15

 

Alex sent one of the men to Andrew’s house with a message to wire the sheriff in Bridgeport.

Sheriff Harris was in his office. It took all of Alex’s persuasion and the angry resentment of the men to pressure Harris to action.

Alex quietly pointed out that if Harris didn’t do something, he might have a vigilante mob on his hands. Harris finally relented, insisting he was only going to The Crown Jewel to question Holloway.

“Make us all deputies.” Alex said with steel in his tone.

“Gladly.” Harris soon had the twenty or so men sworn in.

As they marched down the street towards The Crown Jewel, gentle flakes fell, silent and soft, beneath the muddy boots of the determined men. The wavering, orange light of their lanterns cast a sharp, discordant contrast over the sparkling, white scene around them.

Alex listened to the determined stomp of their feet and the irony of the situation impacted him. Twice he had been on the receiving end of a mob’s actions. Now he was the leader of a group of men with a similar mission.

The turn of events evoked a certain satisfaction.

Holloway’s empire was crumbling around him, and Alex had been instrumental in bringing it down. Still, he was very conscious of the fine line between justice and violence. He was determined this group of men would remain well within the law.

Tonight the saloon was oddly silent.

Alex opened the door and stepped into the near-empty place with Deputy Harris directly behind him.

Poker players sat at a table in the corner and several women lounged nearby.

As Alex crossed to the bar, the men stopped playing and the women came to their feet.

“I don’t want any trouble. I just serve the drinks. Nothing else.” The barkeeper threw up his hands and backed away.

“But you know about the other things, don’t you?” The disgust and core of steel in his own voice surprised Alex.

The man had the good sense to look shamefaced and kept his hands raised.

“Where’s Holloway?

“I don’t know. He left two, maybe three hours ago. Red and Andersen were with him. They haven’t been back since.”

“Where did they go?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t tell me his business.”

“But you know it anyway, don’t you?”

The man considered his answer before he nodded. “I hear things sometimes.”

“Did you hear them planning to beat up a boy tonight?”

“Red was drinking pretty heavy. I heard him talk about it. But Andersen said they didn’t have time.”

“Time? What did he mean?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think they plan on coming back. Holloway emptied out the cash box. All of it. Even what he had in the safe.”

“And you didn’t hear where they were headed?”

The man shook his head.

“I did.” The woman who spoke was one of Holloway’s saloon girls. “Andersen was fretting about wasting time. He said Esmerelda was too far away. They needed to get on the road before the storm broke.”

Esmerelda.

Alex released a frustrated breath.

Holloway knew the sheriff in Bridgeport would be on the lookout, so he rode in the opposite direction, higher into the Sierras over a dangerous, snow-filled pass.

Alex couldn’t endanger these men’s lives in pursuit of Holloway over a road that was treacherous enough in the daylight, let alone after dark in a storm.

No wonder Andersen had fretted.

Holloway and his buddies would be lucky if they made it to Esmerelda.

The door burst open with a flurry of cold air and snow.

Tom rushed in on the gust.

“Penny’s gone!”

“What?” Ice flowed through Alex’s veins.

Tom had no coat or jacket and was out of breath. “She went out to fetch water. They snatched her up, not more than ten feet from the back door. I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t even know she’d gone outside. I would have stopped her if I’d known.”

Cold washed through Alex, slowed his thoughts, and froze his words.

Penny was gone.

Holloway had at least a thirty-minute head start, maybe more, on the road to Esmerelda.

Alex spun and ran out the door. Someone called his name, but he didn’t stop. Slipping and sliding over the sleet-covered boardwalk, he ran to the stable. It took him precious minutes to saddle his horse.

Bart was in another stall, a saddle in his hands.

Others joined him.

Alex didn’t wait. He leapt onto his mount and kicked it into a gallop.

Outside, a blast of cold air hit him. Beneath his thighs, he felt the horse shiver.

Slow down. Give him time to warm up. You can’t help Penny if the horse falls dead beneath you.

It took all of his willpower to pull up on the reins and slow the horse’s pace. He climbed the hill and left Bodie behind.

The wind whipped across the barren flats, swept clean of trees for Bodie’s ravenous lumber need. He wouldn’t get far without some sort of shelter from this deadly, icy wind.

Tracks. Follow the tracks. As long as there are tracks, you’ll find her.

But would it be too late?

The image of Jann’s pummeled face flashed in his mind. Jann was bulky, solid muscle.

