By the time Carter returned from Gettysburg with the contract for his lumber in hand, full dark had settled over the town. Aided by the light of the full moon, he climbed down from Orson’s buggy, waved his cousin goodbye, and strolled across the field toward his cabin. After such a long day atop the wagon seat, he was looking forward to the warmth of a roaring fire and the many delights of Deidra’s body.
Once he’d unlocked the door and stepped inside, he called out to her. “Deidra? I’m back.”
There was no answer from within the dark recesses of the cabin. He went to the cabinet, got down his oil lantern and lit it. Thinking she might be asleep, he crept into the bedroom.
The covers were rumpled, but as he moved them around, he saw no sign of her. It was already past eleven o’clock at night. Where would she be at this hour?
He returned to the front of his cabin, set the lantern on the table and dropped into one of the wooden chairs. He knew she wasn’t visiting with his aunt in the main house, not with his crotchety uncle skulking about. It was likely she’d gone into town but everything on Main Street was closed at this late hour. Even if she’d been visiting with someone, she should have returned hours ago.
He ran a hand over his tired eyes. Part of him said that since he had no real claims on her, he shouldn’t concern himself with her whereabouts. Yet he couldn’t shake his worry. Somehow, he felt she might be in some kind of danger.
He got to his feet, the lantern in hand. With it being so late, it would be rude to disturb anyone’s sleep now, especially since all he had to go on was his own hunch. There was a chance that she was perfectly fine, perhaps spending the evening with a friend. A female friend, he hoped.
He sighed, slipping his hat off his head and hanging it on the hook. Next he shed his coat and hung it up as well. He would wait the night to see if she returned. If she did not, he would inquire in town to see if he could determine where she’d gone.
A yawn escaped his mouth as he got out of his clothes, tossing them to the floor. He crawled into his bed, pulled up the covers. Right away, he missed the warm softness of Deidra’s body lying next to his. The bedclothes were still scented with the rosewater she favored.
There in the darkness, with the moon shining into the lone window in the room, he stared up at the beams in the ceiling, and waited for exhaustion to carry him off into sleep.
Instead, worry kept him awake most of the night.
* * * * *
Shivering, Deidra wrapped her arms around herself, pressing deeper into the corner. She had no idea where she was, other than in an old, drafty barn. Thick darkness cloaked the interior of the structure and now that it was night, the dirt floor had grown intolerably cold. She lifted her cloak from the dirt, shook it off to clear some of the dust, and wrapped herself in it. It was all she could do to fend off the chill.
She was alone in the barn, with not even a horse or chicken to keep her company. Her only companions were the hard-packed dirt and the straw that littered the floor. Her kidnapper had fished around in her skirt in search of weapons and taken her gun in the process, so she was without defense save for her wits and her own hands and feet. She’d been tossed in here while it was still light and she could tell it was now many hours later.
Deidra wanted to check her grandfather’s pocket watch for the time. She felt around in the darkness for a few moments, before she recalled she’d dropped her handbag in the woods outside town. Uttering a rather unladylike curse, she shrank into the corner again and resumed her shivering.
She closed her eyes and thoughts of Carter consumed her mind. She knew he had probably come home by now and found her gone. Was he out there in the darkness, searching for her? Or did he think he’d spooked her with his talk of relationships and caused her to flee? She hoped he knew she would never leave him in such a manner without talking to him.
As things stood now, her situation was dire. She had no idea where she was, who had taken her, or for what reason.
A loud creaking sound drew her attention and she saw the barn door swinging open. A shadowy figure carrying a lit lantern strolled in. His manner seemed rather casual, considering the fact she was trembling in a stranger’s barn like some wounded animal.
In the light cast by the lantern, she could make out some of his features. He was white and of average build and height. He had short, stringy dark hair that peeked from beneath a beat-up flat-crowned hat.
When he got close to her, he stooped down. She squinted against the light as he shone it on her face. His lips curled into a sinister smile. “How’re you faring, Miss LaRue?” His words dripped with sarcasm and disdain.
The dislike was entirely mutual. Her teeth were fairly chattering as she sneered at him. “I’m freezing to death! How do you think I’m doing?”
He frowned. “Come on, now. This is a perfectly nice barn. Be a little more appreciative.” He tossed down a bundle of something. “Besides, I brought you some blankets. Boss says he wants you alive.”
She didn’t know who this “boss” he referred to was, but she’d heard enough of his bluster to know this wasn’t the man who’d taken her from town. Grabbing up the bundle, she unfolded the three thin blankets and threw them over herself, on top of her cloak. “Much obliged.”
He gave her a yellow-toothed grin. “Well, if you’re really thankful, I say you ought to show it.” He knelt and tried to slip his hand beneath the blankets she’d just piled on.
She stepped on it, crushing his fingers beneath her flat-soled boot. “I’m not that damn thankful, you cretin.”
“Ahh!” He hollered and withdrew his hand. “You’re just as uppity as the boss said you were. Now you’re gonna pay, bitch.” He drew back his good hand.
She closed her eyes. Just as she braced for the coming slap, she heard another voice. “Don’t you hit her, Roy!”
Her eyes popped open. She knew that voice.
It was the man who’d taken her. Roy, the one who’d just tried to violate her, got to his feet and backed away.
She looked at the tall, broad outline of the other man as he approached and wondered why he’d come to her defense.
“Aw, shucks. She was mouthin’ off at me. Why’d ya stop me?” Roy seemed miffed he hadn’t gotten to strike her.
“Because,” he rasped as he stooped down near her, “Boss wants her beauty kept intact, remember?”
Her heart jumped up into her parched throat and she coughed. She shrank back even farther into the corner as she came face to face with her abductor.
He was a man of native descent. His black hair hung well past his shoulders and was accented with a long, colorful feather. His face, streaked with war paint, held only one coal-black eye. Where the other should be, there was only a jagged scar.
His smile chilled her far more than the cold air swirling around them. “Don’t worry, Miss LaRue. We’ll keep you alive until the boss comes for you.” He set down a tin plate holding what looked like millet, and a tin cup of still warm, dark liquid, likely coffee or tea. “Eat up.”
He stood to his full, towering height and gestured for Roy. Leaving his lantern behind, the shorter man joined his superior and the two of them left, shutting the barn door behind them. She listened as they locked her in, then walked away, the dry branches and leaves cracking beneath their feet.
She sat in the dim yellow circle of the lantern light, looking at the plate and cup as the tears welled in her eyes. She had to assume they wouldn’t poison her since the tall man seemed so intent on preserving her for their so-called boss.
She remembered Roy’s words about her being “uppity.” Someone else had said that to her, not long ago.
She turned the word over in her mind for a few moments.
Wilson.
He was behind this, she could feel it. She guessed this was his way of getting back at her for turning down his repeated offers to work for him. She knew of no one else who had any serious quarrel with her or who had enough funds to hire two goons to bedevil her on his behalf. She shook her head at the foolishness of it all. What a petty, mean-spirited little man.
Taking a deep breath, she dried her tears on the corner of the top blanket, and reached for the dishes. She would eat and drink what they gave her so when she did come face to face with Aaron Wilson, she’d be at her full strength.
Because she was going to try her best to knock every one of his crooked teeth right down his throat.