Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
W hen Clara carried her belongings into the main room a few minutes later, Miles was waiting.
He stood by the hearth, his hands braced on the mantle, his head bowed. At the sound of their footsteps, he turned. Raw pain etched his features, twisting her heart.
She took a step toward him. Everything in her craved to feel his strength, his warmth, one last time. "Miles."
He met her halfway, his arms coming around her in a fierce embrace.
She sank against him, breathing in his scent of pine and wood smoke. If only she could stay here forever, sheltered in his arms.
Sounds drifted around them. Uncle Hiram speaking with the women, exchanging goodbyes. Her eyes burned, but she focused on the feeling of Miles.
Too soon, she forced herself to pull away. Enough to look at him, though she didn’t leave his arms. Not yet.
Tears glimmered in his eyes, and the sight nearly undid her. That this strong man would think of her worthy of such emotion.
When he spoke, his voice came out low and rough. "I know you have to go, but…" He hesitated, searching her eyes. "Will you write to me? Let me know you're all right?"
She nodded. “I will.”
His throat worked. “Send me your address when you’ll be in one place a while.”
She could only manage to say again, “I will.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips warm and soft against her skin. She let her eyes drift shut, taking in this last tenderness.
But then he released her, and she had to turn away. Cold rushed against her body without his touch.
She turned to her uncle, standing by the door with his carpetbag in his hand, his eyes filled with sympathy.
Dinah and Naomi lingered beside him, and she accepted a hug from them each. Dinah’s whispered, “Come back to us when you can,” nearly released the tears she was fighting to hold back.
But she bid goodbye to the rest and followed her uncle outside. The icy air built up her defenses. Maybe this goodbye would only be temporary.
Someday, maybe she could find her way back to Miles…and the unexpected home she'd found in his arms.
C lara's stomach churned as her mount followed Uncle Hiram’s down the mountain trail. Holloway’s horse nudged close behind her own. Pushing. Blocking her from even the thought of turning back.
She would return to him though. After they finished the surveying they’d signed on to do, she would find a way back to the Coulter ranch.
Back to Miles.
What if she couldn’t? What if something happened with her uncle? What if they reached the west coast and he could no longer travel? He’d been so good to her. She couldn’t abandon him if he needed her.
Or, what if she did manage to return, only to find out that the Coulters had discovered her part in the attempt to steal their land?
She’d tried to save it, to protect them. Would they see it that way? Or only see betrayal?
She couldn’t worry about any of it. It was done, and she was leaving. She’d deal with tomorrow, tomorrow.
As she worked to shift her mind onto something else, a reminder slipped in, one that made her lungs cease working.
The deed.
She’d forgotten to put the Coulters’ real deed back in the trunk.
She still carried it at the bottom of her carpet bag. Didn’t she?
Yes.
Her middle knotted. She couldn’t leave with it. She’d be worse than Holloway.
How could she get it back to them? Could she make an excuse that she’d forgotten something? Would Holloway let her ride back?
As hard as he was pushing her horse from behind, it didn’t seem likely. Could she leave the paper in a safe place? Somewhere the Coulters would find it? Maybe they’d come down to the survey camp after they left to check the site. But she couldn’t just leave such an important paper out in the open. And if it were hidden, they wouldn’t find it.
Think, Clara. Think.
Another possibility occurred to her, and she examined the idea from all angles.
The shed where she and Miles had taken refuge from the storm. Heat crept up her neck at the reminder of what had happened there. How it had changed their relationship.
Could it be the place to leave the deed? Maybe tucked between two crates? Surely, it would be safe among all those sapphires.
And if she weren’t mistaken, the building was just a little farther down the trail. She’d glimpsed the back of it through the leafless trees while riding from the survey camp to the ranch house.
How could she get them to stop?
Maybe a female emergency? She couldn’t think of anything that would be so urgent it couldn’t wait until they reached the camp.
Maybe an issue with her gut? That might work.
She’d have to have the deed in her pocket already before she started drawing attention to her ailment. She nudged her horse to the right edge of the trail, so Holloway would be on the opposite side of her horse’s rump as her bag.
Keeping her upper body at a natural angle, she eased her hand into the small opening left by the buckle, then fumbled around at the bottom of the bag until her fingers found paper. She grasped it tightly, pulled it out, then tucked it into the pocket of her skirt.
