The Widow's Captive Read online

“My late husband’s aunt lives in Hollow Creek.”

  Jonah sat up straight. His sudden movement got her to her feet faster than he’d imagined was possible for a woman in her condition. “Whoa.” He held up his hands. “If your husband’s aunt lives in Hollow Creek, I should know her.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I suppose.” She fed more wood to the fire and glanced at him over her shoulder.

  “Ask me something.” He leaned forward, perching his elbows on his knees.

  The woman massaged her shoulder. He should concentrate on escaping and finding Don. Not to allow a cautious widow with beautiful eyes to muddle his perspective.

  Mrs. Spencer rubbed her arms. His skin puckered as she stroked the rough material of her sleeves.

  “Her name is Margaret Penman. She’s married to—”

  “Robert Penman.” Jonah grunted. Wonderful. Of all his rotten luck. A blow to the gut would’ve been kinder. “The mayor of Hollow Creek. They had a son, Mattie.”

  “Mattie?”

  “Matthew.” Memories speared him with the vengeance of an aggravated wasp. The roof had collapsed amidst the hissing inferno moments before he could dive inside.

  “Sheriff Hale?”

  He shook his head and rubbed his eyes.

  “Are you all right?” Mrs. Spencer stood behind the chair and gripped the back until her knuckles turned white, her expression torn.

  “Yes. Their daughter’s name is Ruth. She’s married to a banker. They live in Washington.”

  “I suppose that is something you could easily have learned from talking to the right people.” Her chin lifted.

  “Or because I’m the sheriff and happen to know them.”

  ****

  Tin colliding with wood planks rattled Jonah’s senses. He started to jump up before he could make a conscious decision to move. The rope restricting his ankles sent him crashing back against the floor like a felled Christmas tree. He shook his head in an effort to clear his mind, raking the cabin for the intruder. A low moan reached his ears. Rolling onto his side, he found Mrs. Spencer doubled over on the floor, panting, strands of hair plastered against her brow. Plates and bowls sprawled around her. Lily knelt beside her. Ethan sat upright on the cot and rubbed his eyes.

  Jonah’s gut twisted. “What happened?” Grunting, he maneuvered himself onto his knees. Coldness seeped through his trousers, chilling his bones. He did a quick inventory. The fire could do with more wood. The woman needed to get off the floor.

  Her face contorted with pain and her shallow breathing accelerated his.

  “I’m fine,” she whispered.

  “Is the baby coming?” His attempt at calm and controlled failed.

  A moan.

  “Ethan, cut me loose. We can’t leave your ma on the floor.” Jonah stretched his arms. Last thing he needed was for her to catch influenza.

  Another pain-filled cry, and Mrs. Spencer leaned forward, pressing her head against Lily’s shoulder.

  “Ethan.” Good gravy! Now wasn’t the time to hesitate!

  The boy glanced at his ma. Her frantic nod had him scrambling out of the cot and racing to a wooden crate. Moments later, he returned with a knife and started sawing at the rope. The blade was duller than dirt. A muscle in Jonah’s jaw throbbed. Chewing through the ropes would go faster. Chills crept through his body when Mrs. Spencer whimpered.

  “It’s OK, Mama,” Lily said.

  “I’ve got a knife in my left boot.”

  Ethan gaped up at him, skepticism darkening his young eyes.

  For Pete’s sake! “I keep it for self-defense. See if you can get it out.” Jonah snapped his gaze from the woman to her son. “Now.” He shifted his position, stretching his legs in front of him.

  The boy nodded and started working his hand between Jonah’s boot and leg. When he touched the weapon, his brow smoothed. With careful movements, he slid it free, and Jonah released the breath he’d been holding. Thank you, Lord. “Careful. It’s sharp.”

  The boy sliced the blade through the ropes. Jonah snatched the weapon and worked on the rope around his ankles.

  Ethan leaped backward and searched the cabin, no doubt looking for the iron skillet.

  “Get more wood on the fire.” Jonah hurried to his feet and squeezed the boy’s shoulder. In two strides, he knelt at Mrs. Spencer’s side. A sheen of perspiration covered her face, and she bit her lip. “Mrs. Spencer, I’m going to carry you to the cot.”

