“I have money,” I tried. “Gold eagles. Four of them. All yours, if you let me go.” I fought to keep my voice even, without a trace of fear. I was afraid; terribly so. But I couldn’t let him know that. He had to think I had my wits all about me. I was used to men like him – Mr. Yates, and even John to a lesser degree, were like him. They thrived on the fear of those smaller and weaker than themselves. Good men, men like my husbands, were protectors. But the man standing in front of me, just like John and Mr. Yates, was not a good man. And he would enjoy seeing me panicking, afraid. I was not going to give him that satisfaction.
“Ha!” he scoffed, sneering at me. “Your brother and Mr. Yates will pay me handsomely – far more than any paltry sum you can offer.”
His boots were far too close to me and I shrank back in fear, but there was no escape – the tree trunk dug into my back. If he was going to kick me, there was nothing I could do to stop him. He stood there, just staring down at me, not saying a word.
I gathered my courage. “Shane and Roscoe will find me.”
There was that evil grin again, but wider this time, the grin of someone who knows he holds all the cards, and he can play it out however he wants to.
“No they won’t,” he told me, shaking his head as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “They’ll be fighting the fire for the whole day. It was well and truly ablaze, threatening the whole town. I made sure of it.”
He looked so proud of himself and something inside of me snapped.
“You disgusting bastard!” I yelled, fighting against my restraints. I’d never uttered such a word in my life and it felt so wrong to say it now, but so right at the same time. Satisfying.
He just nodded and puffed out his chest, pleased with himself. His stance sickened me. What kind of monster was he? Even Mr. Yates wouldn’t be so cruel as to endanger innocent people, would he?
“I got rid of Coleton and delayed those two. Now I will take you back to Philadelphia where you belong, to take your rightful place as Roger’s wife.”
I gasped. The color drained from my face. I felt sick. He killed Coleton?
“Mr. Mallone died of a… uh… nasty accident,” my captor told me, touching the toe of my boot with his foot. I pulled my legs back, bent my knees, brought my heels as close to my bottom as I could. The tree trunk scraped against my back as I moved, rubbing me raw.
“How?” I whimpered, confused. How did he find Mr. Mallone? I’d been so careful. Mrs. Whittaker had been watching too, and we’d been sure I hadn’t been seen.
“How did I kill him?”
“No!” I shook my head frantically. No, I didn’t need to hear those details. It was bad enough that I knew the poor man was dead. I did not want to know how he met his sad demise. Especially not when I felt somewhat responsible for his death. If I’d stayed in Philadelphia where I belonged, Mr. Mallone would still be alive.
“How did I find him?” my captor guessed again.
“Yes,” I ground out through gritted teeth.
“Oh it was easy,” he declared, taking a small step back. “It’s amazing what someone will tell you when they have a knife at their throat.”
“You held Mrs. Whittaker up at knife point?” My voice was barely above a whisper. I was so horrified I could hardly form the words. What a despicable man! My hatred for this man, and for my brother and Mr. Yates, grew deeper with every second that passed.
“No, no, not me.” He shook his head. “I live here in Montana. Mr. Yates did, and sent me instructions.”
Somehow, knowing that the man standing in front of me hadn’t been the one to threaten Mrs. Whittaker made me feel slightly better. But knowing that Mr. Yates had been the one to do it, scared me even more. Was there nothing the man would stop at to get his way?
“You’ll have to make it up to him when you get home,” my kidnapper told me almost gleefully. “The whole town knows you left him, you realize. He was quite upset. He’s a very proud man, as I’m sure you know, and he doesn’t take well to being crossed. John promised you to him, and he means to have you.”
From the little I knew of Mr. Yates he didn’t take well to anything, but I held my tongue. It would do no good to bring up his reputation now.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to make sense of everything. It seemed Mr. Yates’ cruelty knew no bounds. I struggled to understand why he wanted me so badly he would order the death of a man he didn’t know, just to prevent my marriage, stop my escape. If he was willing to go to such lengths, what would he do to me when he discovered he’d lost; I was already married?
“But why?” None of this made sense. “Why does he want me so badly? There are plenty of other women who would marry him, with all his money. Why me?”
The despicable man at my feet looked me up at down, perhaps deciding how much to tell me. He shrugged carelessly. “You’re pretty,” he said, as if that explained everything. But it didn’t.
“So are other women,” I pointed out.
“Your brother owes Mr. Yates a lot of money. You’re payment for that debt and Mr. Yates means to collect.”
I stared at him, aghast. “So he would order the killing of an innocent man?”
My captor didn’t reply.
“Why
