A Ransomed Heart (2 page)

The
furious pounding of horse hooves sounded like the climax to a thunderstorm and it took everything in her power to control her body within the jumping coach.  The wheel moved slowly and steadily toward the end of the metal rod and she knew it would only be a matter of minutes until it flung away across the brown earth.  She looked again out the window and saw it was a futile attempt; they would be overtaken within just a few minutes. 

Then
, out of the whistling air came a single gunshot.  Annabelle ducked her head back in the opening, tucking it in her arms and instinctively curling into a ball.  The driver jerked the horses hard to the right, away from the broken wheel and his horses leapt in terror. The perfect combination of events caused the round wooden wheel to lazily pull away and leave the wild coach in a precarious position.  Seconds later the axle crashed to the ground and the coach jerked as it caught in the hard-packed earth below.

Annabelle felt the whole force of
the sudden stop as she was thrown headfirst into the front seat of the coach.  Closing her eyes tightly she tried to protect her head as best as she could. The coach creaked and moaned like a wounded animal then slowly tipped onto its side.  She hit her head on the wooden upright which supported the window frames and then lost her breath as Mr. Mousse came crashing down on top of her from his position directly north of her own.  The shouting had subsided and an eerie calm had settled over everything.  The only noise she could hear was the heaving of the horses as they sucked breath hungrily into their huge, deprived lungs.

Mr. Mousse moved
haltingly on top of her and she felt a red, hot fury building in her head, clouding her vision. She touched the spot on her forehead where it had been damaged and felt the warm, sticky trickle of blood.  Her beautiful dress was smashed into the ground and her copious red hair had fallen from its pins.  All of this added to her rage and she suddenly started clawing her way over the petrified Mousse toward the square of blue sky which could be seen though the upward facing window.  Someone was going to pay for this gross misdeed, and she was determined to see who was at fault.

Logan
had watched in horror as the left back wheel shot haphazardly out in front of them and fell like an autumn leaf nearly two hundred feet away.  He watched as the carriage wobbled unsupported, then crashed to the ground.  He couldn’t see the passengers within its wooden belly but it didn’t take much of an imagination to know what they were experiencing.  Then as a perfect end to the tornado of a mess, the broken beast toppled over and came to rest on its side behind the terrified team of horses.  Their fear had taken over and they stood petrified, heaving in their spots and unable to pull the heavy coach any farther. 

Everything was silent as his men looked
, horrified, at the wreckage.  Logan could feel his heart tighten in his chest as he contemplated the worst.  The passengers could all very well be dead.  The driver had already taken his last step into the afterworld, his lifeless form half buried beneath the mass of wood.  If they were all dead he would have failed at his goal.  Slowly he dismounted, holding his breath and hoping against hope this would not end as badly as it could.  Kit and Little Bear followed suit, but no one removed their bandanas.  Just as he neared the upright door he heard the sounds of life.  What happened next caused his heart to nearly leap from his chest.

The
door was trapped under the coach so her only means of escape was through the side window.  Annabelle stood, grasped the sides of the window frame, and pulled herself up through the opening.  She was furious and the adrenaline added to her strength.  Her skirts were in a tussle and she hoisted them out of the hole and then jumped to the ground.  This all happened so quickly the men hardly knew what was happening.  She whirled towards the group, her blue eyes like ice, and she tossed her strawberry mane over her shoulder so it brushed the small of her back.  Without so much as a thought as to how she appeared, she glared at the man who stood nearest to her.

“What
the heck is going on here?”  Her voice was like shards of glass shooting from her lips. 

Logan was so surprised he took a step back, afraid of the
wild woman in front of him.

She took t
wo very purposeful steps towards him, the stiff silk of her dress shaking with every step, mimicking the sound of a rattlesnake.  She was poised to strike at any moment and the man in her way was Logan.  This was not what he was expecting and he took a second step backwards to keep distance between himself and the angry girl.

