Waiting for Spring (38 page)

Keep him safe, Lord
, she prayed.
Help Gwen keep David from worrying.
When she glanced at Barrett, Charlotte saw
his lips moving ever so slightly, and she wondered if he was praying, too.

“How much farther do you think it is?” she asked after what seemed like an hour had passed.

“Not much more than another mile. We'll be there soon.” Barrett patted the satchel that he'd tied behind his saddle. “I'll give you this when we split up.” As they'd ridden, he had told Charlotte that he remembered the layout of the ranch. Though he was puzzled about why the baron had set the meeting for a work shed rather than the house itself, he had explained that he'd circle around and approach the shed from the back so that he would not be seen.

“In less than an hour, we'll all be on our way back.” Though he had been tempted to bring a third horse so that Gwen would have a mount for herself and Rose, Barrett had worried about the additional noise and had told Charlotte that once David was free they'd figure out the best way for the five of them to return to Cheyenne. But first, she had to find the baron and give him the ransom money.

And before that, they had to reach the ranch. They'd turned off the main road onto a narrow lane that was little more than a path. Pitted with squirrel and fox holes, it was the most dangerous road yet. Though Charlotte wanted to stare into the distance, that was foolhardy. Not only was there nothing to see, but she felt compelled to watch the ground. Although she wasn't certain she could see any better than the horse, she wanted to guide it around obstacles. When they reached what appeared to be a smooth stretch, she glanced up. For a second, Charlotte doubted her eyes, but when she blinked, it was still there. Her heart began to pound.

“Look, Barrett.” She pointed toward the figure she'd seen. “There's someone on the road.”

“I don't see anyone.”

“There's someone there. I know it.” There was no time to explain that she'd always been able to see well in the dark. Charlotte squinted, trying to identify the figure. “It's a woman, and she's carrying a child.” Dread and hope twisted themselves around her heart, leaving her breathless. This close to their destination, it could only be one woman. “It's Gwen. I know it is.” Somehow she had gotten free from the baron. That was good. What wasn't good was that Charlotte could see only one child. Surely Gwen wouldn't leave either David or Rose behind. Perhaps it was David she was carrying, and Rose was walking behind her, hidden by her skirts.

Without waiting for Barrett's response, Charlotte flicked the reins and raced toward the woman. It was Gwen, she confirmed even before she reached her friend. She recognized her walk. Charlotte squinted, hope battling with fear as she tried to identify the child Gwen was carrying. Rose. There was no doubt, just as there was no sign of David. Biting back the despair that threatened to overwhelm her, Charlotte leaned over the horse's neck, wanting to be closer to Gwen. Judging from her slow pace and the slump of her shoulders, her friend was exhausted and overwrought.

“What happened? Where's David?” Charlotte cried, her words little more than a sob.

“Yes, where is David?” Barrett had reached Charlotte's side. His normally pleasant voice was harsh, perhaps because he was as distraught as Charlotte.

In the dim light, she saw Gwen recoil. “He's still got him.” Gwen set Rose on her feet, admonishing her not to stray. “He
brought us here on a horse. Oh, Charlotte, it was awful. He had this crazy look in his eyes, and he was laughing all the while, telling me he was going to be a wealthy man. I told him I didn't care about money, but he just laughed harder. He said everyone cares about money.”

Charlotte's thoughts began to whirl. It sounded as if Gwen knew the baron. Surely that wasn't possible, and yet . . .

“Why are you walking?” Though his voice was still firm, Barrett did not bark at Gwen.

“He took Rose and me into the house and made me promise that we wouldn't leave. He said it was going to be ours soon, so we should make ourselves comfortable while he waited for the money.” She looked up at Charlotte, her face contorted with anguish, and in that moment Charlotte knew who the baron was. Gwen was suffering, not only because of what had happened but also because of who was responsible.

“I didn't want to leave David with him, but I couldn't fight him.” When Gwen covered her face with her hands and began to weep, Rose clutched her skirts and hid her face in them. “The only thing I could do was try to get help.”

