Chapter Thirty
She knew that he could do terrible things. She knew he could do worse to her than he’d done to Amelia. She was afraid, but she wouldn’t show it. More than afraid—she was desperate.
She fought against Randall’s grip every step of the way out of the saloon, gasping as she clawed at his arm.
The more she fought back, the more her fear was overshadowed by anger.
This was the man who had destroyed her sister, and although she was afraid, she finally had her chance to fight back, to set loose the anger that had grown against him since the beginning of all this.
Her fingernails dug into his flesh, but beyond a singular grunt, he didn’t react.
The pain did nothing to him. A moment later, he threw her into the alley next to the saloon.
His fist met her stomach, knocking the air right out of her.
She doubled over, gasping, but he didn’t give her time to recover. He hit her again, just below her ribs.
A strangled cry flew from her mouth as she choked, trying to catch her breath. But it was clear that Randall wouldn’t give her a chance to. He yanked her by the hair, jerking her head back, forcing her to look into his sneering face.
“You’ve always been nothin’ but trouble,” he spat at her, his breath foul.
“Your sister was worthless, and you ain’t no different.
Think you’re better than me? You’re nothing!
Your sister was nothing! I gave her stability, a life, when you were nothing but sniveling orphans!
And now you take off with my son, like the ingrate I always knew you were! ”
Fury made Josie want to punch him in the teeth—but love for Samuel told her to run. To get away—but love didn’t loosen Randall’s grip. She wasn’t strong enough to free herself.
“Think you can just run off and be free?” He laughed, a cruel, mocking laugh. “Not a chance! I want my boy!”
Josie continued, anger, fear, desperation all a jumbled mess as she fought to wrench herself free. But Randall wasn’t letting up. He wrapped her hair around his fists, pulling her closer—and then he backhanded her across the face.
The blow sent her sprawling down, but his hands were still in her hair, gripping her tightly. He pulled her up by her hair. Pain radiated through her scalp, down her spine—and then he hit her again. And again. And again.
Fear completely overshadowed all other emotion now. When he finally released her, she fell to the dirt. Her cheeks burned; her vision blurred. Tears begged to come, but she wouldn’t let them. She refused to cry. She refused to give him the satisfaction.
Instead, she pushed herself up, only for his boot to slam into her side, sending her back down with a pained grunt.
“Now, now,” he crooned drunkely. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.
” He grabbed her wrist, yanked her up to her feet, and began jerking her down the alley to a post at the rear of the saloon, where a pitch-black horse was tethered.
Josie dug her heels in the ground, but it was useless.
Randall was bigger, meaner. The rough stones of the alley street scraped against her skin as he dragged her along.
Her skirt caught against the sharper stones, some of them sticking into her flesh, cutting her.
Pain flared in her knees and shins as her skirt began to tear.
She let out a strangled scream. “Let me go, you bas—!”
“Uh-uh-uh!” He cut her short with a jerk of her wrist and a harsh laugh, still dragging her roughly toward the horse as she kicked and bucked wildly under his grip.
She cussed and she swore and she screamed, her desperation to get away boiling over—but it didn’t matter. No one came, and Randall didn’t let go.
He hoisted her up, throwing her up over his horse like she was nothing more than a sack of grain, and she gasped as her stomach collided with the hard leather saddle, sending more pain radiating through her ribs.
Before she could twist away, his hand came down hard on the back of her thigh, holding her still. “Stay still,” he hissed. “Or I’ll make sure you regret it.”
She clenched her jaw, in agony and resentfulness.
Her entire body was throbbing, but she still wouldn’t cry.
She gritted her teeth as he climbed up behind her and spurred his horse forward.
Her hair hung in tangled strands, half covering her face, and she couldn’t see exactly where they were going, but she didn’t have to see. She already knew.
He was heading to the ranch.
He’s going to try to get Samuel.
But how? How would he possibly take on the Montgomery brothers? What was his plan? Did he have one? He would have been far crazier and more reckless than she’d ever thought if he didn’t have some sort of plan.
The metallic taste of blood leaked across her lip.
It was split. Her body jostled with every thud of the horse’s hooves, and it was becoming harder and harder to breathe between her battered ribs and chapped face.
She flicked her tongue over the meaty split of her lip.
It was bleeding a lot now, and she had no way to stop it.
She felt helpless.
