WM02 - Texas Princess (31 page)

Once inside the barn, she pul ed Sunny from the stal and began to saddle him. She’d watched the chore a dozen times and helped with it a few, but she hadn’t realized the saddle would be so heavy. It took three efforts to plant the saddle atop Sunny, and then she had to remove it because she’d forgotten the blanket. By the time she

nished, Liberty was sweating from the effort.

She hesitated when she reached under Sunny’s bel y to cinch up the saddle. “Begging your pardon,” she whispered.

Sunny turned his head to watch her, but he stood stil . His big brown eyes almost looked like he felt sorry for her.

Liberty laughed and patted him, surprised at how fond she’d grown of the horse. He was ornery, nipping at her braid sometimes or taking one step just as she tried to shove her foot in the stirrup. Once, when he’d done his one-step trick, she swore he looked back at her and smiled.

Final y in the saddle, Liberty headed toward the corral entrance at the back of the barn. That way she could stay out of Liam’s sight.

Sunny protested. The horse didn’t seem to think this was a good idea even if she did, but his jerks no longer frightened her. She held a strong grip on the leather straps.

“Come on,” Liberty mumbled. “You can’t stay in the barn al nice and warm. We have to go.”

Sunny snorted and moved along.

Once outside, Liberty crossed the corral to the back gate. Slowly, so she didn’t make any more noise than necessary, she headed across the pasture and nal y to the road.

In truth, it wasn’t much of road, more like two ruts in the grass worn by a wagon. The paral el lines darkened the land in the pale moonlight. She rode between them, knowing she was heading directly toward the bridge and her only way off the ranch.

She worried that the Apache at the bridge would try to stop her. If so, she’d make a run for it. Maybe their orders were to keep anyone from entering and not to bother those leaving. She felt like her heart hammered as loud as Sunny’s hooves when they reached the wooden bridge.

She guessed right about the guards. When she clomped across, she saw both men standing by the trees. Neither made a move to bother her.

Once over the bridge, the road was far more traveled and easy to fol ow in the moonlight. She turned to what she hoped was the direction toward town. Liberty had no idea how far Elmo’s Trading Post was, but judging by how long Teagen had been gone when he’d seen Mrs. Dickerson home, it must be at least an hour away from the ranch, maybe two. Calculating her progress in the dark compared to Teagen’s in daylight, Liberty gured she’d be lucky to make it to town an hour before dawn.

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Liberty planned as she rode. She’d heard everyone talk about the trading post . . . the

rst building in the area... the center of the settlement.

Al she had to do was nd Elmo’s place and cross the road. Mrs. Dickerson had told the story of a drunk turning left instead of right when he was heading toward Elmo’s.

Liberty would do the same and have no trouble nding Mrs. Dickerson’s home. From there, she’d al ow the old schoolteacher to advise her how best to inform everyone in town that she wasn’t a victim being held against her wil . Once she nished her public speech, everyone would see Tobin for the hero he was. It seemed the only answer.

This charade had gone on far too long.

Teagen had told Travis at supper that he almost had to toss Stel a and her belongings out the second-story window because she didn’t want to catch the afternoon stage.

She seemed to be enjoying spreading lies while she shopped and stayed free, thanks to the McMurray credit in town.

Liberty would look left of Elmo’s for a two-story home as her double check. Simple, she thought.

Once there, she’d wait on the porch until morning. When she saw a light on, she’d knock at Mrs. Dickerson’s door and hope she’d be invited in. Maybe the old teacher would offer her breakfast while they waited for the town to wake up. As soon as it did, Liberty planned to end al the talk once and for al . By noon she’d be back on Whispering Mountain land with one less thing for the McMurrays to worry about.

Liberty smiled. She’d almost like to be there when word got back to Samuel and he could no longer claim his ancée had been kidnapped. His plans were shattered and as soon as she got back to civilization, his career would also be ruined.

Without any self-pity she knew Samuel would mourn the loss of his career far more than he would her. She’d been a means to an end, nothing more. It bothered her more that she’d al owed herself to believe his lies than that he’d lied. People had been lying to her al her life it seemed. The crime was hers for believing. She found no comfort in knowing her father had also been fooled by his charm.

