No One's Bride (Escape to the West Book 1) (15 page)

George returned and crouched beside her. “Can you stand?”

Her eyes went to the man lying on the floor. He was on his front, hands and ankles hogtied behind him. He turned his face to look at her and she shivered.

“Amy, don’t look at him. Look at me.”

She shifted her gaze back to George.

“Can you stand up?” he repeated.

She nodded, although she wasn’t sure. She couldn’t stop shaking. It was so cold.

“Just hold onto me,” he said, sliding one arm beneath hers and helping her to her feet.

When her legs buckled beneath her he scooped her up, one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back.

Amy wrapped her arms around his neck, closed her eyes and pressed her face into his shoulder.

“It’s all right, girl, I’ve got you,” he murmured. “Ain’t no one gonna hurt you now.”

Adam locked the front door to the post office after the last customer and stretched his arms above his head, yawning.

The day after the train delivered the mail was always busy, what with sorting and people coming in to collect their letters and packages, and today had been no exception. But it had also been his final day at the bank and that had been decidedly more difficult. He was trying very hard to accept the loss of his job, but it wasn’t easy. The injustice of it all kept sweeping over him. He’d lost count of the times today he’d had to tell the Lord that he forgave Mr Vernon. His forgiveness didn’t seem to be sticking.

After coming home from the bank he’d opened his Bible at random, not sure what he was expecting. The page he found himself on was Matthew’s account of Jesus’ crucifixion and Adam knew God was speaking to him. If anyone knew about unjust persecution, it was Him. At that moment Adam felt the presence of his Saviour. He wasn’t alone.

And if God was for him, who could be against him?

He dropped his arms to his sides and walked back behind the counter and through the door to the parlour. Maybe he’d go to the store and get something special for dinner later. Or maybe he could take Amy for a meal at the hotel. The wisdom of spending the money when he’d just lost half his income was questionable, but it would feel good. And when he told Amy about losing his job, it might go a little way towards convincing her that he wasn’t worried and she shouldn’t be either.

If
he told her. He hadn’t yet decided if he would. The last thing he wanted was for her to worry that she was causing him problems and move out. She was bound to find out sooner or later, but he still held out hope that it would all work out before that happened. Somehow.

He was about to go upstairs to change out of his work clothes when a pounding on the front door startled him. A second later it came again. He turned and headed back the way he’d come, a frisson of fear skittering up his spine at the thought of what could be so urgent to lead someone to almost break his door down.

“You need to get to the livery,” Walter Alvarez said as soon as Adam opened the door, panting between his words as if he’d been running. “Miss Watts was attacked. She’s...”

Adam didn’t wait to hear any more. Not even pausing to close the door, he pushed past Walter and took off at a sprint in the direction of the livery, his heart pounding in terror. He realised after a few seconds that he should have asked Walter for more details, especially how Amy was, but all he could think was that she needed him and he had to get to her as soon as possible.

But what if she was hurt badly?

What if she was dead?

He cast the thought aside. She wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be. God had brought her to him, He wouldn’t simply take her away again after so short a time. Adam needed to believe that.

Rounding a bend in the road and coming within sight of the looming wooden building of the livery, he almost sobbed with relief when he saw George seated on a chair outside with Amy on his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck and her face pressed into his shoulder. His relief was rapidly replaced by anger. Where had George been when Amy was attacked? How could he have left her alone?

Another man from the town was with them. Adam ignored him and skidded to a stop in front of them.

“What on earth happened, George?” he demanded. “Why weren’t you here?”

The distress on George’s face as he looked up almost made Adam sorry he’d snapped, but he felt like he needed to blame someone and right now George was in the firing line.

Amy raised her head to look up at Adam and a void swallowed his gut. A cut was oozing blood on the left side of her face, the surrounding flesh swollen and bruised. The right sleeve of her blouse was torn and dirt stains covered her dishevelled clothing.

His anger melting away, he dropped to his knees in front of her and raised one hand to her face, stopping short of touching it. “You’re hurt.”

