Thirty-six

A strange noise woke Marley from a sound sleep. She glanced at Matthew, but he was softly snoring.

Maybe Roan had gone out, but what she’d just heard hadn’t been a door closing. She raised her head, listening more carefully. Something wasn’t right. A warning inside brought her fully awake just as the dark shadow of a tall, thin man made his way into the room.

Will Gentry!

If she lay still, he’d get her for sure. If she fought, she might have a slim chance. No matter what, she’d protect Matt with her life.

The gun on the small table beside the bed was her best hope. In a flash, she sat up and reached for the pistol. But before she could get her finger on the trigger and fire, Gentry lunged across the room and grabbed her hand. He stuffed the weapon inside his smelly coat.

Matt turned over and mumbled, “Mama Rose?”

“I’m fine, sweet boy. Go back to sleep.” She pushed back the covers and stood.

Gentry placed his mouth close to her ear and snarled, “That boy’s life depends on what you do right now. One sound and he dies. Then I’ll slit Roan Penny’s throat.”

His foul breath reeked of liquor and garlic, making her gag. “If you’ll leave them be, I’ll go wherever you want. Just don’t hurt them.”

Matt whimpered, and she knew he was awake and scared.

“You knew I’d get you.” Gentry yanked her toward the parlor. “I always get what I’m after. You’ve given me enough trouble.”

“Take me and leave Roan and Matt alone, you bastard,” she said defiantly.

“You’ll trade yourself for them?”

“In a heartbeat. So let’s get this over with…father.”

“Mama Rose.” Matt began to cry in great gulping sobs.

She longed to comfort him, but there was no way Gentry would allow that. Gentry’s lips curled back over his teeth in a gruesome smile, and he shoved her into the small parlor.

Marley gave a sharp cry at seeing the parlor empty. “What did you do with him?”

Gentry’s talon-like fingers tightened around her arm. “He’s alive—for now. How long he stays that way depends on you. Balk or fight me, and I’ll kill him and the kid in a heartbeat.”

Though his eyes were bathed in shadows and she couldn’t judge his sincerity in them, she heard strong conviction in his voice. He was more than capable of carrying out the threat, and Roan was evidently helpless to defend himself.

“Am I allowed to put on some clothes first?” she asked stiffly.

“Whatever you can manage in two minutes, but the door stays open.” His gaze swept over her, and she felt, more than saw, his leer.

Wrenching free, she hurried to the bedroom. Gentry stood in the doorway with a lit match. The flickering light brought out the sharp angles of his sunken face and made him look like paintings she’d seen of the Devil. He terrified her, but she wouldn’t allow it to show. She wouldn’t give him anything but her hate.

At least leaving on her bedgown would prevent the man from seeing any of her skin. Marley drew her petticoats and dress on top, then pulled on her stockings and boots—all done within the two minutes.

Matt sobbed harder. “Don’t leave me, Mama Rose. I need you.”

“Shut that kid up or I will,” Gentry snapped.

She gave Matt a tight hug and kissed his cheek. “Shh, I’ll be all right, honey. Stay here with Mr. Penny and don’t worry. I’ll be back soon. Please don’t cry. Run to Promise Island in your mind and I’ll be there with you.”

Gentry yanked her back and grabbed Matt by his bedclothes. “You go out of this house and you’re dead. Understand?”

Matt gulped and nodded.

As she stood, Gentry shoved her to the door. Marley grabbed her coat from the hook on the wall and steeled herself a second before Gentry yanked her into the inky blackness.

“One sound and they’re both dead,” Gentry rasped, his mouth to her ear, jabbing a gun into her ribs. “Then I’ll kill you and everyone who runs to your rescue.”

She knew he didn’t lie. Men without a conscience didn’t make idle threats.

Silent and stealthy, they kept to the side of the cabin so the guards wouldn’t see them. But where were the guards? Had Gentry killed them? Something had happened or they’d have come running. With a muttered curse, Gentry dragged her into the thick brush.

Two horses, saddled and waiting, stood no more than ten strides from her dwelling. She mounted the one Gentry pushed her against. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He grabbed her horse’s reins and they moved slowly out of earshot of the ranch. Once they were far enough, he set the horses into a gallop.

Marley huddled in her coat, the wind freezing her face and hands. She felt lucky that he’d let her have at least this much winterwear. The warm woolen scarf and gloves lying on a table in her parlor crossed her thoughts, but those had been too far away to grab. Escape on her mind, she carefully watched her abductor, alert to his every movement.