“The baron plans to kill David.” Charlotte wouldn't pronounce his real name, for that would give him a touch of humanity that he did not deserve, not now when her worst fear had been confirmed.

Barrett reached over and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Not necessarily. He won't do anything until he has the money. He knows you won't give it to him unless you see that David is safe.”

It made sense, and yet Charlotte could not dismiss her worries. Her son, her precious little boy, was being held hostage by a madman.

Gwen wiped her eyes and looked up at Charlotte. “I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. He told me you were lying when you called yourself Charlotte Harding. He said you were really some Army lieutenant's wife. I didn't believe him, but then I saw the Bible.”

There was only one Bible that would have changed Gwen's mind, but it was kept hidden. Or was it? Charlotte closed her eyes, trying to visualize her room, trying to recall whether she had put the Bible back in the drawer before she left for her evening with Barrett. She couldn't remember opening the drawer again. She had left it out, and that meant that David's capture was her fault, not Gwen's.

Charlotte shook her head slowly. Gwen must have misunderstood, for her face crumpled, and she looked as if she were going to cry again. “I'm sorry, Charlotte. I shouldn't have done it, but I read the family pages. When I saw that he was right, I told him.” Her shoulders shook, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. “I never knew he was evil.”

“Who?” The question came from Barrett.

“Warren.”

“Warren?” Charlotte heard the shock in Barrett's voice and felt his hand tighten on her shoulder as Gwen confirmed what she had surmised. Warren was the baron. She should have recognized it before. After all, her instincts had warned her that something was amiss from the first time she'd met him. If only she'd heeded them, perhaps tonight would not have happened. As it was, both Barrett and Gwen had been betrayed, and Charlotte's son was in mortal danger.

Keep him safe
, she prayed again.
Soften Warren's heart.

“I thought he loved me.” Gwen's wail wrenched Charlotte's heart.

“He does.” She reached down, extending her hand toward her friend. “He loves you in his own way.” Just as Jeffrey had loved her as best he could. It wasn't the way Charlotte had wanted to be loved. It wasn't the way Barrett loved her. But it was all that Jeffrey had been able to offer.

Barrett dismounted and strode toward Gwen. Though Charlotte imagined that he was still reeling from the revelation of Warren's perfidy, his voice was devoid of emotion. “Can you ride astride?” When Gwen nodded, he gestured toward Charlotte. “Take Charlotte's horse and go home. There's nothing more you can do here, and you and Rose need to be out of the cold.”

It was sound advice. As Charlotte prepared to dismount, Barrett reached up and lifted her off the horse, drawing her close to him for the briefest of moments. “I love you,” he whispered. “Remember that.” She would. No matter what happened, she would never forget that this wonderful man loved her . . . and her son.

“Can you forgive me?” Gwen asked as Charlotte approached her. “I didn't mean to hurt David.”

“I know. It wasn't your fault.” Charlotte gave her a quick hug. “Keep Rose safe.”

Barrett helped Gwen mount, then handed Rose up to her. When they were headed toward the city, he put his arm around Charlotte's shoulder, squeezing gently as he said, “We'll ride together until we get close to the ranch. I'll get off then.” He lifted Charlotte onto his horse, climbing on behind her and wrapping his arms around her so that he could control the reins. “I visited the ranch a couple times. There's a bend in the road right before we reach it. If we turn left, we can come up behind the shed where Warren's holding David. The only
opening is a door in the front. He won't see you until you're right there.”

Charlotte wasn't certain that her arrival needed to be a surprise, but she knew that Warren must have no idea that Barrett was close by. There was no telling what he might do if he realized she hadn't followed his instructions.

They were a hundred or so yards from the shed when Barrett dismounted. “Stall if you can,” he said when he'd placed the reins in her hand. “That'll give me time to get there. My instincts tell me that we need to be ready to leave the moment you give him the money.”

Though Barrett said nothing more, Charlotte knew he did not trust his friend. His former friend. Nor did she. Madmen were unpredictable, and that made them dangerous.

