Chapter Thirty #2
She stood motionless, her arms hanging at her sides, her eyes fixed on something in the distance. Her expression was strange—calm, almost detached, as if she wasn’t fully present.
“Lucy,” James said again, kneeling beside her. “What are you doing out here? It’s not safe.”
She didn’t look at him. Her gaze remained locked on the darkness beyond the camp, her small face pale and serious.
“What is it?” James asked, his voice lowering.
Lucy raised a trembling hand and pointed toward the black horizon.
“He took her,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
James’s blood ran cold.
“Who?” he asked, his heart thudding painfully in his chest.
Lucy finally turned to look at him, her wide eyes shining with fear. “That man,” she said. “The one who stole from everyone.”
James’s throat went dry. He didn’t have to ask. He already knew.
“Silas.”
Lucy nodded, her small hand still pointing into the darkness.
James rose to his feet, his fists clenched at his sides as the weight of her words settled over him. Angela was gone, and Silas had taken her.
The knot of unease in his chest hardened into something sharper, colder. Without a word, he turned back to the camp, his eyes blazing with purpose.
“Gather everyone,” he said to Toby, his voice low and steady. “Now.”
The pioneers moved closer, their faces pale and strained in the faint firelight.
Thomas stood beside Lucy, his large hands resting gently on her shoulders.
James cleared his throat, forcing the words out.
“Silas took Angela.”
A wave of murmurs rippled through the group, growing louder with each passing second. Faces turned toward him, eyes wide with disbelief and fear.
“Are you sure?” Rachel asked, clutching her shawl tightly around her.
Thomas looked down at Lucy, his voice low and urgent. “Lucy, honey, are you sure it was him? Did you see him?”
Lucy nodded solemnly, her wide eyes shimmering with tears.
“It was him,” she said, her voice small but steady. “He had a gun. He said to come with him or he’d hurt everybody.”
A chill ran down James’s spine, but he kept his face impassive. Silas wasn’t just a thief—he was a threat, one he should’ve dealt with more decisively when he’d had the chance.
“We can’t just stand here,” Rosie said, her voice cracking. “We have to do something!”
“I’m going after them,” James said firmly, already turning toward his wagon.
Toby stepped forward, his expression hard.
“James, think about this for a second. You don’t know which way he went. You head out there blind, and you could lose yourself, too.”
“I can’t wait,” James snapped, his voice harsher than he intended. “Every minute we waste, the farther away they get. By morning, it might be too late—”
He stopped short, unable to finish the thought.
The group fell silent, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.
Toby stepped closer, his tone softer now. “And if you get caught out there, what good does that do anyone? You go alone, you don’t have backup. You don’t know what Silas has planned.”
“He’s got Angela,” James said tightly. “That’s all the information I need.”
Toby sighed, running a hand through his gray-streaked hair.
“Then I’m coming with you.”
James shook his head. “No.”
“Don’t argue with me, boy,” Toby said gruffly. “You need someone to watch your back.”
“No,” James repeated, his tone firm. “You need to stay here. Watch out for the others, in case Silas tries to double back. He’s reckless, but he’s not stupid. He knows this camp is vulnerable now. Someone needs to protect it.”
Toby’s jaw tightened, but he gave a short nod. “Fine. But you take care out there. You hear me?”
James nodded, turning back toward his wagon. His movements were quick and methodical as he grabbed his rifle and slung it over his shoulder. His revolver was next, the weight of it familiar and reassuring as he checked the cylinder before slipping it into his holster.
He rummaged through a crate for spare ammunition, tucking it into his saddlebag along with a canteen and a length of rope. His mind raced with possibilities the entire time, each one worse than the last.
What if Silas hurts her before I find them?
The thought made his stomach churn, and he pushed it aside.
“James.”
He looked up to see Rosie standing nearby, her expression tight with worry.
“Be careful,” she said softly.
“I will,” he said, his voice low. He adjusted the strap of his saddlebag and turned toward his horse, a sturdy gelding with a coat as dark as the night ahead.
The camp was silent as he mounted up, the other pioneers watching him with a mix of fear and hope. He didn’t say anything more—there was nothing left to say.
James felt a nagging guilt in the pit of his stomach. He was the wagon master. These people were his responsibility, but he had to go after Angela.
He turned his horse toward the darkness beyond the camp, the vast, shadowy expanse of the prairie stretching endlessly before him.
His chest tightened, but he forced himself to focus.
Angela was out there. And he was going to bring her back.
With one final glance at the camp, James nudged his horse forward, the animal’s hooves crunching against the dry earth. The faint glow of the campfire faded behind him as he rode into the night, the weight of responsibility and determination pressing heavily on his shoulders.
He didn’t know what he’d find out there, but it didn’t matter.
He wasn’t coming back without her.