Darby: Bride of Oregon (American Mail-Order Bride 33) Page 12

  He released her shoulders and knocked on the roof of the hack. It quickly slowed and stopped. “You left the Jeppsons to keep the rats away—”

  “Just like you told me to—”

  “You were supposed to give her a drink, explain the plan, and only put her in the cage after she was asleep. You were told to post a guard to keep away the rats, which should have included vermin like the Jeppsons, while we waited for Harrigan. But you left her with the least trustworthy scum you could find?”

  At least Jez had the wits to keep quiet.

  “I’m getting out here,” he said. “And you’re going to go back to Darby. Put the drops in your flask and give it to her. Pretend to drink it yourself, if you need to, so she’ll trust it. Then, you’re going to confess that you fouled things up, that she was never supposed to know she’d ever been in a cage. And you’re going to make sure she’s good and unconscious before Harrigan gets there. Do you hear me? If she utters one word, this scheme will fall apart. And all of us will end up dead. Do you understand?”

  Jez nodded.

  “And tell everyone to stay away from the lair. I’ve got Elton locked up in the bedroom. She sent him to me, to make sure I was all right. And his conscience was getting the better of him.” The irony made him sick to the stomach. “I didn’t have time to explain it all, so I drugged him and barricaded him inside the bedroom.” Rand climbed out, then leaned back inside to look closely at Jez’s face. “Promise me you’ll fix this.”

  She pretended to be offended. “I’ll fix it. There’s plenty of time yet. Midnight is still hours away.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’d better, Jezebel. Because if you don’t, I’ll never forgive you.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Darby jolted awake and could have wept when she realized the nightmare was real. In the constant flicker of oil torches, it was impossible to tell how long she’d been underground. She might have nodded off for a few minutes. The ache in her neck and back told her it had been longer.

  She heard a distant commotion and hoped it wasn’t more rats headed her way. Since her two guards had wandered off, she’d had to defend herself half a dozen times when braver rats had scaled the board they’d propped in front of the gate.

  She wiggled her toes to make sure nothing had gotten to her while she’d dozed. But the only thing that hurt below the knees were her ankles.

  Thankfully, the shuffle of human footsteps became clear. She didn’t care who it was. Even if her disgusting captors returned, at least she wouldn’t be alone with the four-legged creatures that roamed the tunnels at night.

  Two-legged monsters she could deal with. She hoped.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Darby couldn’t stop the tears. Walking would be much easier if she could see where she was going, but she just couldn’t get the water from her eyes. Most of her tears, she told herself, were from gratitude. She was just so grateful to be out of that cage and moving farther and farther away from the waterfront. She could walk for miles and not complain as long as she kept in the same direction.

  Away from the rats. And him.

  Elton’s hand was warm and firm and if she stumbled, she knew he, at least, would catch her.

  The two of them had been fleeing for ten minutes and she still couldn’t believe what the tall man had told her, that it was her husband himself who ordered the guards not to come if she called them. That she’d been caught and locked in a cage on his orders.

  She might have felt angry and vengeful if she wasn’t so heartbroken. But thankfully, a welcome numbness inched over her like a blanket of quick growing moss, and even the aches in her body had dulled.

  According to her savior, Elton, Harrigan had demanded proof that the Phantom was not Rand Beauregard, and if he wouldn’t capture and sell the judge’s Scotswoman that very night, then Harrigan would know the truth, and so would the world—that Rand Beauregard was a slave trader.

  So the Phantom had agreed to the price. And once he proved himself, Harrigan agreed to drop the matter and continue on as they had, splitting the waterfront.

  It was a small price to pay, apparently, to keep Rand’s pockets full and his political ambitions alive.

  The notion that she’d meant so little to him made her feel insignificant as a leaf on the wind, and she wondered why Elton had bothered searching for her.

  “I just can’t believe it,” she whispered for the hundredth time.

  Elton ducked into a deeply recessed doorway and pulled her in with him. “Here now. Rest for a minute.” He watched her closely while she tried to catch her breath. “I had a hard time believing it myself. I always trusted what he’d said, that he worked the tunnels to protect the innocent. But I tell you, I heard it from his own mouth. And though he’d said the same thing dozens of times before, I was shocked he’d ever say it about his wife!”

  Sometimes the monster has to be fed. Yes. She’d heard him say it too.

  Elton grunted with disgust. “It scares me to think how often he might have been feeding that monster when I maybe could have stopped him.”

  Darby held his hand a little tighter. “Don’t feel bad. Now that we know, we’ll put a stop to this. Somehow. There has to be a way to put a cease to it, aye?”

  But she wasn’t really talking about Rand’s sins at all—she was talking about her heart being turned inside out.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Finished with his devious errand, Rand stepped out of a hack onto Ash Street. With his hood pulled forward, he searched the shadows for spies and found a dark figure coming toward him at a fast clip. His heart jumped just before he realized it was Shadow himself.

  “She’s gone,” his friend said.

  “Who’s gone?”

  “The Scotswoman.”

  Rand shook his head. “You must have checked the wrong cage.”

  “I am not wrong. Jez is searching everywhere. She said she went back to protect the woman and found the cage empty.”

