***
GiGiLaurent - The first draft of that last chapter had a whole bit about Vivian's will. I kinda liked it, but wound up cutting it because it felt too abrupt and didn't fit in with the rest of the chapter. But anyways, she didn't leave him ANYTHING. The saloon went to Caroline and all the money got divided up between the girls to keep the place running. In my mind, she didn't want to leave him anything because she knew he had his own savings and (since she knew he was leaving) she didn't want him to have any reason to return.
Mountain077 - Maybe the faceless dream man is Gabe. MAYBE IT ISN'T. I mean y'all have been rooting for the reverend to die for AGES. Someone's gotta pay for his murder, amiright?
Cheldu3 - Damn... I'll have to try harder. Less hard? No more grammar sweeps for me. No sir-ee. Gotta keep you busy.
SocialGrace - I DID see it in spite of your horrible truck-driver cursing (😂😂😂) and it made me CRY and SMILE. You are so wise and kind, and I wish I had even half of your strength. Thank you for the brilliant pep talk. I will hug my dog in two months' time when I finally see her again and will be less of a mopey li'l beyotch in the interim. And I'll do LOTS and LOTS of writing.
lous_stylesthebrave - YAY! I'm glad it's so far so good. Someone is reading Something Borrowed right now and they have already pointed out two mistakes and it's making me cringe at my own idiocy, lolol.
dragonfliespineapple - Aw, thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. Although, to be fair, I'm definitely not doing it alone. I have fabulous writing buddies and Ava has been reading each chapter of this monstrosity before I post it and tells me when I need to have more bullet dodging and scene setting and whatnot. Not to mention if all y'all lovely readers weren't so responsive I'd have given up a long, long time ago. Some writers can write in a void but this one is deperately needy, lol.
Kinji_plays - Listen, it wouldn't be one of my books if the characters didn't spend at least one or two nights wallowing in extreme and unnecessary self pity, aight? It's what I do best. It's... the only thing I do well... oh my Gosh... I really need to branch out...
ummmooops - See, you get it! Now that Katherine is beginning to recover from the abuse she suffered, her new character arc (poor girl has like four big epochs for every little tough decision Gabe has to make, lol) is to figure out if she's ACTUALLY in love or just codependent. By the end of the book she'll be back on her feet completely, strong and independent, and have to decide if she still wants him. We'll see...
***
Katherine
Hope and fear battled for her heart as she carefully folded clothing and placed it in the bag Amelia had given her. Hope that she'd soon be putting this nightmare behind her and Isobel forever. Fear that she might not.
"Ma?" Isobel's chatter had been almost ceaseless once Katherine had told her they were leaving. Where are we going? Are we taking the horses? Are we going to Texas? Are we bringing Rebecca? What dress do I wear? "Can I ride on the horse by myself?"
"I don't know, sweetie," she said, turning her daughter around and giving her a pat on the rump. "Mister Josh is in the kitchen. Why don't you go ask him?"
She had appreciated Isobel's constant barrage of questions throughout most of the day. It had kept her mind off the twin burdens pressing down on her shoulders—her fear and her guilt. In the rare moments of silence, her last conversation with Gabe had filtered into her mind unbidden. Every time she blinked she saw the heavy resignation in his eyes and knew that he was right.
She would never choose him.
She hadn't even thought of him in those glorious moments with Josh and Amelia at the kitchen table, as she finally felt her soul slot back into its spot inside her chest. She'd been herself again, albeit scarred. She'd felt the niggle of adventure at the back of her mind and that old, familiar tautness of the muscles around her backbone. Her mind had churned with plans and strategies—how to protect Isobel, how to escape, how to take Jacob's eye off the Tucker ranch. Not once in that heavenly maelstrom of returning power had she thought of Gabe.
Later, of course, she did, when Isobel ran into the room with her little compass around her neck, her spyglass in one hand, and her notebook in the other. Her heart had seized with guilt and longing. A desperate longing, so intense she wondered if perhaps the reason she hadn't yet thought of him was because she knew how much it would hurt once she finally did so.
He couldn't come.
Despite what he had told her, the choice wasn't hers. It had never been hers. Or his, for that matter. They had both been picked up and swept away by the currents of fate, placed in positions where obligation trumped desire. Her obligation—to Jacob, to God, to her father—had been lifted by years of torment. His obligation—to the saloon, to the girls, to his mother's mission—still hung heavy over his head.