She took hold of his hand. She was freezing.

“It wasn’t his fault,” she said in a soft, tremulous voice that pierced Adam’s heart.

He wrapped her hand in his, trying to warm her icy fingers. He’d failed her.
I should have been here to protect you. That’s why God brought you to me.

At the sound of footsteps behind him, Adam looked back to see Marshal Cade approaching, followed by Deputy Fred Filbert and Walter, who must have gone to fetch them after he’d come to the post office.

Amy swivelled round on George’s lap to stand and Adam rose to his feet beside her, putting an arm around her waist to support her when she swayed a little. She leaned against his side, resting her head against his shoulder.

“He’s inside,” George said to the marshal.

Adam’s gaze snapped to the open front door of the livery. The man who’d attacked Amy was in there? For a moment he wished he’d known when he arrived, but then he thought it was probably a good thing he hadn’t. He’d have found it very difficult not to go straight in there and do something that would have got him thrown in jail, the last place he should be when Amy needed him.

Marshal Cade glanced at his deputy. “Go and fetch him, Fred, and get him locked up.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Fred Filbert was unfeasibly tall and wide and looked like he could wrestle a buffalo into submission with one arm tied behind his back. Maybe the man would try to escape and Fred would have to get rough. Adam hoped so.

“Miss Watts,” Marshal Cade said, “if you’d like to go home, I can come over later and get your statement on what happened after you’ve had some time to recover. Would you like me to have the doctor come and check on you? That’s a nasty looking cut you’ve got there.”

She touched her fingertips to her cheek. “No, thank you. It probably looks worse than it is.”

Angry shouts and the sounds of a very brief scuffle emanated from inside the livery. A few seconds later Fred emerged with a greasy looking man Adam didn’t recognise in handcuffs. The stranger’s gait was awkward and he winced with every step. Fred had the back of the man’s collar fisted in one huge hand as he pushed him out the door.

In a flash of rage Adam forgot his need to keep himself on the right side of the law. He loosened his hold on Amy and stepped forward, hands clenching into fists. Beside him, Amy moved back. He looked down to see her eyes fixed on the man, wide with fear.

Releasing the breath he was holding, Adam deliberately relaxed his hands and returned to her side, sliding his arm back around her waist. She turned into him and lifted one hand to clutch onto his shirt.

Her trust in him wrenched at his heart. He should have been here. He should have protected her.

The stranger glanced at her and leered. George stepped towards him with a growl. Suddenly, the man’s smile vanished as he was swung around and pushed forward. With his hands cuffed behind his back, he landed on the ground face first with a pained grunt.

“Oops, sorry,” Fred said, his expression impassive as he bent to grab the man’s collar again. “Lost my grip there.”

He hauled the man upright and propelled him away from them, in the direction of the marshal’s office.

Amy’s grasp on Adam relaxed somewhat. His on her didn’t relax at all. The way he was feeling, someone would have to pry him away from her with a crowbar.

“Let’s go home,” he said.

Amy looked up at George. “Can you check on the horses? He was out there with them, but I don’t know if he did anything. He said he was going to take Clem.”

George placed his hand on her shoulder. “’Course I will. Don’t you worry about a thing. You just go home and rest.”

He glanced briefly at Adam before looking away. Adam stifled a sigh. He knew George cared about Amy and wouldn’t intentionally have allowed her to be hurt. Later he was going to have to apologise for his outburst.

They left George talking to the marshal and started for home. Amy was silent; her steps slow as she stared at the ground in front of her. Adam kept his arm around her, trying to support her as best he could. He longed to pick her up and carry her, but he wasn’t at all sure she’d want him to.

When they reached the busier part of town passersby began to stare after them and Adam steered them onto a back street leading to the rear of the post office where it was quieter.

They stepped inside the parlour and Adam turned away to lock the door. When he turned back Amy was standing in the middle of the room, looking lost. She raised her sad eyes to his.

Then she burst into tears.

