Mail Order Bride: Captured Hearts: a Clean Western Historical Romance (Mail Order Brides of Gold Creek Book 6) (3 page)

Right before her eyes, Mollie saw something that she had only read about in storybooks. In fact, she had quite lost sight of the fact that people such as these existed outside the realms of fiction. The view of them was quite a sight to behold and fear shot through her heart as she regarded them.

There must have been nine or more of them, though there was no time to count. One or two women and the rest men, with reddish brown skin, colorful markings painted on their faces and arms. One man sat atop a horse, his headdress adorned with feathers and hanging down to his waist. None of them smiled and the men who carried sharpened spears that pointed up to the sky thrust their chins out in a way that made her stomach flutter with fear.

“Oh… oh… sorry” she stuttered. “I thought you were someone else. Well, goodbye.”

She backed away from them slowly, then realized she did not know where on earth she was going. Figuring that dusk was nearly falling and her best bet would be to try and get back to Ira’s house, she turned in all directions, trying to work out where she had come from. The indistinguishable mass of trees gave her no clue as to where she needed to go, but she decided to simply take off in any direction. As long as she was away from these people who looked hostile and strange to her, that would have to be good enough.

Picking a random direction, she began to sprint as fast as her legs would carry her, but within moments, she heard the leaves behind her crunch under many sets of running feet. Looking back in terror, she saw that they were chasing her and gaining ground extremely quickly. She made one last attempt to outrun them, using every ounce of strength left in her body to pull ahead, but it was to no avail. Within seconds they surrounded her, all their eyes upon her.

She struggled and kicked and flailed her arms as she tried to push her way out of the circle they formed around her but was prevented by the muscular arms of the warriors.

“No! No!” she hollered. “No!”

However hard she lashed out against them, they managed to overpower her with ease, never once deviating from their calm demeanor. By the time they started to drag her away she had tired herself out, expending so much energy in her futile fight that she flopped limply into their arms for a moment before gathering up some last scraps of energy to resume her flailing.

“Let me go!” she yelled.

They ignored her cries and one of the women even began to sing, a haunting melody that scared Mollie witless. As they dragged her through the forest, her mind ran wild with the terrifying possibilities of her situation. Perhaps they were to take her back to their camp to slaughter her. Maybe to rape her. Or to force her to marry the chief? Perhaps they were preparing to burn her at the stake or to slice her into tiny pieces and serve her with their evening meal? Dread gripped her soul and reenergized her limbs, her fight increasing in so much intensity that two additional men were required to gain control over her.

“Help!” she screamed. “Ira! Help!”

She hoped that her cries would echo back from the mountains and all around the ranch, sending Ira galloping toward her on horseback, ready to save her life and to slay her evil captors. Instinctively, she knew her screams could not penetrate the forest and her panic increased further.

“Ira!” she hollered. “Please!”

Tears of terror fell down her face as she prayed to God to spare her from this fate so terrible. She lost her strength again as her body was racked with sobs. When she opened her eyes she saw the Indians taking glances at her, their faces creased with concern, and felt a little hope. Perhaps they knew they were in earshot of someone and that she might be rescued, after all.

They led her into their camp, a large clearing in the forest that held perhaps three dozen teepees, and many of the group dispersed, including the important-looking man on horseback. Having totally run out of steam, Mollie allowed herself to be led along by the women, who held her arms gently and steered her toward a small teepee. One of the women opened the flap and gestured for Mollie to go inside, while two others sat by the entrance. Mollie, in no fit state to argue, ducked inside the tent, which was empty and dark, and sat. There was nothing else to do but sit, and as the flap closed and left her in complete darkness, an altogether different type of hell settled upon her.

All her fears of what they would do multiplied, and soon she was picturing herself being slain without mercy in the most brutal of ways. She thought about her mother and wept bitterly for ever leaving her. Her mother had clearly been right, and Mollie wished with all her heart that she had listened to her. Now, Nell would never know what became of her only child, and would surely die from heartbreak as well as the tumor. Then what would become of Silas, his wife and stepdaughter, the only family he had, dead within the same year? It didn’t even bear thinking about.

