Lanterns and Lace (27 page)

She wanted to do so much for Jesus, to have her life count for good, and to touch people’s lives the way she’d been touched by Him. Jesus rode with her on the lonely train back to Ohio. She knew He understood her sadness and the pain in leaving Kahlerville.

Little time remained before school started, and she needed to prepare herself for the new students. Already she intended to use hymns in her piano lessons and to utilize the optional opening time at the beginning of the school day for prayer and devotions. Once she had ignored it, but no longer. Bible verse memorization and student-read scripture would benefit not only the students but also the teacher.

Her mind swept over Cleveland’s familiar streets and the churches solidly built on their corners. Finding a suitable church home might take awhile.

A man sat down beside her, interrupting her reflections.

“Good morning, Jenny.”

She gasped, alarmed with the instant recognition of the man. Caution and control fought to keep her steady. “Aubrey, what a surprise.”

“I gathered you’d feel that way.” He flicked a bit of dust from his jacket.

“I thought you’d left town earlier.”

“A bit of unfinished business brought me back.” His violet eyes looked menacing, and she noted his smile and charm from past encounters had vanished.

The handsome features that once had attracted her to Aubrey Turner now filled her with morbid dread. The revolver lay in her reticule. She’d use it if he refused to leave her alone.

“I certainly hope your business is pleasant.” She searched for the porter.

“It all depends upon you, my dear,” he said.

“I know you mean well, but I really need this time to be alone.” She despised the game she played with this vile man.

“I’d planned for us to engage in some delightful conversations.”

Aubrey opened the left side of his jacket and revealed a small handgun. Before she could fully acknowledge the danger, he neatly slipped it from a strap around his shoulders and shoved the barrel into her ribs.

“Do not utter a sound,” he said. “Let me explain a peculiar fact about this type of handgun. It has a short firing range and sometimes misses the target entirely, but at this distance I believe accuracy isn’t a problem. You are mine, dear Jenny, to do with as I choose.”

Grant saddled his spotted mare at the livery. He filled a saddlebag with extra bullets and strapped a holster around his waist. It had been a long time since he’d tied on a gun, and it felt foreign, uncomfortable, out of place. He’d been an expert marksman at one time, but that was years ago. Using violence to settle differences was against everything he believed in, but so was murder. His mind crept back to his fight with Sam Detterman. This wasn’t the same. With a deep sigh, he checked to make sure he’d included two canteens of water. The sun beat down hard—hot and relentless.

“Don’t you go looking for trouble,” Ben warned, watching him make ready. “You best let the law handle this.”

He ignored the warnings and tightened the cinch.

“Grant, why don’t you stay here and let us handle this business with Turner?”

“While you let him go after Jenny? I don’t think so. Not that I doubt your capabilities, but you stated what you could and couldn’t do.” He yanked on the girth. “Just wire those train stops for me. Maybe the law can get their hands on him or keep Jenny safe until I get there.”

“But—”

He shook his head. “Look, Ben, you know when I set my mind on something, nothing changes it.”

“All right. I’ve already sworn in Frank, so don’t be worrying about your family. And I’ll be praying for you.”

The sound of an approaching rider captured Grant’s attention. In an instant, he recognized his brother. Morgan had stopped by the house earlier, and the two had argued about Grant taking out after Jenny. This time his brother rode one of his prize stallions—a sleek animal, all black except for a white star above its eyes.

“Is this a send-off party?” Grant said. “Or are you offering me one of your best horses?”

“Neither,” Morgan said. “I’m riding with you.”

“No, you’re not. This is too dangerous for a family man.”

“You have a child, too, little brother. I’m not letting you go after Jenny or Turner alone. No point in arguing with me. I’m the oldest.”

Grant’s temper simmered hot, and he wondered how to get rid of Morgan. “We haven’t had a good fight in years, but I’m in the mood for one now.”

“Might not set well that the town’s doctor and lawyer were brawling in the street—good Christian men that we are. Besides, I saw how you and Sam Detterman looked after the Fourth of July.” He narrowed his eyes. “My mind is set on going with you.” He pushed his hat back and revealed a receding hairline.

Grant glared at him. “I don’t need your help.”

“You don’t have a choice in the matter.”

He expelled a deep breath, realizing his brother definitely was the expert in debate. “And how does Casey feel about this?”

“She’s fighting this one on her knees.”

Grant swung up into the saddle. “Your wife has more sense than both of us. If you’re coming, let’s get going. Time’s wasting.”

*****

The longer Jenny sat, the more she battled the nausea churning in her stomach. Aubrey Turner had trapped her. Unspoken words between them, linked with the journal’s truth, caused her to shiver uncontrollably. She wanted to leap across him and shout for help, but instead she sat numb with fear. At least she still had her reticule within her fingertips.

