Chapter 31
Enoch stared at the front door of the mercantile, where Mandie should appear any second. What was taking so long? Bea had stepped through that entrance at least ten minutes ago, saying his bride and her mother would be right behind her.
“They’re probably just having a moment.” Bea rested a hand on his back, that motherly touch that should reassure him.
But it didn’t. The coiling inside him only pulled tighter.
Mandie probably needed time with her mother. Time for the two of them to talk through all that had come between them. But something in his gut said this wasn’t that moment.
He sucked in a breath and straightened. “I’m going to check on them.” But as he stepped forward, his mind spun through what might hold them up. He turned back to his brothers and scanned them. “James, come with me?”
Just in case. No one had seen or heard of Clayton coming back through town, but that didn’t mean the man wasn’t lying in wait somewhere. Waiting to make his move.
And before Mandie married Enoch would surely be the moment he chose.
Now the tension in Enoch’s gut surged up to create chaos in his mind. A flurry of images and possibilities for what the man could be doing to Mandie this very minute.
He broke into a run, sprinting the last section across the street up onto the boardwalk in front of the mercantile. He forced himself to slow so he didn’t tear down the door as he burst inside.
Mrs. Holbrook jerked her head up from behind the counter, startled by their sudden entrance. “Mr. Balfour. Is everything all right?”
He heaved in air. “The ladies—Mandie and her mother. They haven’t come down to the river yet.” He fought to keep his voice level, though his pulse hammered against his collar. “Are they still upstairs?”
Mrs. Holbrook shook her head, confusion wrinkling her weathered features. “Oh no, they left through the back door maybe five minutes ago. Said they were heading straight to you.”
Five minutes. His blood turned to ice. They should have reached the river before now.
“Which way did they go?” James stepped up beside him.
“Out the back, through the alley.” Mrs. Holbrook started toward the rear of the store. “They were dressed so lovely, your bride especially. That gown with the ivory trim was just—”
Enoch wove between the shelves to follow her, James close behind him.
She led them through the narrow hallway to a door at the rear. She pushed open the door, and they stepped onto a dirt trail that ran behind the row of buildings.
“They went this way?” Enoch scanned the buildings connected to the mercantile, a single back door to each. No sign of ivory trim or Mandie’s dark hair. No sign of anyone.
He started forward, scanning the ground and the buildings. The first door must be for the doctor’s office. The next for the—
His gaze caught on something that stopped his breathing.
Ivory combs. Scattered in the dirt near the second building.
His chest constricted as he stooped to gather them. One was cracked, as if it had been dropped—or torn loose in a struggle.
“James.” His voice came out rough as gravel. He held up the combs, and his brother’s face went ashen.
“They were taken.” James stepped closer to the second door, pressing his ear against the weathered wood. “This is the back of the saloon.”
Enoch moved beside him, straining to listen.
At first, only silence. Then—muffled voices.
Men’s voices.
Enoch held himself perfectly still, searching for words or tones that might sound familiar.
Then it came—a suave Southern drawl that made his blood heat to fire.
“Stay here and make sure they don’t leave.” He kept his voice to a whisper. “I’m going for help, then we’ll go in through the front.”
James nodded, then pulled aside his jacket to reveal a pistol tucked in the waistband of his trousers. Why hadn’t Enoch thought to arm himself?
Because he’d come to his wedding, and strapped with a pistol didn’t seem the right attire to greet his bride with.
He spun and charged down the alley to the nearest opening between the buildings. He needed the sheriff and his brothers from the river, then they could go through the saloon’s front door to stop that madman.
When he emerged onto the street, he could see the others standing under the cottonwoods. He halted to yell, “Sheriff!”
Robert had already seen him though, and was striding toward him. Enoch waved for them all to come, and Sheriff Hawkins and his two brothers broke into a run. Even Mandie’s father and Bea started toward him at a fast clip.
He turned toward the front of the saloon and waited just outside the door for the others. Better to enter with the sheriff than by himself.
As soon as the men reached him, Enoch spat out the details. “Clayton has them. We think they’re being held in the back room of the saloon.”
The sheriff’s weathered face hardened. “You certain?”
“Found these in the alley.” Enoch held up the broken ivory combs. “We heard Clayton’s voice through the back door.”