Annabelle clenched her hands into fists and
gritted her teeth and then spoke very slowly:

“Could you kindly tell me the meaning of
this?” 

The sun caught the red in her hair and made it appear that she was on fire.  The green dress blended with the earth and gave her the appearance she had sprouted from the
ground like the very devil himself.  Every eye was glued to the beautiful, terrifying face, and even Logan held his breath.

Then almost instantly the spell was broken.  From behind her a
shriveled man pulled himself out the window and slid to the ground.  He seemed small and insignificant next to the stunning young woman, but he drew away enough attention that the group let go a collective breath of air.  Without saying a word to the woman Logan brushed past her and grabbed the scrawny man by the arm.  Mr. Mousse had sense enough not to resist and he looked forlornly at the girl as they passed by.  Logan refused to look at the glowing woman for now; he was sure he would lose all of his concentration if he did. 

There was a horse waiting
next to Kit, its stage tack had been removed and it stood waiting for its next commission.  Logan lifted Mr. Mousse effortlessly up onto its bare back.  Then he drew a bright white piece of paper from his pocket and shoved it roughly into the older man’s hand.  Then he spoke for the first time, his baritone voice echoing around them:

“See that Mr.
Sevier gets this.  It contains all the instructions. I expect to have my demands met in one week, and if I don’t, things will not end well.” 

With that he slapped the
horse’s rump and sent it dashing across the valley floor.  Annabelle watched in stunned silence, an uneasy feeling creeping into her chest.  Quickly she licked her lips and tried to keep a calm look on her face. She watched, her heart sinking as Mousse clutched to the animal and disappeared into the distance.

Annabelle stood rooted to the ground scowling at the men in the gang.  They still had their faces
covered and looked very much like a bunch of vagrants.  Their clothes were worn and mismatched, their hats varied from black felt, which their supposed leader wore, to old army caps complete with brass buttons, leather visor and chin strap.  One man looked very different from them all with his broad, bare chest and liquid black hair.  He was obviously a Native American and he rode a fine painted pony.  Her wandering eye soon fell to Logan’s now uncovered face.  She saw nothing but the fuzzy red that was again crowding her vision.  This man had no right ruining her day.  She glared at him viciously waiting for him to approach.

Logan drew a deep breath
as he turned back around to face her.  She was not what he expected at all.  At best he had hoped for a woman able to ride a horse, this girl looked able to break one.  Her dress was made of fine silk and her demeanor was that of a queen, surely he had the right woman.  She was what he needed and he was going to use her to his advantage, she just needed to know who was boss. Taking on his usual cool manner he pulled off his bandana and whistled a casual tune as he walked her way. When he got nearer to her he could see she was trembling.  Mistakenly he figured she was afraid, but when he stopped and observed her he could see every muscle in her body was flexed.  A faint smile played on his lips as he gave her a once over.  She was incredibly beautiful and very young, it would not be hard to get what he was looking for, and no one would give up such a prize. 

“What do you want?” Her voice
burned the air a bit with its staccato sound.

A wicked smile flashed across his face showing a line of perfect white teeth. “You.”

Like a lightning bolt her hand shot from her side and slapped him hard across the face.  The sound reverberated around them.  Logan winced a bit then his face took on an amused tone.  This was going to be fun.  From behind him Kit handed over a burlap bag and Logan swiftly slipped it over her head, the same moment Kit caught her from behind with both hands.  She tried to escape but both men were more than she could contend with.  Logan winked at Kit and he returned with a hesitant look, she was possibly a bit more than they could handle.

Annabelle never took her eyes off his face and reveled in his look when her hand made contact.  This man would know she was a force to be
reckoned with.  His steely blue eyes were the last thing she saw before the bag thrust her vision into hazy blackness.  Even then she refused to give up and gave the man behind her a swift kick in the shins. She heard several men chuckle and then the creaking of leather saddles.  Someone was unhitching the team and she knew they would be leaving.  Then seconds later she was being lifted up in front of a man. He positioned her very securely between his chest and the neck of his mount. She grimaced and pulled as far away as possible.  Her heart began to sink as the animal moved underneath her.  Where were they taking her?  What would they do with her? And would her Mr. Sevier get to her before any damage could be done?

