With scarcely space enough for her to slip through, she bundled her skirts and the accursed crinoline hoops and squeezed her way out of the gap. When she dropped to the ground, she felt a tug, heard a rip, but kept moving. No doubt she had left a part of her dress hanging out the window, but there was nothing to do about that now.
The open space between the house and barn, lit almost bright as day by the moon, made for perilous crossing. All someone had to do was glance out a window and they would see her. It would all be over and Prescott would have himself one royal fit. Probably tie her to the bed until their wedding day. Even as she ran, she imagined eyes boring into her back, hunched against a shout that could come at any moment. But heard only the song of the wind through the prairie grasses. With a great sigh of relief, she plunged into the huge stone structure, stood there panting. Squinted beyond long fingers of moonlight. Saw nothing. No one.
“Psst, over here.”
“Is that you?” she asked in a subdued voice.
“Unless it’s someone else.”
“Mr. Raines?”
“Not hardly. He’s dead.”
She almost choked, feared she would lose her dinner right then and there. “Dead?” She could hardly get the words out. “Then who are you?”
A figure materialized from the shadows. “It’s his son, Calder Raines. Good Lord, girl, did you send for an army? Just who were you expecting, anyway?”
“But why did you say you were…? Oh, never mind. We need to talk.”
“I got that from your note, but not much more.”
“Oh, I am so glad you came. I was afraid you wouldn’t.”
“Well, I did. Could you tell me why? I did so, that is, why you… Durn it.”
She drew herself up, grateful she could not see his expression, nor he hers, when she voiced her request. Before she could, he went on impatiently.
“Well? It must’ve been damned important for you to ask me out here. I got the feeling you didn’t think too much of me the last time we met.”
“Oh, that’s not true. I mean, I do not, really. I mean…it is not you I do not think…that is precisely why I asked you, because you are…I mean…”
“Well, for God’s sake, woman. I’m feeling sort of like a calf at a branding. I’m a no-good thief, I think we’ve established that. Now please stop your babbling and tell me what could you possibly need with such a man as me?”
“That isn’t the only reason. I mean, that you’re a thief. I didn’t know anyone else to ask, and frankly I thought you might be, well, you are of the criminal element, and so—”
“Funny way to talk to me if you want a favor.”
“I only meant that it would be something you would know how to do.”
“Look, can’t we get to whatever this is before my horse dies of old age?”
She was beyond understanding him, but certainly hoped he would understand her. “Talking to someone in the dark is difficult.”
“I get the feeling this is going to be difficult anyway. Why don’t you just spit it out?”
“Spit? I don’t think so.”
“Say what you asked me here for, is what that means.”
“Spit it out? Oh, that is…uh, humorous.” So she presented her idea, with fits and starts, trailing off when he began to laugh.
“You want me to kidnap you so you don’t have to marry this remittance man?”
“Remittance? I… Never mind, that is essentially it, yes. I don’t wish to marry Lord Prescott.”
“What do you think they’ll do to me if they catch us?”
She shrugged, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Well, but they are already going to hang you if they catch you. Is that not so? So what difference would it make?”
He uttered some words under his breath that she didn’t understand, but she decided it was best that way. ”I suppose that’s true,” he finally said. “But tell me one reason why I ought to do this. Just one would do, two would be better.”
“Reason?”
“Or are you uppity English so used to having your way you thought all you had to do was ask? What’s in it for me, lady?”
Uppity? How dare he? Her tongue stuck to the roof of her dry mouth, and it was a moment before she could go on. Afraid to reply to his second question, for fear he might be getting at something she wouldn’t want to deal with, she answered the first.
“No. I don’t recall ever having my way. Not since my parents were killed and they sent me to that orphanage.”
A short silence, followed by a snort. “Oh, that’s good. Make me feel sorry for you. I watched my father murdered and my mother died of the pox when I was off fighting the damned Yankees, who burned down our house and killed both my brothers. Nobody’s ever given a damn about any of that, and they sure as hell won’t give me any breaks when they go to hang me, so why should I give you any?”
She thought about that. He was right of course. She had said nearly the same on occasion. “I’m sorry about your family, but at least I didn’t start robbing and killing people.”
