands of this monster. Not without help.
God, have mercy on them. Bring them through this unscathed. I leave them in your hands.
The barrel of Jackson’s gun wobbled, and the man shifted his grip. Did he shake from fear or anger? His knuckles were a stark white against the polished walnut stock, the pale skin decorated by a thin layer of brown hairs. What in this man’s life had made him into the twisted, despicable cad standing here now, about to take the life of another?
Interesting how philosophical Ezra grew now that he stared death in the face.
He shifted under the weight of the man’s stare. “If you’re going to kill me, Jackson, go ahead and do it. I’ve no qualms about going to meet my Maker, and I know He’ll spare these women from your hand. No sense in dragging this out, though.”
The strong certainty that filled him was more than anything he could have conjured on his own. This peace had to come from God, including the certainty that Tori and Opal would be fine. Yet he couldn’t top the ache in his chest at the thought that he’d not have another chance to speak to Tori. To tell her of the love that had grown so surely inside him. To ask her again to be his bride. Beg her, if necessary. His chance had been lost.
Jackson’s grip tightened even more on the gun, and his finger shifted on the trigger.
A blast rent the air, and Ezra closed his eyes as he waited for the pain. Into Your hands, Lord.
Yet the blow never came. No bullet slammed into him, knocking him off his feet from the power of such a close range. Nothing.
The sound of a man’s groan made him open his eyes. Jackson had crumpled to his knees, writhing into a twist as he stared up at Ezra. His eyes had widened into huge glassy orbs.
A dark crimson mark stained the man’s chest, widening with each second as Ezra struggled to make sense of what had happened.
A noise came from his left, and he whirled to face the new threat.
The great, burly bear-man struggled to his feet, at least twenty feet out from the cabin, cradling his right side. Ezra leapt forward and snatched Jackson’s gun. He turned it on the other man. His gaze swept to where Opal still sat atop the horse at the far end of the clearing. She wasn’t exactly safe, but if she didn’t move, hopefully she wouldn’t snag the stranger’s attention.
As the man straightened, he seemed to be trying to catch his breath. Yet he moved readily enough. Had he been faking death, lying in the snow all this time? And who had shot Jackson? Opal didn’t have a gun, and the four of them were the only people here. Except Tori.
He took his eyes from the giant long enough to sweep his gaze to the cabin’s doorway. Tori still lay there, in a crumpled heap. A sight that caught his breath and wouldn’t give it back. Was she dead? Why hadn’t she awakened after all this time and commotion?
God, didn’t You say You would save her? His heart cried out the prayer as he clawed at any bit of the certainty he’d felt strongly only moments before.
Trust Me. Whether the feeling was actually sent from the Almighty or not, trust was all he could do right now. He had to deal with the giant who lumbered toward him, only a dozen feet away.
He sharpened his focus on the man, sighting down the trigger of the handgun.
“I’m not gonna hurt ya. Nor the women.” The man stopped, breathing hard as though he’d climbed halfway up a mountain. He nodded toward Jackson’s crumpled body. “Never did like him from the first, but he was offerin’ a small fortune that was hard to pass up. Feels kinda good ta put him outta his misery.”
So the bear-man had shot Jackson? Ezra took the man’s measure again. He’d just saved Ezra’s life. Did that make him trustworthy? Considering he’d obviously had a hand in kidnapping Tori, and maybe even in sending her into this unconscious state, Ezra wasn’t inclined to trust him.
Ezra kept the gun pointed at the man. “Stay where you are.” He shifted sideways, flicking his gaze to Jackson to make sure the man didn’t move as he neared. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Before he assumed Jackson dead, he’d feel for himself whether any lifeblood still pumped through his veins.
But there was no pulse at Jackson’s neck, and his body already seemed to be growing cold.
Ezra straightened, returning his full focus on the other fellow.
The man extended his hands. “You can tie me up if it makes ya feel better. We need ta get the girlie there fixed up, though.” He nodded toward Tori. “Jackson choked her in a fit o’ rage, but she was still breathin’ strong last I checked.”
Every muscle in Ezra’s body tensed as he wavered between securing this man or rushing to Tori’s side.
“There’s a good solid rope around back. Go ahead an’ tie me ta one of those trees yonder so you can focus on her.”
That settled it then. He motioned Opal over, and she held the man at gunpoint while he secured the huge paws to a stout tree.
“How bad’s the wound?” Ezra eyed the blood seeping through the man’s buckskin tunic. Maybe he needed a cloth to staunch the flow.