She couldn't ask him to make such a sacrifice for her. If he left with her and Isobel, he would leave behind the honor that made him so strong and the loyalty that made him, in spite of all he claimed, so pure. She loved him too much to ask that of him.
Katherine startled, realizing she had sunk onto the edge of the bed beside the half-packed bag, and had been staring absently at the shirt in her hands for several long minutes. His shirt. She couldn't remember when she'd come into it. Perhaps she'd brought it with her when she came here, or perhaps he had left it behind on one of his visits. She lifted it to her nose, but it smelled like the harsh lye soap she and Melissa used to do the laundry. There was no trace of him, and tears sprang into her eyes when she realized she might have nothing more than his gifts to remember him, and was leaving him nothing more than heartbreak and war to remember her.
"Katherine?"
She looked up and saw Melissa standing in the doorway. "It's about dinner time," her friend said, nodding toward the kitchen. "Figured one more nice, hearty meal would do you good before you leave."
She nodded, clenching her jaw until her back teeth yelped in protest, willing the tears to soak back into her eyes before they fell. If she lifted a hand to swipe at them, Melissa would ask her what was wrong, and if Melissa asked her what was wrong, she would burst into tears and never stop weeping.
"What's wrong?"
Drat that healer's spirit.
Biting her lip until she tasted blood, Katherine shook her head and shot to her feet, turning her back on her friend and stuffing the shirt into the bag. She'd wear it as nightclothes. Maybe it would smell like him once the lye smell wore off.
"Katherine..." Melissa came up behind her, footsteps light. Knowing better than to touch her, she sat on the bed and leaned back on her hands, thwarting Katherine's attempt to hide her face. "Tell me what's the matter," she said quietly.
"Nothing," she said gruffly, clearing her throat and shaking her head. "Nothing," she said again, stronger, her voice only barely cracking at the start. "I'm just a little overwhelmed, that's all. There's a lot to think about."
"I know," Melissa said, letting her head fall to the side and peering up at her. "That's not all it is, though. Come on and tell me. You'll feel better once you do."
Katherine shook her head. "I won't, Mel. You know I love you like a sister, and I appreciate everything you've done for me and for Isobel. But please don't ask me to talk about this. There's no use for it. Some things just... are. Talking about them doesn't do any good."
Melissa sighed and pushed off her hands, leaning forward to pick at her fingernail. "Okay. I understand. I'm here if you need me."
Katherine mumbled her thanks, but the heaviness in her chest only grew. I'm here if you need me. For how much longer? Hours? And then Katherine would be gone, leaving behind the only friends she had left in the world. She would be alone with her daughter, on a train to a city she'd never even heard of, let alone seen. Alone. Isobel's only defense against the dark forces and lost souls that roamed the world and made prey of the innocent.
Calmly, she went to the bedroom door and pushed it shut, turning the key in the lock until she heard the soft slick. Then he went to the bed and sat, placed her face in her hands, and wept.
* * *
The barn smelled of fresh hay and the thick, velvety musk of the horses. Katherine stood holding the reins to her horse—a pretty brown mare named Whiskers— while Josh double and triple and quadruple checked the lashings on the saddle bags. Isobel already sat atop the horse, dressed in a little boy's trousers, suspenders, and coat. Her hair was tucked beneath a wool cap and she held her compass in her hand, brow furrowed as she studied the dial.
"We need to go north!" she said, pointing west. Katherine tried to laugh, but couldn't. Her own loose shirt and coat felt as if they were tightened to constricting around her chest. She had lied to her daughter over dinner. Isobel had finally asked the question she'd been dreading—'When is Pa coming?' and she had lied. Before God and the Tuckers and her own broken heart, she had smiled and told her daughter he would be meeting them in Texas.
In Texas, she would lie and say he was held up, but on his way.
Every morning she would pray that Isobel would forget. Every night she would pray that Isobel would remember.
He deserved to be remembered.
But that was a problem for months in the future. For now, Isobel was disappointed but content with his absence and Katherine was drowning in the weight of her lie.
Outside, the men Josh had chosen were waiting. He and Amelia both swore to their chosen guards' decency, loyalty, and utter hatred of her husband. She looked into their eyes, and she trusted them as well as she could trust anyone other than him.
