Full Steam Ahead (26 page)

N
icole glanced behind her for what must have been the hundredth time as she rode into Liberty. Still no sign of the Jenkins brothers. She knew they were out there, could feel them gradually closing the gap. Her best chance was to procure immediate transportation out of Liberty and away from Galveston, clearing the path for Darius.

Had Mrs. Wellborn given him the dagger yet? The sooner he made his way to Galveston the better. She didn’t know how long she could hold off Will and Fletcher. Hopefully long enough.

As she passed the buildings at the outskirts of town, Nicole slowed the gray to a trot, not wanting to attract undue attention. A woman riding astride was enough to draw comment on its own should someone happen to note her arrival. A woman galloping recklessly through the streets would turn every head in town.

The gray shook his head and snorted as he adjusted to the new pace, pricking his ears when he realized Nicole was directing him toward the livery. “Almost there,” she cooed,
reaching down to pat his slightly lathered neck. “You did well, my friend.”

A man in worn trousers met her at the livery doors, a straw dangling from between his teeth at the side of his mouth. He raised an eyebrow at her as he came forward to take the reins. “You ain’t the feller I rented this horse to. Whatcha doin’ with ol’ Sam?”

Nicole shifted in the saddle to slide her left foot into the stirrup before swinging down to the ground. There was no use hoping the man hadn’t noticed the ill-adjusted tack. His sharp eyes seemed to take in everything about her.

“I borrowed this fine creature from a Mr. Fletcher Jenkins after running into him up near Oakhaven.” She flashed her most brilliant smile, gratified when the grizzled man blinked up at her and lost his toothy grip on the straw. “I’m sure Mr. Jenkins will be along shortly to settle his account. Your Sam’s a real goer,” she said as she brushed past the stableman. “He deserves a good rubdown after our little excursion.” Then, with a wave of her hand, she escaped across the street before the man’s suspicious nature reasserted itself. The fewer questions she had to answer the better.

Reaching into her skirt pocket, Nicole felt for the small woven bag she’d stashed there earlier. Her fingers brushed against a metal clasp. It had survived the wild ride to town. Her coin purse was woefully thin—she’d never collected her wages from Darius, after all—but she’d grabbed it from her trunk while switching out the daggers, knowing she’d need every resource she could gather if she was to have any chance at escaping the Jenkins brothers. She wouldn’t be able to travel far, but if she could find a place to hide, she could send a message to Darius down in Galveston, and he or Wellborn could come after her.

It wasn’t much of a plan, she admitted to herself as she ducked into the stage office, but it was all she had at the moment.

“Hello, miss.” A jovial young man jumped up from where he’d been sitting behind a desk and hurried to meet her at the counter. She appreciated his ready grin even though it made little headway in soothing her frazzled nerves. “How can I help you today?”

“I need to purchase a ticket.” She pulled out her purse and dumped the contents onto the counter, cupping her hands around the coins to keep any from rolling onto the floor. She quickly tallied the amount. Four dollars and thirty-two cents. At a dime a mile she’d not have enough to get to Beaumont or Houston, but surely there were smaller communities along the way.

The clerk’s smile slipped a bit as he eyed the paltry assortment of silver on the counter. “And where are you . . . ah . . . hoping to travel?”

Nicole met his gaze without flinching. “The
where
isn’t important. What matters is the
when
. What time does your next stage leave?”

“Not until morning, miss.”

Morning?
The tiny piece of calm she’d managed to grasp ripped from her like a bandage from a wound, leaving blood to flow freely. Fletcher would run her to ground for sure. She couldn’t allow that, for not only would she be caught, but Darius could be compromised, as well. No, she had to lead the Jenkins brothers away from Liberty. Now.

“You don’t understand,” she said, trying to sound firm yet hearing a hysterical edge creep into her voice. “I have to leave today. Within the hour at the very latest.” She could rent a horse, but the livery would be the first place Fletcher
went once he arrived in town. If she ran into him there, it’d be all over. “Do you have horses to let here?”

The clerk’s eyes softened in sympathy. “I’m afraid not. They’re for company use only. The livery has—”

She cut him off with an impatient shake of her head. There had to be something else. She didn’t have enough funds for steamboat passage upriver, but what if . . .

“What about a freight company?” She grabbed the clerk’s arm, desperation surging through her. “Do you know of any wagons making afternoon runs today?”

The clerk gently disengaged his arm from her grip and straightened his sleeve. “Holsten usually makes a run up to the logging camp fifteen miles northeast of here on Fridays, but that’s no place for a lady to . . .”