“And if you decide to go ahead and scream, I also have a revolver that could easily eliminate the passengers or employees of this fine Union Pacific coach.” Aubrey smiled candidly, tilting his head as though engaging her in an intimate chat.

She breathed a prayer for deliverance. “What do you want from me?”

“I believe you already know the answer, being the smart young woman that you are. My money, please. After all, that is why you traveled all this way.”

She fought the rising panic. “I have no idea what this is all about. I came to learn about my sister.”

Aubrey stared at her, his eyes emotionless. A slight smile played upon his lips. “You came to Texas to recover the money Jessica stole from me. I don’t think I’m mistaken when I say you and Ellen were in this scheme together.”

“What money?” The words of the journal scrolled across her mind. “If my sister stole money from you, I don’t know where it is.” How quickly could she retrieve her revolver? Would he really hurt these innocent people?

“You sound as ignorant as Ellen.”

“Ellen was Jessica’s friend, and now she’s mine. I came to Texas to visit my niece and learn what I could about my sister’s death. I had never met or heard of Ellen until Grant Andrews told me about her.” Jenny feared she was losing control. Hysteria twisted and rose like a vine that threatened to choke the life out of her.

“And you have no idea where Jessica put my money?”

His face slowly turned crimson. Father often grew angry this way, but his temper did not trigger the fear that this man evoked. “I swear to you I have no idea.”

“Ellen insisted the same thing.” He jabbed the gun barrel deep into her side. “Right up until I finally had to kill her. Her begging scratched at my nerves—just like that old lady where she used to live.”

Jenny’s mouth grew dry, and the words refused to form. “Ellen . . . you killed Ellen? And Mrs. Lewis?”

“And you’ll end up just like them if you don’t tell me what I need to know. The old woman just keeled over, but Ellen was a fighter.”

She feared the terror would overcome her sanity. “If I knew where Jessica hid your money, then I’d tell you.” She moistened her dry lips. “You can go through my trunk and see for yourself.”

He chuckled. “I intend to go through everything you own, and if that doesn’t bring me any satisfaction, then I’ll search every inch of you. The latter may be quite enjoyable. At least your sister always took pleasure in that sort of thing.”

“I’d rather be dead.” Instantly she regretted her words.

“I can accommodate your wishes.”

“Please, listen to me. Would I willingly offer my trunk and bags if I had anything that belonged to you?”

He turned in his seat to face her and smiled as though filled with unwavering devotion. The small gun pierced her ribs. “Possibly. The fear of death brings about strange behavior in most people.” He caressed her cheek. “I detest the thought of soiling your pretty blue traveling attire. No matter. I’ll get my money from you with or without your assistance.”

She shuddered. Casey would have been smarter than this. She’d have out-thought this disgusting animal.

Aubrey picked up her trembling gloved hand and kissed it lightly before placing it back in her lap. “There’s a stop scheduled in a few hours, pretty lady. You and I will get off there so I can continue my questioning.”

“But there’s nothing to find.”

“Well, looks like I’ll need to dispose of you, doesn’t it?”

Her pulse quickened. “Then you’ll have three murders on your hands.”

“It will be one of many.”

Jenny chilled to the bone. The vine of desperation tightened. “I can’t give you what I don’t have.”

“I’m positive you know more than you indicate, so relax and enjoy the journey until we get to the next town. I’ve already informed the porter to have your belongings ready. And I’ll take your reticule. There may be something of interest there for me.” He reached for her bag. In the next moment he laughed. “Clever girl. I’d never have guessed you had a gun. You do surprise me. Your sister detested them. You have amazed me on more than one occasion, like boarding the train to this forsaken dirt hole without your parents’ knowledge.”

Jenny sank back into the seat, terrified and unable to sort through her thoughts to think, to plan. She couldn’t even pray properly. Turner had killed Ellen! Precious, dear Ellen, whose only crime was friendship.

My dear sister, I know you never intended for those you loved to be killed over Aubrey’s money. I wish I had the journal. I’d gladly give it to him so he could figure it out for himself.

But Aubrey didn’t know about the journal. He couldn’t link any of this to Grant, and that might guarantee his and Rebecca’s safety.

Perhaps she might gain permission to excuse herself for a moment of discretion and find someone to help her. Surely the conductor had a weapon to protect the passengers. Railroads were supposed to be prepared for emergencies. Folding her hands primly, Jenny decided to sit quietly and concentrate on every prayer she’d ever heard. In a little while she’d plead her situation and hope he’d not be cruel enough to deny her a moment of privacy.

As Turner had stated, a few hours later the train screeched and began a slow halt. Jenny watched Aubrey carefully study two men standing at the railroad station. Both of them wore badges. Her spirits lifted. Surely the lawmen could free her. Her previous plan of seeking help failed when he refused her the necessary room.