Melissa stood by her side and Amelia was some distance away, keeping an eye on Rebecca, who sat astride Josh's horse. In spite of her insistence that she was comfortable with his men, he would be accompanying them as far as the fenceline.
"I think we ought to go," she said to Josh, who was now checking the girth strap on her horse for the seventh time.
He glanced up at her. "Just a few more minutes. We'll have you on the road in a bit. Can't rush caution."
"Can't dawdle over haste," she said back, keeping her voice low. "It's been dark for hours."
"Just give it a few more—" he stopped talking and turned an ear toward the door, then rose from his stooped position with a wide grin on his face as she registered the sound of approaching hooves outside the barn. "Now it's time," he said cheerfully. "We couldn't leave without your whole escort, could we?"
Leading her horse behind her, she followed on his heels as he strode out of the barn. "What are you talking about?" she asked, agitated and confused. Outside, it took her eyes a moment to adjust and she squinted into the darkness as Josh strode to the newcomer and clasped his hand as the man slid off his horse. "Josh, we agreed on two..." her voice trailed into nothingness as her eyes finally adjusted and Isobel let out a happy squeal from behind her.
"Pa!" she exclaimed.
Gabe turned toward them, his eyes as dark as the trees. Reaper snorted and fidgeted, and Josh wordlessly took the reins and led him away to the water trough as Gabe approached.
"It's a surprise!" Isobel said joyfully, stretching out her arms and bending down from her place in the saddle. Offering Katherine no more than a cold glance, Gabe reached up and plucked Isobel down, pressing a kiss to her forehead and hiking her up on a hip with a sweet smile. "Ma said you were meeting us there!" she said, winding her little arms around his neck and pressing her cheek to his. Then, in a whisper she probably thought nobody else could here, she went on. "Ma said not to be scared but I was a little bit scared to be in the woods in the night. I'm glad you came."
Gabe didn't so much as look in Katherine's direction, but she felt the accusation stabbing through the air between them.
"Don't be silly, Iz," he said, brushing his nose against hers. "You think I'd let you go on an adventure without me?"
She giggled and shook her head. "It's a surprise!" she repeated, clapping her hands on his cheeks. "We have to go now. Ma said we can't doodle."
At Gabe's puzzled expression, Katherine cleared her throat and cut in weakly. "Dawdle, sweetie. I said we can't dawdle."
He never looked at her, but lifted Isobel up and placed her back in the saddle. The others had emerged from the barn, and they stood in a gaggle, just out of the square of light cast by the door. Goodbyes were a hasty affair, full of choked-back tears and promises to visit. Gabe and Josh stepped away for a time, taking the two extra guards with them, heads bowed over a map. Melissa rolled her eyes and Amelia pulled a second map out of her own pocket and handed it to Katherine.
"Men think they're the only ones who know their way around the outdoors," Melissa said. "Josh and Gabe forget we spent our youth roaming these woods right alongside them.
"And that we're all plenty literate enough to read a map," Amelia said. "We thought you might want your own so you can check they're not leading you astray."
Katherine tried, again, to laugh, but the sound was weak.
"Thank you," she said, tucking the map into her skirt pocket and glancing at the circle of men. "Did you know he was coming?"
The other women glanced at each other, and Amelia lifted her shoulder in a shrug. "I'm sorry," she said. "I figured there was a reason you didn't ask us to send him the message, but Josh was insistent. He said he didn't feel right sending you off with two men you don't know, even if he does trust them. He threatened to go with you himself if I didn't let him fetch Gabe."
"But why didn't you tell me?" she asked, wringing her hands.
Melissa answered that one, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders. "Because, you would have put up a fuss about it. You're strong, Katherine. The trials you've overcome..." she shook her head, genuine respect shining in her eyes. "But just because you're strong doesn't mean you don't make mistakes, and leaving him behind would have been a mistake. I didn't want to waste our last day together arguing with you about it. And besides, that's an argument you need to have with him. Not with us."
Katherine sighed. She wanted to argue, but her time with her friends was running down to the minutes. So she hugged them instead, letting a few bittersweet tears fall onto each woman's shoulder. "Thank you so much," she said, stifling more tears as she stood back. "For all you've done. There's nothing I can do to repay you."