Hawkins nodded and turned to stare at the saloon door. Probably making a plan. “I don’t think Nelson would have anything to do with this, but your man Clayton might have simply found a quiet spot to work from.” He stepped forward and pushed the door open.
Enoch followed close, the others right behind him.
The dim interior reeked of stale beer and tobacco. Nelson, the owner, looked up from sweeping behind the bar, his bushy eyebrows rising at the sight of their group.
“Sheriff? What brings you—” The man’s gaze took in their grim expressions and the way they all stayed grouped together. “Something wrong?”
Hawkins stepped closer. “Is there anyone else here? In the back?”
Nelson shook his head. “Will doesn’t come until four. Why?”
Sheriff Hawkins rested an arm on the bar. “No one in your storage room?”
Nelson reared back as he frowned. “Shouldn’t be. Why would you ask that?”
Hawkins eyed him. “We have reason to believe someone’s holding two women in your back room against their will.”
Nelson’s brows shot up. “That’s not possible. I keep that room locked.” He reached into his vest pocket, then froze. He patted frantically at his vest, then his trouser pockets. “My keys…they’re gone.”
Enoch’s jaw clenched.
“When did you last see them?” Hawkins straightened, pulling away from the bar.
“This morning when I opened up.” Nelson’s voice shook. He spun like he would charge down the hall to inspect the storeroom himself.
The sheriff raised a hand. “Hold up. We do this smart, or those ladies could get hurt.”
Nelson paused and nodded.
The sheriff moved around the bar, keeping his voice low. “Is there another way into that room?”
Nelson shook his head. “Just the one door from the hallway. That last one before you go outside.”
“James is watching the back of the building.” Enoch’s hands curled into fists. Every second they spent planning was another moment Mandie was trapped with that monster.
“Good.” The sheriff turned to them all. “Here’s what we’ll do. Nelson, you stay here in the main room in case we need you. Mr. Sinclair, keep near the front door—make sure no one else comes in. The rest of us will move down that hallway, quiet as we can.” He drew his sidearm, checking the cylinder.
“When we reach the door, I’ll listen first. When I give the signal, we charge in. Fast and hard, so Clayton doesn’t have time to hurt the women.”
Enoch stepped forward. “Do you have a gun I can borrow? I didn’t think I’d need one today.”
Nelson reached behind the counter and pulled out a shotgun.
Enoch took it and nodded his thanks, then checked the chamber. Loaded and ready.
Every instinct screamed at him to charge down that hallway right now, but the sheriff was right. One wrong move could get Mandie killed.
His pulse hammered as they crept down the narrow hallway, the floorboards creaking a little under their boots despite their efforts at stealth. The smell of old whiskey and dust grew stronger with each step.
At the back door, Enoch tried to let James inside, but the door was locked.
The sheriff positioned himself at the storage room door, pressing his ear against the wood. Enoch moved in to listen too.
Clayton’s voice sounded inside, too low to make out words. Then a woman’s muffled cry. Enoch’s vision went red around the edges. That was Mandie’s mother, he was almost certain.
Enoch pulled back when Hawkins did, and the sheriff held up three fingers in a countdown.
Enoch breathed in a steadying breath. Help us, Lord. Protect the women.
Two fingers.
He raised the shotgun and aimed.
One finger.
The sheriff lifted his boot and slammed it into the wood near the handle. The door exploded inward.
The small room erupted in chaos—shouts, a woman’s scream, bodies pressed together in the cramped space.
Enoch surged in behind the sheriff, his eyes searching frantically through the dim light for Mandie. There—pressed against the far wall, held by a blighter with stringy hair and beard, her gown torn at the shoulder.
“Nobody move!” Sheriff Hawkins trained his pistol on Clayton.
But Clayton was already in motion, lunging toward Mandie with something glinting in his hand—a knife. “You’ll not have her, Balfour!”
Enoch aimed the shotgun far enough away that stray buckshot couldn’t hit Mandie, then pulled the trigger. The weapon bucked in his hands, the boom deafening in the cramped space.
Clayton spun sideways, clutching his belly, the blade clattering to the floor.
Enoch turned his gun on the goon who held Mandie, but the man was already releasing her. She surged away from the snake, nearly knocking him back into a stack of crates.
Mandie. Enoch held out an arm for her, keeping the shotgun steady in his other.