  She pressed her hand against him.

  “You can’t stay on the floor.” Honestly. She shouldn’t be so stubborn. “Lily, pull back the covers.”

  The girl sprang into action.

  “N-no.” Mrs. Spencer stiffened as he hooked an arm beneath her knees and the other one around her back.

  Hugging her close, he maneuvered his way to the cot, his heart pounding. She pressed her face against his chest, and an increasing sense of urgency flashed though him. Her skin was so pale and soaked. Her chin quivered.

  The mattress held a faint animal odor and was as hard and lumpy as he’d feared, but it was better than the cold, dirty floor. He gripped Ethan’s shoulder as panic, raw and strong, gnawed at his gut. “Get me a wet cloth.”

  He’d faced criminals before. Once, on a hunting trip, he’d killed a cougar with the trusty knife that had sliced his bonds away moments ago. Where was his bravery now?

  Ethan returned, and Jonah mopped her face with the towel.

  “Are you having contractions?” Sweat trickled down his temples, and he moistened his dry lips with the tip of his tongue. His pa had told him about the day he was born, said it was the most fascinating and terrifying day in his life. Now, Jonah understood. He rolled his head from side to side. Relax. You grew up on a ranch. You’ve witnessed the birth of a calf or two. Maybe it wasn’t very different.

  Mrs. Spencer shook her head. Her breathing slowed. “No. I’ve been having these kinds of pains. Lately.”

  He caught the tremble in her hands as she wiped the hair from her face.

  Jonah ran his hand through his hair and down his face. His pulse pounded. “Are you going to be OK?”

  “Yes.” A tender smile curled her rosebud lips. She caught his hand, her fingers clammy but cool. She rubbed her large belly with her other hand. “Help me up, please?”

  “Maybe you should rest.”

  “Please.”

  He braced her back against the wall. The desire to protect her bloomed inside him. Honestly, he would be anything she wanted or needed at that moment. And that struck a chord inside him.

  Lily threw her arms around her mother. “Mama, I had such a fright.”

  “Sorry about that, honey.” Mrs. Spencer ran her hand through the child’s dark hair. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on her child’s furrowed forehead.

  Jonah straightened and rubbed his eyes. He fetched a cup, filled it with water from the pot of melted snow, and then held it to her dry lips. She drank her fill. For a moment, the only sound was the crackling fire and the shrill scream of the wind.

  “Thank you, Mr. Hale.” Her whisper was soft, and her voice tugged at his heart.

  He responded with a firm nod.

  ****

  After checking on the horses, Sheriff Hale had a grim look on his face. Adeline studied him, his muscles rippled under his shirt as he fed more logs to the fire. He smothered a yawn before stretching back out on the floor in front of the hearth.

  “Are the horses all right?”

  “Yep. But the weather’s not any better.” He rested his head on one of his arms and closed his eyes.

  Her throat tightened. Maybe it would stop snowing in the morning. He couldn’t leave if the weather was still horrible.

  “Is there anything you need?”

  He’d asked her several times already. She smiled despite herself. “No, thank you. I’m fine.” A cotton ball formed in her throat. Ben had made it no secret that he didn’t have time to dote over her and her comfort. Turning into a puddle at the slightest
sign of kindness would be ridiculous.

  Frost covered the windowpane and she sniffled. Was God urging her to accept Jonah Hale as a good man? Was it God telling her that he wasn’t the kind of man she needed to fear?

  “Try to get some rest, Mrs. Spencer.” His voice, thick with sleep, contained a hint of humor. He’d covered his face with his Stetson, one arm behind his head, the other flung over his chest.

  She closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. In her nightmares, Sheriff Hale transformed into Ward, and she fought to keep his hands from closing around her throat. She rolled onto her back and stared at the rafters. The faint yellow-orange glow spilling from the fire allowed her to count the crannies in the beams. Beside her, Lily murmured in her sleep. Soft snores floated from Ethan. Outside, the wind still howled. She’d experienced blizzards before, but nothing like this.