Charlotte nodded, though her heart was pounding so fiercely that she could hardly hear over its frantic beat. “I don't know what I'm going to do when I see him. I'm angry and scared at the same time. I'm so afraid he'll hurt David.”

Barrett laid his hand on hers. “You're not alone. You know that. You're never alone.”

When she reached the front of the shed, she saw that Barrett was correct. There were no windows, only a single door with light seeping out around its frame. Oddly, there were no sounds. She had expected to hear David wailing and Warren shouting at him. Instead, there was an eerie silence. There was only one explanation Charlotte could imagine: David was asleep. She murmured a silent prayer of thanksgiving as she dismounted and headed toward the door. She rapped on the door, then opened it and gasped. David wasn't asleep. He was lying in a crate, tied hand and foot. Even worse, he had been gagged. That monster of a baron had treated her
son as if he were a sack of potatoes. Charlotte saw the trace of tears on David's face and watched as he started to squirm when he heard the sound of her footsteps.

“David!” She lunged, desperate to reach him and end his ordeal, but the baron stepped in her path, pointing a gun at her heart.

“Give me the money, or I'll kill both you and your brat.”

 27 

C
harlotte glared at the man who'd once hidden his evil behind a mask, the man with eyes as cold as January ice. Though she'd suspected the baron was the man who'd shot Jeffrey, seeing him now confirmed her fears. This man was a killer. He'd murdered before, and he'd do it again. In all likelihood, he planned to kill her and David as soon as she gave him the money. Murmuring a silent prayer that she could somehow outwit him, Charlotte refused to flinch as she met his gaze.

“You won't get anything from me until I'm sure my son is unharmed.” Somehow she would get David out of here, even if she had to die to do it. Though she hated the thought of leaving her son, Charlotte knew David would not be alone if she were killed, for Barrett would raise him as if he were his own. But first she had to free him.

As if he sensed her determination, Warren lowered his gun, allowing Charlotte to pass. In her haste to reach David, she stumbled, her eyes widening in surprise when she recognized
the object that had tripped her: David's ball. He must have refused to relinquish it and had carried it all the way here. Or perhaps Gwen, knowing his attachment to the toy, had hidden it in her cloak. Whatever the reason, David's ball was here.

Charlotte scooped her son into her arms, needing to hold him close, to assure herself that he was alive, before she untied him. Reluctantly, she laid him back in the crate. “It'll be all right,” she crooned as she removed the gag and ropes. Like a spring that had been released, David began to flail his arms and legs. “You're safe, David. You're safe.” Reaching down to stroke his forehead, Charlotte prayed that was true.

As David's whimpers turned into full-fledged screams, Warren scowled. “Shut him up! All he does is howl. It's enough to drive a man crazy.”

Charlotte lifted the still struggling child into her arms and turned him so his cries were muffled by her body. “He's a child, Warren,” she said, fixing her eyes on the man who was responsible for her son's distress. “A child who cannot see. You took him from his home and put him in a strange place. How did you expect him to react? He's tired, he's probably hungry, and he's scared. Of course he's going to cry.”

As Warren's scowl deepened, he began to wave his gun at her. “I don't need a lecture from you, Mrs. Crowley.” The name was delivered with a sneer. “You thought you were smart enough to hide from me, but you were wrong.” He took a step toward her, his posture menacing. “Now, where's the money?”

“I don't have it.” She wouldn't give this evil man Barrett's savings if she could help it, for if what she feared was true, it would not save David's life. She had to get her son out of here, but first she needed to be certain that Barrett was waiting.

Warren's face reddened, making his nose look more like a raptor's beak than ever. “What do you mean? Of course you have it. Jeffrey gave it to you.”

As David's wails turned to whimpers, Charlotte shook her head. “Jeffrey had no money. He wouldn't have gotten involved in the stagecoach robberies if he had.”

