|
When Willa stepped out of the door bent on vengeance she left her charge without so much as a backward look. Her prisoner, Anne Doveling, took this opportunity to start working on an escape. Why these people had abducted her she wasn't really sure. She could only speculate. Of all the adventures that had befallen her along her way west this was by far the oddest.
She had been looking at the children's written reports, for she had paid for a ream of paper out of her own pocket in the belief that the kids would take more pride in their work if working on individual papers rather than the broken slates that resided in the school. The actual results were hard to see, but Anne was an optimist and decided the experiment had succeeded. She had been ill at ease that evening but could not really explain why. Perhaps she was getting to need Jessie so much that she hated to be alone.
She knew her feeling had something to do with the stranger she had seen hanging around today. Normally the sight of a strange face would not send her into a panic but there was something wrong with this one. She could sense that something was not quite right with this man. You could nearly see an ulterior motive written on his face. She thought she was being foolish but she went to her dresser and retrieved the 41 caliber derringer that her mother had given her when she came west. The very weight of the weapon and the size of the hole in the bore gave her security.
She was not sure why, but she had sat back down at her desk and started to jot down a note to Jess even though she knew she would see him before any mail could possibly reach him. When the knock came at the door she had hoped it was Jess and she whisked the note off the back of the desk to be recovered later. So excited was she about her man's return that she had the door opened before she realized she was making a mistake.
The stranger and another man had quickly barged in and grabbed her, holding her mouth closed so that she couldn't scream. The one called Nason simply said, "Don't scream and don't make a fuss. You are going with us and if we have to tie you up we will. Understand?"
She had nodded her agreement. She thought of the derringer strapped to her leg but decided to wait before producing it. What would she do if they tried to take advantage of her later? She would haul it out then, that was for sure. She had heard of women taking their own lives in such situations but the idea was not appealing. She did not share the disdain of being damaged goods that the more Victorian women did. Perhaps it was the very West that made her this way, for realism was part of everyday life here. Back East women might sit around parlors and talk of idealism but out here black and white lost their distinction and became shades of gray.
Anne decided that she would shoot if it came to it, but it would be one of them that got it, not her. Deep down inside she knew, or hoped she knew, that Jess would understand and continue to love her. If she could forgive him anything, the reverse must be true. It had to be.
When she remained calm the men stopped treating her roughly and let her get her coat and bag. She knocked over the knick-knack in the hopes that Jessie would recognize her message. She apologized for her clumsy behavior to the men and they let it go. Outside they walked her to a pony and helped her mount, but the quiet one held the halter rope in his hand. He was taking no chances of her escape.
After what seemed like a long time they had met a larger group of riders and she was bodily lifted off from the pony and placed on a larger horse. This she could not fathom. Why would they switch her without letting her feet touch the ground? The answer was obvious They did not want tracks to be seen when Jess came looking for her. Somehow she knew it would be him. She wanted to find a way to warn him but no opportunity came to light. Then she had been taken to this shack, prisoner of the hard faced woman with the shotgun.
When Anne had seen the woman start and look up the hill she had begun to slowly shift her position so as to look out the window. When she finally got into position to see the man in the striped suit she instantly knew it was Jess. Just the manner of the way he held his head, the very sureness of his body, told her this.
Shortly after this the woman named Willa slipped out the door with her shotgun with nary a backward glance. Maybe Anne could make use of this chance. There was a tin stove, unused at this time of year, about five feet from her. She started to inch in that direction. Progress was maddeningly slow. Past the stove were pieces of broken lampshade left over from some long ago fight. Anne knew she would be lucky to reach the stove, let alone the glass.
She could hear loud voices from the cabin next door. Evidently they were arguing about what it meant to have Nason above them, in effect pinning them down. Anne was tired and nervous and she almost laughed at this discussion. That was Jess Clay up there, and they would soon know what that meant!
There! She had reached the stove leg. Now, if she could get turned around so as to chafe away the cord that bound her hands behind her... The door was thrown open with a crash. "I should have know you'd be up to no good," hissed Willa as she returned to the cabin. "You little witch; I ought to..."
With that thought unfinished she gave Anne a backhander with all her strength. It drove the girl rolling past the stove and onto the broken glass. At first Anne was worried about being cut but then realized her escape plan had just been handed to her.
As Willa left for the second time she hissed, "You stay right where you are or I'll use this shotgun on you. I mean it. I will." Then she slipped out again and Anne saw the woman's shadow drift past the window.
"No time like the present," thought Anne, and she vigorously began to saw through the cord. She felt a couple of cuts open up on the side of her arm but these slowed her not one whit. Time was too precious for any other concern except freedom.
Within five minutes she had her arms free and began to work on the rope around her ankles. This was slower going, for the rope was heavier and her hands were still numb from being tied for so long. At long last she broke free and tried to stand. She sat back down with a grimace for her legs were asleep and she had to rub them vigorously before she regained the use of them. As she stood up she retrieved the 41 from her stocking, for confrontation could not be far away. Slowly she slipped out the door.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
|