Alex couldn’t even imagine what a punch like that would do to Penny’s delicate features. His mind locked up every time it went in that direction.

A deeper panic swept through him when he thought of worse things they could do to his wife, and he was thankful for the icy storm. They wouldn’t stop in the middle of the storm. She was safe as long as it raged.

Unless I lose the tracks. Please, God, don’t let me lose the tracks.

His mind raced in frantic, desperate circles. And always, at the back of his conscience, was one idea. This was his fault.

Penny had asked him not to stir the pot. She’d begged him to let things alone, to let them live in peace.

He’d done his duty. He’d stood up against the townspeople of Harperville and nearly lost his life. He’d served in the war and nearly lost it again. He’d done enough.

But in his pride and overconfidence, he had taken up one more crusade, one more stand for justice, and now it could cost Penny her life.

Please God…

It didn’t seem right to pray. God had answered his prayers and returned Penny to him. But because of his pride, his certainty he was meant to right the world’s wrongs, he had put her in danger again. Whatever made him think he could do God’s job?

Please…not for me. For her. Penny shouldn’t suffer for my wrongs.

It was one thing to put his own life on the line, but for his loved ones to be in jeopardy was unthinkable. His heart had nearly shattered when he saw Jann’s bruised and battered body, and now Penny…

For the first time, he understood the depth of Penny’s suffering, the anguish she’d experienced while she’d waited and watched for his return. And yet, he had chastised her, told her to trust in God and to live.

Trust. Is that what this is about, Lord? Trust and faith?

Was God asking him to have the same faith he asked of Penny? No voice came out of the storm to answer his question. No peace filled him. Up ahead the wind whistled and snow blew in wicked flurries.

Yet in spite of the storm, the tracks ahead of Alex were clear and distinct. He could see them far into the distance. He took that as a sign and urged his horse to move at a faster pace.

 

****

 

Penny’s head pounded. What she’d thought was a blanket was actually a burlap bag. Its rough texture scraped against her cheeks. The bag had confined her arms, and someone held her while they tied a rope around her. Then she was thrown over the horse’s back.

Penny was thankful Andersen climbed on behind her.

Red sounded drunk and Holloway was viciously angry.

As they rode down the streets, she had reason to be thankful it was Andersen above her and not one of those two.

Andersen was not happy, either. He complained about the weather and the pass to Esmerelda. He blamed the other two for wasting time, waiting to capture Jewel. When Penny stepped outside The Copper Penny, Andersen had suggested they take Penny and swap her later for Jewel.

Holloway had agreed, but now as the miles fell behind them and the storm grew fierce, Andersen groused about the lost time. He continued his complaints until Holloway threatened to shoot him if he didn’t shut up. After that, he was quiet as they fought the sleet and the wind.

The blood rushed to Penny’s head. It pounded with each step the horse took. She felt dizzy and nauseated. Afraid she would throw up in the bag, she struggled to draw breath.

The wind died down a bit and Red spoke into the silence. “Wish I could see Marsden’s face when he sees his pretty little wife is gone.”

Penny tensed.

“It would be even better if she wasn’t quite as pretty,” Holloway said, his low tone full of venom.

“Yeah.” Red slurred the word. “It’d be a pity to waste all that prettiness. Maybe we should enjoy some of it first.”

“You stupid fool!” Andersen spat. “Do you see this storm? If we don’t pick up the pace, we’ll be frozen in our saddles.”

Another argument started between Red and Andersen.

Penny lost the thread of it. She didn’t know if it was blood in her brain or the cold, but her mind looped in circles.

She’d sensed it from the beginning, sensed the trouble coming, knew they were headed down the same path as before. All her prayers had done nothing to stop it. Only this time, it was her life in danger, not Alex’s.

Somehow that seemed right. Alex should be the one to live. He was the leader. The strong and faithful one. He could take care of everyone…of Lexie.

A little sob escaped her, but the sound of it was lost in the wind and the men’s bickering.

Yes, it was right Alex should be the one to live. He was wiser, a better person…more loved by God.

Was that true? Did God love her less?

It must be. Otherwise why would He allow her to suffer like this, bent over a saddle, listening to these malicious men?

“This is too much.” Andersen shouted. “She’s slowing us down. We can’t drag her all the way to Esmerelda.”

The wind had picked up. It screamed like a living thing, so loud, Penny could barely hear Red’s response, but she heard Holloway very clearly.

