Chapter Two
Although it was late summer, strong winds had already begun to creep in. Dusk had fallen, and the fireplace roared, heating the massive living room, shaving away the chill. Sheridan and Beth had waited in dread for one of Sullivan’s man to approach the main house, but had slowly relaxed when nothing happened. They had been plotting a course of action for the past couple hours, and Sheridan was desperate to act, if only to stop the jangling of her nerves.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I have no choice, Beth.”
“You could marry him.”
A shudder shook Sheridan and distaste filled her mouth. “Marry Jericho Sullivan? Have you taken leave of your senses?”
Beth laid her swaddled son into the wooden cradle. “Grayson is finally asleep. He screamed so much when I fired the gun,” she murmured softly brushing her finger on his cheek. She straightened and hurried over to Sheridan, brushing aside the silver drapes.
She peered through the shutters looking over the eastern part of the range, and spied two of the hands Mr. Sullivan had left behind. “You understand why I must try, don’t you, Beth?” Sheridan needed assurance that she was making the right decision.
“He offered you marriage. There is talk in town, that he is considering running for the legislature. If you wed Mr. Sullivan, you would be married to one of the most powerful, and respected men in these parts.”
Sheridan snorted. “Respected? I think you mean feared.”
“Is it not the same thing out here?” Beth countered.
No, it wasn’t. Fear left a bitter taste in the mouth, made her stomach hollow, and made her heart ache. “There is something about him that gives me nightmares. He is the kind of man that can easily be cruel to a lady as I experienced today, and I know he will not give up.”
Beth glanced at her worriedly, and then with a soft sigh, she moved from the windows and sank into the camel colored settee’s plush depths. “What about Sebastian Dunn? He has offered to marry you twice. He is a nice sort of respectable man. Not rich, but at least he’s the manager of the town’s bank.”
“No, it is Elijah Kincaid I need.”
“And if he doesn’t want you?”
“I will make him want me,” Sheridan insisted stubbornly. “We have crafted a plan. I will stick with it.”
Beth reached for the jar on the table in front of her, poured lemonade into a glass and offered it to Sheridan. “Please do not underestimate Elijah. He is a Kincaid, Sheridan. And you are planning to compromise him into a life he does not want. You may be trading one bad choice for another if you refuse Mr. Sullivan, but pursue Elijah. Remember you are no longer in England. The rules here are…different, less polite. Elijah may not marry you even if he compromises you.”
Sheridan dropped the drapes, walked over to the settee and sank in its comforting depths. She took the glass of lemonade, and sipped, savoring the tang of flavors bursting on her tongue.
Beth gripped her arm and squeezed. “Please consider what I have said, Sheridan.”
A lump grew in her throat. “We suspect Mr. Sullivan is the one who murdered Thomas, so he could marry me and be the one to control my money. That man cannot be a better choice than Elijah, even with his contempt.”
“I do understand, but I don’t think Elijah will offer you the protection you need,” Beth said softly. “He would more likely beat you if he ever discovered your plan.”
“I don’t believe him capable of harming me in such manner,” Sheridan breathed, guilt lashing at her. “But what will happen to me, to us without the surety of his protection? Mr. Sullivan grows tired of trying the soft way, today is proof of that. He threatened to rape me…to have his men—”
Horror darkened Beth’s eyes. She had firsthand knowledge of what happens to women with no protection. Sheridan pulled Beth close and hugged her fiercely, hating having stirred horrible memories for her.
Sheridan drew back. “Sullivan will take me by force. I have seen how he looks at me…how his men look at me.” Her throat tightened in remembered dread. “They will all—” She faltered, unable to voice the reality that waited for her, if she did not act. “It is a small blessing that he is willing to wed me, but his reputation for cruelty is too much.”
“I understand, and you are right. It was silly of me to even suggest you accept his offer. But what if Elijah refuses you?” asked sympathetically.
Sheridan swallowed, barreling past the uncertainty. “Maybe I can just explain everything to him. Elijah will understand if—” She broke off, stunned by the pity that showed from Beth’s eyes. Shame scalded Sheridan, because she doubted she had disguised the longing in her voice.
“What if he refuses to understand?” Beth murmured gently.