  She yawned and ran her hand over her stomach. One of these days, the baby would be here. What would she do then? A jab to the rib made her eyes water. Trying to find a more comfortable spot, she turned back onto her side and squinted at the sheriff’s resting form. Poor man. The floor couldn’t hold more heat than a slab of ice. At least she’d untied him. She rubbed her gritty eyes. An audible snap outside made her jump. Ward. Sitting up, she gripped the iron skillet’s handle. “Sheriff.”

  A wolf howled.

  “Sheriff Hale.”

  He rolled over and braced his weight on one arm. Her breath caught. Now was not the time to admire his handsome face.

  “Are you having the baby?” He rubbed his face.

  “What? No! I think I heard something.” A minute passed. Then another.

  He covered a yawn and stood and started to the door.

  “What are you doing?” She waited, the skillet raised and ready, her gaze fixed on him.

  “I’ll take a look outside.” The sheriff dug his fingers into his hair.

  “I don’t think it’s safe.” It might a trap.

  The sheriff leaned against the door, listening for sounds other than wailing winds. “I think you’re imagining things, Mrs. Spencer. Go back to sleep.” He returned to his spot in front of the hearth and pulled the blanket up to his ears.

  Adeline hesitated. When nothing but wind sounded, she turned over and hugged Lily’s small form tight against her own. What if it hadn't been her imagination? She forced her thoughts away from her fear. She needed to trust.

  Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;

  Praise Him, all creatures here below;

  Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;

  Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost…

  The words of her favorite hymn did little to calm the frantic throb of her heart as she waited for sleep to claim her.

  5

  Cold pinched Adeline’s nose, and with a moan, she retreated deeper under the covers. Ethan had forgotten to return the towel to the bottom of the door. Again. Whatever the time was, the wind still lashed the tiny cabin. Her chest tightened. Why did we have to leave Pueblo?

  The aroma of frying eggs startled her upright. A difficult maneuver with her large middle. The sheriff stood at the stove, cracking eggs into the black skillet. The sheriff. My skillet. When had her grip slackened on her weapon?

  Heat rushed to her face. Forgetting about the stranger in the cabin wasn’t exactly the smartest thing she’d done. With hasty movements, she smoothed her sleep-tangled strands of hair. Beside her, Lily and Ethan were huddled together, blissfully unaware of the raging storm and the preparation of breakfast.

  Sheriff Hale looked at her over his shoulder. “Mornin’. How did you sleep?”

  All chirpy after sleeping on a hard floor. How unfair.

  “OK, thank you.” She cleared her throat and massaged her lower back. Her stocking-covered feet touched the floor and coldness seeped into her soles. If she never saw a blizzard again, it would be too soon. “You?” Likely not well on that ice-slab of a bed she’d given him. She was quite the hostess.

  “Like a log.” He lifted the skillet from the stove and poked at the food with the fork. “I hope you don’t mind, I used your skillet.” The dimple deepened in his cheek.

  Rattled by her shameless scrutiny, she struggled to push her swollen feet into her boots. Her puffy fingers made it almost impossible to lace her shoes. She woke her children and they ambled to the table.

  After breakfast, Sheriff Hale rose. “I’m going to check on the horses.” His boots thudded on the uneven floor and he cracked open the door. Wind and snow swirled in before he could close the door behind him.

  “I like him.” Lily handed the plates to Adeline.

  So do I. Adeline plunged the dishes into the warm soapy water, and a fluff of soap floated up and clung to her eyebrow. She rubbed her face against her shoulder. “We hardly know anything about Sheriff Hale, Lily love. I want you to stay away from him.” In this little cabin, that would be incredibly difficult.

  “Do you think he works for Uncle Ward?” Ethan gripped his plate. He stared at the door, as if he half expected Ward and the sheriff to strut in together.

  “I don’t think so.” But Adeline’s muscles tightened all the same.

  When Sheriff Hale reentered, he slammed the door shut and leaned against it. His jaw was set hard.

  Her hands stilled in the dishwater.

  He shook the snow from his shoulders, removed his hat and slapped it against his thigh. Cold flushed his face. He stomped his feet and ran his hand through his hair. “It’s still snowing.”

  “Still.” She rubbed her neck. Another day stuck with the sheriff. Wonderful.

  “Yep.” He blew air into his hands.