Tobin was the only person she’d ever known who didn’t lie. He’d said he’d never love her. He’d made no promise of marriage.

Liberty closed her eyes, wishing she couldn’t hear the echoes of his words tel ing her he’d cheated death once and knew it waited for him. She wouldn’t, couldn’t face the thought of his dying young.

Sunny stumbled over a hole in the road and Liberty almost tumbled out of the saddle.

Holding on to the reins, she slipped down, afraid if she tried to stay on they’d both fal .

Sunny stomped back a few feet and balanced.

Liberty knew the rst thing she had to do was make sure Sunny was al right. She’d seen Tobin run his hand along the horse’s leg. It couldn’t be hard and she had to check him.

The rst whisper of fear entered her mind. She hadn’t worried about the journey. No one would be out this late. Al she had to do was fol ow one road. But what if her plan had hurt the horse? Tobin would never forgive her. She’d never forgive herself.

Liberty felt the left front leg.

Al seemed solid.

She reached for the back leg. Dark shadows from the trees crossed over the path cutting any moonlight. She continued her search for injury. When she circled behind Sunny, she walked close to the horse so he couldn’t accidental y kick her.

Restless, Sunny shifted, catching her little toe beneath his hoof.

Liberty yelped and jumped back, dancing in a circle with the sudden pain.

Without warning, the palomino jerked on the reins, pul ing free of her grip. Before she thought to reach for them, he turned and gal oped back toward home.

Liberty ran after him for a few steps, forgetting her toe. “Stop!” she yel ed, but Sunny had disappeared into the night. “Whoa! Halt!”

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More angry at herself than the horse, Liberty stomped her foot in frustration, then yel ed in pain. This was
not
going as planned. She circled round as if looking for a way out of her adventure, but there was nothing but the sounds of the night closing in around her. Liberty had no way of knowing if she were closer to town or the ranch.

Suddenly the midnight road didn’t seem so safe to travel. She considered nding a place to sit and wait out the night, but that would be hours. Even with no people traveling the road, there must be animals out. Animals looking for food.

Liberty stood in the center of the road and fought down tears. “I’m not helpless,” she whispered. “I’m strong. I’m a survivor, the daughter of a senator.”

One tear dribbled down her face as she walked to a break in the shadows where the road glowed pale in the moonlight. She’d thought the spot might feel safer. It didn’t.

Liberty shoved the tear away with her glove. Think. Don’t do something stupid. But she knew it was too late. She already had.

Moving along the road a few yards, she found a large rock and sat down to try and

gure out what to do. As soon as she was stil , she heard the whinny of a horse not far away.

“Thank the Lord,” she said out loud. “You came back, Sunny.”

Standing, she moved in the direction of hooves coming toward her.

A horse and rider crossed out of the blackness and almost toppled her before she had time to think of turning around.

The outline of a man, tal and too lean to be a McMurray, seemed to take up the entire road. His mount was black and snorted a puff of white smoke in the chil y air.

Liberty stood frozen, staring.

“Evening, Miss Liberty,” the rider said with a hint of a northern accent. “Remember me? I’m Sergeant Warren.”

Liberty couldn’t place where, but she’d heard Samuel or her father mention the name.

She relaxed enough to breathe.

“Have you come to escort me back to the ranch?” She hadn’t been missing long enough for the McMurrays to organize a search, and besides, she had a feeling that if they missed her they’d come after her themselves.

“No, miss, I’ve come to take you back to the captain.”

Liberty widened her stance. “And if I don’t want to go?”

Warren leaned back in his saddle and pushed up his hat. She had the feeling he was smiling though his face lay in shadow. “I have my orders, miss. The captain’s worried sick about you, so we’d better be going.”

Liberty frowned. He was talking to her as if he seriously considered her touched in the head. And in al honesty, she couldn’t blame him. What kind of woman in her right mind would be standing in the middle of a road after midnight?

She had to stay calm. She could talk her way out of this, but rst she had to get the facts. “Sergeant Warren, how did you know where to nd me?”

