A Ransomed Heart (3 page)

“Was she hurt, is she ok?  His voice was still tight but held some gentleness.

“We took quite a tumble. The driver is dead; he was crushed when the stage fell over.”

Sevier
’s eye widened.

“The left back wheel came loose and so we crashed to the ground.  It happened so quickly I didn’t even realize what
had occurred until we were lying on the ground. Miss Casey was well enough to climb out the window; she was madder than a cat and I think she would have scratched their eyes out if she could have.”

The concern
lessened a bit and Sevier’s mouth pulled up a little at the corners.  He knew she could be feisty, he was fine with that, but he was still worried she may be hurt. 

“So you think she was
fine?”

Mousse nodded and closed his eyes, gently rubbing his sunburned face with his wrinkled hands.  This was going better than he had expected.
After all it wasn’t his fault Annabelle had been abducted.  Sure he could have rebelled or fought for her, but she was just a woman, even if she was beautiful.  Sevier was far calmer than he had expected, he attributed that a bit to his guests.  The room was quiet for a moment then Mr. Sevier excused himself.  When he returned he had a different expression on his face, one of determination.

His guests had been sent to dinner and now he needed to compose himself before he faced them again.  To his credit he had not
announced his intention to marry, he had planned that for tonight. It was not unusual for him to throw a party so none of those in attendance even suspected things were not going as planned.  He ran his hands though his gray-blond hair and closed his eyes; he rested his head on the door frame for just a moment before returning to Mr. Mousse.  He needed a plan and it would need to be good.  This was the first time in a long time he felt cornered, and he didn’t like that feeling.

Memories flashed in his mind of another time
and place when he had been against the wall.  The old anger bubbled in his stomach and he forced it down, keeping it under control.  That is what he had, patience and control, and he would use it.  He also had money and if it came to that he would gladly pay for the return of his stunning young bride.  She was, of course, worth every cent, but he had paid enough for her and the idea of giving more pulled at the proverbial tight apron strings.  Pushing the door open he smiled warmly at Mousse, the man still filled a need and he would not hold this kidnapping against him.  The one that was responsible, however, would surely pay for this inconvenience.

Mr. Mousse relaxed when he saw the change in
Sevier’s countenance.  He could also see the resolve in those eyes, something he knew well.  When Robert Sevier had a plan he stuck to it.  The room was comfortable now even in the thoughtful silence and he waited to hear the plan. 

Robert sat in the chair behind his desk and rested his arms on the polished wooden top. 
One hand brushed across his mouth and he nodded his head in agreement with his inner thoughts.  It was going to work.

“We
’ll pay the money.”

Mousse’s mouth dropped open a bit and he just gaped at the man across the desk.

Sevier nodded again.  “Nothing is more important than her safety, we will pay the money.”

“But…”
Mousse stammered.

“No, you know where it is, get it together
; you will be delivering it, get some rest and ice those legs.”  The chair squeaked across the floor as he stood and moved to the door.  His hand paused for just a moment before he turned the knob. “We will pay the money,” he said again under his breath as if he was trying to talk himself into it. Wearily he found his smile and proceeded to the dinner table, the always-perfect host.

Jean Mousse sat shocked in the empty room.  He couldn’t
believe what he had just heard.  Robert Sevier had always been immensely stingy about his money.  In all the years they had been together no one got a penny from the man without a considerable struggle.  Now he was just going to willingly give $100,000 to a man they didn’t know in return for Annabelle Casey.  Even as he struggled to his feet and headed for his room to change for dinner, he couldn’t grasp the concept. What bothered him most wasn’t that Sevier had chosen a woman over his coveted money, but that maybe his friend had grown some semblance of a heart.

They rode for several hours and Annabelle felt every minute of it.  Her back ached and the saddle horn had rubbed a
bruise into her outer thigh.  Even though she was trying her best, her shoulder would occasionally brush against her captor for a moment before she could straighten herself back up. Her emotions swung between fear and rage, weary and overwhelmed. What made things worse was that she could see nothing though the bag over her head.  Her forehead ached where she had hit it, and her hands were stiff and tired of being tied together. 

The first little while the group had been silent, the
air seemed to be charged and the horses moved quickly, but as one hour blended into two they began to converse between each other.  The man whom held her captive spoke most often to a man named Kit whose voice was a sweet tenor.  He must be young and she wondered if it was the man she had kicked.  She could only imagine she was riding with the man she had slapped, and she hoped his face still stung from her touch.  He had deserved it, and she probably would have done more if she could have escaped the other man’s grasp.  One thing she knew for sure was if she got another chance both of them would pay for this.

Logan rode for a while relishing in his victory.  They had accomplished everything they had hoped for that day.  Mr. Mousse was on his way to
Sevier’s ranch with the ransom note and the girl was his.  He looked at her form in front of him and shook his head.  She definitely had been a surprise.  The woman he had pictured was older, refined, and rich.  While this girl was obviously rich she was far from old and after the fit she threw he was wondering about the refined part.  His gloved hand touched his face; the sting had gone, but the memory was still fresh.  Kit caught the gesture and smiled.

“What
?” Logan shot back, grimacing. 

Kit chuckled and nodded at his friend
’s face.

“How’s your leg?”
Logan teased, knowing he wasn’t the only one who had been subjected to the woman’s fury.

Kit thrust his chin out and glowered at him. While
Logan’s pain might be gone, Kit’s leg still throbbed under his Woolsey pants.  He, too, looked at the girl and shook his head.  She was going to be a handful.