Nicole stopped listening and started stuffing coins back into her purse. Right now she wasn’t a lady—she was a decoy. And if a logging camp was her only destination option, she’d take it and thank God for his provision.

“Thank you for your help.” She shot him a quick smile and hurried away.

“But, miss! I don’t think you should—”

Nicole closed the door, cutting off the man’s well-meaning warning. No time to second-guess. She had to find the freight office.

Checking over her shoulder toward the edge of town and praising God when she found the road empty of irate Jenkinses, she turned down the street that led to the river. Too much urgency pumped through her veins to keep her steps modulated, so she half walked, half trotted toward the wharf and ignored the curious stares of those milling about the market square. Let them notice. She needed to leave a few
bread crumbs for Fletcher to follow anyway. Just as long as he didn’t find them before she got good and away.

She recalled seeing a sign for Holsten’s Freight Service when she’d first arrived in town, so she headed directly for the rough-hewn log building situated near the ferry landing. A bearded man in a fringed, buckskin jacket was tying down a canvas tarpaulin over a wagon bed. Sharp corners and flat edges creased the canvas where crates had been loaded at the front of the wagon, but the canvas hung relaxed near the back.

Did she dare?

Nicole swept her gaze up and down the street. No one seemed to be paying her any mind. She could make it if she timed it right. But what if the driver caught her? How could she possibly explain? Biting her lip, she debated, watching as the freighter walked around his wagon for a final inspection. When his back was toward her, she crept closer, moving into position. Then, when he climbed up onto the bench and reached for the reins, she sprinted forward, hoisted herself over the closed tailgate, and ducked beneath the tarpaulin just as the wheels began to roll.

The wagon lurched forward before she had a chance to anchor herself. The motion flattened her and threw her roughly against the side of the wagon bed. She threw out her hands to brace herself, and her elbow collided with one of the crates. Burning pain shot up her right arm. Only then did she remember the sting she’d felt as she rode away from Oakhaven. Curling onto her left side in a protective ball, she reached around and gently probed the sore place on her arm. The fabric of her sleeve felt ragged, torn. Steeling herself, she ran her fingers over the flesh exposed by the hole in her sleeve. When her fingertips made contact, her breath hissed, and her eyes squeezed shut.

Cakes of dried blood flaked away as she explored. Fletcher’s bullet must have grazed her. The crease in her upper arm ached like the very devil now that she was aware of it, but it didn’t seem too serious, thank the Lord. She eased her hand away and forced a few deep breaths in order to calm her racing heart. She was safe. For now. Hidden beneath the canvas, she’d not have to worry about Fletcher spotting her should they pass him on the road. And once they reached the logging camp, she would gladly pay the freighter for his transport. Surely he wouldn’t be too upset as long as none of his goods were damaged. Right?

Pillowing her head with her good arm, Nicole settled into the rocking rhythm of the wagon and prayed that Darius would meet with much less excitement on his journey.

“Why is everyone so all-fired interested in that brown-haired gal? Females is nothin’ but trouble, and that one’s no different. Mark my words.”

Darius trailed after the liveryman as he paced from the barn entrance to the hay wagon that had just arrived. The fellow snatched up a straw from the mound of fresh hay in the wagon bed, jabbed it into his mouth, and took up the hayfork.

“So someone else asked after the young lady?” Darius prodded. He’d been pretty sure two sets of tracks had left Oakhaven land, the second set pressed deeper into the earth, as if the horse was carrying a greater weight. No footprints had been in evidence more than fifty yards outside the ambush site, so Darius concluded the Jenkins brothers had ridden double in their pursuit of Nicole, giving her the advantage. But once the tracks hit the road, there were too many other
hoofprints to decipher anything specific. He’d simply had to assume they’d all come to town. Realizing that they’d need to acquire a second horse, he’d made the livery his first stop.

The stable hand pushed past Darius, moved to the back of the hay wagon, and began to unlatch the tailgate. “Look, mister. I got work to do. I can’t stand around jawin’ all day.”

The man’s callous attitude ignited Darius’s already simmering temper. He marched over to the man in three angry strides, yanked the hayfork out of his hand, and tossed it aside. “That woman you so casually dismissed is my affianced bride,” he ground out between clenched teeth, his face thrust so close to the other man’s he could see individual whiskers poking from the fellow’s chin. “The men following her mean her harm. If you don’t tell me everything you know about the situation this very moment, I’m liable to loosen your tongue with my fist. Now start talking.”