Sheridan understood what Beth did by questioning her. She forced her to analyze the harsh reality of the situation from all angles. Sheridan loved her even more for it.
“Could you make it back to England?”
An icy shiver rippled through Sheridan. “No. And even if I tried, I doubt Sullivan and his men would allow me to travel and escape them. And you and Grayson need me. This is my home, you are my family. I’ve tried to hire more men for fortify the ranch, and that did not work. I’ve been to the sheriff twice, and I was ignored. Our ranch hands have been hurt in trying to protect me and they have their own families to see after. The only option left is my plan to compromise Elijah.”
Beth sighed in surrender.
Throughout the Wyoming and Colorado territories, people feared and admired the Sullivans, and the Kincaids in equal parts. Mr. Sullivan was possibly wealthier than Elijah. But Sheridan did not care about such trappings. If she married Mr. Sullivan he would crush her pride, her will, and he would probably end her life when he tired of her.
Sullivan was thicker, taller and more brutish than Elijah. While Elijah also possessed a raw and powerful build, he did not frighten her. She’d never met a man that made her so aware of the differences between a man and a woman, only his strength had always made her feel protected. Everyone knew the Kincaid men were hard and scary, but when they decided something was theirs, they cherished it.
She desired to belong to Elijah wholly. To be known as his. She wanted it so bad she could taste it, a promise of his protection and love, a promise of having a home, of having children, and a life that was not a barren existence.
But she fully understood Beth’s reservation. Elijah would not be pleased to see her. Sheridan squeezed her eyes shut as she made the painful admission. It’d been three
months since she last saw him. It was at Thomas’s burial, and she’d waited in agonized silence to speak with Elijah, praying he would finally give her the chance to explain her actions. He’d been so cold and frighteningly impervious to her pleading, her teeth had chattered.
Sheridan couldn’t bear the thought of leaving the only place she’d ever felt like she belonged. It was easy to quit, to not fight, to give in to the fear. But she could not. She was stronger than fear. And Beth and Grayson relied on her.
It had been the loss of Elijah himself, which made her realize she could endure. That she was strong. But her feminine strength was not enough to withstand Jericho Sullivan, but her mental will was enough to face Elijah’s scorn.
Sheridan gently held Beth’s hand. “You must understand that I am not making a flighty decision. Our safety depends on what I do. Beth, a few months ago you told me that the west was lawless and savage. And to survive, a woman must find a man tough enough to protect her, and their children. I did not listen to you. I stood my ground, I resisted. I even shot three men that wouldn’t listen, but they only persisted. I am hounded at every turn. We are hounded. I need the kind of protection you told me about. There are other men I could possible marry, but Elijah is the man I love…and perhaps he loves me as well. I owe it to myself to find out.”
With those words her decision was final. She would seek Elijah for his protection.
But the worry did not leave Beth’s eyes. “You have never been to his cabin. And you are leaving in the night.”
“I will be fine, I know the terrain,” Sheridan murmured reassuringly. She rose from the settee and took up the carpet bag she had carefully packed with essentials from the center table. “Mr. Sullivan will return tomorrow. I need to go now and be back before he returns.”
Her throat clogged as she walked to the cradle. She dipped, pressing a kiss to Grayson’s sleeping brows, and inhaled his sweet baby scent. She slung the bag over her shoulder and slipped a pistol into its side pocket. They walked in silence through the large entrance hall and exited the back porch. She hugged Beth to her tightly, saying nothing. All that could be said had been said. Beth gave her a watery smile. Sheridan opened her mouth to implore her to be safe, but Beth’s finger halted her speech. Her red head shook, she softly spun, then slipped back into the house.
Sheridan waited in the shadows of the porch, watching for the four men. They could only cover so much ground of the property, but she needed to be careful. She walked with a measured pace, trying to make her steps as soundless as possible. She moved with stealth, knowing the lay of her home so well she did not need a lantern. She slipped towards the rear barn and waited a few minutes. Nothing rustled. A light flared in the distance and she analyzed it. Someone had lit a cigarette. At the barn door, she silently drew the pin from the latch and eased the door open. With sure feet she slipped into the barn and approached her horse.
“Easy, Sugar,” she crooned, saddling her sorrel mare with swift efficiency.