She couldn’t fight back. She could barely breathe. After so many months of running, so much effort, she was being carried right back to the ranch by the man she hated the most. Randall was deciding her fate, and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop him.
The ache of the blows he had laid on her were awakening terrible memories, images she’d hoped to bury. All the times he’d hit Amelia in just the same way. All the bruises Amelia had tried to hide.
How many times had he struck Amelia? How many times had she cried behind closed doors, pregnant, or after the birth, with a baby in her arms?
I wasn’t able to save her.
And it killed her to know that.
Randall’s horse kept galloping, rattling her teeth as her head hung down. She watched as the blood dripped from her split lip onto the dusty ground that passed beneath her, scarlet drops left behind like an erratic trail of breadcrumbs.
Everything hurt—her scalp from when he’d pulled her hair, her ribs screaming with each bounce of the saddle, her torn and bleeding knees. But worse than the physical pain was the dread climbing up her throat.
Samuel.
Sweet, innocent Samuel.
It was her job to keep him safe. If she didn’t, Randall would destroy him.
Either he’d beat Samuel to death, too, or he would shape him into something awful.
Something cruel and broken and twisted. Something just like Randall.
An animal in the body of a man, vicious and savage and senseless even to Amelia, the most loveable woman on earth.
I will die before I let that happen.
The dread became choking as the Montgomery ranch came into view through Josie’s tangled hair and tear-blurred vision. Everything looked just the way it had been when she’d left. She wanted to scream out—to warn someone—anyone—
The chickens scattered, the cattle raising their heads at the sound of pounding hooves. Smoke came from the kitchen chimney. Someone was in the kitchen.
Do they hear the hoofbeats? Did they wonder where I went?
It was foolish, going off on her own like that. But she didn’t think she had a choice. She needed to do something to protect the people she loved. To protect Cash.
A fierce rush of energy returned to her as Cash’s face appeared in her mind. She didn’t think they’d be able to save him at first, with how much blood he’d lost. But they had. He was weak, but he was alive. And that gave her strength—strength, and anger that he’d been hurt at all.
Remington had stolen Cash’s strength. His perfect strength. And Randall had stolen everything from Amelia—and now he was going to take Samuel, too.
And that was something Josie couldn’t have. She couldn’t let them get away with taking everything from everyone else. No one was going to steal anything from the people she loved.
Not anymore.
There was a shout, and she caught sight of Luke and Beau emerging from the barn, Luke holding a pitchfork, Beau a shovel. They were yelling, but she didn’t know what they were saying. Their faces were sharp with anger… and fear.
Josie’s heart sank.
They weren’t even properly armed. Randall had a gun. And total control of her. She knew he’d use her as a shield. A bargaining chip.
But she wouldn’t be participating in any deals. She would rather die than let him get to Samuel. She only hoped Luke and Beau wouldn’t let that happen—that they’d know she had to protect Samuel, no matter what it took.
Even if that meant Randall taking her away for good. They have to let me go. If it keeps Samuel safe—
Randall’s horse came to a grinding halt, jostling her painfully. He dismounted and yanked her down, and pain radiated through her battered body.
The thought of what might happen next made her sick with dread.
Is today the day I meet my Maker?
She gave a cry as she landed on her feet and pain shot up both legs, barely catching herself before she fell to the ground. Her legs ached, scraped and bruised, and she could barely breathe.
Whatever it takes.
Luke and Beau were approaching Randall. Hank ran up behind them, also unarmed. Caught completely off-guard. Their faces were all grim.
Randall grabbed Josie by the hair again. “Don’t move closer, or I’ll shoot her!” he yelled, tugging her toward him. Before Josie could fight him, cold metal touched her temple, and an inadvertent shudder ran through her.
The difference between life and death was the drunken hand of Randall Pierce.
She knew this was coming.
The coward.
“Samuel!” Randall barked at the men. Josie shook, resisting his grip, but he held her more firmly, pressing his gun harder into her temple, and her eyes squeezed shut. “Bring him out, or the girl dies!”
There was nothing but dead silence. Not even the sound of feet shuffling. Josie managed to pry her eyes open and look them. Luke, Beau, and Hank all stood there, fists clenched in tight balls, jaws set.
“Ain’t no way…” Luke muttered, taking a half-step forward. But Beau shot out an arm, holding him back.