The Parson's Christmas Gift (21 page)

I
cy cold seeped in, drawing Journey awake. Shivering overtook her and her teeth chattered. She blinked her eyes open but only darkness greeted her. Rough wood bit into her cheek as she shifted on a lumpy pillow. She couldn’t feel her hands, couldn’t tell if they were in front of or behind her.

She struggled to keep her breathing slow and even, but her gasps echoed around her, unnaturally loud in the hollow air. Where was she?

Hearing no sounds that would indicate another’s presence, she shifted to her side until her back met with solid wall, and muffled a groan as sensation returned to her hands with jagged tingles. Only then did she realize they were bound, along with her feet. It took several tries before she managed to rock herself upright.

Not even the barest flicker of light could be seen. Maybe it was night outside. How long had she been unconscious? Would whoever brought her come back for her?

It couldn’t be Hank. He was too sick, wasn’t he?

Roy! All control left her at the thought, and she blinked, trying to dispel the darkness. The air wafting by smelled dank and seeped through cracks around her. The walls around were close, leaving her boxed in where she felt suffocated by the darkness. She drew her legs up, trying to conserve any heat her shaking could muster. What did Roy want with her?

Hank’s kindnesses had been few and far between, but at least they had existed before he’d met Roy. Hank became cruel, but Roy truly frightened her. Hank’s temper ruled him, especially once he began drinking more. Roy never lost control; every cruel act sprung fully planned from his mind to be carried out. And that made him terrifying.

Tears spilled down her face in icy trails. She hugged her knees to her chest, rocking to and fro in the narrow space.
Think!
She commanded her pounding head. What would Miss Rose do?

Pray? Come sniveling to the Lord when she found herself between a wall and, well, the blinding blackness that lay beyond?

“You expect me to come blithering to the Lord’s feet, begging Him to take me now, when I know I can’t do a thing to earn my keep?”
Hank’s words echoed in her mind.

Zane said it wasn’t about earning anything, that God would forgive, that it wasn’t too late for change.

She thought back to the week before her mama died. The owner of the tavern where her mother worked had been furious when Mama refused to take any more gentlemen callers. Not gentlemen, she corrected herself. Not men like Zane and Sam. Those men had been like Hank and Roy, taking only for themselves.

Mama had been sick, but she’d never have returned to that business. She had tried to explain why, but somehow those lessons had been lost in Journey’s efforts to get away after Mama died. Within that week, when she was hungry and cold and tired of living in the streets, Hank had befriended her and taken her to live with him. Could God forgive all that she’d done since that time? So many deceptions.

There’s always a chance,
she reminded herself. She pushed into the wall at her back as the darkness crushed in tighter.

She buried her head in her bound hands. “Oh, Lord,” she whispered, her voice unnaturally loud as it cut through the overwhelming silence. “I’ve made such a sorry mess of my life. Then I tried to hide it, and that’s only made it worse.”

Rocking harder in the enclosed space, she paused to catch her breath. “Jesus, I don’t know You, not really. I only know I’ve made so many wrong choices that I can’t make any right ones anymore if You don’t help me.”

She stopped, listening, arms trembling around her knees. Her breath caught. Was that a creak she heard? But if there’d been anything unusual, it made no other sound.

“I know You can forgive me, Jesus, if You only would. And whether I make it out of here or not—” she gulped, hoping the latter would not be the case “—but even if not, Lord, I want to be Yours, and to know Your forgiveness. Uh, thank You, and…amen.”

She lifted her face. The throbbing in her head moved from the back where she’d been struck to a point behind her eyes. Sniffling, she managed to fish a handkerchief from her pocket with her hands tied.

Cold air still wafted around her. No light threaded its way into the blackness in which she was submerged. A rescue didn’t appear any closer at hand than it had a few moments before. But the cold knot of fear and confusion and sorrow that had gripped her heart began to loosen…and soften…and grow warm. Peace filled her as the happy tears fell.

Z
ane jerked his head up at the sound of feet stomping in the door. How long had he dozed? He needed to find Journey.

“Reed?” Zane watched him make a beeline from the entry to his aunt’s side and followed. The sheriff sat at Miss Rose’s side and held her hand, his gaze resting on her tiny form. He swallowed hard and blinked several times.

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s resting. How’d you hear?” He adjusted the sling around his arm.

“I met a man on the trail who said there’s been sickness and that you had everyone holed up at the church. When I didn’t find anyone at Aunt Rose’s, I thought—”

“I’m sorry. I should have wired before.”

But Reed waved him off. “No matter now. I’m glad you were with her.” Zane caught his glance. “Besides, I’m here on business. I had a visitor. A man came in by the name of Roy Clemson. He claimed to be a lawman from Georgia investigating the case of Maura Baines, otherwise known as Journey Smith.”

“He came all that way to find her?”

