Chapter Thirty-One #2
Her breath grew shallow as desperation clawed at her. Every bump and lurch of the wagon made her resolve harden. Silas wasn’t going to stop. He wouldn’t turn back, and he wouldn’t let her go.
Her eyes flickered to the reins, her mind turning over the risks. It was reckless. It was dangerous. But she had no choice. If she didn’t act, she wouldn’t get another chance.
Angela’s hands trembled as she braced herself. I have to stop him. I have to do something.
Her gaze snapped to the reins in his hands.
If she could just get them—just once—maybe she could stop the wagon, slow the horses, something.
Her pulse thundered in her ears as her thoughts solidified into resolve.
I have to try.
Angela shifted in her seat ever so slightly, testing Silas’s awareness. He didn’t seem to notice. His attention was locked on the shadowy trail ahead, his anger boiling over in muttered rants.
“Lord,” she whispered, her eyes darting skyward. “Please guide me. Show me what to do. I don’t have the strength to face this alone. If I act, protect me. If I falter, protect me still. I put this in Your hands.”
The prayer steadied her, the trembling in her fingers easing just enough for her to think clearly. She glanced again at Silas, who remained oblivious, his grip tight on the reins as he muttered about revenge and justice.
Angela inhaled deeply, the cool night air sharp in her lungs. She closed her eyes for the briefest moment, feeling a flicker of courage bloom in her chest.
I trust You, Lord, she prayed again, the words grounding her as she opened her eyes and reached for the reins.
She flexed her hands, preparing herself. Then, summoning every ounce of courage she had, she lunged for the reins.
“What are you doing?!” Silas bellowed, his voice breaking with shock and fury.
Angela’s fingers snagged the leather reins, tugging with all her might. The horses screamed in panic, their movements jerking erratically as they felt the conflicting commands.
The wagon swerved hard to the left, wheels skidding over loose dirt and rocks.
“Let go!” Silas roared, wrestling with her. He shoved at her with one arm, but Angela clung to the reins like a lifeline, tears blurring her vision as she fought back.
“Stop the wagon!” she cried, her voice raw and desperate.
The horses reared, their hooves pounding wildly against the earth. The wagon tipped sharply as it hit a deep rut, the wooden frame groaning under the strain.
Angela’s heart stopped as she realized what was about to happen.
The world seemed to blur around her, the wind whipping her hair into her face and stealing the breath from her lungs. The wagon rattled and groaned beneath her, the wood creaking ominously with every jolt.
The horses screamed, their terrified whinnies piercing the night as their hooves caught on the uneven ground. The wagon lurched violently, the wheels hitting the edge of the ditch and tipping at a sharp angle.
Angela barely had time to grab the seat before the wagon tipped completely. The world tilted around her, a chaotic blur of stars, shadows, and noise.
The horses reared, their frantic neighs cutting through the chaos as the wagon overturned. Angela felt herself lifted into the air, weightless for a single, horrifying moment before she was thrown violently to the ground.
She hit the earth hard, the impact knocking the wind from her lungs. For a heartbeat, everything was black—soundless and still.
When the world came rushing back, it was in fragments. The coppery taste of blood in her mouth. The sharp sting of dirt and rocks digging into her palms. The dull ache spreading through her ribs with every shallow breath.
Her ears rang, muffling the sounds of the horses’ panicked snorts and the creaking of the overturned wagon.
Angela groaned, trying to push herself up, but her arms trembled and gave out beneath her.
She rolled onto her side, gasping as she struggled to fill her lungs with air. Her head throbbed, her vision swimming as she tried to make sense of the chaos around her.
The wagon lay on its side a few feet away, one of the wheels spinning uselessly in the air. The horses were tangled in their harnesses, their eyes wild with fear as they pawed at the ground, trying to free themselves.
“Silas,” she croaked, though her voice was barely audible over the noise.
She turned her head, her heart lurching as she saw him struggling to his feet a few yards away. His hat was gone, his face streaked with dirt and blood. For a moment, he looked dazed, his eyes unfocused as he staggered toward the wagon.
Then his gaze locked onto her.
Angela froze, her breath hitching as she saw the flicker of rage in his expression.
“You stupid girl,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous as he stumbled toward her. “This is all your fault.”
Angela’s pulse quickened, panic clawing at her chest as she scrambled backward, the rough ground tearing at her hands and knees.
She had to get away.
But her body was sluggish, her limbs heavy and uncooperative. She could feel the pain radiating through her ribs, every breath sharp and shallow.
Silas loomed over her now, his shadow falling across her as he reached down and grabbed her arm.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he snarled, dragging her to her feet.
Angela cried out, the sharp pull sending a fresh wave of pain through her side. Her mind raced, desperation taking hold as she struggled against his grip. She gasped as Silas’s rough hands yanked her to her feet, her ribs screaming in protest from the sudden movement.
The night spun around her, disorienting and thick with the scent of dust and sweat. She clawed at his arm, her nails scraping against his sleeve, but his grip was iron, unyielding.
“Let me go!” she cried, her voice raw with desperation.
Silas didn’t answer. Instead, his free hand shot toward his belt, and Angela’s stomach dropped as she saw the glint of a blade in the moonlight.
“Stop squirming,” he growled, his voice cold and steady now, the muttering madness gone.
He raised the blade and pressed it to her throat, the sharp edge biting into her skin just enough to draw a line of heat.
Angela froze, her breath hitching as fear wrapped around her like a vice. The cool metal against her neck was unforgiving, silencing any protest she might have made.
“You see what you made me do?” Silas hissed, his face inches from hers. His breath was hot and sour, his wild eyes boring into hers. “You couldn’t just stay quiet. Couldn’t just follow along. Always have to make it harder.”
Angela’s chest heaved, her heart pounding so loud it drowned out the rustle of the prairie grass and the faint sounds of the panicked horses behind them. She barely dared to move, her body rigid with terror as she stared into Silas’s crazed eyes.
And then she heard it.
The faint rhythm of hoofbeats, growing louder, faster.
Her pulse quickened, hope flickering to life in the corner of her mind. She didn’t dare look away from Silas, but she strained her ears, clinging to the sound.
The hoofbeats thundered closer, cutting through the night like a drumbeat. Silas stiffened, his head jerking up, his gaze snapping toward the horizon.
A shadow emerged from the darkness, silhouetted against the moon's pale glow. The figure sat tall in the saddle, the horse surging forward with powerful strides beneath him.
Angela’s heart leaped in her chest.
“James,” she whispered, the name slipping from her lips like a prayer.