As she neared him, another gunshot cracked through the chaos—this one from Clayton’s direction.
A woman screamed.
Enoch’s insides nearly exploded. Had she been hit?
But Mandie closed the distance between them, crashing into his side.
The sheriff grunted and staggered, pressing his left arm against his middle, but he kept his weapon raised. “Drop it, Beaumont!”
Enoch wrapped Mandie tight with one arm. As much as he wanted to hold her, he had to get her out of danger.
He pressed his mouth near her ear. “Go out to the hallway till it’s safe.”
He had to almost shove her away from him, but at last she let go and slipped away.
He forced his full attention back to these kidnapping lizards.
Robert and Thomas had already pushed in around Enoch, and each had a stranger at the end of his gun barrel. The sheriff kept his weapon aimed at Clayton, and Mandie’s mother stood curled into herself behind Robert.
Enoch motioned her out into the hall with Mandie while he kept his gun ready for any scoundrel who thought he might make a break for it.
At last, the women were safe. He glanced around for rope. Something to tie these men up.
“Nelson!” Sheriff Hawkins called toward the front of the saloon, his voice strained but steady despite the bloody mark widening over his left shoulder. “Bring rope if you have it. And send someone for the doctor.”
The saloon owner’s footsteps pounded down the hallway, and within moments, he appeared with coils of rope and wide eyes as he took in the carnage.
“Help us tie them up.” Enoch grabbed a section of the cord and stepped toward the stringy-haired man who’d held Mandie. The wretch didn’t resist. He looked stunned by how quickly Clayton’s plan had crumbled.
As he worked, Enoch eyed Clayton, who had slumped to the floor, his face ashen and his breathing labored. Blood seeped through his fingers where he clutched his middle, but his dark eyes still burned as they fixed on Enoch. “This…isn’t…over.”
“Yes, it is.” Enoch’s voice came out more of a snarl.
Robert and Thomas secured the second kidnapper while Enoch finished with the first, then moved to help the barkeep with Clayton. The sheriff, despite his wound, managed to keep his pistol steady on Clayton until they finished the job completely.
“Easy with him,” Hawkins grunted as they hauled Clayton upright. “He’s gut-shot, but I want him alive for trial.”
As soon as the men were bound, Enoch slipped from the room to find Mandie. If they’d hurt her in any way…
She stood pressed against the hallway wall, her arms wrapped around herself. Her beautiful, dark hair spilled loose over her shoulders, and her gown hung torn at her neck, dirt streaking the silk, but she was whole.
Safe.
“Mandie.” Her name came out rough, all the fear and fury of the past hour condensed into those two syllables.
She turned at his voice, and the relief that flooded her face nearly brought him to his knees.
In three strides, he reached her, gathering her into his arms with a desperation that shook him to his core.
“Are you hurt?” His hands moved over her shoulders, her arms, checking for injuries while his eyes searched her face. “Did they—”
“No.” She pressed her face against his chest, her voice muffled but steady. “They didn’t have time. You came so quickly.”
He buried his face in her disheveled hair, breathing in the scent of her, grounding himself in the solid reality of her presence.
His bride. Safe in his arms, where she belonged.
Behind them, boots thumped, and he eased Mandie out of the way so his brothers and the sheriff could escort their prisoners toward the front of the saloon.
He couldn’t bring himself to go with them. He couldn’t leave the woman in his arms.
“Your mother?” He eased back just enough to search her face.
“Shaken, but unharmed.”
Relief eased through him. He pressed his lips to her forehead, then pulled her tight. The last of the tension finally began to drain from his shoulders. “I thought I’d lost you.” The words scraped raw from his throat. “When I saw those combs in the dirt…”
“I’m here.” Her hands fisted in the back of his shirt, anchoring him to her. “I knew you’d come. I prayed you’d come quickly.”
“I’ll always come for you.” Those words formed in his very core.
She nodded against his shirt. “What about our wedding? Can we get started with it soon?”
The question caught him off guard, and something like a laugh escaped him. “You still want to get married today? After all this?”
She leaned back enough to send him the hint of a sassy smile. “If you’re up for it. I want to be safely yours.”
He was more than up for it. He pressed another kiss to her forehead. “Let’s go see how the sheriff’s feeling.”