  Dread flared through him, but Rand refused to panic. He shouldn’t have been surprised. “No doubt the Jeppsons have decided to sell her themselves. Find them.”

  “The Jeppsons are accounted for…but there is more.”

  “What is it?”

  “Whatever you left in the Phantom’s lair has escaped.”

  His heart slammed against his ribs. “Impossible.”

  Shadow nodded once. “I assure you, it was done. There is damage to the door, from the inside.”

  There was no time to ponder just how Elton had managed that trick. There was no time for anything but action.

  “I want all eyes on the waterfront, the bridges, and the train station.” Rand ripped off his mask so he could breathe. “Now.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Darby’s body betrayed her.

  She’d assumed she could climb a bloody mountain if it meant she was leaving that cage behind her. But the stitch in her side wasn’t going away. And no matter how she fought it, she was forced to stop and lean her hands on her knees. At least it was fully dark and few people were around to notice.

  They’d made their way into a neighborhood with large homes and no alleyways to hide in. But even holding onto Elton’s arm wasn’t enough to keep her upright anymore.

  “You’re doing dandy, ma’am. Not far now.”

  She hoped a little conversation would prolong her respite. “Do you plan to take me up to one of these doors…and ask for sanctuary…from the Phantom?”

  He chuckled. “No ma’am. There is a safe house around the corner. We can get help before anyone finds out who we’re running from. We just have to get there before anyone thinks to look there. Hopefully, Beauregard will think Harrigan stole you, and they’ll go after him first.”

  Stole her. Like a pie on a window ledge.

  The pain dulled but promised to return. She ignored it and took Elton’s arm again. Luckily for her, she had a worse pain in her chest to distract her from her side.

  ~ ~ ~

  The street t
urned and sloped downward toward a ravine. On the right, just before the bottom of the incline, was a plateau with a small white house that fairly glowed in the dark. A single lantern burned just inside the largest window.

  “We’re lucky,” Elton said. “Someone’s inside.”

  “And if they hadn’t been?”

  “There are horses in the corral out back. Don’t worry. We’ll be well away from here soon.” He led her directly to a blue side door and knocked once, then twice again.

  A dark figure came out from around the back. “Elton?”

  “Masters.”

  The other man nodded to her, then pushed the door open and led the way inside. Elton was frowning until he noticed her watching him. “It’s all right. We can trust Masters.”

  Some sixth sense told her to run, but since she wouldn’t get far before she’d be doubled over again, she had little choice but to say a quick prayer and follow Masters inside. Elton followed and closed the door. The snap of the lock sounded unnervingly final.

  Masters gestured toward the wall behind the door. “You know Porter.”

  Darby hoped by the way she squeezed Elton’s hand, he would know just how upset she was facing the Phantom’s guard. Unfortunately, he understood and moved in front of her just as a shot rang out. The dear man dropped to the ground in spite of her efforts to catch him, and a second shot went off. She wondered why she felt no pain, then realized Masters had been the one hit. He pulled his gun from his holster, but collapsed before he got a shot off.

  She scrambled around, praying she could reach his weapon before she, too, was murdered. But the pressure of a gun barrel against her temple froze her in her tracks.

  “So, Mrs. Beauregard. Tell me what you think of our lovely city, eh? Now that you’ve had the tour.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  At a quarter to twelve, Rand stood on the dock and watched the river wash by. Peaceful. Predictable. God’s power in the form of rushing, unstoppable water.

  So much I might have done, with a little more power…

  The Willamette sluiced against the pylons. If God was trying to give him inspiration, Rand couldn’t understand a word.

  Was she in there? Somewhere beneath the black surface of the water?

  He shook his head and took a step back. He had to count on the fact that Harrigan was much too greedy to let a valuable piece of flesh go to waste. Besides, the man probably wanted it to haunt Rand’s every waking minute, wondering what hell his wife was going through.

  No. Harrigan wouldn’t have killed her. Even if she would have fought like a hellcat—no, like a Scotswoman.

  He also had to trust that a hundred men watched the city. If anyone moved so much as a human-sized box, he would hear about it. And he’d heard nothing at all. Either Harrigan didn’t intend to get her to MacPhee’s ship—which was the only one due to leave in the morning—or someone other than Harrigan had her.

  Quick footsteps ran onto the dock and he turned to find the Judge’s personal secretary hurrying toward him wearing an actual cowboy hat instead of his well-recognized bowler.

  “Poulson?”

  The man flinched at seeing Rand’s mask for the first time. “Yes, sir.”

  “Nice hat.”

  “Thank you, sir. The only disguise Shadow could manage at a moment’s notice.”

  “Thank you for answering the call but—”

  “We’ve found her!”

  Rand swallowed a lump of choking emotion. “Where?”

  “She was put on a small steam boat quite far down river. Though she wore a cloak, she was apparently very vocal. Shadow said you’d know where they’d be going, but we’ve followed them just in case.” He seemed to take a lot of pride in the word we. “No word yet, from that arena. I am sorry.”

  Rand clapped him on the shoulder and walked with him away from the water. “You’re a credit to your hat, Poulson.”

