two wheels.
Taylor straightened in her seat across from her husband. She was so rattled she didn't even realize she was still holding her gun in her hand. She was pointing the weapon at her husband. He reached over and took the gun away from her before the vehicle hit a bump and she accidentally made a eunuch out of him. Taylor watched him without saying a word. He put the gun in his pocket, then leaned back against the cushion and let out a long, weary sigh.
'How did you know?'
She'd whispered her question. 'Know what?' he asked in a much louder tone of voice.
'That Westley was going to shoot you,' she explained. 'I didn't even have time to call a warning… but you knew he was there. Was it instinct? Did you feel him behind you?'
He shook his head. 'You warned me.'
'How?'
'I was watching you. Your expression told me all I needed to know,' he answered. 'And when you raised your hand-'
She didn't let him finish. 'You shot him before I did.'
'Yes.'
'I should have killed him.'
'You could have, but you didn't. It's simple, Taylor. You chose not to.'
'As did you,' she replied.
'Yes,' he answered. 'But for an altogether different reason.' He went on to explain before she could question him. 'You didn't kill him because of morals I suppose and I let him live because I didn't want to get involved with the authorities. Killing him would have made things complicated. Boston is different from the mountains.'
'How?' she asked.
'You don't have to answer to anyone in Montana. It's still… uncomplicated.'
'You mean lawless.'
He shook his head. 'No, not lawless. But the law's different out there. Most of the time it's honest. Sometimes it isn't.'
Lucas was stalling because he didn't know how to tell her what he'd just learned. It was going to break her heart, and he couldn't think of a way to ease the torment he was going to cause.
'I hate the smell,' she blurted.
'What smell?'
'Guns. I hate the smell after you've fired. It stays on your hands and your clothes for hours. Soap doesn't get rid of it. I hate it.'
He shrugged. 'I never noticed it,' he admitted.
Taylor took a deep breath. Her voice was strained when she whispered, 'Did you find out anything?'
'Yes,' he answered. He leaned forward and took hold of her hands. 'The woman taking care of the children…'
'Mrs. Bartlesmith?'
He nodded. 'She's dead,' he told her then. 'But it wasn't cholera. According to Westley's wife, the woman keeled over and was dead before she hit the floor. She had a history of heart problems.'
'What about the babies?'
'Westley admitted they cleared the house of all valuables and sold off everything. They also took the little girls home with them.'
'I see,' she whispered. She gripped Lucas's hands.
Lucas couldn't stand to witness her pain. 'Listen to me, Taylor. We're going to find them. Do you understand what I'm saying? We will find them.'
'Oh, God,' she said. She could tell he hadn't told her everything and she was suddenly too frightened to ask.
'They aren't with the Westleys any longer.'
'Are they still alive?'
'Yes.' His voice was emphatic. She took heart.
'Then where are they? What have they done with my babies?'
Lucas let go of her hands and pulled her into his arms. He settled her on his lap and held her close. He wasn't simply offering her comfort. Honest to God, he didn't want to see her expression when he told her what the bastards had done.
'We're going to find them,' he promised once again.
'Tell me, Lucas. Where are the babies? What did they do to them?'
He couldn't soften the truth.
'They sold them.'
Chapter 11
The world is grown so bad that wrens make prey
where eagles dare not perch.
–William Shakespeare,
She didn't get hysterical. For a long while she didn't say a word. In truth, she was too stunned to show any reaction to the news. Then anger such as she had never felt before took control. It invaded her mind, her heart, her very soul. She became rigid with her fury. She wanted to kill Henry and Pearl Westley, and in those horrible moments of desolation and white-hot rage, she thought she might be capable of cold, premeditated murder. She would rid the world of such vile, contemptible animals and send them to the fires of hell where they belonged.
Reason finally prevailed. The devil would certainly thank her for the gift of two more souls, but then he would also own her soul as well. Murder was a mortal sin. Dear God, she wished she didn't have a conscience. She wanted to make the Westleys suffer the way she was suffering, but in her heart she knew she couldn't become both judge and jury and kill them.
Taylor wanted to lean against her husband's chest, wrap her arms around his neck, and demand his comfort. She suddenly longed to be dependent upon his strength but was so appalled by the notion, she immediately pushed herself off his lap and moved to the opposite seat. She adjusted the pleats in her skirts, all the while praying she would be able to find a few threads of her composure.
'I must be strong now. I can weep later.'
She hadn't realized she'd whispered the plea out loud until Lucas agreed with her.
'We'll get them back, Taylor.'
He sounded so certain that she took heart. She said a prayer that the little ones weren't being mistreated. Keep them safe, she silently chanted to God. Please keep them safe.
She suddenly realized Lucas was talking to her and tried to concentrate on what he was saying. Wire his friend? Why? She leaned forward and implored him to start over.
'The little girls were being taken to Cincinnati,' he explained a second time. 'There's a buyer there.' Waiting, he silently added.
'How long ago?'
'Two days past.'
'Oh, God, they could be anywhere by now.'
He shook his head. 'It takes forty hours by train to reach Cincinnati, Taylor. If we're lucky, my friend will meet the train.'
'But if they didn't go by train?'