“No, you just sold yourself to a man and now you want out of it.”
“That’s not exactly true.”
“And it’s not true I’ve killed…well, except in the war, and that doesn’t count. Where’d you get that idea anyway?”
“I suppose I…oh, I have no idea. I just thought—”
“Thinking’s not good. Tell me, what do you suggest I do with you…that is, if I agree to this crazy idea?”
“Do with me?”
“Well, I can’t carry you around on the back of my horse the rest of my life, or stuff you in my saddle bags and only let you out to…uh, do your business once in a while. I do have one, you know. A life, I mean. Plans too, me and the boys.”
“Boys? What boys?”
“You’re really hard to talk to, you know that?”
“Well, I don’t understand half of what you say. It does make it difficult to converse. Do you have children? Sons?”
“Holy shit. No, I don’t have children. The boys, that’s my gang.”
She batted her eyes at the expletive, tried not to be judgmental. After all, this was another culture, but he certainly possessed a gutter mouth. “The boys are your outlaw gang?”
He snapped his fingers, startled her. “Hey, I got it, you could join the gang. Do the cooking, help us rob banks. How about that?”
“Oh, dear. I’m afraid—”
A low, pleasant laugh interrupted her. “I was only kidding. Don’t you see how impossible this is?”
“I only see how impossible my situation is. Take me to another town where I can hide from him. I cannot marry him, I simply cannot.”
“Then why don’t you just tell him so, and then leave? He can’t force you to stay, can he?”
“Yes, yes he can.” What more could she say? He was not going to help her. Tears gathered, spilled down her cheeks, but she refused to let him know she was crying. He would only see it as a trick of some sort to get her way.
After a moment, she wiped her cheeks and said, “Thank you for coming. Under the circumstances, it was good of you to do so, when you don’t even know me.”
“You’re crying. I’m sorry. Wilda? That is your name?”
She sniffed. Nodded. His hand fumbled about, found her arm, closed around it. He was strong, with fingers like steel. If he wanted, he could hurt her.
“Isn’t there someone, anyone you can appeal to for help? There are other people here, maybe one of them would help you.”
“No, you don’t understand. I promised I would marry him, and in return he took my sister, my cousin and I from a charity house where we worked for our keep. If I don’t honor my vow, he will cast us all out. We have no wherewithal, nowhere to go, no one to go to. Besides, if I try to get someone here to help, he will only bring me back. What he wants is not a wife, but a dutiful servant…and a bed partner.” She cringed at having said such a thing to this stranger.
“Which is what you were in England,” Calder said. “Servant, I mean,” he added quickly. His tone had softened somewhat, as if at last he had some compassion for her situation. “So, you leaped out of one frying pan into another.”
“What a clever way to put it. Yes, I have done just that. I am sorry to have bothered you. Under the circumstances you have been quite nice about the entire thing. You had better go now, before someone misses me and we are caught out here together. That would only serve to make my situation that much worse.”
He was silent for a long while, and she made to leave. “You aren’t going to threaten to expose me for the train robbery? If I don’t do this, I mean.”
“No, why would I do that?”
He thought for a while longer, and this time she remained still, ears clogged with the beat of her heart. “If I kidnap you and it’s not your fault you can’t marry him, you think he’ll continue to care for your sister and cousin.”
“Yes, I do. It would be a matter of honor. But—”
“All right, then. I’ll do it. We can figure out what to do with you later. But we have a problem.”
Joy cut short she stared at him. “A problem?”
“How do you propose to convince him that you’ve been snatched rather than simply run away? Do we leave a note, or maybe I could go knock on the door and say, ‘Hey, in case you didn’t notice, I’m kidnapping your fiancée, or whatever.’ Maybe that’d work.”
Pondering on that a moment, she frowned. “Oh, you cannot do that, and I’m afraid he would not believe a note…I mean, would he not think I wrote it and ran off?”
“Yeah, you may be right. Okay, let me think.”
She did, glancing occasionally toward the house. The lights had been extinguished on the lower floor, but some still burned in the bedchambers. Suppose someone went to her room, found her gone, raised the alarm? This was taking far too much time.
“Can you scream?” he asked finally, startling her.