Reed shook his head. “Something didn’t sit right with me, either, so I did some checking of my own. He’s no lawman and I have a poster on him.”

“He’s looking for Journey?”

“She ever mention him? Do you recognize the name?”

“No, but Hank may. He’s sick and Doc says he doesn’t have long, but we could ask.” Something clicked in his mind. “You said no one was at Miss Rose’s place? You checked the barn?”

“I looked around a bit, hoping. But I didn’t see anyone. Why?”

Zane shook his head and scratched his eyebrow. “Journey was none too happy with me for bringing Baines here. She ran off, and I thought she’d go there.”

“Preacher?”

He glanced over his shoulder at Hank and stood, looking at Reed.

“I’m sure she’ll turn up, soon as she’s had a chance to think things through,” Reed said.

Zane watched him pull his seat closer to Miss Rose’s side. Sam knelt near Abby. Both women were still and asleep, but Abby’s color had already improved since they’d found her. He wished the same for Miss Rose.

“Preacher? Are you there?”

He shuffled to his chair beside Hank. A lantern flickered its light over his gray face. “I’m here, Baines. What can I do for you?”

“Maura,” he gasped. “Where is she? I have to talk to her.” Hank kicked his blankets off.

“She’s not here. You have to settle down.” He held the man with a hand at his shoulder. “Doc?”

The man appeared at his side, with Reed right behind. Doc grabbed Hank’s wrist with one hand and pulled out his pocket watch with the other. “You can’t carry on like this, Mr. Baines. What can I get you?”

“Maura. I have to tell her—Roy’s coming. He said he—could persuade her—to help us.”

“Help you how?” Zane’s voice sounded unnaturally loud to his own ears in the quiet room.

“Mining deal. We had maps, drawn up special.” Hank puffed. “Never had a chance to use them.”

He leaned forward, clenching his hand in the blankets covering Baines. “What will he do?”

Doc Ferris nodded him off with a furrowed brow. “Take it easy, son. She was here earlier.”

“When?”

“You were talking with Hank. She didn’t stay long.”

His fingers tightened into a fist. “Where would he be, Baines? What will he do if he finds her?”

“Don’t know.” Hank coughed hard and fell back, his breath shallow. “But he’ll find her, unless you do…first.” Air gurgled in the back of his throat and his face grew dark as he tried to inflate his lungs. “Tell her I—tried.” He choked and his lips went white. He brought a trembling hand to his chest and his eyes rolled back. He struggled again with the blankets. “Too hot…”

Zane tried to pull the man upright, awkward with one arm in a sling, but lost his leverage as Hank grew heavier and slumped to the bed, eyes closed. He looked to Reed and then Doc, who shook his head and replaced Hank’s hand at his side. “He’s gone, Zane.”

He wanted to kick the cot and make Hank tell him more. He blew out a frustrated breath. His muscles tensed, and he felt Reed’s hand on his shoulder.

“You might as well rest yourself. There’s no way we could pick up any trail tonight,” Reed said, stretching to his feet. “You know that.”

He fell into a chair by the window, cradling his ribs. “All I know is that she’s out there. What if this Clemson guy has found her? We have to do something.”

“And she could be tucked in at Aunt Rose’s place by now for all we know.”

He gave a ragged sigh. “I know. I should’ve gone out to check myself. Maybe she—”

“Look at yourself. When’s the last you slept?” Reed asked. “Your ribs must be killing you.”

“Not so bad that I can’t ride.”

“Ride where? Unless you know right where she’d be, we could mark up any tracks we might find if we wait until daylight.” Reed eased into the seat by his side in the corner.

Zane remembered Journey’s fury as she had stormed off, thought about Hank’s warning about Roy Clemson. Somehow he didn’t hold out hope that she could be sleeping, safe and sound. Wind rattled the window.

“I know,” he whispered. “But something’s not right. I feel it. Tell me you believe she’s fine.”

Reed cast his gaze toward his aunt, shielding his eyes in the shadows of the room. He kept his voice low. “I believe we can only trust the Lord to take care of her until He guides us to find her. But we can’t head out until daybreak. You get some sleep, and we’ll leave at first light.”

Miss Rose’s voice barely crossed the room. “Zane? Zane, are you there?”

He moved to her side and knelt. “Right here, Miss Rose. What can I do for you?”

“You can settle yourself. You’re no good to Journey or anyone else if you go off half-cocked.” Her weak voice was painful to Zane’s ears.

“I have to find her. I hate to think she’s out there and I can’t—” His chest burned and he swallowed over the knot in his throat.

Miss Rose slipped her hand over his. “She’s not Sarah.”

He focused his gaze on the lantern on the far windowsill. “I know that. I don’t want her to be.”

“You think if she’s not Sarah, you can’t love her,” she said. “But that’s the one thing they have in common.”