“Go off the trail and tie her to a tree. By the time Marsden finds her, she’ll be dead.” His words were as icy cold as the wind.

Andersen hesitated. The horse didn’t move.

“Did you hear me?” Holloway shouted louder. Someone rode their horse close—Penny assumed it was Holloway—and slapped the rump of Andersen’s horse. It skittered into action.

“I don’t hold with killin’ a woman,” Andersen mumbled.

“I’ll do it.” Red laughed. “I’ll be happy to after the trouble she’s caused us.”

The horse traveled over uneven ground. At last it stopped.

Rough hands grabbed Penny, dragged her over the saddle and pulled the burlap bag off her head.

She blinked at Red as the world spun back and forth. The bag had torn her hair loose and now, the wind whipped copper-colored strands across her face. She could barely focus as Red took a coiled rope off his saddle and, using a large Bowie knife, cut off a long length.

He tucked the knife in the band of his heavy coat and tied the end of the rope around her wrists so tight, she couldn’t even twist them. The rough hemp cut into her skin.

Then he dragged her to a nearby pine tree. The tree was about two feet across. The branches didn’t start until five feet above the ground. Red ducked under the branches and wrapped the end of the rope securely around the tree. He tied it so tight, Penny was forced to lean into the rough bark.

“Now take her cloak. The sooner she freezes the better.” Holloway shouted louder over the wind.

Andersen stood across from Penny. She could barely see his eyes beneath the brim of his hat, but it was clear that Holloway’s order troubled him.

Wind swept her hair across her face and blocked her view. But as Red grabbed for her cloak, Andersen cursed and shoved his arm away. “She’ll freeze soon enough. Let’s get going.”

“The boss said take her cloak.”

“I said don’t do it,” Andersen shot back.

Red tried to grasp Penny’s cloak again, but this time, Andersen punched his arm.

Red swore and lunged for him.

They wrestled back and forth.

The large Bowie knife Red had used to cut the rope slipped out from the band around his waist.

Penny stared at it, waiting for one of the men to notice it on the ground.

They didn’t.

If she could reach it, she might be able to cut the rope and walk back down the trail. And still she just stared at it. Pick it up! Pick up the knife!

Her mind screamed, but she couldn’t seem to make her body move. At last, she managed to kick the snow, covering the knife.

Andersen broke Red’s hold on his arms and fell back. He stepped right on the knife.

Penny held her breath.

Andersen seemed not to feel the object beneath his foot.

Red lunged towards Andersen again, but Holloway rode his horse over, pulled his gun from his holster and shot Andersen point-blank. The shot echoed over the noise of the wind.

Penny stared at Andersen’s body as it crumpled to the ground. Red blood seeped onto the white snow.

“I’ve had enough of him,” Holloway said.

Red’s laughter sounded wicked as he kicked Andersen’s inert body.

Holloway said, “We need to get moving. This storm is getting worse.”

“What about her?” Red asked.

Holloway stared at Penny as sleet slanted the air between them. “The storm will take care of her.” He kicked his horse and rode across the clearing.

Red looked back at Penny. Then he mounted and galloped away, disappearing in the shadows of the trees. His cruel laughter floated back to her.

Andersen never moved.

Penny couldn’t tell if he was dead or alive. She was completely alone. The wind shrieked across the clearing, taunting, shrill and empty.

Now is not the time to panic. Get the knife.

It was hard to make her cold, numb body function. But finally, she stretched out her leg and kicked at the snow until she found the buried knife. She could just touch it with the tip of her shoe. By gouging a trench in the snow with her heel, she was able to drag the knife towards her.

It took more precious minutes, inching the rope down the rough bark to reach the knife with her fingertips. Fortunately, the line was taut and the knife sharp. After just a few moments of sawing, the rope broke loose. Penny tumbled back into the cold snow.

She was tempted to lie there, to rest a moment longer, but she felt the icy lethargy creeping back into her body.

She struggled to her feet, clasping the knife. She pushed upwards with her still-bound hands, tucked her snow-covered, damp hair under the hood of her cloak as best as she could, and bent over Andersen.

He moaned when she turned him over. With her bound hands, it was difficult to loosen his coat to see the wound, a bullet to the shoulder. Whether for good or bad, the cold seemed to slow the bleeding.

Penny’s petticoat was ripped, so she managed to pull loose a clean strip to make a compact. Only a little blood showed through as she pressed down. For now, she took that as a good sign.