Jean Mousse arrived at RS Ranch
in the early evening, weary and sunburned.  It was a miracle he had made it at all.  The man was not accustomed to riding a horse, and he rarely paid attention to where he was going in the stage.  He worked for Robert Sevier, the owner of the ranch, and he did and went where the man told him to. The black bowler hat he usually wore had fallen off along the way so he closed his eyes and let the animal take him home.  Nothing looked more beautiful than the front porch of Mr. Sevier’s ranch house. 

The tired animal came to a
halt near the front door and Mr. Mousse slid down hitting the ground on his wobbly legs.  Pain shot up his inner thighs and he grimaced with his first few steps.  A stable hand came for the horse and looked at him strangely, Mousse shot him a killer look and the boy lowered his eyes and took the horse for a drink and a rub down. Mousse steadied himself on the railing and eased up the stairs.  He had almost reached the door when an expectant Robert Sevier opened it.  The look on Mousse’s face spoke more than words and Sevier glared out behind him looking for the carriage and his expectant bride. Neither was to be seen. Mousse pushed his way into the house which was teeming with guests.

The room was large and full of all
manner of people.  Women in formal dresses, their hair piled on top of their heads.  The men wore straight black jackets and ribbon bow ties, their hair neatly combed and their mustaches trimmed to perfection.  Mousse felt out of place with his dusty clothes and ragged features.  These were Mr. Sevier’s business associates and friends. Mr. Mousse knew they were coming, but in his most recent ordeal he had forgotten.  Embarrassed he dipped his head at those closest to him and hurried through the crowd and down the hall towards Mr. Sevier’s study.  He could feel his boss’s heavy footsteps behind him and knew he was in trouble. 

Robert M.
Sevier slammed the door behind him as he bore holes in his assistant’s head.  What was going on and where was his bride?  He hoped there was a very good excuse because he would have hated to kill someone on such a fine evening. Mousse faced him, his mustache quivering on his face, his eyes black and beady.  If the man wasn’t so good with finances he would have let him go a long time ago; he had never given any reason to be sent away, but this may just be a good enough reason.  You don’t just lose a young woman.

“Jean, where is the girl?”  His eyes were wide, his voice
dangerously low.

Mousse didn’t say anything but drew the letter from his breast pocket and handed it over.

The paper was wrinkled and dusty but Mr. Sevier ripped it open and read the scrawling handwriting:

Mr.
Sevier,

I have acquired
something that belongs to you.  She will stay in my possession until I receive a ransom for her.  I assume she is worth a lot to you so my sum will need to be $100,000.  I expect to see the money in one week. You will meet us at the Sage River crossing at high noon where we can exchange your wife for my money.  Do not take this lightly; I have no qualms against killing her and announcing your secret engagement to those who respect you. Wouldn’t it be humiliating for them to know you had to pay a woman to be your wife?  $100,000 in seven days, you decide.

L
B

“Who gave this to you?”  He waggled
the parchment in front of the mousy man.

Mousse shrugged his
shoulder and felt his heart pick up a beat.  “I couldn’t see their faces.”

Sevier
snarled and slammed the letter down on his oak desk.  The room was ornately decorated with sturdy furniture and great Persian rugs.  The whole house looked the same, the best money could buy.  His property sprawled over the entire valley floor and overlapped Sage Creek, the only water supply in town. He had more money than many could hope for, and the girl was really the only treasure he still wanted.  Not only was she beautiful she opened the door to a whole new world. She was his key to expanding his empire over the whole valley floor. He could not afford for her to be hurt, or lost. Concern pulled at his blue eyes and he turned to face his assistant again.