DeButy & the Beast (25 page)

By the rustle of bushes he imagined they were in the forest, on a narrow path. By the absolute silence, he knew they were far from civilization. The kidnappers might decide to kill him at any moment.

Finally they stopped, and one of the men hauled Julian unceremoniously from his horse and dumped him on the ground.

Julian muttered an indignant
ouch
and sat up gingerly. "Could you untie my hands and remove this hood?" he asked in a calm low voice displaying none of his fear. All he needed was to get to the knife he had tucked in his boot. He didn't want to fight the men who had kidnapped him, but if that's what he had to do...

"Why would we do that?" one of the thugs asked hoarsely.

"There are two of you and only one of me. You are both armed and I am not. What difference does it make if I can move or not?"

A moment later the hood was jerked from his head.

Julian surveyed the situation quickly. They had stopped in a small clearing. Complete darkness had fallen, but scant moonlight provided enough illumination for Julian to see. One man, the smaller of the two, was tending to the horses. The larger thief glanced down at Julian with the dark hood dangling from his meaty hand.

"What are you going to do with me?" Julian asked calmly.

"I reckon you'll find out soon enough."

Murder, then. "Never done this before, have you?" he asked softly.

"Lots of times," the man said defensively.

"That's odd. You don't look at all like a coldblooded criminal."

But what did a criminal look like? The man did not respond, and Julian prepared himself to die. If they killed him here and now, no one would ever find his body. What would Anya think when all the petals fell from the rose and he did not return?

"The least you can do is allow me to write a letter to my wife." The man had obliged and removed the hood, but Julian's wrists were still bound behind his back. His ankles were snugly trussed.

"We ain't got no paper and pen here."

"Perhaps you could take me somewhere where I could obtain paper and pen."

The other man joined them, moving forward suspiciously. "What are you two talking about?"

"Nothing. This fella just wants to write his wife a letter. Don't sound like too much to ask, Milton. Maybe we could—"

"No," the smaller man interrupted, slapping his companion on the back of the head. "And you shouldn't have used my name. What if he escapes? He'll be able to tell everyone that Milton and Jeremiah kidnapped him."

"He's tied up," Jeremiah said. "He's not going to escape. We could let him write a letter to his wife."

"What if he tells her in the letter we kidnapped him off the road? He knows our names now, you moron."

"We can read it before we send it on."

Milton clasped two hands to his head. "Neither of us can read!"

"But I know my name when I see it," Jeremiah argued.

Milton shook a bony finger. "Let's get this over and done with, and then go home. I know you're worried about Nellie."

Jeremiah took a deep breath. "Yeah. I have to get home."

"Who's Nellie?" Julian asked softly.

"None of your business," Milton answered.

Jeremiah shrugged his big shoulders. "I don't mind telling him. He doesn't seem like a bad sort." He dropped down on his haunches. The man was inches away, and still Julian's hands were tied behind his back. "Nellie is my wife and Milton's sister. She's due to deliver our first child in just a week or two, and we're all pretty worried."

"Why are you worried?"

The big man went pale. "In the past two months, every woman in our little town that's had a baby has died. Every single one. The midwife says it's just bad luck, but no one knows when the bad luck will end."

Julian met the man's gaze. "A fever, striking three or four days after delivery?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Headache? Abdominal pain?" Julian asked quickly.

Jeremiah gave him a suspicious and somewhat muted, "That's right."

"Delirium?" he asked in a softer tone, knowing what the answer would be.

The big, obviously frightened man nodded.

Julian took a deep breath. Whatever these men had planned for him, it wasn't good. He had seen their faces, he knew their names. But he wasn't dead yet. "I can save your Nellie."

"What can you do?"

"I'm a doctor. It isn't bad luck that's been killing the women of your town, it's puerperal fever."

Denial was etched on Jeremiah's face and darkened his eyes. "You're making this up. You're just trying to get me to let you go."

"My wife is going to have a child. Our first," Julian said softly. "After what I've heard, I would ride through hell to keep her from bearing a child in your town. It's almost certain death, and I can stop it. But only if you take me there. Kill me, and I can't save her."

Jeremiah cast a silent, questioning glance to his more steadfast partner.

"Don't listen to him," Milton snapped. "He's just trying to get loose so he can run."

"I give you my word, I won't run," Julian said calmly. "I'll make the preparations, deliver your child, and if your wife lives you let me go."

"If she dies?"

"Then you can continue with your plans for me, whatever they are. Trust me, you have nothing to lose."

Jeremiah paced in the near darkness, never moving far from his prisoner.

"What on earth are you mulling over?" Julian asked loudly, losing what was left of his patience. "Are you unwilling to trade my life for that of your wife?"

All was silent for a moment, as the reverberations of Julian's loud voice echoed in the stillness.

"He's got a point," the big man finally said. "And if he can save Nellie..."

"I can."

Milton shrugged in reluctant acceptance.

A rush of relief shimmied through Julian's body. He was not free yet, but he had arranged a reprieve. As long as he could save Nellie, he might even live long enough to see his own child come into this world. "But if she's due to deliver in a week or two, we should hurry."

Jeremiah pulled a knife from the sheath at his waist, a much larger knife than the one Julian had tucked in his boot. "You promise you won't try to run?"

"You have my word."

The big man hauled Julian to his feet, spun him around, and cut the ropes that bound his wrists. The ropes at his ankles were severed next.

Milton had to have his say in the matter. "Try to run, and I will catch you and make you wish you'd died a quick death."