The man glared up at him in defiance, not intimidated in the slightest. Yet he reached up and slowly pulled the straw from his mouth. “You sure the gal’s in trouble?” His mouth turned down in a frown. “She was all smiles when she rode in. Course ol’ Sam was lathered like he’d been ridden hard, and the stirrups were dangling far too long for a gal her size. I thought something was off about that.”

Darius stepped back, thankful that physical force would not be necessary. “Where did she go after she left the livery?”

“To the stage office. Though I don’t know what good that’d do her if she were trying to outrun those other two fellers. Next stage won’t leave until tomorrow.”

“How much of a lead did she have on them?”

“’Bout thirty minutes. Them other fellas rented fresh horses and set out after her. Said she was their sister, always playing practical jokes on them like stealing their horse and leaving
them to ride double. Seemed odd, but wasn’t my place to question, so I just pointed them in her direction and told them to take better care of my stock. Didn’t like the idea of them running the poor beasts ragged.”

Darius nodded and crossed over to the livery wall to retrieve the hayfork. With a dip of his chin, he handed it back to the man. “Thanks for your help.”

The man accepted the fork—and apparently the unspoken apology, as well. “I had me a gal once. If I had chased after her like you’re doing instead of letting her run off with my best friend, maybe I’d still have her.” He stuck his straw back into his mouth and turned toward the waiting hay wagon. “Hope you find her.”

“I won’t stop until I do,” Darius murmured, then set off for the stage office.

T
he crack of a gunshot jerked Nicole from her doze. Her heels kicked out in reaction, ramming into the side of the wagon. Pain ricocheted up to her knees. A small moan escaped before she could smother the sound. Not that anyone would hear her over the creaking wagon wheels, harness, and . . . were those pounding hoofbeats approaching from
behind
?

The Jenkins brothers. It had to be. Heart skittering and slamming around in her chest like a bird desperate to escape a glass box, it was all she could do to remain hidden when every instinct demanded she throw back the tarpaulin and see what was going on.

“Hold freighter!” Fletcher’s voice. Nicole bit her lip. “Hold, or the next bullet goes into your back.”

“Whoa, there,” the man called to his team, his voice surprisingly steady as the wagon began to slow. Hoofbeats pounded by on either side, drawing Nicole a vivid picture of the brothers surrounding the unsuspecting freighter.

“Reach for that shotgun, and you’ll regret it,” Will said.

Nicole clenched her eyes shut, praying the man would obey. Two against one were unlikely odds in any case, but she’d prodded the bear with Fletcher earlier. No doubt he’d nursed his rage over the last hours. It’d take little to push him over the edge.

“I don’t take kindly to threats, son.” The freighter’s gravelly voice resonated with authority and impatience. Nicole could imagine him staring Will down with narrowed eyes until the younger man looked away. “I got no goods worth stealing unless you’re craving new saw blades and coffee stores. Why don’t you two fellas take your little raidin’ party elsewhere.”

“We don’t want your goods, old man,” Fletcher growled. “We want the woman.”

“Woman?” The freighter gave a hoot of laughter. “Shoot, boy. I ain’t had a female ride a route with me since the time Clarabelle Stanton paid me twenty dollars to let her ride along to Dever’s Woods to meet the feller who’d been courtin’ her through letters. Poor cowpoke took one look at the six-foot woman and ran screamin’ for cover, leaving me to cart the snifflin’, sobbin’ creature all the way back to Liberty. No twenty dollars is worth that grief, I promise ya. I don’t know who set you after me, but you got the wrong freighter.”

“You’re the only freighter that fits the timeline. I got witnesses who remember seeing her in your vicinity before you left and none who recall seeing her afterward.”

“You callin’ me a liar, boy?” A chunk of granite would have been softer than that voice.

Nicole winced. Why couldn’t Fletcher just take the man at his word and let him pass? If the two powder kegs kept throwing sparks at each other, it wouldn’t be long before something exploded.

“Maybe she stowed away.”

“Impossible,” the freighter insisted. “I tied down the canvas myself and pulled out immediately after. I never left the shipment unsupervised.”

“Then you won’t mind if we take a look.” She could hear the snide smile in his tone, and her pulse rate tripled. She was done for.