Though she hadn't thought it possible, Warren's face turned an even deeper shade of red. “You're lying. Jeffrey found Big Nose's stash.”

“No, he did not. So you see, Warren, you accomplished nothing by kidnapping David. I have no money to give you.”

Warren took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “You're not a very good liar, Mrs. Crowley. I think you do have money. It may not be Big Nose's, but you have money. We'll wait for Barrett.”

“Barrett?”

“You needn't feign innocence, Mrs. Crowley.” Warren sneered again, as if pronouncing the name gave him pleasure. “I know you had dinner with him, and I'm sure that being the gentleman he is”—another sneer accompanied Warren's words—“he accompanied you home. That means he knows about my demands.” Warren's eyes narrowed as he kept his gaze focused on Charlotte. “If I had it, I'd be willing to bet Big Nose's stash that Barrett did not let you come here alone. I expect him to burst through that door any minute now, so let's get ready.” He gestured toward the shed's sole seating, a spindle-back chair with one spindle and most of its paint missing. “Sit down.”

“And if I don't?”

“I'll shoot your brat.” He cocked the gun.

Charlotte sat.

“Put the boy on the floor.”

Charlotte complied.

“Now put your hands behind the chair.” He grabbed two ropes from the table.

“Why?” It was a rhetorical question. Charlotte was stalling, hoping that Barrett would arrive before the baron could restrain her.

Warren's lip curled. “Surely you're not that stupid. You must realize I'm going to tie you to the chair. Without the money, you're of no value to me other than as a bargaining piece. If Barrett cares about you, he'll give me what I want.”

Charlotte took a deep breath. There was no sense in arguing with a man with a gun. Even without the weapon, Warren was bigger and stronger. Her only hope was to use her wits. With a silent prayer for wisdom, she settled onto the chair. At least Warren wasn't threatening to gag and tie David again. Her son would be free to escape when Barrett arrived.

After stroking David's head once more and admonishing him to sit quietly, Charlotte allowed Warren to tie her wrists, hoping he wouldn't notice how far she had kept her hands from the spindle. If the rope was loose enough, she might be able to slip her hands out when he returned to his post by the door. But he tugged the rope so hard that she knew that plan had failed. If he secured her legs as tightly, she would be as powerless as David had been. Charlotte couldn't let that happen. When Warren moved in front of her to tie her legs, she took a deep breath. It was time. Mustering every ounce of strength she possessed, she kicked. Her feet missed their target, and even though she had kicked as hard as she could, Warren remained standing.

His face contorted with rage, he glared at her for a second.
Then slowly and deliberately, so she would know what was about to happen, he clenched his fist, drew back his arm, and swung it forward. When his knuckles collided with her face, the impact left Charlotte speechless. She felt her head jerk backward, and then she saw nothing but stars. By the time she had regained her vision, her ankles were bound. At her side, David whimpered softly, but though she longed to comfort him with a touch, she could not. For the first time in David's short life, though his mother was nearby, she could not wrap him in her arms.

“I'm sorry, David,” she whispered.

“You'll be more than sorry if you try anything like that again.” Warren's voice held a menacing note. “I won't pull the next punch.” He pressed his knuckles to her cheek, grinning when Charlotte winced from the pain. “It would be a shame to bloody your face, wouldn't it?”

He looked down at David and aimed a kick in his direction, stopping short of actually hitting him.

“No!” Charlotte cried. “Don't hurt my son. He's no threat to you.” The pain in her face was nothing compared to the fear that Warren would harm her child.

“You're right,” Warren agreed. “Your brat is no threat, and neither is Barrett. When he sees you, he'll do exactly what I want. Now all I have to do is wait.” He strode across the room, positioning himself next to the door, his gun cocked and ready to fire.

Please, Lord, no. Don't let him kill Barrett and David.
Charlotte looked around, searching for a way to distract Warren. Though Barrett was armed, he was walking into an ambush. If he could get into the shed without being shot, he might be able to disarm Warren, and without a gun, Warren
would be far less dangerous. Charlotte suspected he was a man who liked to intimidate those he considered weaker. Barrett was no weakling, but he was also no match for a madman with a gun. There had to be a way to even the odds.