She would get away—somehow. She was smarter and faster. Maybe she could steal both horses when they stopped. Or maybe she could bash in his head with a big rock.

All she had to do was be vigilant. And leave clues along the way when she could. Roan and her papa would come after her. That much she knew as surely as the sun rose.

A new and terrifying thought gripped her. Was Gentry’s plan to ambush them been there all along? Was he going to use her as bait, then lie in wait and kill them?

* * *

Gentry had Marley, and that fact froze Roan’s blood. He struggled with the ropes and managed to loosen them just a bit. The door opened again, and he glanced around and saw a small figure. Matt sat down beside him, tears running down his face.

“He took my Mama Rose,” Matt cried. “The mean man got her.”

Roan grunted, but Matt couldn’t understand him. The kid finally managed to pull the rag from Roan’s mouth.

“Go get help, Matt.”

“I’ll be back.” The boy ran off and returned with a kitchen knife.

“Good. Now go get Hardy or Judd.”

“I tried, but there’s a man in front of the door.” Matt’s voice lowered. “I think he’s dead. Another one is over there.”

Had Gentry killed everyone? He had to get free.

“Do you think you can cut the ropes on my hands?”

“Yep.” He went around behind Roan and began sawing.

“You’re doing good. Keep trying.”

After what seemed like a month of Sundays, the boy had cut through the ropes and weakened them enough for Roan to break them apart. Then he cut the ones around his ankles.

The boy clung to Roan. “I was scared. I tried to hide my eyes but they kept coming open. Just like before when I lived with my pa.”

“I know and I’m sorry.” Roan hugged him close, mindful of using up precious time. Finally, he said, “I’ll take you to Mama Jessie now so I can go after Marley.”

“Okay.”

Roan picked Matt up and ran to the main house, hollering as he went. He pounded on the door.

Judd opened the bunkhouse door, rubbing the back of his head. He saw the guard laying on the ground and swore. “The bastards!”

“Gentry took Marley!” Roan pounded on the door again, then opened it and went in. “Wake up, McClain!”

“What’s going on?” Duel appeared in only his long johns.

“Gentry. He’s taken Marley. I’m going after her.” Roan turned. “Matt, you stay here.”

“Don’t even think about going without me. For God’s sake, let me get dressed.” Duel took his clothes and boots from Jessie, who appeared in the doorway. He pulled on his trousers and shirt, then sat in a chair and jammed his feet into his boots. “Damn! I should’ve hunted the bastard down and killed him a long time ago.”

Matt threw his arms around Jessie. Her face was white. “You’ve got to find her and bring her back. He has our daughter, Duel. He has her. She must be so scared and maybe injured.”

Pain pierced Roan. He’d done so little to protect her.

“I know she’s terrified, darlin’.” Duel fixed his pant leg over his boot tops and strode to Jessie, putting his arms around her. “I’ll find her, trust me. And this time, I’ll end Gentry’s miserable, godforsaken life.”

“Not if I find him first,” Roan growled. He had a bullet with the man’s name on it, and they were wasting time. He whirled and hurried out the door toward Marley’s house. They had to figure out which direction the man had gone before they rode out blind.

Duel caught up to him before he’d taken a dozen steps. They strode silently side by side to the last place Marley had been. Roan cursed the clouds that blocked the moon and stars and made everything as black as pitch. He grabbed a long piece of wood, then ran into Marley’s spotless kitchen for some dishtowels. After winding the cloth tightly around the wood, Duel poured kerosene on it, and Roan lit the torch.

Holding the light close to the ground, Roan quickly spotted Marley’s small footprints, Gentry’s larger ones next to and overlapping them. They found where the horses had been tied, and followed the tracks to the road where they turned south.

At the sound of horses, Roan turned to see Judd and another cowboy leading saddled mounts.

“Thought I’d save you some time,” Judd said, handing them each a lantern.

“You’re a good man, Hanson.” Duel took the reins of one horse. “Keep my family safe.”

“Will do, Boss. We’ll take care of Joe. The bastards stabbed him.”

With the lantern burning brightly, Roan swung into the saddle of his mare and took off at a gallop.

“Nothing but the Brady Mountains ahead.” Roan wished he could will his horse to fly, like those in one of Marley’s fanciful stories. “Maybe we’ll catch Gentry there.”

Duel’s voice was hard. “Lots of places to hide in those mountains.”