She sank into deep, heavy sobs as she realized what she had done to her family, and the fact that she had only been trying to help made her fall further into despair. She told Silas, who was as good as her father, and her mother, how much she loved them and how sorry she was, over and over again, her tears falling onto the dusty ground below her and creating a little mud puddle as she hoped with all her heart that they could somehow hear her.

Losing all track of time, she was surprised to see that outside was just as dark as the inside when someone pulled back the tent flap.

A man’s face was illuminated by the candle. He had white stripes painted across his cheeks, contrasting with the deep reddish brown of his skin. His long hair braided in the traditional Indian style, adorned with feathers and brightly colored beads.

“Hello,” he said in heavily accented English. “May I come in?”

Her heart hammering in her chest, Mollie said, “Yes,” but not without great reluctance.

The man came in and sat on the ground beside her, closing the flap of the teepee and digging the bottom of the candle into the ground. Mollie stared forward, determined not to look at him, and tried to convince herself with every shaking, faltering breath that he had not been sent to slaughter her.

“My name is Antinanco,” he said, in almost perfect American English. “Or Eagle of the Sun. What is your name?”

“Mollie,” she said. “Mollie Hughes.”

He said nothing and drew a circle in the dusty ground with his finger.

“You are scared,” he said.

She did not reply.

“There is no need to be,” he continued. “The Arikara wish you no harm.”

“Who is the Arikara?”

“Us,” he said, with a smile.

“Your Indian tribe?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “If that’s what you would like to call us.”

Rain had begun to fall, a gentle patter on the outside of the teepee.

“Atiax, Atiax!” a little child’s voice cried from outside.

“Huyana!” Antinanco called back.

Just then, a little girl ran into the tent to take refuge from the rain, which now pounded a wild tempo upon the hide canvas. She was beautiful, her long braids decorated with feathers and rags falling down to her waist and her features sweet and rounded. Rain drops rested on her hair and eyelashes and she brushed them away. She could have been no more than five, Mollie guessed.

“This is Huyana, my daughter,” Antinanco said. “Her name means falling rain. Huyana, this is Mollie King."

“Nawah,” Huyana said.

“English,” Antinanco said to her, pulling her into his lap.

“Hello,” Huyana said, her voice sweet and high-pitched and strange.

“Hello,” said Mollie, barely able to keep herself from staring at the little girl and the innocent magnificence of her beauty.

“Friends?” Huyana said, holding out her hand to Mollie.

“Well… yes,” Mollie said.

She was rather taken aback but reached out to hold Huyana’s hand and was enthralled by the genuine friendliness in the little girl’s smile, as if they had known each other for years, or perhaps lifetimes. Huyana then turned and spoke to her father in a tongue that Mollie did not understand.

“We’ve reached the end of Huyana’s English,” he said. “She asks why you are here.”

“I do not know,” said Mollie. “Why did they… did you capture me?”

“You have an aura of imminent danger about you,” he said.

“An aura of imminent danger?” she repeated, shocked.

“And you are plainly an outsider,” he continued. “There are many bandits in this area and it is unwise to stay out after dark. We took you for your own protection. We will take you back to your home tomorrow.”

Unexpectedly she found herself bursting into tears. Huyana’s eyes widened in sorrow and she slid off her father’s lap to sit by Mollie and stroke her hair.

“But I have no home!” she said. “My… the man…”

She struggled with knowing how to define Ira.

“The one you love,” Antinanco said knowingly.

“Yes,” she said, quite startled. “The one I love… he has disappeared from his home. I was out in the forest looking for him!”

Huyana clutched Mollie’s hand and wiped away the tears that slid down her cheeks.

“Ahh,” Antinanco said. “Would you like me to tell you where he is?”

All of a sudden it felt to Mollie like her world was closing in.