As she pushed hard, Andersen moaned again and opened his eyes. “You? How did you get loose?”

She held up her bound hands. “I’m not completely free.”

She tugged his jacket together and pushed him to his side. “Can you stand? The search party will never find us tucked back in the woods like this.”

Andersen shifted so he could look at her. Snow fell between them and directly onto his upturned face.

Penny could see wonder and pain etched into his hard-bitten features.

“You’d do this for me…after what I’ve done, how I’ve treated you?”

Penny took a slow breath. “I don’t do it for you, Mr. Andersen. I do it because it’s what my Lord would have me do. Now turn over. Let’s get you to your feet.”

He rolled to his side and reached for the Bowie knife she’d dropped on the ground. With trembling fingers he lifted it towards her.

Penny caught her breath, but then he grasped her wrists and slid the long knife beneath the ropes.

It took them several long minutes to get Andersen on his feet. They moved towards the tracks left by the horses. It didn’t take long for weariness to overcome them.

The wind dragged at Penny’s damp skirts.

The snow was deep, the path rough, despite the horse tracks that had plowed through the snow earlier.

Penny got herself and Andersen over the dips and hollows by saying the road would be smoother. It would take less energy, be easier when they reached the road. They just had to get there. At last, they stumbled out of the trees.

The outline of the road could just be seen beneath the snowdrifts. Penny tripped in a dip and they both fell. She landed on her knees. Barely able to lift her head, her gaze skimmed down the road. Hoof prints headed in both directions…right and left.

She tugged the hood away from her eyes and squinted, but still didn’t know which way to go.

Andersen was near delirious.

Esmerelda was at least two hours away.

If she chose the wrong direction, they’d die.

Penny slumped, face down in the snow. She thought of Lexie and Alex…how Alex had made her feel cherished and beloved. Hot tears filled her eyes. The warmth was wonderful. Comforting.

She was beloved. Worthy. Even if she stayed right here and went to sleep, she wasn’t alone. God was with her and He loved her. She was His precious child. She’d waited all of her life to feel something like that, to know His kind of love. Surely, He didn’t mean for her life to end now that she knew Him?

Penny opened her eyes and blinked away the tears. Their warmth had eased the blurriness. She could see clearly. Right in front of her was a rounded hoof print, headed to her right. A thought clawed its way through the numbness overtaking her mind. She looked to her left. Those prints faced right, too.

Struggling to her feet, she hurried down the trail. All of the hoof prints on both sides led to her right. Holloway and his men were going to Esmerelda. That meant the way to Bodie was left.

God wasn’t done with her yet!

Laughing out loud, she lifted Andersen by his good shoulder.

“Leave me, Miz Penny. I can’t go on. Just leave me.”

“My God never gave up on me, Ben Andersen. I’m not going to give up on you.” She pushed and pulled him to his feet. Wrapping her now-sodden skirts over her arms, they hurried down the road.

The wind beat at Penny. Snow blinded her eyes. She lost track of time and stumbled on numb feet.

Afraid she might trip and fall on the knife, she dropped it along the road. She considered stopping long enough to wrap torn petticoats around her frozen feet, but she feared if she sat down, she’d never get up and would certainly not get Andersen up again.

Her feet and hands burned. She told herself it was a good sign. As long as there was pain, there was life. The time to worry would be when she couldn’t feel them at all. Still, the pain tore at her.

Alex said her singing helped him through his pain. Why hadn’t she remembered it sooner?

Her voice cracked. Picking up a small handful of snow, just enough to wet her throat, she tried again. This time the note rang out clear.

She sang all of her fun, happy songs. After that, she started on the hymns.

The wind tore at the words, whipped them away. She couldn’t hear her own voice, but she closed her eyes, stumbled on, and kept singing.

Finally, a noise floated back to her on the wind. A different sound.

She opened her eyes. Her vision was blurred, but she saw horses galloping towards her. She whimpered and faltered.

Holloway and Red had come back.

Blinking several more times cleared her vision.

Many horses narrowed down to one, churning up mud and snow as it charged towards her. The rider was hunkered down so she couldn’t see his face, but she was certain it was Alex.

He had come for her at last.

Relief overwhelmed her and she slumped to the ground.

Andersen never even made a sound.

In moments, Alex was beside her. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted. “I thought I’d lost you.”

She snuggled next to his warm body and tried to smile through cold, frozen lips.

“Not yet. God has a plan for me.”