Chapter Two
“Ellie girl,” Mama said loudly to be heard over the waves lapping at the shoreline. “Come look at this.” Mama crouched in the sand, picking up a star shaped seashell. “This is called a starfish. Have you read about those?”
Eleven-year-old Ellie loved to read, and any books Mama had been able to get her hands on, she’d given to her daughter.
Her tutor, Miss Lutken, had done the same.
“Yes! They’re so interesting. Is it alive?
” It was rough and pinkish cream, but it looked more like a seashell than any sort of fish Ellie had ever seen. “Does it bite?”
Mama chuckled, the light in her eyes somehow still not dimmed by the way the two of them were treated at Grandfather’s.
Mama’s brown eyes twinkled, this time with happiness instead of the tears she so often shed at home.
“I don’t believe they bite. Would you like to hold it before tossing it back into the ocean? ”
She winked, and Ellie nodded resolutely, somewhat wishing she could keep it but knowing the ocean was where it belonged.
Slowly, carefully, Mama placed the starfish in her hand and Ellie relished in the feel of its rough flesh against hers.
It was impossible to believe it was really a fish, even though she’d read about them with Miss Lutken.
Turning it over, she handed it back to her mother. “I think he wants to go home, now.”
After all, it couldn’t be comfortable to be out of the water, could it?
Ellie knew a thing or two about being out of place, and she wouldn’t wish it on any creature.
Her brow furrowed, and she watched the alleged fish sail back into the ocean.
“Are you sure it’ll be all right, Mama? I read that fish can’t survive very long out of the water due to their gills, but I didn’t see any gills on the starfish. ”
“Oh, my dear girl,” Mama said as she wrapped her arm around Ellie’s shoulders and they stared out at the ocean.
It was the first time they’d been alone since Grandfather dragged them all the way out here to this meeting with his colleague.
The man was a widower, and even Ellie knew Grandfather had hoped the man would be drawn in by Mama’s beauty - her beautiful blonde hair and soft features.
“You are too smart for your own good at times, too perceptive as well.”
She placed a kiss on Ellie’s head and glanced back up the beach to the fancy hotel where they’d been staying - yet another “gilded cage” as Mama called it.
The business partner hadn’t seemed the least bit interested in Mama, and he’d completely ignored Ellie at dinner the night before.
“I suppose we’d better head back before your grandfather returns from his meetings.
We’d better not mention we came down here to the beach. ”
He might find out anyway, but at least, they’d had their toes in the sand for a moment. Of course, Grandfather would find their bare feet scandalous, but Ellie didn’t care. He found a lot of things scandalous.
Ellie swung in and out of consciousness, her head pounding as she wrenched her eyes open, her shoulder in so much pain she wanted to vomit.
Why was it so dark, and what was on the ground below her?
It was cold, so cold, and damp wherever she’d been placed.
Only then, forcing herself onto her side to get a breath, did she remember what had happened.
She’d run from Micah, the cowboy who’d seemed kind enough, only to decide to turn around and take a risk on meeting him again the next day.
Only, Brent managed to find her in the woods, taking his anger out on her with a leather strap to her back and basically throwing her down what she thought was a mine shaft.
She’d initially tried to climb out, but apparently he’d pulled her shoulder out of its socket when he dropped her.
The movement to her side only exacerbated the pain in her shoulder, and in the moment, she’d gladly let someone take it off with a rusty saw if it meant it would stop the hurting.
She’d not had any food in days, but maybe it was a good thing as the pain brought the bile up into her throat.
No, she couldn’t vomit, not when she couldn’t move out of her own way.
Tears filled her eyes as she swallowed it down, hopelessness blooming.
How in the world could she get out of this mess?
Hot tears trickled down her cheek, warming the spot for a breath until the chill overtook her once more.
She shuddered, her shoulder burning with unbearable pain at the movement.
“Help me, Lord,” she cried softly. “Or let me die before Brent can get us before a judge.”
Grandfather’s stipulations, the ones which had put a target on her back in California from every businessman and mine worker alike, had stated she must marry and have children in order to access her trust. If she didn’t do so within one year, the trust would be turned over to Grandfather’s business partner, Percival.