They rode until the horses were about done in. They pulled up in Cow Gap, where cattlemen used to drive herds through when going up the Great Western Trail. The night cloaked them, and he could barely see three yards in front of him—great conditions for hunting a killer. Roan glanced up to find no moon. The sky had gone black. His heart twisted.

Not the waning moon—the dark moon. Hell and be damned!

What was it Mrs. Harper had said about the dark moon? Panic froze his mind. He pictured the white-haired woman and calmed. Now he could remember. This was the time for dealing with attackers. For looking into the dark recesses of his own mind, understanding his anger and passions.

Roan, this moon will help you. Go find Gentry. Mrs. Harper’s words were as clear as he’d ever heard.

Table-Top mesa loomed near, signaling the summit of the Brady Mountains.

“Damn, we need to move,” Roan vented in frustration. “We’re wasting time.”

Duel glanced up from beneath the shadow of his hat. “Tell that to the horses. Relax, Gentry has to stop and rest too.”

“For that, I’m very grateful.” But every second she spent in Gentry’s clutches was agony for Roan—and even worse hell for Marley. Roan didn’t dare think of what she was likely going through, or he’d lose what mind he had left.

“How far ahead do you think they are?” Roan picked up his lantern.

“We can’t be sure. It depends on how long before Matt untied you. Maybe an hour behind.”

“That’s what I’m thinking. I’m going to look for tracks.” Roan started to move along the trail.

“I’ll come with you.”

With both lanterns, they had plenty of light to scout the area. The soft ground yielded two sets of fresh hoofprints—one deep in the ground and one set light. It had to be them.

A scrap of fabric fluttered in the breeze, catching Roan’s attention. He stalked to it and sucked in a painful breath. He recognized the fragment of pink material that had come from the dress Marley had worn yesterday. It was caught on a sharp thorn.

And it had a small, white button still attached.

Dark, gripping pain screamed from the center of his soul. Roan wiped his eyes.

The bastard had ripped it from the dress or else she’d ripped it on the thorny bush. His blood ran cold. What was Gentry doing to her?

Roan worked to speak and finally managed. “Found this.” He held it out to Duel.

Curses came thick, blistering the air. Duel turned away for a second, staring at the fabric, then he swung back around. Light from the torch revealed an aged face lined with torment. “He doesn’t deserve to live. He’s nothing but an animal.”

The air went out of Roan. “Dammit, I thought I could protect her. I was right there, and he took her anyway.” The creed he’d cloaked himself in for years wasn’t worth a match to set it ablaze. Knowledge didn’t keep anyone safe, not for one second. It hadn’t saved Mose, and it hadn’t saved Marley.

Duel handed him the scrap. “You did all you could.”

Yeah, he’d stood there and let Gentry tie him up. He’d even opened the damn door for the bastard. The bitter taste of self-recrimination and hatred coated Roan’s tongue as he tucked the fabric—the only clue that Marley had been here—into his shirt pocket.

“He’d best pray to God he dies before we find him.” Duel’s voice was raw with anger.

“Amen to that.” Roan fought the blackness inside that threatened to eat him alive. “I never thought anything would bring me as much contentment as finding Marley. She’s everything I ever wanted. I can’t go back to the empty man I was before I met her.”

“You won’t have to. We’re going to find her and bring her home.”

“I hope you’re right.” Roan clenched his jaw until it relieved some of the pain from around his heart, and strode for his horse, unable to stand still a minute longer. If the mare wasn’t ready to ride, he’d walk and lead her, but at least he’d be moving.

Duel didn’t object and followed him. “Damn, we’ve been thinking this was a spur-of-the-moment abduction,” he said.

“What are you thinking, McClain?”

“Gentry has a plan. He’s heading somewhere familiar. The bastard’s always been crafty. He planned all this out, waiting for dark, patient for the right moment, seizing what he wanted.”

“I won’t argue that. Where do you think he’s headed? Best guess.”

“A border town,” Duel replied without hesitation. “Laredo, most likely. He’ll probably take her across into Mexico. Probably has compadres there and something already lined up.”

An auction. Roan tried not to think about Marley in some manner of undress, forced to stand in front of a bunch of lust-hungry madmen fighting each other to buy her.

He couldn’t let that happen. She depended on him. A harsh breath followed the path of his thoughts.

She was in the hands of a monster who had no rhyme, reason, or conscience.

His story weaver. His Marley. His love.

He bit back a choking sob. If he failed to find her, he’d keep riding—no soul, no purpose—until he fell off the edge of the earth and died.