“Your maid, Stel a Brady, told everyone in town you were on Whispering Mountain Ranch being held captive. I wasn’t sure it was true until yesterday morning when the McMurray woman bought clothes that looked like they’d be about your size.” He glanced at her gray split skirt and leather jacket. “Though they’re not near fancy enough for your taste, I heard the girl say she wanted the best in the trading post. She even helped me out by describing you to the old man running the place. ‘Tal ,’ she said, ‘and every inch a lady.’ ”

When Liberty didn’t comment, he added, “I gured I’d hang close to the bridge and wait. It took some skil staying out of the sight of those two Apache guards, but I managed. I never thought you’d escape and come across that bridge alone. I gured we’d have to ght our way in to rescue you.”

Liberty straightened. “I wasn’t kidnapped, Sergeant, and I’m not being held captive at Whispering Mountain.”

She couldn’t see his eyes, but his head moved slowly from side to side. Final y he said with a touch of pity in his voice, “Al of us who’ve worked the fort line have seen captives who suffered like you, who resisted being saved. We’ve 247

seen rescued children captured by Indians who tried to es cape and go back.”

“But I’m not—”

Warren shook his head. “Save your breath, miss. Buchanan told us the facts. Don’t you worry, we’l get you back safe and sound so you can marry your true love. You’l thank me later.”

Liberty was appal ed to see that this soldier would fol ow orders no matter what she said. One thing Samuel insisted on was loyalty. She wanted to throw a t, to start crying and begging, but she guessed the sergeant would probably gag her, toss her in a sack, and take her away.

Her only chance was to stay calm.

“We?” Liberty kept her voice low as she glanced past Warren.

“Yes, miss. Captain Buchanan sent a dozen of us. The others are a few miles away waiting for me.” The sergeant straightened slightly with pride. “Captain Buchanan even promised us a bonus if we brought you back safe and sound. He said he didn’t care what we had to do to rescue you. He even hinted that if Tobin McMurray were kil ed, it would save the time for a trial.” Warren hesitated before adding, “He also said no matter how you might be ruined by the half-breed who took you, he plans to marry you the minute we get you back. So you can take comfort in that, miss.”

Liberty wanted to scream that Warren was al wrong and she had no intention of going with him anywhere much less back to Samuel. Of course Buchanan wanted to marry her at once. Then he could keep her from talking to anyone.

And it didn’t take much to gure out how he planned to pay the bonuses to these men.

The minute they were married, what money she had became his. Her trust fund from her mother’s family would split into twelve nice sums.

“I wasn’t
ruined.
” She resented even the hint that Tobin might have taken advantage of her. If anything, it had been the other way around.

“I’m glad to hear that, miss, but he’s a dead man for what he did.”

How could she have been so dumb to leave the ranch? She’d been safe. Her father’s voice drifted in her mind. “Just once,” he often said, “I wish you’d look before you leap off a cliff, because one day I won’t be there to catch you.”

Swal owing her panic, Liberty tried to think. She could run, but on foot her chances were not good. And if Warren thought she was deranged, he’d never hear reason. The sergeant didn’t seem a bad sort. More like a man doing his duty. He was a soldier and Liberty had been raised by a soldier. If she wanted to change his thinking, she had to use the only weapons she had. Reason.

“Wil you help me?” Liberty tried to sound frightened. Tobin was also off the ranch and in danger. She had no doubt that if they caught him, he’d be kil ed.

“Of course, miss.” He swung from his saddle. “If you don’t mind riding double, I’l get you to the camp. By rst light we’l be wel on our way.”

“To where?” she asked as she took a step toward him.

“The captain is at the fort north of here. We can be there in ve days if you’re up for a hard ride.”

Liberty nodded. “I have to stop by a home in town rst. Stel a promised she’d leave a few personal things for me there.”

“I don’t—”

“I insist, Sergeant.”

Warren opened his mouth, but nothing came out. She knew she’d played him right.

She’d agreed to his plan, but she’d asked for one smal change. Her father used to cal it “wormholing” in politics. She could almost hear the senator saying, “Talk the opponent into one smal hole in his plan and pretty soon you’l have enough room to shoot a cannon through.”

Warren nodded. “Al right, but we have to be quick about it. I don’t want the McMurrays noticing that you’ve escaped.”