She felt a little sick at even the thought of the man, but maybe it was simply the muddy ground on which she’d been deposited like a sack of flour - or more of the same pain and agony at her situation.
She had been at the mercy of the men in her life since Mama had had no choice but to seek shelter at her own father’s when Ellie was still a child.
Suddenly, a sound overhead had her glancing upwards as though she could see anything in the pitch black. “Lord,” she thought she heard. “Go before me.”
It didn’t sound like Brent, and he certainly wouldn’t be asking anything of the Lord. Was it possible the kind cowboy had returned? The one whose navy eyes had her hoping against all hope he was trustworthy? “Micah,” the voice said. “There’s a floor down here, but be careful.”
Micah. The cowboy from the creek. He’d come back for her.
Footsteps sounded, and the light of a lantern shone in her face.
“Eleanor?” His voice sounded off, but had to be him.
“Eleanor, we’re here to help you.” How did he know her name?
Had Brent told him? What little energy she had left had her tensing, only to hiss at the pain all over her body. Was he working with Brent?
“No,” she choked out. It sounded pitiful, even to her, but she couldn’t risk the possibility of them working together.
“Please, leave me alone.” She’d rather die on this dirty floor than marry Brent, or any other man for that matter.
Her arm continued to feel as though someone had torn it clean off her body, but all the pain remained.
The scent of the woods approached her, and she saw Micah kneel beside her in the low lamplight.
“Eleanor,” he said softly, as though speaking to a wounded animal. “That’s your name, right? I promise, no one’s going to hurt you again.”
Could she possibly believe him? Was he her only chance? How could he possibly know her name? Brent would’ve been the only way he could, but that would’ve meant the cowboy was in cahoots with him, right?
“No, don’t call me Eleanor. He called me Eleanor. Call me Ellie.” It didn’t matter, not in the scheme of things, but the sound of her full name on his lips grated like forks scraping dinner plates in an otherwise silent meal.
“He?” Another voice sounded this time, the same one who’d spoken earlier. “Brent? The man who captured you? He’s gone, Ellie. He won’t be back.” Questions swirled in her head, but how much could she trust them? Was it possible she was being led out of one frying pan and into a raging fire?
It didn’t matter how her head and arm throbbed or her back burned, her head shook and her body shivered.
“No, the man responsible for the trust and effectively putting a target on my back. My father.” As soon as the word ‘father’ left her lips, she clocked her lie.
She’d been referring to him as her father since Brent took her, as the man apparently hadn’t dug enough to realize he was her mother’s father.
She’d not cared to correct him, and something about the half truth gave her some semblance of power and control.
She’d come clean if she made it out of this, but she still didn’t know if she could trust the cowboys in the mine shaft - no matter how much she wanted to.
“We’ll keep you safe from your father too, Ellie, but first we have to get you out of this mine shaft. Can you stand on your own, or do you need help?” She noticed Micah tensing and trading looks with his brother, but it wasn’t something she had enough energy to question.
No, there was no way she could do it on her own, but to willingly accept his help?
It might be the greatest risk of all. She slowly pushed to a sitting position with the arm that didn’t feel as though someone had ripped it entirely off her body, cradling the lame one as best she could at her stomach.
She’d managed to get a foot under her when her body gave out, pitching forward until strong but gentle hands caught her.
“Ellie,” he whispered, his voice thick with something her brain couldn’t place. “We’re going to get you out of here, and no one’s going to hurt you ever again. First, I need you to trust me enough to let me pick you up. Can you do that?”
Another tear rolled down her cheek. The fear, the anger, the absolute terror at the idea of trusting a man to help her - it all warred with the knowledge it was her only way out.
That knowledge, the tiniest spark of hope in the chasm of her mind, gave her the courage to nod slowly. “All…all right, but just you.”
Micah paced outside the bedroom door in Louisa’s cottage as Dr. Callie Thorn examined Ellie inside. “What’s taking so long?” He knew he growled at his brothers, but the weight of the guilt of what had happened to the woman threatened to choke him.