"Friends don't repay favors," Amelia said, gently squeezing her hand. "Just be safe and keep out of the reverend's hands. Seeing him thwarted is reward enough for me."
Melissa nodded in agreement, and the men rejoined them. Rebecca and Isobel hugged. Josh shook Katherine's hand. Everyone swung up into the saddle.
The adventure began.
* * *
Gabe wouldn't speak to her.
Oh, sure. He offered terse, short answers to the questions she asked. He was there every time they stopped to rest, taking Isobel and offering her a hand down from the saddle. He chatted in an animated whisper with her daughter.
But he would not speak to her.
"Gabe, please," she said finally. "I'm sorry."
They rode side by side, the trees spaced out enough that they were able to pick a path without going to single file, as they had when they first pushed into the woods. One of Josh's men rode well ahead, scouting out the route. Another rode behind, watching for followers. Damp earth from below met with pine from above, but even the heady scent of nature was not enough to defeat the rank betrayal that hovered in the air between them.
"Don't apologize, Katherine," Gabe said, glancing down at Isobel. The little girl slumped in the saddle before him, turned sideways and curled cozily into his chest. Katherine envied her with a desperation that made her whole body ache. She wanted to be asleep and cuddled into his warmth. She wanted to deserve it.
"I have to," she sighed, tipping her head back and looking up at the sky. Between the moon, the smokey white clouds, and the spindly branches of the pines, she couldn't make out but a few twinkling stars. "I'm sorry I didn't send for you."
"You're not sorry," he said, not an accusation but an observation. "I'm not here because you changed your mind, I'm here because our friends went behind your back. You can't apologize for a decision you don't regret."
His words should have been a comfort. A lesson in strength and resolve. She fell silent, reins held loosely in her gloved hand as her horse picked its way along, the only sound the huff of the animals and the gentle rustle of their hooves through the leaves. She fought not to glance at Gabe and Isobel. If she couldn't be in his arms, she would've at least liked to have Isobel in her own. He'd taken her daughter as a favor, to give her arms a break from holding a sleeping child's deadweight in the saddle before her. He'd saved her arms, but she felt adrift without the weight and the responsibility. For so long she had craved this freedom—a horse, a stretch of woods, and a future of her own making just beyond the next turn. She ought to feel less stifled.
"You can't tell me when I can and can't apologize," she said finally. "I feel badly. I can tell I've hurt you."
He huffed out a derisive laugh. "Let's just get to the station, Katherine," he said. She hated that he was using her full name. She was his Katie. His Kat. On dark nights, with their bodies twined together and their spirits dancing, she was his Kate. This 'Katherine' may as well be "ma'am."
Hours passed in silence. Katherine grew drowsy, never fully dozing but not quite awake. Her eyes slid in and out of focus, pulling two trees together into one, and then separating them out into three. Josh's men were a shifting, faceless entity, passing like swooping birds as they traded places and scouted out the woods to the left and right. Gabe was a steady constant, a warped darkness atop a pale horse. Death itself, with a protective arm wrapped around her daughter.
Their daughter.
How quickly she had reverted. And why?
They stopped at the river, some time after midnight.
"There's nowhere shallow enough to forge this time of year," said one of Josh's men. She dredged in her mind for his name. Wesley. He was an older man. He'd fought in the war between the states. "We'll follow the river to the bridge. It'll be about an hour. No more talking as we get closer to the road. Once we get there, Lyle and I will scout it out and call you over." He cupped a hand around his mouth and made a sound like a hooting owl—one long, haunting call and then two short. "You'll cross then, one at a time. You first, ma'am. Then you, Gabe."
Gabe nodded where he stood beside her, Isobel still cradled in his arms. The child hung like a ragdoll, one arm draped limply over his shoulder and the other dangling toward the ground. Her poor little body would be stiff and sore tomorrow when she awoke, and it would make her unbearably cranky on the train.
"Ma'am?" she jerked her gaze to Wesley, and realized he was waiting for her confirmation. She nodded. "Yes, I understand."
For ten minutes, they sat on fallen logs and shared a snack of beef jerky and hard bread and crisp well water. The river hushed and growled behind her, and Katherine's stomach twisted and cramped with nerves. And shame, because all she could think was how much worse and more perilous this journey would seem if Gabe wasn't with her. He sat across from her, Isobel braced in one arm, a water flask in his free hand. He looked so strong—a gun at his hip and an angry-looking knife protruding from his boot. He looked so soft—his voice low and gentle as he crooned comfort to her restless daughter. His daughter.