“Bullet didn’t hit anythin’ important. Go on and tend yer lady.”
Ezra tested the tie a final time, then rose and turned toward the cabin. He took the pistol from Opal. “Let’s help Tori.”
She ran behind him, but he didn’t stay and wait for her. Every minute—every second—could make the difference for Tori.
She still lay crumpled on the cabin floor as if she’d been dropped there. Which she probably had.
He sank to his knees and straightened her body, easing her over so he could see her face. “Tori, love.”
The rise and fall of her chest was faint, but the tiny movement spread such relief through his veins, he almost lost his balance. He stroked her cheek, flushed red from the cold. “Wake up, Tori.”
“I’ll get some snow to bring her around.” Opal disappeared outside again, then returned with a skirt full of fluffy, white ice.
He scooped some with his hand and wiped it across Tori’s brow. “Why would she still be unconscious? Do you think they drugged her?”
“I don’t know.” She knelt on Tori’s other side, then cupped snow in her hand and pulled Tori’s collar down. “This should do the—” A gasp cut off the last word.
Ezra leaned close to see what had caused Opal’s reaction. The dark blue marks on Tori’s neck made Ezra’s blood run cold. “She’s been choked.” He spat the words, trying to keep his anger tamped down. He’d heard the men talking about it, but seeing glaring evidence was enough to set fire in his veins.
His gaze wandered across the marks on her pale skin, especially right in the middle where her windpipe must be. He couldn’t help but shoot a glare toward the man lying facedown in the snow outside. What a sorry excuse for a life.
Why, Lord? Why would God create someone who did such vile and despicable things? Why would a good Father ever craft such a person?
He stared at the lifeless form. The man’s pale hands and face. The way his eyelids closed in something of a tortured look. Like he was as miserable now as he’d made others during his life. But maybe…perhaps he’d been just as tormented during his life. Maybe inner demons, or something horrible in his past, had driven him to make the decisions that had damaged Tori and Opal.
Lord willing, Tori would rise above the pain this man had caused, not just the physical wounds but the emotional wounds harder to see. But Jackson…he’d never have the chance to repent. Even now, the torment on his face was likely that of his spirit in the lake of fire.
But for the grace of God go I.
“I think she’s stirring.”
Ezra pulled his gaze from the fallen corpse back to Tori, who was turning her head the slightest bit. Her face and neck were sprinkled with snow and water, and gooseflesh raised on the skin just visible below her neck.
She moved again, and he reached for her hand. “Can you hear me, Tori? Wake up.”
Those beautiful, walnut-colored lashes fluttered, opening to reveal eyes that warmed him like nothing ever had.
“Tori.” He leaned closer, stroking her hand with his thumb as he fought back the emotion clogging his throat.
Her expression seemed bewildered as her gaze roamed from him to Opal, then back to him. She opened her mouth to speak, but the only sound was a wheezing rasp. She cleared her throat, a flicker of pain crossing her face with the action.
“What’s wrong?” He tensed, all his muscles coiling for action.
She opened her mouth again. “Where…are we?” Her voice was barely understandable through the rasp, and she pressed a hand to her throat.
“Don’t talk, Tori. Just rest. You were kidnapped, but you’re safe now. Jackson choked you, but he’s dead. You’re safe.” He stroked the hair from her cheek, craving to reach even closer. To feel for himself that she really was alive.
God, thank you, she’s alive.
Tori stared up at him, eyes wide and unblinking, yet her expression was inscrutable. He didn’t see fear in her gaze, nor wonder. Not even anger.
At last, she opened her mouth as she seemed to pull all her effort to speak. “He’s dead?”
The import of that single fact in Tori’s life struck him with a powerful blow.
“He’s dead, Tori. You’re safe. God protected you. He brought you back to me.” He couldn’t stand it any longer. He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.
When he raised up to look at her again, silent tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. The sight fractured something in his chest, and he pulled her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest.
She clutched his shirt with both her hands, clinging to him as her shoulders began to shake. The well seemed endless as she sobbed, releasing emotions that had likely been building for years. He could feel the torment with each fresh wave, the changing tide of grief and fear and the overwhelming rush of relief.
He held her close, rocking and pressing kisses into her hair. His chest had clogged so thickly, he couldn’t have spoken if he wanted to. It was enough to hold her. To be here for her. Be here with her.
And whether she agreed to it or not, he wasn’t planning to let anything separate them again.