He looked down at her pale face, blending in with the pillow slip. “I only want to help her. She needs me.”

Miss Rose managed a dry laugh. “You need her. She’s the only woman to get any of your attention since Sarah died.” She shifted under the covers. “Besides me, that is.”

He leaned down and smiled. “No one deserves the attention more than you.”

“I won’t always be here to look out for you. You need someone, Zane. Journey loves you, you know.”

“She’ll be gone the minute the snow melts.”

Her blue eyes blazed with fever and irritation. “Only if you don’t give her a reason not to. You love her. Or you’re starting to. Don’t let Sarah’s memory blind you to a future she’d want you to have. Go after Journey.”

“She’s not even a believer. I can’t just—She’s not—”

“Trust God. He’s working on her. Trust Him and go after her.”

“I will,” he said. He looked at her pasty skin and heard her shallow breathing. He leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I will.”

Morning couldn’t come soon enough.

“J
ourney!”

Sunlight had only begun to kiss the horizon when Zane and Reed were saddled and ready to head out. The night air still hung cold and frosty, and he wondered, not for the first time, if Journey was somewhere warm. They pushed the horses hard on the ride out to Miss Rose’s place, but the careful search of the ground for even the barest of tracks garnered no leads.

“Journey! Can you hear me?”

Reed reined in beside him. “She’s not here.”

“Jour—”

“Zane!” He felt Reed grab his coat sleeve and pull him around, carefully because of his ribs. “We’re wasting time. We need to backtrack this Clemson guy and see who’s talked to him, where he’d go if he did have her, where he’d be now if he doesn’t. Maybe if we talk to him, we could at least take out some possibilities. We can’t go out searching all over creation and hope to find her,” Reed said. “It’d be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“Your way could take days.” He kept his voice low and tight. “That’s time Journey might not have.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

He swiped a knuckle over his forehead.
Dear Lord, where is she? Guide us, please, Father. Why, if she were mine, I’d—

Mine.

“Zane? You feeling all right?” Reed shook him out of his daze.

“I will be when we find her,” he said with a nod. “And I think I know where we can look. Listen, you go ahead into town, ask around and see what you can learn about Clemson. Baines has been stirring up interest in the old mine. He’s been staying out there. Maybe Clemson is, too, and if so, maybe he’s taken Journey there.”

Reed shifted in his saddle. “I don’t know, you with that arm? What if you meet up with Clemson without me?”

“I’m not looking for trouble. I only want to find Journey, make sure she’s not hurt. I’ll be careful.”

His friend still looked doubtful. “You’re sure? Aunt Rose’ll kill me if anything happens to you.”

“I’m sure. I’ll see you back at the church.”

Journey shivered and felt her stomach flop, shaking to stay alert. She blinked and tried to stretch before remembering her bound hands. The darkness prevented her from seeing anything more than shapes, but the impenetrable black lightened with streaks of sunlight winding through the loose boards in the walls. It must be morning.

What was that noise?

The wind moaned, piercing the cracks at her back, but she could have sworn there was something else.
Lord, am I losing my mind?
Day and night all tumbled together. She slid until she felt the press of boards at her shoulder.

Again she heard it. A voice. Maybe voices.

Would someone be looking for her? Would they even notice she was missing after the way she’d run off? What if Roy came back for her? What if—

Wait a minute,
she told herself. What about faith? Wasn’t part of believing in God remembering that He had control over everything?

Her hands no longer had any sensation, but she clenched them to bring the feeling of pins and needles back at least. If someone came, she’d need to attract attention. If Roy returned, he already knew where she was, and calling out would do no harm, she reasoned.

“I’m here!” Her voice filled the space around her, sounding raspy and weak to her own ears. She coughed as the chill air suffocated her. “I’m in here!” she called again, louder.

She strained to hear over the odd moans and creaks of the closet. Weren’t the voices getting closer?

Rocking back and forth, she tried to stop the trembling that chased down her spine. “Zane!” She couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down her face. “Please, Jesus! Let it be Zane!”

Zane pulled his horse back into the stand of trees near the old mine. He squinted across the clearing to the mine shack standing in all its dilapidated glory near the mine entrance.
Please, Lord, let Journey be there
.

Steps sounded closer, and Journey held her breath. “Zane?”

The closet door creaked open and a match flared. She screamed.

“’Fraid not, Maura,” Roy said, his face eerie in the soft glow. “By the time your preacher man figures out where to look for you, we’ll be long gone.”

Cold dread formed a lump that sank to her stomach when he drew closer, settling back onto his haunches and blocking the doorway. The glimpse she had of the room that lay beyond told her little.

He grinned without a single tooth showing. “Your prince won’t be arriving anytime soon.”

“What do you want?” She struggled to catch a deep breath.