“Why? Where is he?” she asked in a panic. “What have you done with him?”

“I do not know where he is,” Antinanco said, “but I can be sure he is not with the Arikara or I would have heard of it.”

“Then how can you tell me where he is if you do not know?” she asked, distressed in her confusion.

“There is no need to fear,” he said again softly. “Would you like to know?”

“Yes!” Mollie said rather forcefully.

Antinanco reached into a leather pouch that was strung around his waist and tipped a mixture of bones and pebbles into his palm. Immediately Huyana sat back down beside him, watching exactly what he was doing.

“What is the man’s name?” he asked.

“Ira,” Mollie replied.

He wrote IRA with his finger into the dirt above the circle, then closed his eyes and clasped the bones and pebbles between both hands. Mollie watched in a mixture of fear and curiosity as he rocked from side to side, humming a low, deep tone that reverberated around the teepee.

As she regarded him, she felt her own mind go quite blank, still racing wildly, but the thoughts that had streamed through replaced with a somewhat peaceful black emptiness. She closed her eyes also, though took peeps now and then to make sure he had not moved any closer toward her. However, it did not take long for her to forget him and Huyana altogether, so caught up was she in the new realms his deep humming tone transported her to. She felt as if she were floating through space, altogether released from the cruel yoke of reality.

She was only brought back to reality by the sound of the bones and pebbles thumping on the ground as he cast them into the dusty circle. He then stared at them, clearly thinking deeply.

Mollie reached out to pick up one of the smooth, round pebbles.

“Stop,” he said sternly. “Do not touch it.”

She pulled her hand back, a little offended, but said nothing.

“Yes,” Antinanco said, his eyes glazed over with a faraway look as he ran his finger around the edge of the circle again. “Yes.”

“Tell me!” Mollie said.

He instantly snapped out of his trance.

“Be quiet!” he said sharply.

Mollie felt like crying again but steeled herself and regained her composure for the sake of Ira. Huyana looked at her with deep, dark, compassionate eyes.

Antinanco looked down at the circle again and his expression set itself in blankness. Huyana did as he did. It was a while before he spoke again.

“Yes,” he said. “It was as I thought. The reason you have an aura of imminent danger is not because you will be harmed, but because your beloved will be harmed.”

“No!” Mollie said, feeling a lead weight drop in her stomach.

“He…” Antinanco began, then consulted the pattern of bones again. “He… has waged a righteous war upon an enemy and he has now been captured by them.”

Mollie gasped.

“Who could that be?” she asked.

“I will guess it is bandits,” he said. “Outlaws of some kind. Without intervention, he will face death,” said Antinanco.

“No,” Mollie whispered.

“I am being told that we must go after them,” he said.

“By whom?”

“By the life that runs through our veins, the life in the leaves and the wind and the sky. I hear it commanding us to assist you.”

“Please!” said Mollie. “Let’s go, right away!”

“I will go and prepare the warriors,” Antinanco replied.

“Now you’ll think twice about being such a hero!” the bandits sneered.

He took a large swing and pounded his fist into Ira’s stomach. The pain was almost unbearable and it felt to Ira like his guts were being destroyed inside him. He had little doubt that he would meet his end there, in an abandoned ranch on the outskirts of Ruby Ridge.

He was strung up, his hands tied together and hung up from the ceiling. The only thing keeping him alive was the bench that he could just about reach with the tips of his toes. Whenever he lost his precarious balance and his foot slipped, it felt like his arms would be torn from their sockets. He could hear Abe screaming out in pain from the next room and tried not to think of what was happening to him. He didn’t even know where Curtis was. He stared at the man who had just punched him, who now strode around the room with all the pride and importance of a military general.

Ira knew that he and Abe and Curtis should have just killed them back at the Dunn’s ranch, rather than merely chasing them away. The problem was that his first instinct was not to kill or destroy, but to build. His soul ached when he thought about what his life had become. Out in the wilderness chasing bandits? It wasn’t the life for him – not because he was afraid but because there was so much more he wanted out of life.