  “Move closer to the fire so you can get warm.” Her temples pounded. She had no reason to trust him. But...with him around, a sense of safety cloaked her. And protection. It was a wonderful feeling. Comforting and enticing. It was exactly what she didn’t want. As much as his presence aggravated her, he made her aware of how alone she’d been lately. She was certain that when Jonah Hale decided a woman was worth defending, he’d keep her safe from danger for the rest of his life. Safe from people like Ward. “How much longer do you think this storm will last?” She dried her hands on her apron.

  At the bed, Ethan and Lily played knucklebones.

  Sheriff Hale lolled his head back an inch and shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen one this bad.”

  Adeline’s shoulders slumped.

  “Since you thought you heard something last night, I took a look around.”

  “Did you see something?”

  “Only a branch that gave way. It knocked against the fence post. Figure that’s what you heard.”

  Adeline forced a laugh, her hand at her throat. “You must think me a total fool.”

  “Not a fool. Overly cautious, perhaps.”

  Her heartburn-like sensation increased. “I don’t have much of a choice.”

  ****

  Jonah straightened. Another minute longer of squabbling between Ethan and Lily and he’d run for the woods. By the set of Adeline’s jaw, her patience had reached its limits. “Hey Ethan, I want to check on the animals. Do you want to come along?” Jonah wrapped his scarf around his neck.

  Ethan, bundled to face the cold, was lifting the bar at the door before Jonah had time to shrug into his coat.

  “Ethan.”

  “Ma, I can do this.”

  “I’ll take good care of him.” Jonah buttoned his coat.

  Heels clicked and Adeline gripped Jonah’s arm.

  “I promise. He’ll be fine.”

  Wind swooshed in with a roar, snatching Adeline’s voice away and splattering them with snow.

  Jonah pulled the door closed, but the glistening in her eyes lingered in his mind. “This way.” Jonah took hold of Ethan’s shoulder, and with his other hand he grabbed the guide rope he’d stretched earlier from the cabin to the lean-to. Black skies loomed, packed with heavy clouds promising more snow.

  If it continued snowing, he would need to d
o some shoveling. Thankfully, Don had built his cabin with a very steep pitched roof. No need for Jonah to climb up to shovel the snow off and risk breaking his neck.

  “Hey, Sheriff Hale, I’m sorry Ma knocked you against the head.” In front of him, Ethan stumbled in the snow that reached his waist, but righted himself.

  Jonah grinned. “Apology accepted.”

  Ethan gave him the tiniest smile he’d ever seen.

  Jonah pulled up the collar of his duster. “Where’d your ma learn to wield a skillet like that? I still have a headache.”

  Ethan scrunched his forehead and pulled up a shoulder. “I don’t know. She thought you would hurt us.”

  Jonah halted in his tracks. Hurt us. The wind hit him full force and he dropped his chin. They’d better hurry into the lean-to. It would be warmer than standing here, knee deep in snow, facing a chance of frostbite.

  The horses nickered at their entry. Jonah checked the water and hay supply.

  “Your ma never told me who this Ward fellow is that you’re running from.” He scratched the mare’s muzzle and readjusted the blanket on her back.

  Ethan wiped his nose against his shoulder and shifted. “He’s my uncle. I don’t know why he won’t leave us alone.”

  Jonah stopped rubbing the horse. “And he’s hurt your ma?” The bruises on Adeline’s neck flashed in his mind. The clouded look on Ethan’s face confirmed his fear.

  Ethan dipped his head. “Yes.”

  “Has he hurt you or Lily?”

  “No.” Ethan shifted again. “Can we go back to the cabin now?”

  “Sure.” With a nod, Jonah led them back the way they came. The cold burned his lungs and he rubbed his freezing nose. “Hold onto the rope.” Jonah tightened Ethan’s hand around the cord.

  Inside, Adeline brushed Lily’s hair. The girl awarded Jonah a quick smile, the first he’d received since his arrival.

  After he and Ethan removed their outer garments, Jonah dropped down in front of the blaze to add more wood to it. The yellow glow from the flickering flames encased Adeline in a soft, welcoming light. Her dark hair was once again fashioned atop her head in a tight bun. Before he could stop himself, he envisioned what she’d look like with her hair freed from the pins, framing her oval face.