Thank You. Hope lifted her spirits. Aubrey had said they must prepare to disembark from the train. She relaxed slightly. They would pass right by the two men wearing badges.

Oh, Lord, help me to break away from him, and please don’t let any innocent people get hurt.

“We’re departing from the rear.” Aubrey grasped her elbow. “I’ll have someone from the hotel get your trunk.”

Before she had a moment to contemplate his decision, Jenny found herself pushed along the aisle and out the rear door. Her feet barely touched the ground as the train still moved along its track.

If only those men could see that she was in danger. But if she called out for help, Aubrey might shoot one of them. No one here knew he had murdered Ellen. No one knew he’d threatened her. Her hope was futile.

Aubrey hooked her arm into his, and together they strolled into the noisy hotel. She held her breath, repulsed when he signed the hotel register as Mr. and Mrs. Charles Windsor. Pulling a silver dollar from his pocket, he flipped it to a youth standing nearby.

“Here, boy. Fetch my trunk at the train stop. There will be another one for you when you bring it up to our room. The name is Windsor, Charles Windsor.”

The excited youth sped from the hotel lobby, banging the door behind him and irritating the matronly hotel clerk. Jenny glowered at Aubrey, but he pressed a kiss against her cheek and smiled, clearly displaying his milky-white teeth.

“I loved Jessica,” he said. “She was the one woman who could have had everything I own. The mere sight of her took away my breath.”

He reminded her of an oleander—handsome but deadly.

The matronly woman warmly welcomed the two and handed him the keys to a second-floor room. Together Jenny and Aubrey mounted the stairs, and he ostentatiously complimented her loveliness. Once inside the room, she found the courage to challenge his obvious foolishness.

“And how will you get my trunk using the name of Charles Windsor?” The question held more daring than she felt.

Obviously annoyed, Aubrey removed his jacket and laid it fastidiously across the back of an overstuffed chair.

“I am far cleverer than you give me credit for.” He pulled off his gloves, finger by finger. “Once I saw you at the train station in Kahlerville, I purchased a ticket under my new name, disguised with a wig and a beard. My past as an actor has never failed me. Once we were gone from that dreadful town, I tearfully informed the conductor that my new bride had deserted me and I must do whatever was necessary to win back my wife. He allowed me to change the name on the list of passengers to Mr. and Mrs. Charles Windsor, which included replacing the name on your belongings. So you see, my dear, there was no Jenny Martin on the train. You don’t exist.”

Jenny fought panic while her heart pounded against her chest like a frightened bird. She couldn’t escape him. No one knew where to find her. She’d written to her friends that she planned to leave by railroad. Except now the train didn’t have her listed as a passenger.

A new thought occurred to her, and with it came a strange sensation of peace. God knew where Aubrey held her captive. He stood right beside her. Whatever happened, He would help her endure the hours ahead. And Grant knew what she’d done because of the letter she’d left with Mr. Snyder.

Shortly thereafter, a knock sounded at the door, signaling the youth’s return with her things. Aubrey spent the next hour rifling through every article of her belongings. He tucked her revolver inside his jacket.

“Even Jessica in her insanity never tried to shoot me,” he said.

Finding nothing, he began slitting the hems and seams of her dresses, jackets, undergarments, and then the trunk itself, looking for his money. When he had exhausted every possible means of hiding any valuables, he turned on her savagely. Grabbing her shoulders, his fingers pressed deep into her flesh.

“Please, you’re hurting me,” she cried. “I know nothing about your money.”

He struck her soundly across her cheek. It stung, then burned hot. Jenny held her breath. The sharp crack of his hand against her skin seemed to incite him even more. He squeezed her upper arms until she felt herself collapsing to the floor in excruciating pain. Snatching up a torn petticoat from the strewn pile of clothes, he tied her hands behind her back. He shoved her to the floor and grabbed up another ripped garment, wrapping it several times around her ankles. When she protested, he gagged her tightly.

“I’ll give you until tonight to tell me where to find my money.” He towered over her. In that instant, she feared he might kick her. “I’m a generous man. I’ll give you some time to remember where you hid it.” He hastily replaced his jacket and left the room. Jenny heard the key turn and click, ensuring her imprisonment.

All afternoon the sun played shadows across the small quarters. She wept until she could shed no more tears. Prayers were wordless—her heart spoke silent grief and sorrow. The peace she’d experienced earlier slowly dissipated as light faded around her.

God is with me, she repeated. I shouldn’t be afraid, but I am. As if to prove her trepidation correct, fear ripped through her body. Had she abandoned her new faith? She tried not to listen to the sounds outside the door, instead focusing on what she knew of the Lord. No means of stalling Aubrey existed, and no point existed for conjuring up a story to delay the inevitable.

Her reflections turned to dying. Was this whole journey designed to bring her closer to God so she would die with the blessings of heaven?