Now for the harder part.
They were almost to where she should be able to see the back of the shed through the trees. The moment she caught sight of it, she let out a low groan, clutching at her stomach.
"Uncle Hiram." She made her voice strained. "I'm not feeling well. I think I need to stop for a moment."
Her uncle reined in his horse, turning to look at her, concern etched on his weathered face. "What's the matter?"
"My stomach." She grimaced for effect. "The food I ate isn’t settling. I need to find a privy. Urgently."
Holloway pulled up beside her, frowning. "Can't it wait till the camp?"
Clara shook her head, mustering a frantic expression. “It's urgent."
With a sigh, Holloway nodded. "Make it quick."
She slid from her saddle and handed her reins to her uncle and hurried into the trees, still gripping her middle.
She aimed toward the shed. Hopefully, Holloway wouldn’t watch too closely. The building was nearly hidden unless one looked hard enough to see the structure through the branches.
Moving as quickly and quietly as possible, she slipped around to the door, pulled the latch, and pushed inside. The faint scent of charcoal blended with a damp odor, and the memory of the time they spent there was as vivid as the scene in front of her. Miles had sat right there, with her on his right, tucked against his side.
She shook herself, slipping the deed between two crates, leaving a little piece protruding so they’d be more likely to see it.
Don’t let anyone else stumble across this, Lord. Help them to find it. Soon .
With the deed done, she spun and exited the building, pulling the door shut. She secured the latch.
Holloway’s impatience had turned to a fierce expression by the time she returned to the horses.
She mounted her animal, avoiding the man’s piercing gaze. Her uncle watched her with concern, but she managed a weak smile. "I'm feeling better now. Thank you for waiting."
Holloway grunted, kicking his horse. "Let's move. We've wasted enough time."
As they rode on, the knot in her middle loosened a little. Even so, she feared the Coulters would never find the deed.
Or what if someone else stumbled on it first?
No. The cabin was hidden for a reason. All these years, the sapphires had stayed hidden. No reason to believe anyone would find it now.
Lord, guide them to that crucial piece of paper. Protect it. Protect them.
The sun had passed the noon mark by the time they reached camp.
Holloway dismounted, barking orders at the others to start packing. He turned to Clara, his expression hard. "Miss Pendleton, I need you to come with me. We have paperwork to attend to.”
Her heart surged, and the knot in her middle tightened once more. “Paperwork?” What more could he need of her? Something in his tone told her this involved more than drawing maps.
He led her to the board they’d laid across a stump to use as a desk. “Sit.” He motioned to the smaller log beside it.
She obeyed, and he laid several papers on the flat surface in front of her. The homestead deed she’d forged glared up at her, churning the bile in her stomach so much she might actually be sick. There were two other papers beside it. One glance told her what he planned.
He tapped on one. “Here’s an example bill of sale. I want you to copy it on this blank paper.” He tapped the other, as if his words hadn’t been clear. “Use the same style of letters. Put in Coulter’s name as the seller and the property description from the deed. Write the buyer’s name as Marcus Winston. It needs to be perfect."
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak.
Not this madness again.
What was Holloway doing to her?
She should have anticipated this. She hadn’t allowed herself to think much past the forging of the deed.
She’d been naive to ever think there could be a different endgame than the one she stared at now.
This step must prove that his orders were, indeed, coming from Winston. Why would Holloway carry out such an awful plan?
He must be getting a considerable cut.
He stood over her, his presence like a storm cloud. Or maybe a grizzly bear rearing on its hind legs. Daring her to defy him.
Did she dare?
On the other side of the camp, Uncle Hiram packed away the buckets and cooking supplies.
She could call to him, let him know what was happening.
But what could he do? If the other men were in on this deceit, it would be four against two. Even if they weren’t, they’d take the side of their leader.
Holloway’s voice sounded again, low and hard. “Let me remind you how awful it would be if your uncle were injured. Maybe his other hand scalded with boiling water to match the first. I’m sure you remember how awful his pain was.”
Would he really do such a horrid thing?
Foolish question. He’d snatched and terrified a child. Of course he wouldn’t hesitate to harm her uncle.
Her hand trembled as she picked up the pen. She’d come this far to keep him safe. She wasn’t about to risk his wellbeing now.