  The man grinned, then quickly sobered. “There’s one more detail to relay, sir.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The man who put her on the boat...”

  “Who?”

  “Apparently a man named Porter.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Jez was waiting in the lair.

  Rand poked his head inside, ignored the mess, and shouted. “Leave it and come on!”

  The woman hurried to the door and began fiddling with the key.

  “Leave it, I said.” He took the key from her, turned the lock—or what was left of it—and slipped it into his pocket as he scurried up out of the tunnels to the waiting hack. Poulson stood near the horses to make certain the driver waited.

  “Good evening, Miss Carlton.”

  “Good evening.” She gave Rand a strange look.

  “Get in!” He lifted her by the waist to get her moving, shouted directions to the driver, then leapt inside and pulled the door closed.

  Jez gave him the once over. “Well, someone’s excited.”

  “Yes. We’ve found her.”

  She sat forward. “Where? You told the driver to take you to Burnside.”

  “Yes.” He watched out the window. They were getting close.

  “You found her on Burnside?”

  “No. We’re taking a steamboat.”

  She fell back against the carriage’s well-worn cushion. “I will be nauseated if you make me ride in one of those, in the dark.”

  “Be happy for me, Jez. I’ve located my missing wife.”

  “I’m very happy for you,” she said snidely. “But you’ve already missed Harrigan’s deadline.”

  “I don’t care about Harrigan.” He shrugged. “And he won’t make the meeting.”

  She lunged forward and grabbed his knees. “What have you learned?”

  He frowned at her. “I’m sure he knows by now that the cage is empty. He has at least half as many spies as I do.”

  She nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Don’t worry, Jez. When I buy her back from MacPhee, I’ll make Harrigan stand by while I sell her to Rand Beauregard for a hefty profit.”

  She snorted. “That will be a neat trick.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe something else will come to me.”

  The hack slowed, turned, and rolled to a stop. Rand climbed out and hurried to the waiting boat, then turned back when he didn’t hear Jez following behind. “Hurry!”

  She held onto the door of the hack and shook her head. “Not in the mood to vomit tonight, love.”

  “Get on the boat, Jez.” His tone left no room for arguing. But as she passed him, he slapped her rump and grinned. “Don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you, too.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  They’d been motoring along for a good five minutes when another steamboat appeared, headed toward them. Rand used the lantern off the bow to signal it. Someone on board signaled back. Both boats slowed and edged close enough for two men to jump across. Then the other boat sped away.

  “Sir.”

  He didn’t recognize them, but it was dark. “What have you got?”

  “We took the liberty of persuading the captain of the little boat to leave Harrigan stranded on MacPhee’s ship.”

  “They’re all still aboard,” said the second man, “haggling over the purchase price of MacPhee’s dingy.”

  Even better than what he had planned.

  Hang on, Darby. I’m coming.

  ~ ~ ~

  Captain Simon MacPhee stood six and a half feet tall, and that was only when slouching and drunk. Out of necessity, every man looked up to him, while no man admired him. To him, however, the former meant the latter and he enjoyed the delusion that every man wanted to make him happy.

  Therefore, he wasn’t surprised when the Phantom arrived in the middle of the night, silver, molded smile in place, eager to make him an offer he would like.

  “By all means,” said the giant from the quarter deck, “let’s hear what ye’re sellin’.”

  Rand gave the man a b
ow while surreptitiously searching for Harrigan. Men recoiled a bit as he walked past, flashing his silver smile as he made his way. At the top of the steps, he came to stand before MacPhee and his first mate, Larson—another tall man who looked more Swedish than Scots.

  Rand gave both men a nod. “I have three strapping, able-bodied men—”

  MacPhee shook his head, disappointed. “I’ve no openings at present—”

  “Whom I will give to you…”

  The man quirked a brow. “What’s that?”

  Rand ignored the stare from Jez, who had just caught up to him. “In exchange for the Scotswoman.”

  MacPhee grinned in understanding. Then pretended disappointment again. “I have no woman to give ye, Phantom. Scottish or otherwise.”

  Rand didn’t have to worry about schooling his features because of the mask, but his eyes could still give him away, so he tried to remain as unemotional and disinterested as possible.

  “Harrigan didn’t sell her to you yet?”

  The giant laughed. “Harrigan said ye’d be coming for her because she’s yer wife.”

  Rand laughed too. “Not mine, no. But I did plan to sell her back to the poor fool who got suckered into marrying a Scottish female.”

  MacPhee sobered as if he’d been struck across the face.

  Rand raised a hand and brushed the comment aside. “No offense to your mother, sir.”

  The giant still frowned. “The lass is no’ for sale.”

  Rand shrugged. “All right. I won’t lose much anyway. I might have sold her for the same I’ll get from these other three. It’s not like I’d sacrifice anything to get her.” He turned and waved Jez to precede him down the steps.

  “Wait, Phantom.”

  Rand turned back and put an impatient hand on his hip.

  MacPhee nodded. “I think perhaps I would like to buy something from ye after all, aye?”

  “Oh? You want to see the men?”

  The giant’s head shook. “No. I want to buy yer mask.”

  Rand tilted his head. “And I’m afraid it’s not for sale.”