“You’re going to die tonight,” one of the bandits taunted him, pushing him out of balance and making him swing from the ceiling.

Ira resisted the urge to shout out in pain, knowing that he would be further ridiculed for it.

A strange thought struck him while he swung painfully.

These people have nothing to live for.

It was plain to Ira that this thought was true, for otherwise why would they be prepared to torture and kill people who hadn’t even harmed them, merely stood in the way of their  way when robbing innocent people? Ira knew that the bandits couldn’t have any dreams, for it was his own dreams that kept him wishing that he could stay alive and that they didn’t have to fight.

Yet the dead eyes of these men lit up when they fought and struck and inflicted pain, as if they were getting a sick thrill from hurting other people. No one with hope or dreams would do that, Ira thought.

But all the theorizing in the world wouldn’t save him as one of the bandits approached him with a pack of dynamite, a twisted smile on his face.

“Goodbye, hero,” he said. “Say hello to the devil for me.”

***

“How will we find him?” Mollie asked, panicked.

She rode on the back of Antinanco’s horse behind Antinanco himself, her hair flying out wildly behind her as they stormed across the wide plains. Huyana had insisted on coming and sat in front of her father, her chest puffed out with all the bravery of a seasoned warrior.

“We will be quiet and observant,” Antinanco said. “And read all the signs that nature gives us.”

He headed up a small cavalry of a dozen men on horses, each of them keenly observing Antinanco’s movements and responding to even the tiniest degree of direction change. He turned every now and then and spoke to the other warriors in their own language, and each time he did, Molly was desperate to know what was said.

“We’re going to head toward Ruby Ridge,” Antinanco said. “I am being led in that direction.”

“Okay,” Mollie said, wondering at the possibility that she had left Ruby Ridge so full of anticipation of meeting Ira, when, in fact, he had been there all along. “Can’t we go any faster?”

“No,” said Antinanco, who was already driving the horse at a light gallop. “If we move too fast we may miss signs that we need.”

Mollie couldn’t quite understand what he meant, but she could only hope that they were accurate and that Antinanco knew what he was doing. They moved swiftly across the landscape in one elegant formation that never broke out of pattern, the horse hooves beating out a rhythm against the red earth in such regularity that it sounded almost like a symphony.

Mollie prayed and pleaded with the Lord that they would find Ira and bring him to safety. Ever since she had discovered he was missing, she had felt as if she had known him her entire life. There was no question in her mind that he would be the one she would give her heart, soul and body to in marriage. He was the one.

After what felt like eternity, Ruby Ridge became visible in the distance. Progress across the plain before it was painfully slow although they were speeding along at a pace at which Mollie had never ridden before.

“There!” Antinanco yelled, pointing at a building, his eyes wide open and blazing with fury and spirit. “Nuuhá!”

With one graceful swoop, as if on the wings of an eagle, they changed direction to follow his lead, storming toward the wooden ranch house he pointed at. There was no sign of life in the house that Mollie could see, but a sense deep within her told her they could be in the right place.

Tying their horses up out of sight behind some bushes, the warriors got their weapons together, short spears and bows and arrows and daggers, and waited on Antinanco’s lead.

“Stay here with Mollie,” Antinanco said to Huyana.

She argued with him in their language but he said, “No.”

She then bowed her head and obeyed, playing with the hem of Mollie’s dress. In reality, Mollie wanted to go in herself, desperate to finally see Ira and to do her part in freeing him, but she knew that it was not a sensible idea and was more than willing to follow Antinanco’s directions.

Antinanco turned to his men and they spoke in their own language, their eyes glazing over and their bodies becoming more and more animated and vital as they jumped and hopped and moved together. When the excitement was at a fever pitch, Antinanco thrust his arm in the air.

“Apak!” he hollered.

The rest of the warriors followed suit and they stormed through the bushes and into the building.