"Understood," Julian said as he turned about and began to rub his raw wrists.

"And if Nellie dies after you've gone and gotten our hopes up, I'll kill you so slowly you'll beg for death."

Julian swallowed hard. "I'll do everything I can."

The knife was in his boot, accessible and deadly. Yes, it was small, and yes, he had no desire to take a life. He was a doctor, after all, sworn to heal, not to hurt. Still, he wondered if these thieves had any honor in their malodorous souls. He might save Jeremiah's Nellie, and then lose his life, anyway. If he were going to run, this was the time. He had the element of surprise and the darkness of the forest on his side.

But one thing stopped him from attempting escape. In two months not a single mother had survived delivering a child in the small town where these outlaws lived. He could change that. He could stop the horrific cycle of puerperal fever.

"But you will allow me to write my wife a letter, letting her know I have been delayed." He'd have to ask Anya to send someone, Seymour or Peter, perhaps, to check on Aunt Helen.

"Sure," Milton said with another shrug of his bony shoulders. "My wife can read. She'll check it over to make sure you don't say anything that might give us away."

"Do I have your word that you'll let me go if I save Nellie?"

"Sure," Milton said, just as nonchalantly. The word of a kidnapper and thief, and possibly a murderer, wasn't much, but it was all Julian had.

Chapter 15

The first petal fell. She had known the day was coming, as each morning the rose bloomed fuller, and fuller; as the petals opened wide. The first petal fell, and still Julian was not back.

Anya clenched her fist and fought away the tears. Why was she surprised? Her husband did not like sick people. He did not want children. He had only married her for his ship and the ability to travel where he wished. One could not travel as they wished with a pregnant wife.

She had been so worried when he did not return within days as promised, that she had asked her grandmother to send someone to inquire about Julian's aunt. The woman must be very ill, Anya had thought, to keep Julian away for so long. Just days ago Anya had received word that Julian's aunt had never been ill at all. She was alive and well and had not seen her nephew in months. The letter had been false, Julian's way of sneaking away.

At her request, Seymour checked with the head of operations of Sedley Shipping and learned that Julian had presented himself within two days of his departure from this house and demanded passage to Australia.

Grandmother tried to be cheerful. They had known all along that Julian wished to continue his grandfather's studies. Anya felt silly for having told her grandmother, so confidently, that she would travel with Julian when the baby was old enough. Julian had never promised her such a thing, they had never discussed the future. The matron of the house tried to put a happy face on the situation. Julian was gone, but they had a baby on the way, a child who would fill the house with joy and love.

No one else was up and about yet, though Anya very faintly heard Betsy in the kitchen as she prepared breakfast. Anya stood in the south parlor and suffered this particular heartbreak alone, as was fitting.

Men who promised not to leave always lied. Why had she believed Julian? Why had she let herself love him? He could have told her the truth, instead of lying so well. He could have said good-bye. To make her wait and think he would be back, to promise... it was the cruelest thing he could have done.

She picked up the fallen petal and slipped it into the pocket of her gown. Somewhere deep inside herself she thought that maybe everyone was wrong. That maybe she was wrong. There was an explanation for everything that had happened, and Julian would be back. If not before the first petal fell, then before the last.

In a matter of days she would celebrate her birthday. Uncle Ellis was set to arrive that day or the next, if all went well. Grandmother would be very disappointed if her son did not arrive on time for the party. She was so looking forward to seeing her only living child.

Grandmother still had not forgiven Valerie for eloping with William, but she had invited the newlyweds to the party at Anya's insistence. In time, she would see that the couple had been right in defying her for their love. Anya hoped that time came soon. She missed seeing Valerie every day. Her promised attendance at the party was all that kept Anya on her feet.

Julian had done his job well. When the time for the party came she would know what to say, what not to say, how to dance, how to dress... and when that day came she would be a very rich woman. She did not need Julian DeButy, or any other man.

She angrily wiped away a tear. She would not cry, not for
him
. Not for anyone.

She blindly worked the clasp at the back of her neck, and removed the necklace Julian had given her. Without studying it, she dropped the rose and chain into her pocket, where it rested with the soft petal she carried there.

* * *

The people of the small town of Miller's Crossroads were cooperative. Milton and Jeremiah took turns keeping watch since they were afraid Julian would run at the first opportunity, but they needn't have feared. There was much work to be done here. Since they had allowed him to pen a letter to Anya telling her that he was well and would return as soon as possible, and to ask that someone from the household check on Aunt Helen, he had quit worrying so much about the time that passed.

The midwife had been furious at his interference, unwilling to listen to his explanations about the infectious disease she carried from woman to woman. She still preferred bad luck as an explanation for the deaths among her clients. But she did join him in cleaning all her supplies, and in gathering what was needed to make sure the epidemic of child-bed fever came to an end.

Chloride of lime was needed most badly, but he also requested turpentine and ordered a thorough scrubbing of Jeremiah's home. He also insisted that the midwife not touch Nellie, or any other pregnant or delivering woman for at least one month.

They were trying to keep his presence a secret—which was only natural since he had been kidnapped. Still, the midwife knew he was there, as did several of Nellie's friends. They had all been sworn to secrecy.

He had been living in a small house with Jeremiah and his wife, sleeping on a pallet on the floor, eating well, making plans to improve the conditions in Miller's Crossroads. What a change from the Sedley mansion! Jeremiah's house consisted of one large room, with a kitchen and table in one corner, a bed in another, and two faded, padded chairs by the fireplace. This home was simple and overly warm, providing only the bare necessities for its inhabitants.