She came to him as they were mounting back up, taking Isobel so he could swing into the saddle. He didn't look at her as he took the girl and resettled her floppy body in his lap.
"Gabe," she said, touching his knee. "Please look at me."
Shoulders rising with a bracing breath, he studied the river for a long moment before turning his head and dropping his gaze to her. She shifted her touch, settling her palm over his thigh.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, letting the tears she felt burn her eyes and praying they would show him the truth of her words. "You said not to apologize for a decision I don't regret. You're right. I won't. And I'm sorry."
Moonlight glanced off the water and cast an eerie silver light on the side of his face. She watched the shadows shift as his jaw clenched and unclenched. His eyes glistened like the stars she couldn't see in the sky above, and the muscle beneath her hand went taut, as if her touch pained him. Or perhaps it was her words. Or perhaps it was his own response—the decision a growing hum in the air between them.
"We need to go."
Katherine turned to see Lyle on his horse, Wesley already riding up the river ahead of them.
"We need to go, ma'am," he repeated, nodding toward her horse. "Please mount up. Do you need help?"
"No," she said meekly, turning and gathering her skirts so she could lift a leg and fit her foot into the stirrup. Her body ached from the long hours in the saddle, but she still swung easily up into the saddle. Shrouded in heavy, expectant silence, she accepted Gabe's nod to take the lead and nudged her horse into a walk.
They rode single-file through the thick woods that flanked the river. The pebbled shore would have been a faster ride, but the exposure of that moonlit expanse of white stone and glassy water made them all nervous. Instead, they stuck to the dense growth of the trees, winding their way around tangles of vines and massive slabs of rock that rose like otherworldly monsters from the earth.
As they grew closer to the road, Katherine's heartbeat didn't grow more rapid. Rather, it seemed to beat with more constraint, as if following her shallow, quiet breathing and the stealthy trod of the horse's hooves. As if it, too, sensed the need for secrecy and knew it would alert the faceless threat should it hammer too loud against her sternum.
They passed The Bridge. Her memories of running here the night Jacob struck Isobel were foggy and distant, but she knew that distinct path of boulders that spanned the river. She had a silly thought that they should cross here. But they had the horses and Isobel, and their bags. And besides—they'd only ever made it halfway.
She turned in the saddle, searching for Gabe. He and Isobel rode several feet behind her, swathed in inky shadows. Even so, she thought she saw his lips quirk up in a smile. She hoped she did, in any case.
Smiling to herself, she turned forward, hope unfurling wings inside her chest.
* * *
They reached the road sometime in the wee hours of the morning. The moon had set and darkness loomed. Huddled in the trees some distance from the road, Katherine reveled in the security of the deep and secretive night. Josh's men had gestured that they needed twenty minutes. Gabe had helped her down from the saddle, and they sat together against a broad tree, Isobel sprawled over both of them, her feet in Gabe's lap and her head resting against Katherine's breast. Damp cold wound its way down her collar, and she shivered. Gabe draped an arm around her shoulder.
Perhaps he was only being chivalrous, but she rested her head against him and revelled in his touch nonetheless. She was wrapped in warmth, shrouded in darkness, and filled with hope. She dozed, visions of safety and peace dancing in her head with dreams of joy and adventure.
A hand on her cheek roused her, and she jerked awake to find Gabe looking down at her. His thumb brushed over her lower lip and he leaned in close. She parted her lips, but his mouth settled, instead, beside her ear.
"They called," he whispered, breath hot against her skin. Her spine burned like embers beneath her skin at his nearness, even as her belly twisted with humiliated disappointment. "It's time to go."
He pulled away, and she swallowed hard and nodded. Taking Isobel, he pushed to his feet and held a hand down for Katherine. She let him pull her up, and they led their horses to the very edge of the woods. She stood in the underbrush and stared at the dark ribbon of mud, leading to the narrow wooden bridge—the only path in and out of town. A sudden fear struck her, wrapping bony hands around her ankles and holding her to the earth. The noises of the woods, always such a steady comfort to her, sounded suddenly too loud and too orderly-- a chirping, croaking, rustling war cry where she had only ever heard raucous celebration. The darkness, which had been a cloak only moments ago, was now an unfathomable emptiness.