She began to copy the bill of sale, keeping her script flowing across the page despite the turmoil within.
As she wrote, a small measure of relief settled through her. At least she had changed Mr. Coulter's initials on the forged deed. This document, as official as it might look, would not line up with the true deed. Perhaps that would be enough to cast doubt on the validity of the sale, should it ever come to light.
It was a small victory, but she clung to it as the only shred of hope she had left. She could only pray that, when the truth did come to light, the Coulters would understand the impossible choice she had faced.
As she finished the last flourish, she allowed herself a deep breath.
Holloway snatched the document from in front of her. “Good. Now, we have one other matter to attend to." He folded the bill of sale and tucked it into his coat pocket.
Her heart sank.
What more could he possibly want from her? She glanced around the camp.
The other men had nearly finished packing. Her uncle caught her eye, his brow furrowed with concern, but he was too far away to hear their conversation.
Holloway pulled her to her feet. “I need you to come sit over here.” He half-dragged her to a pine tree, then pushed her to sit on the ground. Hard. Fear surged through her. What was he doing? He’d never man-handled her. Never even touched her.
“Hey!” Uncle Hiram’s shout grabbed her attention, and she turned to see him being hauled by Tillman and Whitaker. He struggled against them, but with a man on either side, they were too strong.
"What are you doing?" She tried to keep her voice steady despite the fear coursing through her. "My uncle’s done nothing.”
Holloway ignored her as he picked up a length of rope. “Lean forward and put your hands behind you.”
Panic sent her pulse racing.
His face was an impassive mask.
"What are you doing? Why are you tying us up?" She tried to scramble to her feet, but he shoved her back down.
"Don't make this harder than it has to be." His voice was cold, devoid of any hint of mercy. "You and your uncle are loose ends. Winston can't have you running your mouths about what you've done here."
Across the camp, Uncle Hiram’s voice rose. “What's the meaning of this?" He struggled against Tillman’s and Whitaker's holds.
Tillman reared back and sent a fist into her uncle’s gut.
He doubled over, his shoulders heaving.
Tears blurred her eyes. This couldn’t be happening. She’d done everything Holloway asked. That should have kept them safe.
He pushed her shoulders forward, and she placed her hands behind her back as he’d asked. Rough rope bit into her wrists as he bound them. She couldn’t see her uncle well from this position, only that his hair was askew as he still struggled against Tillman and Whitaker, though they were tying him to a tree now. Was that blood on his jaw?
Desperation welled inside her. “Let my uncle go. He doesn’t know anything. I’ve not told him about the deed.”
A mirthless bark escaped Holloway's lips as he pushed her back against the tree. "Right. And he’ll just sit by and leave you here. Winston wants you both eliminated."
"Eliminated?" The word scorched like hot ash on her tongue. Surely, he couldn't mean…
Holloway grabbed another length of rope and wrapped it around her middle, pinning her arms to her sides and lashing her to the solid trunk. "Don't worry, I'm no murderer. I'll let nature take its course. Hunger, exposure, wild animals—one of them will get you eventually."
Clara's breath came in short, panicked gasps as the reality of their situation sank in.
Holloway was going to leave them here, tied to these trees to die slow, agonizing deaths.
And there was nothing she could do to stop it.
She twisted her wrists, testing the ropes.
They held fast. Holloway knew his knots.
Across the camp, Uncle Hiram had gone still, his chin lowered. Blood dripped from his nose and the corner of his mouth. They'd beaten him into submission.
She had to try again. "Please. You don't have to do this. We won't tell anyone, I swear it."
He ignored her, just grabbed a length of chain and wound it around her. The heavy links pressed into her chest and made it hard to breathe. The cold metal seeped through her clothes, chilling her all the way through. When he finished, the chains held so tightly she could only move her head and legs.
Holloway stepped back to study his handiwork. Then he pulled a rag from his pocket.
No! She clamped her lips shut, but his grimy fingers pinched her nose until she had to gasp for air. After shoving the cloth between her teeth, he tied it behind her head, cutting off her cries. The taste of dirt and something else far worse filled her mouth.
Tears streamed down her face as he left her to secure Uncle Hiram in the same manner, tying a gag around his mouth a dozen yards away. Her uncle's eyes met hers, the sorrow so deep her heart wrenched in two.