Out of options, Nicole crawled to the end of the wagon bed. She peeked from beneath the tarpaulin and released a breath when she saw the thick stand of cypress trees lining the road. She had to go now, before they started searching the wagon. It was her only chance. Pulse throbbing, she counted to three, flung herself over the tailgate, and sprinted for the trees. Fletcher’s shout echoed all too soon behind her. Hoofbeats followed.

If she could just get closer to the river, where the woods grew thicker, his mount wouldn’t be able to maneuver and she’d have the advantage. She could find cover. Hide herself.

But even as the thought formed in her mind, she recognized the flaw. Fletcher was too close. There’d be no escape this time.

She ran in a zigzag pattern, darting around trees in the hopes of slowing him down, yet still he gained on her. The rush of the river grew louder, urging her not to give up. She ran faster. Harder. Her shoes churned the soft earth.

Hooves echoed directly behind her. Closer. Beside her. Nicole caught a glimpse of Fletcher’s looming shape in the edge of her vision. She cried out and dodged sideways, but not far enough. A heavy weight slammed into her back, knocking her to the ground.

“No!” She clawed at the earth, desperate to free herself. Tight arms locked around her legs, trapping her. Pinning her. She tried to kick him, but his weight wouldn’t budge. Then something hard connected with the side of her head, stealing
her senses. Her vision blurred and her ears rang. She ceased her struggles, hoping the stillness would help reestablish her equilibrium. Unfortunately, Fletcher took that as a sign of capitulation and roughly hauled her to her feet.

“I’m in no mood for any more of your games, Nicki,” Fletcher all but spat at her. “You’ll hand over the dagger or I’ll . . . What’s this?” The arm he’d wrapped around her middle brushed against the knife she’d stashed in her waistband. Grabbing the handle, he yanked it free. “Another fake? Where’s the real one? Where’s the Lafitte Dagger?”

He shook her so hard she feared she’d lose consciousness. She almost wished she would, just to escape his bellowing.

“Answer me!” He flung Jacob’s dagger aside. The boy’s treasured blade clattered against a nearby tree trunk before falling into the dirt and pine needles littering the ground.

A moment later the flat of Fletcher’s hand slapped her face. Stinging pain ripped through her. Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes.

“Where is the dagger?” he roared.

“I don’t have it!” Whipping her head around to face Fletcher, she glared at him defiantly. “Did you think I would be so foolish as to carry it with me when I knew you’d follow?”

“Liar!” His hands roved over her body, searching for the dagger.

Nicole slapped at his hands. “Beast! Stop that!” But he was too strong. Too determined. The only thing that made his hands’ moving over her bearable was the fact that he was so intent on discovering a bit of metal, he didn’t linger over softer areas. Still she felt soiled by his touch, and when he moved to feel about beneath her skirts, she kicked so wildly he had to call his brother for help.

“You take care of that freighter?” Fletcher grunted the
question as he wrapped both arms around Nicole’s middle, trapping her arms to her sides, and heaving her backward until her feet left the ground.

Will dismounted and strode forward, accepting the squirming package Fletcher thrust at him. “Yep. Took his shotgun and knocked him cold with my pistol butt. Then set the wagon off with a slap to the lead horse’s rump. He won’t be interferin’.”

Nicole screamed anyway, hoping someone, anyone might hear. But the sound died against the wall of trees closing her off from the road.

Will’s arms tightened around her midsection, crushing her chest and making it impossible to draw a full breath. Her screams faded into whimpers, which turned into silent tears of humiliation as Fletcher’s rough, filthy hand climbed up her stocking-clad leg. Her gaze curled upward toward heaven as she tried to distance herself from what was happening. Thankfully, Fletcher was efficient, and found the garter sheath quickly.

“Empty,” he growled, then yanked up her skirts to verify with his eyes what his fingers had told him. “Where is it?” he demanded as he flung her skirts back down and pushed to his feet. “Where’s the dagger?”

Nicole pressed her lips together in answer.

Fletcher stared at her long and hard. She stared back. Then all at once he turned away. Her heart soared for one precious moment of victory before plummeting to her toes when he grabbed her away from Will and started marching deeper into the trees.

“Stand guard,” Fletcher ordered. “I got an idea.”

“Where’re you taking her?”

Nicole wanted to know the same thing.

“To the river.”

The river?
Nicole struggled to keep pace with Fletcher’s longer stride. Every time he jerked her arm forward, she nearly fell on her face.

“I won’t tell you.” She tossed the words at his back, wishing she had something more substantial to throw. “No matter what you do, I’ll never reveal the dagger’s hiding place.”

The look he flung back at her chilled her blood. “We’ll see.”