Gabe's hand, large and warm, settled on her shoulder and he nodded toward her horse. She nodded, swallowing her heart, which had risen up into her throat, and turned toward the saddle. Still, those bony hands held her feet, and she couldn't lift her leg to the stirrup. It was terror, not love, that turned her back around. A flailing desperation for solidity that lifted her feet and carried her chest to chest with Gabe. Isobel was between them, but she didn't need his body. She needed only his strength. Reaching up, she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and rose up on her tiptoes.
He accepted her kiss as hungrily as he ever had. That was the most heartbreaking part of all, she thought as his tongue swept along the curve of her upper lip. She had no need to claim him. No need to choose him. He had always been hers. His first breath, in whatever dusty brothel had been his first home, had been hers. His last breath, wherever it may find him, would be hers. Every breath in between, every twitch of his muscles, every beat of his heart, every decision that passed through his eyes—hers. He was her guardian angel, terrible in his strength, sent down by God itself to shelter her from the storm and cast a light on her darkness.
Hers.
With a stifled gasp, she broke the kiss and turned, gathering up her skirts and launching with smooth silence into the saddle. Her heart was no longer careful and quiet, and had set to fluttering in her chest like a hummingbird, darting all about and throwing itself against her ribs. Her spine. Up into her throat.
Once seated, she reached down for Isobel, and thought she saw Gabe's arms tightened fractionally around their daughter. She understood, but he must understand as well. That bridge was a symbol—the barrier that stood between the town behind them and the life that lay ahead of them. She couldn't leave her daughter behind and cross that bridge without her, even for a span of minutes.
Please, she mouthed. He grimaced and lowered his face, pressing a kiss to the rumpled top of Isobel's little knit cap and pulling in a steadying breath. Then he held her up and Katherine took her, the little girl's weight slumping back against her chest. Gabe smiled up at her and jerked his head toward the bridge. She nodded, took a deep breath, and dug her heels into the horse's side.
On the road, as they had discussed, she stuck to the shadowed edge and nudged the horse into a gallop. Mud squelched beneath the horse's hooves, and Katherine felt it splatter against her calves. A few smattering drops even struck her face. Then they were on the bridge, each stride a pounding, hollow echo. It couldn't be as loud as it felt. Josh's men had crossed, and it wasn't so loud from her vantage point in the woods. But she felt as if she may as well scream into the night. "We are here! Come get us Jacob! We are here!"
And then, as if her desperate thoughts had come true, an echoing gunshot cracked through the air. Shocked heat flooded Katherine's body. On instinct, she bent low over the horse's neck, curling her shoulders over Isobel. "Go, Whiskers!" she cried as several more gunshots rang out, splitting the night into jagged shards. Whiskers, as steady and obedient as any of the Tuckers' horses, stretched her head out and ran for the far side of the bridge.
Josh Tucker was famous throughout the area because he broke his horses for war. Half the folks around thought it was frivolous. The other half thought it was damned impressive. Both sides agreed that the steep prices he charged for a war-broke mount were more than fair. You could fire a gun two inches from the horse's head and not be bucked off. You could walk up behind and slap it on the ass, and it wouldn't rear up. His horses were good in crowds, good for hunting, good for long rides, good for herding.
But the one thing even Josh Tucker's famous war-broke horses couldn't handle was a bullet to the knee.
Whiskers screamed and pitched forward, and Katherine found herself flying. Time itself seemed to slow as her feet were yanked from the stirrups and the saddle disappeared from beneath her. She clamped her arm tight around Isobel, watching the horse's head and the dirty slatted surface of the bridge slide beneath her. She turned as she fell, twisting in the air so that she landed hard on her back, Isobel cradled safely against her chest.
The air was punched out of her lungs, and the world went white as the back of her head struck the surface of the bridge. She lay, stunned and gasping for breath, tumbling head over feet through memories. She blinked, and the plastered roof of the kitchen swam above her, Jacob's face leering down. Blinked again, and saw dark beams and the life-size cross, nailed to the wall of the church. Blinked again and saw the stars. Again and saw Robert Mulligan's mud-smeared face.
"Time to go," he growled. Someone yanked Isobel from her arms before she could wrestle her muscles back into functioning, and she screamed. The sound split her head in two. Isobel's answering scream did the same to her heart. Mulligan's beefy arms closed around her, hauling her upright, and she realized she was still on the bridge, cool air leaching the warmth from her aching body.
