Dancing with the Devil

Chapter Thirty-Two

Audrey stood straight, wishing she had use of her arms which wrapped around the post behind her and chained together. "I'm afraid you'll be disappointed."

Barnaby headed toward the door, motioning for Gus to go out ahead of him. The skinny, dirty man leered a moment at Audrey before heading out of sight. "You had better change your way of speaking to me, woman," Barnaby warned. "I am all that stands between you and Gus, and all the other men here like him, that would like nothing more than to shove themselves inside of you until you're left bloody, broken and used up upon the ground. They'll kill your soul and leave behind nothing but the shell of the feisty woman you once were. Trust me, Audrey, you would much rather have me as your ally than your enemy. Just ask, Ance. He's going to learn that the hard way."

Barnaby left the dank cellar and Audrey found herself alone for the first time since she'd been brought here. She had no idea exactly how long it had been since there were no windows and no way to measure the passing of time.... Audrey knew it had to have been days and days that she had been down among the must and mold trying hard to keep a brave face on in front of her captors.

Now, finally alone with no prying eyes leering in her direction, Audrey slid down the post and fell upon her backside to the ground as hot, angry, sad, desperate tears streamed down her face.

Was her daughter alive? She had no way of knowing. Was Ance coming or was he out hunting Barnaby somewhere else? She had no way of knowing that either. Audrey hoped and prayed he'd gone back to Old Man Thompson's and found Penelope. She didn't care if he came for her, as a matter of fact, she hoped he wouldn't. She didn't want to see Ance die for her--she simply wanted him to take care of Penelope.

Audrey sniffed and wiped the side of her face on her shoulder. Her body was cramped and stiff from being tied up to this post and her wrists were raw and sore. She'd only been given a bit of bread now and then to eat upon and her stomach ached with hunger. The sips of water she'd had did nothing to combat her terrible thirst or the dryness of her mouth.

These men were the worst sort and the threats and leers were getting harder and harder to combat. She was finding that her strength was failing and she no longer found it easy to feign toughness and fearlessness. In truth, she was feeling anything but tough and she very very afraid.

Every time she closed her eyes, Audrey heard the gunshots and saw the blood. The screams filled her senses and the sight of Old Man Thompson looking into her eyes as those bullets had torn through him was seared into her memory. The man had died protecting her and her daughter and that was a bigger burden of guilt than Audrey knew how to carry. If Ance did the same.....

Audrey trembled and let her chin fall into her chest. She only had hope. Hope that Ance had found Penelope and that he and her daughter were safe, sound and staying far away from any kind of trouble. If Penelope was dead than Audrey figured she might as well be too.

***

Ance lay on his stomach atop the hill and gazed down at the jail in the moonlight. This town, if it could be called that, was nothing but a few dilapidated wood buildings, a muddy street and this stone jail sitting about a hundred yards from what he guessed was a general store.

Now Ance just had to figure out how he was going to bust Irish out. He knew the man was there because that god awful cart advertising his product was parked behind the building.

He only had one horse which wouldn't be strong enough to break out the metal bars of the window... Ance's mind went to his saddlebags and the dynamite that was stored there. He supposed that would probably break a wall.

There were less destructive ways to bust a person out of jail but Ance didn't have a lot of time for elaborate plans. He had to get Irish, cash in on all the favors the bastard owed him and go after Audrey. He had to save that woman. Failure simply wasn't an option.

Working hard to ignore the exhaustion in his bones and the ache in his head, Ance shoved himself to his feet. He tied a bandana around his face, leaving only his eyes exposed. He pulled two sticks of dynamite from the saddlebags and ensured his pack of matches was still in his pocket. Ance whistled quietly to encourage his mare to follow him and, keeping a low profile, he made his way through the darkness to the back wall of the jail. He climbed upon a crate and peered into the barred window.

"Irish?" he whispered, his gaze falling on the Irishman sound asleep on a cot with his red hair a mess and his mouth hanging open as his breath whistled through the gap in his front teeth.

He was alone in the cell and for that Ance was grateful. He didn't want to have to worry about other witnesses fleeing the jail with them. Ance didn't have a bounty on his head and he wasn't looking to get one now... he had to be around to protect his ladies.

"Irish?" he hissed a bit louder.

Irish snorted as he jerked awake and glanced around the dark cell. The only light came from a flickering kerosene lantern beside a wooden door that no doubt led to the sheriff's office. "I'm over here, you thieving bastard."

"Ansel!" Irish's green eyes lit up and Ance growled.

"Don't say my damn name. Where's the sheriff?"

"Asleep in the office would be my best guess," Irish replied. He yawned loudly. "Most normal lads and lasses are sleepin' at this hour"

"You better be glad I'm not," Ance growled. "Now take cover under your bed."

Irish frowned. "What?"

Ance held up the dynamite sticks. "Take cover."

Irish let out a gasp and dove under his bed as Ance struck a match and lit the fuse on each stick. He sat the sticks beside the wall and then took off running for cover, pulling his mare with him.

The blast that followed moments later, ricocheted through the tiny, nearly abandoned town. Stone, dust and wood shattered in the night and was sent sailing up toward the starry sky, raining back down as Ance covered his head with his hands.

As the noise faded, Ance took off at a run toward the jail, ignoring the debris still falling all around him. He leapt over the crumbled wall and found Irish cowering beneath the cot.

"We gotta go!" Ance growled as he heard yells and shouts begin to ring out from nearby.

Ance grabbed Irish by the arm and gave him a hard yank. "I'm comin', ya crazy bastard!" Irish cried. "I think ya just about blew my head off!"

"You're welcome!" Ance grumbled as he hopped on his mare and Irish hopped on behind him. They galloped off into the darkness while everyone in the town was still scrambling around attempting to figure out what in the world had just happened.