Adam rushed to her side, panicked, as she covered her face with her hands and cried in great, heaving sobs. He raised his hands towards her without making contact, afraid he would scare her or somehow make it worse. What was he supposed to do?

When he couldn’t bear the sound of her distress any longer, he gently wrapped his arms around her trembling shoulders and she immediately leaned into his chest, gasping as her frenzied crying robbed her of breath. Not knowing what else to do, Adam finally picked her up, carrying her to the settee and settling her over his lap where she collapsed into him. He squeezed his eyes closed against his own tears, silently praying for the wisdom to know how to comfort her.

After a while her desperate sobs eased and he began to pray in a whisper. “Father, Your daughter is suffering. Please, be Amy’s comfort. Wrap her in Your loving arms and strengthen her. Take away her fear and replace it with Your peace.” He cupped one hand over her cheek without touching it. “Heal this wound, Lord, and thank You for keeping her. In Your Name, Lord Jesus. Amen.”

Her sniffles quietened and she murmured, “Thank you.”

He rested his cheek against the top of her head. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Just... keep holding me?”

He tightened his arms around her. “For as long as you need.”

He would hold her forever, if that was what she needed him to do.

~ ~ ~

Amy sniffed. Then she sniffed again. Her hand moved to her nose.

“You can use my shirt for a handkerchief if you like,” Adam said. “I don’t mind.”

She began to shake and at first he was afraid she’d started crying again. Then he heard her soft laughter.

She sat up and winced, her hand fluttering near the cut on her cheek. “It hurts to laugh.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll try to curb my wit.”

She laughed again and pushed his arm. “Stop it.”

He reached out to push a few strands of hair from her face, sliding them from the congealing blood. “We should clean that up before the blood dries too much.”

“Does it look bad?”

“No, just a touch messy. It’ll be better when it’s cleaned.”

If he could have, he would have taken the wound from her onto himself.

He ran upstairs to fetch some clean handkerchiefs from his bedroom, finding it difficult to leave Amy alone even for that short amount of time. When he got back to the parlour he took a bottle of iodine and a bowl of water and sat back down with Amy on the settee.

He handed her one of the handkerchiefs, which she used to wipe her eyes and blow her nose, then set to work cleaning the blood from around the cut. Despite doing everything humanly possible to not cause her more pain, she still flinched a few times. It made him feel like a monster.

After he’d apologised for the fourth time, she touched her hand to his face and said, “Please stop being sorry. I couldn’t want for anything more than having you take care of me.”

Adam froze, staring into her eyes. When she lowered her hand and looked down with a small smile on her lips, he breathed again.

When he’d finished with the iodine, he sat back to study his handiwork. He’d done what he could. It wasn’t a large wound and the bruising made it look worse than it was. Maybe he’d call the doctor, just to be sure.

“Um, did he... are you hurt anywhere else?” He very much didn’t want to ask, but he had to know.

“No.” She looked at her lap. “He tried, but I fought back as hard as I could.”

He reached out to take her hand. “I am so proud of you. You’re the bravest person I know.”

She raised her eyes and smiled and suddenly he couldn’t look away. He longed so much to take away everything bad that had ever happened in her life and replace it with all the love in his heart.

How could this depth of feeling have taken hold of him in such a short time? But perhaps it had started long before they met. He’d felt an undeniable connection to Amy from the very first letter she’d written to him, so much so that by the time she arrived he was ready to fall in love. It was as if she’d been made just for him. And, he hoped, he for her.

A knock at the front door made him start and Amy dropped her gaze and let go of his hand. Whoever it was instantly became Adam’s least favourite person in the world.

“I, um... I’d better answer that,” he said, rising. Why was he so flustered?

Marshal Cade and George stood on the covered porch outside the front door.

“Is Miss Watts up to answering some questions?” the marshal said.

“She’s doing better.” Adam stepped aside to let them in. George didn’t meet his gaze as he entered. Might as well get this over with. “Look, George, I’m sorry I got angry at you. I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt Amy.”