“
It’s a good thing we are almost there, I’m starving.” He had grown up a lot in the past while, but he was still a boy in so many ways.

Logan winked at him and smiled. “Me too, I
’ll be sure to get my fill.”  With that, he started whistling a tune absentmindedly.  Things were going just according to plan.

Annabelle wanted another chan
ce at both of them when she heard their exchange.  They had no compassion at all for her. Long ago she had started perspiring and the sweat ran down the back of her neck and wet the hair framing her face. She was miserable and all they could talk about was their supper. What were they going to do with her?  Her heart hopped in her breast when her mind ran over what they could have planned for her.  She could feel the perspiration quicken and she could only imagine what she would look like when they removed her face covering. She hoped it would be frightening enough they would steer clear of her.  If her looks didn’t accomplish that goal, her fists surely would. 

The rider continued his song and she
listened trying to settler her nerves a bit.  The sweet melody was familiar and she recognized it as Red River Valley.  Her family had been very musical, sometimes singing together as they worked in the fields.  Her mother’s beautiful alto voice would blend with hers and the boys could carry the tenor note together.  Her father had a rich bass voice laced with the Irish accent they had brought with them from Ireland.  Their memory made her feel sad and then it hit her, the real tragedy of her abduction:  if she didn’t marry Mr. Sevier, her family would lose everything.

She had
to suppress the urge to jump from the horse that second.  Chastising herself for her selfishness, she could feel the anger rising.  This whole time she had been concerned with her own welfare when she should have been concerned with the ramifications of her going missing.  It wasn’t just her honor she needed to defend with this group of outlaws, but also the future of her family.  Her fists clenched and she could feel her fingernails digging into the flesh of her palm.  She was going to get away; she didn’t know how yet, but she was.

As her mind
began to slip into planning mode, she nearly missed the new sound which was approaching.  Straining for the sound, she recognized it as water.  The horse’s hooves were making a different sound, no longer the soft thud of earth but the grit and grind of river rock. There was a single glimmer of hope: if this was the same creek that ran though her town she could find her way home. Then it dawned on her, this creek probably flowed though the town of Regency where Mr. Sevier lived.  This creek was her pathway to escape. 

She was jerked from this wonderful
idea when the horse’s big hoof slipped off a rock and he stumbled a bit.  The man protectively grabbed her around the waist and pulled her hard against his body.  Annabelle lost her breath as his strong arm clutched her.  His body was like a rock but warm, his smell was something between sagebrush and mint.  He smelled so delicious she felt her stomach growl.  That was ridiculous of course, and she pushed the thought quickly from her mind. It clearly was hunger that rumbled its way through her body, nothing more.

Logan
was certain she was going to tumble backwards off the horse and crack her head open, leaving him nothing to bargain with.  He swore under his breath and grabbed her before she could go over.  When her soft body came into contact with his, however, he almost wished he had let her fall.  Even though her hair was covered he could smell its sweet scent, a delicious soap scent drifted from her into his nose. Her body was so small but she wasn’t weak; she was soft where she should be and hard where she should be.  He quickly released his grasp when they were over the obstacle, but her smell and warmth stayed in the air around him.  In just a few minutes they would be at camp and he would be able to put some much needed distance between them. 

A few moments later the men
whooped with excitement.  They could see their camp and the chuck wagon. Annabelle could smell the cooking from her place on the horse and she knew, at least for a while, she could find some comfort off the back of the horse.  Before long she was being lowered into a different set of arms. Her heart raced in her chest and she went into fight mode. Pushing away from the man in front of her she waved her arms wildly in an attempt to strike him in the face, but before she could make contact someone grabbed her from behind, crushing her to his body. Furiously she kicked with both feet completely disregarding modesty in an attempt to break free. Her tired body gave up soon enough and she slumped against his broad, muscular chest.

“Slow down there
, you hellcat,” the voice said in her ear. “If you calm down I’ll take this bag off your head.”

Against her better judgment Annabelle struggled again, but his iron grasp gave her no leeway. This time
, completely exhausted, she bowed her head in submission.

“
Ya done?” he asked, the smell of mint filling the air in the bag.

She nodded and held very still so he wouldn’t
think she was going to lash out again. The bands loosened and he turned her around. The bag was lifted from her head and the cool evening breeze brushed across her flushed face and through her damp hair.  It was like a little bit of heaven.  Taking a deep breath she opened her eyes, squinting them against the setting sun.

Logan’s
partially shaded face was the first thing she saw.  She wrinkled her nose remembering it was him she had seen last.  Both were unpleasant thoughts but she didn’t look away from his blue eyes, unwilling to show she had been beaten. His face was rectangular with a strong jaw.  His eyes were a darker blue than hers and framed with blond lashes.  His hair was short and the same color as his lashes, fine stubble shown on his face.  His perfectly formed lips were smiling down at her showing off his pearly white teeth.  He was handsome to be sure, but she felt nothing but loathing toward him.  This man had nearly killed her, hauled her away from her future husband and put her family in the greatest deal of peril; she was determined to hate him until she died. 

Logan only smiled for a moment until he noticed
the streak of dried blood peeking out from under her hairline.  She looked slightly disheveled, nothing too bad; however, the injury concerned him a bit.  His mind flitted back to when she could have been hurt and realized she must have been banged up in the crash.  He chided himself for not being more observant. It would have been very bad if she had bled to death.  By the looks of it the wound seemed to be minor and the bleeding had obviously stopped quickly.  Logan would need to clean it, and her, up a bit before they returned home or he would really hear about it. The smile returned and he turned up his charm, now all he needed was for her to cooperate.