After ensuring the harness and straps were in solid order, she led her quietly out of the barn and turned toward Elijah’s mountain cabin, praying she was not making the most dangerous mistake of her life.
***
A twig snapped in the darkness and Sheridan’s heart hammered. Sprawled on her stomach she slithered over the rock careful not to make any sound. Her bones ached, cold bit at her, and her muscles screamed in pain. She froze at the crunch of boots nearby. She squirmed backward as silently as she could, ducking into a small opening.
She’d lost her horse in the mad chase. Somehow, someone had realized she had left. Barely a mile from the ranch, a shot had rung out. She had urged Sugar into a gallop. Her horse was powerful, bred for speed and stamina, so she had eaten the miles up.
The ride through the mountain trail was hard and brutal with Sullivan’s hired guns nipping at her heels. Sheridan had passed the river and started to climb the trail more than two hours ago then Sugar had thrown her. Sheridan had been on foot since, trudging steadily.
She was grateful that she had studied the map Thomas had given her. He had not given it to her as an act of kindness, but as a dare for her to go to Elijah. She pushed the memories to one side and concentrated.
The persistence of her tracker scared and infuriated her. He had been on her for almost an hour and she was painfully aware that she took him closer and closer to Elijah’s mountain cabin. She rubbed at the chill that dug deep into her body. Exhaustion weighed on her, but she squared her shoulders. She was close to Elijah’s cabin if she had read everything on the map correctly. She had crossed the rivers, passed the third ridge, and only had one more to go. With the moon shimmering overhead lighting her path, she trudged on using sheer will, and the images of her fate under Sullivan and his men to fuel her steps.
A bullet pinged on the boulder above her, she ducked. She broke into a run, scrambling up the hillside, hoping to put herself out of the range of fire. She stumbled over roots and rocks. The trail angled up the slope through the trees. She made a mad dash trying to reach the thickets for cover. She crawled between two slabs of rock and made herself as small as possible.
Her lungs burned. Her breath sawed from her throat. Sweat slicked her skin despite the cold mountain air, and her muscles begged for relief.
The low hiss of a rattle reached her ear.
Her heart stilled.
With prayers rioting in her mind she cautiously eased out of her squatting position. She took small easy steps away until the rattling died down. Branches snapped behind her, and the clatter of hooves came perilously close. She saw an opening between two larger boulders and sped towards it. She listened carefully for any rattling before she stumbled into the crevice, holding herself small and tight. She crouched amongst the rocks, hardly daring to breathe as she saw her hunter for the first time.
Disbelief widened her eyes. She knew him, Ben Jefferson. He had been a wrangler at the ranch for over a year. She pressed herself in tighter, heart racing as he edged closer with cold caution.
Her fingers itched, and she wished Sugar had not taken off with the carpet bag containing her pistol, because she would have shot him.
More rustling, then the clattering of stones as they rolled down the hill and another rider burst forth from the underbrush.
“Be quiet,” Ben hissed.
“I think the little hellion knows we are hot on her trail, silence is unnecessary,” the new comer drawled. He was thick and barrel-chested, but sat on his horse with easy grace. The scratch of his match as he lit his cigar sounded loud in the night.
He looked harder, and she instinctively knew he was the more dangerous of the two. She had not known he tracked her. With a certainty she could not explain, she knew Ben had been the one to alert her by his bumbling presence.
“She is gone,” Ben said.
“She is still here,” the other man muttered around his cigar.
Something inside of her wilted at the sure drawl.
“No she ain’t, Hardin. I am telling you—”
“Shut up.”
Ben’s mouth slammed shut at the rough order.
Hardin continued, “She is without horse, and she is on foot. She is here. Spread out. And don’t be a fucking idiot and shoot at her again. The boss needs her alive.”
Sheridan closed her eyes tightly sending up a swift prayer they would not find her. If it had been Ben alone, she would have possibly stood a chance if he caught her. He was of a slim build and was about her height. If they tussled she might have triumphed.
Wind howled down from the slopes of the mountain and bit into her bones. She held herself still, and searched in the darkness for a rock. Her fingers clenched over one and she tested its weight.
It would have to do. If they found her, she would not surrender without a fight.