“You. You’re going to straighten out this whole mess.” He leaned closer until she could smell a strong lack of soap on him.

“There wasn’t a problem until you told Hank where I was.”

“No problem at all,” Roy said. “You flitting about with your new beau under your husband’s nose. And Hank was still going to cut you in on the deal.”

“It wasn’t like that. I didn’t want to be a part of any deal. And Zane—”

“That’s not the point, is it?” He struck another match and watched it add its glow to the first as it burned out, then used it to light a cheroot held between his teeth. “The money you took from Hank that night you left belonged to me. So I figure it’s me you owe, after all.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” she insisted.

A third match lit the lantern that rested at his feet, still necessary in the morning grayness. He drew a long puff and let the smoke swirl slowly from his lips and nose.

He continued talking then, as if he’d never heard her. “You’ll come with me. I’m sure we can find something for you to do until you pay your debt.” She felt his gaze on her, moving from her boots to her face, lingering longer than it should. “I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement.” His tone showed he didn’t care about being agreeable.

“I’m not going with you, Roy. We’ll settle this here.”

“Hmm…that might have worked if you had helped Hank like he said you would. As it stands, maybe it’d be best for you and me to move on, head to California. Some towns are starting to get right civilized—makes the folks more willing to be fooled. With looks like yours, they’ll fall in well enough.” He stretched a stubby finger and stuck it into one curl. “Yes, Hank certainly knew what he was doing when he took up with you.”

She stiffened, her heart pounding in her throat in the pattern of her uneven breaths.

“Yep, you’re a fine-looking woman, Maura.” He drew forward, eyelids heavy.

He caught her bound wrists and pulled her up close. The scent of tobacco gagged her.

He leaned closer. She squirmed, moving her arms between them, and pushed him away, scrambling to her feet in the tiny closet. She slipped down on her tingling feet. Roy moved closer and yanked her back up. She staggered as he shoved her away, managing to right herself against the wooden doorjamb before she toppled over completely.

“You could do worse than taking up with me.” His lips brushed her ear as he spoke. Bile rose to her throat.

Sparks of panic flew behind her eyelids, which were squeezed shut as his hand slid around her waist and up her back. The other hand trailed through her loose hair brushing either side of her face. She panted and thrashed, striking out with her bound hands.

Roy grabbed her waist again and thrust her away. Sharp pain gouged her back and forced air from her. She cringed when he stepped forward, beefy fist raised.

She ducked and rolled against the wallboards to the floor. He grabbed the hem of her dress and yanked her back over the uneven floor, pulling her upright against him despite her kicks.
Lord…

“Let her go, Roy.”

A voice boomed against the unnatural light as she struggled free. Zane! His shadowed form blocked most of the morning light as he stood in the outside doorway.

Journey squirmed and thrashed until Roy’s grasp loosened and she felt him pull away. She dropped to the cold dirt floor of the cabin and rolled to her knees, squeezing into the corner.

Roy spun free of Zane’s grasp on his collar and whirled, shoving him against a rickety table. He gasped as his bound arm twisted.

Then Roy stepped in, wielding a board at his head. She squealed and Zane managed to avoid the swing. The sickening crunch of wood against wood muffled his groan as his tender ribs battered the rough edge of the stand.

Roy swung again, this time catching the side of the preacher’s head. “Zane!” Journey yelled as he slumped to the floor.

But he kicked out, knocking Roy’s legs from under him. The man fell to the floor and scrambled to some dark corner.

Zane pulled toward her, and she reached out to help him lean against the wall beside her.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, panting and trying to stand.

She helped him up, holding her bound hands over his side to check for further damage. He worked to catch his breath, swaying slightly. “No, he—I’m fine. Zane!”

Roy swung the wooden club again. This time it connected with the end of Zane’s chin, forcing his head back and into the rough wall. He dropped to the floor, unmoving.

Journey wobbled to his side on her knees. She ran her fingers over his face, hoping to rouse him. “Zane?”

But a cold, hard grasp jerked her to her feet. Roy pinched her jaw in his grimy hand, bringing tears to her eyes.

“Don’t bother. You’ll be a lovely memory for him, if he has a memory after that hit. Now, you’re coming with me.”

“No!” She pulled away, moving to Zane’s side. “Please! Please, you have to let me help him. I’m no good to you, I’d only slow you down.”

“I said—”

“They’ll follow if I’m with you, Roy. They came this far. If you go now, you’ll be in the clear. They’ll never catch you, they’ll—”

Roy slapped her and she sank to the floor. “Fine. You make a good point. But if you say a word about me to a soul, I’ll be back and I’ll kill you and your darling pastor—and anyone else who means anything to you. And you know I can.”

She shook, unable to speak.

“I see we have an understanding.” Roy grabbed the lantern and moved to the edge of the waning shadows. “Be sure it stays that way.”

He left her in gray silence.