Charlotte looked down at her son, who was sitting by her side as if afraid to move. As she did, she spied an object. That might be the answer.

“David, let's find your ball,” she said softly. “It's not far away.”

“What are you doing?”

Charlotte forced herself to meet Warren's eyes, hoping her expression did not betray the glimmer of hope that had lodged deep inside her. “Keeping my son from crying,” she replied. “You said you didn't like that.”

“And I don't.” Apparently mollified, Warren leaned against the wall, his gun clutched at his side.

“A little farther,” Charlotte coached her son. “You're a smart boy. That's the right direction.” When he discovered his beloved toy, David began to chortle with happiness. “That's good. Now come back to Mama.”

Warren's curled lip left no doubt that he considered David a nuisance, a necessary evil in his plan to obtain the fortune he believed he deserved. The only good thing Charlotte could say about Warren's obvious disdain for her son was that he was no longer staring at the door. Though she had turned her head so that the direction of her gaze was not obvious, Charlotte was watching the door carefully. There were no sounds, nothing to betray Barrett's approach. Only the increasing darkness along the door frame told Charlotte he was here. She turned toward David. The time had come.

“Bowl, David,” she said, raising her voice slightly. It was a
signal to Barrett as well as David. As she had expected, her son gave her a quizzical look but refused to move.

“What are you talking about?” Warren demanded. “Bowl?”

That was all David needed. The sound of a man's voice pronouncing the magic word triggered his reaction. He sent the ball rolling across the floor toward Warren. Perhaps he pitched it faster than normal. Perhaps it was only because the floor was slightly tilted. All Charlotte knew was that when it collided with Warren's foot, their captor gave out a loud “ouch.” It was the distraction Barrett needed. A moment later, he had entered the shed, his pistol drawn.

“Put your gun down,” Barrett ordered, his voice steely as he stared at the man who had once been his friend and adviser.

A sneer greeted his command. “I knew you'd come.” Warren swung around, pointing his weapon at Charlotte. “But you won't do anything. You didn't have enough starch to be a politician, and you're too lily-livered to shoot me. You won't take the chance that I can shoot Charlotte first.” His eyes narrowed, and though he kept his eyes and weapon focused on Charlotte, his words were directed to Barrett. “You know I'm a crack shot, and—unlike you—I'm not burdened with cowardly scruples. I killed a woman before. It wouldn't bother me to do it again.”

“What do you want?” As Barrett moved farther into the shed, his gaze met Charlotte's, and she saw his concern. Perhaps he was wondering why she hadn't given Warren the satchel of money. Surely he must realize that it would not satisfy Warren, that he wouldn't want anyone to live to tell what he'd done.

“You know what I want. Money.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Charlotte asked. It
might not work, but maybe if she kept Warren talking, he'd lower his gun and Barrett would be able to disarm him.

“Why do you care?”

“If I'm going to die, I might as well know why.”

Charlotte heard Barrett's intake of breath and saw his fingers tighten on the trigger.

“It's for Gwen,” Warren said, his voice deepening with emotion. “She deserves to be treated like a lady. I'm going to build her a fancy house so she can live like a queen. And when I do, no one at the Cheyenne Club will dare refuse me membership.”

He cared for Gwen. Charlotte could hear that in his voice and see it in the fire flashing in his eyes. As for Gwen, Charlotte knew she loved the man she thought he was. But now that Warren had shown his true colors, everything had changed.

“Do you think she'll still marry you?” Though Charlotte kept her gaze fixed on Warren, from the corner of her eye she saw Barrett moving closer.

“Why wouldn't she?” Warren demanded, apparently oblivious to the fact that Barrett was now within striking range. He was staring at Charlotte, wide-eyed. Whether it was rage or shock that kept his gaze fixed on her didn't matter. What mattered was keeping Warren from noticing Barrett.