"Let go!" she cried, lashing out with her hands, her feet. She even threw her head backward, attempting to connect with his nose, but he held her too tightly and he was too big. Her bruised head struck harmlessly against the wall of his chest and the whole world wavered dizzily.
"Ma!" Isobel screamed, and Katherine fought harder, watching in tears as her flailing, terrified daughter was passed into the hands of a dark figure atop a dark horse. There were seven men. Seven men in black clothing on dark horses, their faces, necks, and hands all smeared with mud. Only slivers of white flesh peeked through the disguise.
Then she saw nothing as she was shoved to the ground. One of the other men sat on her legs, and tied them at the ankle and the knee. Then her hands were bound behind her at the wrist.
Gabe! Where is Gabe?
"He can't help you," Mulligan growled as he hauled her up, and she realized her frantic thoughts had escaped in a hoarse scream that echoed in her ears. Gabe! Please, Gabe! She was thrown bodily over the back of a horse, the saddle horn digging hard into her belly. She vomited down the horse's side, unable to lift her head.
Distantly, she heard gunfire and yelling.
"Isobel!" she screamed. All that came out was a croak, but she heard the answering cry, weak and choked with tears.
"Ma!"
She lifted her head and saw her daughter, squirming in her captor's arms and reaching out for her.
Gabe.
Had he abandoned them? And Josh's men... where were they?
"It's okay!" she said to Isobel, and wondered if her daughter would ever forgive her for that lie. "Everything will be okay, sweetie. I'm right here. I love you."
And then they were riding. Her whole body flopped and jounced, held in place only by Mulligan's rough hands, digging into her waist. She vomited again, and his knee shoved at her head.
"Stop that," he said, as if it were some act of protest she could simply cease.
She vomited again.
"Pa!"
At Isobel's cry, she lifted her head and turned toward the hoofbeats pounding into the mud behind them.
Gabe.
Pistol in hand, he bent low over Reaper's neck, eating the distance between them with each wild, galloping stride. It was dark, and he was still a good distance away, but Katherine could swear she saw every detail. She saw the blood streaking his face and neck, the sweat beaded on his temples, and the fierce snarl pulling back his lips to reveal barred teeth. She saw the lines of his body moving, bunching, stretching in tandem with the horse's. She saw the death in his eyes, and for a moment she felt as safe and as warm as she had felt in his arms.
Then she saw those same deadly eyes widen in horror, and followed them to the man carrying Isobel. He'd broken off, along with three of the other riders, taking an offshoot that turned south off the main road, toward the old mines. Mulligan continued riding toward town. Toward the church.
No!
Gabe's words from days ago came back, forming a litany in her mind as the distance between she and her daughter grew wider and Gabe grew closer to the intersection that had drawn them apart.
I've always chosen you. I've always chosen you. I've always chosen you.
He had.
God, he had.
Until tonight.
She could have wept with relief as she watched Reaper's pale shadow peel off down the road to the mines, abandoning her to chase after Isobel. Instead of weeping, she let her head droop, her battered body sagging over the saddle as Mulligan uttered a satisfied chuckle and let his own horse slow to a canter.
"Looks like the devil made his choice," he said, his hand shifting to grip her rear. He squeezed hard, finger digging into soft flesh as his voice battered like stones against her aching head. "You belong to God now, little whore. It's time to go home."
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I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! We're getting sososo close to the end. I just need to figure out a way for Gabe to rescue Katherine without getting both of them killed and without shitting all over the whole 'female empowerment' shtick I'm trying to do with this thing. No big deal. Just the lynchpin to the entire story. Definitely not something I should have figured out eons ago. Definitely, definitely not. I'm fine. Everything's fine...
Anyway, thank you to all who offered kind words in my hour of extreme neediness. To be honest, nothing has really changed, real-life-wise. Everything is still very much in the air. But I've been doing a LOT of meditating and lifting and running and yoga and just generally trying to keep my mind in the present and not worry too much about the future. And, by and large, it's working. I don't really feel positive about everything, but I'm at least calm and trying to settle back into a routine, writing-wise, to keep myself distracted.
Talk to you soon, and thank you for reading!
Love
Liz
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