“Why, yes, I suppose I can.”
That said, he grabbed her around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of feed. “You can scream anytime now.”
Chapter Eight
Hung upside down over his shoulder, the outlaw’s arm snugly around her thighs, Wilda cried, “Wait, wait. I need some things, I can’t… We can’t…”
Suddenly she wanted to escape from this man who had just agreed to help her, who’d lifted her off her feet with such ease. It was really happening. Now what?
“Hey, I’m kidnapping you. We can’t stop to pick up a spare dress. Scream, and make it loud.”
He’d really gotten into the plan, so she opened her mouth and screeched as loud as she could. A decent shout was difficult to maintain while being joggled stomach down over his shoulder.
“Not good enough,” he grunted, trotting from the barn. “Too ladylike. Give it all you’ve got. Lord God, how come you wear so much garb? There may not be room for all of this on my horse.”
When her second scream did not suit him, he pinched her hard through folds of the skirt. It really didn’t hurt, but had the needed effect. Vexed that he should take such liberties, she raised her voice an octave and let out a mighty wail that disturbed the horses, who in turn set up their own clamor.
“That’s better. Once more.” He set her down, mounted up, then kicked a foot free and reached a hand down to her. “Put your foot there, in the stirrup, and up you come. And don’t knock me out of the saddle with that fandangled wad of skirts.”
Caught in mid-scream and driven by the impetus of the moment, she didn’t slow to consider what she was doing, simply followed instructions. Found herself hauled astraddle of the horse, her voluminous skirts billowing out all around them both.
“Good God almighty,” he said, swatting at the yards of fabric and springing hoops. “Put your arms around my waist and hang on, and you might yell help once or twice, just for good measure.”
He whirled the horse and galloped to the top of the rise, her clinging to him while her skirts ballooned out in the wind. There the animal reared on its hind legs, and she hung on and screeched, this time in fearful earnest. Back on all four feet, the horse pranced and chuffed.
Letting out a sigh of somewhat frantic relief, she glanced at the house. “Do you think they heard?”
“Yep, they heard. See the lanterns? Everyone’s popping out of the place, running circles, shouting. Look like a bunch of overgrown, drunken lightning bugs. You are definitely kidnapped by one of the meanest, baddest outlaws in Kansas.”
With no warning, he kicked the mount and they fled through the moonlit night, her arms clamped around his waist. She bounced about on the animal’s wide back. A wonder she didn’t sail off into the night. The escape wasn’t quite as romantic as she had imagined, but it would do.
With her hoops looped around the horse’s behind and sticking straight up between them, her body and his rubbed together with each bounce. As if that weren’t disturbing enough, the sensation of riding astride created quite a reaction in her most secret places. No wonder women were forbidden to ride in such a manner. Tyra had it right. So this was the way a proper lady was not supposed to feel? At least, not according to the sisters at St. Ann’s. But then their viewpoint might be somewhat skewed, considering the life they had chosen. They would not dare desire what they had forsaken.
Hard as it was to concentrate on flight and not his nearness, she managed by remembering Prescott’s dark scowl and gruff voice.
“What do we do now?” she asked after a while.
He slowed the animal. “Damned if I know. I never kidnapped anyone before. I guess I should take you to our hideout. That is if no one follows us.”
Calder figured he’d have to first make sure no one was on their trail, so he headed into the Smoky River valley to cross and re-cross the wide stream before heading toward the hidden shack. Deke and Baron would have plenty to say about him hauling this lady in to their secret hideaway, and he didn’t relish that a bit. Deke hardly ever said anything, just went off by himself until he decided what to do about a situation, then did it without discussion. No matter what anyone thought. Baron, though, was getting meaner and meaner, and harder to control. Lately, everything they tried to do to right the wrongs of the war met with failure.
Though Baron had kept him alive at Palmito, he wasn’t exactly the smartest man when it came to choosing the best way to go in any situation. His decisions often lacked common sense. Worse, he’d be madder than a roped bangtail, and just about as wild, when he found out that Calder hadn’t yet cased out the bank but was fooling around with this woman instead. He didn’t know how much longer he could ride with the man who had saved his life. Sure wished he could come up with someplace else to take her but to the hideout.